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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

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Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 3 years

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If possible... Headcannons/fanfic from 2p Germany and 2p Russia, separately, taking interest in a friend from one country? Context: The country's friend is immortal, because of problems she went in her country's replacement at the meeting with the other countries. She has a very affectionate and outgoing personality, so she quickly picks up romantic interest from the attendees.

Sorry it took so long. Here it is!

2p Russia

A lone tall man walked through the basement halls of the United Nations building. His large, long blacked coat protected him from the chill of the A.C. and in his left hand was a simple black briefcase. His steps were quiet along the concrete, but his momentary silence would not last for much longer.

A set of steel doors sat closed and was located at the end of the hall. The sounds that lied within warned of chaos and death. Viktor blew a hard breath through his nose, as much as he wanted to leave, this meeting was important. It was the first time in a long time that all the 2ps were meeting and to avoid it could be costly.

Opening the door Viktor noticed that many nations were grouped together. The Nordics were in the back corner of the room talking about business. Germany and Italy were near their seats, both seemed to be scanning the crowd. Viktor guessed it was to see the missing member of their trio. Once Viktor found his seat, his eyes wandered around again.

This time his eye drifted over to the FACE family. Normally there were shouts and the clink of coins hitting glass, but today it was much quieter. As Viktor looked closer at the four, he realized something. Allen wasn’t there. Instead, there was a woman among them. She was (Y/H) and had (S/C) skin. The strange woman was leaning against the sitting blond Canadian. Both were talking and were smiling. Viktor did note that Matt seemed to have a small blush on his face. His observation was interrupted by a voice.

“All right-a everyone. Take your-a seats and shut-a up!”

Viktor grunted and looked over as the woman moved to take Allen’s seat. His eyebrow rose, this would take some investigating. But that would have to wait.

The meeting went almost as Viktor had expected. Various nations would present an issue, try to make it seem that their homes were thriving, and others would say their piece on an issue. During each part of this song and dance, some nation would then distract everyone. The main offender this time happened to be Macau. He had been going around attempting to piss of Italy so that he could win a bet.

Overall a normal meeting, but Viktor could not help but be distracted by the (E/C) beauty. She had been outgoing the entire meeting. Asking questions to the presenters, offering solutions, and overall being pleasant. It was cute, but there was one habit that stood out, pet names. Each person was given their own.

Despite the cuteness, Viktor was getting annoyed. It was not at the charming lady, but rather at his fellow nations. Their infatuation was apparent in the blushes and sudden smiles that came from their interactions with her. Viktor was not pleased with how others looked at her like a meal or a treasure. He also wasn’t pleased that he was feeling this way over a stranger, better yet a stranger attached to Allen.

With the end of the meeting came the desire for answers. Viktor rose quickly like a weasel looking for prey. He moved calmly and quickly over to the stranger. There he stood, in front of her but unnoticed, while she giggled and affectionately was playing around with England. Viktor felt his ire increase when she gave the killer baker a kiss. His blush made Viktor’s stomach twist in a painful way.

Before confronting her, Viktor looked over to the Canadian that seemed to be looking over at the pair jealously.

“Kaнaдa, who is this?”

“That’s (Y/N) (L/N). An old friend of Al’s, we’ve known her since childhood and since Al’s buried under work, he asked her to step in for him.”

Viktor just hummed in response. This woman was becoming more interesting. With two steps and a cough, Viktor stood in front of the playful pair.

Their attention turned to him quickly. The Brit did not look happy to be interrupted, while the woman smiled at him. Using his practiced grace Viktor reached out and took her hand. A gentle kiss was placed upon it.

“Hello, Ms. (L/N). I am the Russian Federation. Is there a chance you have a moment to discuss some things with me?”

(Y/N) covered her mouth and giggled. To Viktor, and many others it sounded like silver bells.

“Of course, I have some time before I have to get these notes to Al.”

Being the gentleman, he offered her his elbow. She responded with a bright smile and (Y/N) hooked her arm into his and followed the red eyed male out.

It was not long before they found a spot to sit and discuss. Their conversations soon left the topics of business and became more personal. Viktor was intrigued, despite the difference in the centuries she had lived, he couldn’t help but feel connected to her. To him her presence felt like a balm for his soul.

A beeping turned the chatting duo into silent statues. It was (Y/N)’s phone. She glanced quickly at it and grimaced.

“I’m sorry Viktor, I have got to get going. Al’s waiting for me and these papers.”

Of course. Allen just had to cut their time short. Standing alongside (Y/N), Viktor offered to give her a ride. Just something to give him more time to bask in her glow.

Being the true optimist, (Y/N) accepted with an enthusiastic yes!

The trip to his car and then to Al’s apartment felt too fast for Viktor. Before (Y/N) could leave the car. Viktor looked at (Y/N), he felt emotions that could not be explained easily, but he knew one thing. He needed to get to know (Y/N) better. So, he was going to take a chance.

“Would you care to go on a date with me? It is nothing serious, just a chance for us to get to know one another better.”

(Y/N) was not surprised. She just smiled and looked back at Viktor while getting out of the car.

“I would love to, but you need to realize one thing. I have noticed quite a few nations giving me the same goo-goo eyes that you have. So, be prepared for a fight for my heart.”

With a wink and giving Viktor a small sheet of paper, (Y/N) was gone. She had waltzed into Allen’s apartment building like a dream.

Looking down Viktor saw that the sheet was her phone number. Despite his cold heart, Viktor smirked to himself. He would figure out these feelings and if God willed it, he would secure her heart.

2p Germany

It was too loud and cold in this basement. The chaos had decided to get started before the meeting. Nations were yelling and weapons were flying. The A.C. was blowing like it was the reason for the next ice age. It was all annoying. All Luther wanted to do was sleep, maybe people watch, but that wouldn’t happen if these conditions continued.

With a deep groan Luther sat up straight and stretched. The sound of a satisfying pop alerted him that his stretching had relaxed muscles.

Luther glanced at the clock, and his head tilted to the left like a confused puppy. It was about ten minutes after the hour. That means the meeting should have started ten minutes ago, why hadn’t it started? He glanced around and understood one thing. Luciano, aka Italy, was not there.

Luther felt a little embarrassed he should have realized that earlier, but in his defense, the exhaustion and the beginnings of a headache ate at his awareness. Before he could wonder about the location of his missing Genosse, a (Y/H) woman ran over to the podium at the front of the room.

Her hair was wild, her face was flushed, gorgeous (E/C) looked around excitedly. She carried a smile as she reached forward and tapped on the microphone.

“Hello everyone, I apologize for being late. But I am (Y/N) (L/N) and I’m stepping in for Italy today. Sadly, he is out due to getting grounded and he has asked that I lead this meeting.”

Luther raised a brow and smirked. How cute. This pretty little vixen was now attempting to lead the meeting. The next few hours would be fun, well for him anyway.

For many nations the meeting was considered normal. Interruptions and fighting, before the more business-oriented nations took back control. This included the lovely (Y/N), but try as she may to keep the focus, many nations shattered her attempts like already cracked glass.

For one thing, Austria could not leave (Y/N) be. He was constantly interrupting presenting nations by breaking in rock ballads, mostly singing about (Y/N). While Norway was asking her whether or not she wanted to see a flaming heart, no one was quite sure what that mean. Since it was Norway, everyone knew that fire and pyros should not mix, except for (Y/N). Luckily Denmark stopped him by confiscating his lighter. Lastly, Luther joined in. He was dropping pickup lines and teasing (Y/N). Other nations did some stuff too, but it was not as entertaining as those three.

Throughout it all (Y/N) just giggled and responded with affection. In some cases, it was a compliment, other nations got gentle gestures. Those that received her affection either blushed or looked a little shocked.

Luther knew (Y/N) was gorgeous before, but her outgoing and sweet nature made her much more lovely. He thought he might be developing a crush, but Luther didn’t dwell to long on that thought. Mostly because everyone was getting up to leave and some of his rivals were closing in on (Y/N).

Without thinking it through, Luther quickly moved to take a spot by (Y/N)’s side. (Y/N) was surprised but didn’t seem to be against his presence. Luther gave a side smile and asked to walk her out. Somehow (Y/N)’s smile got even bigger, and she nodded.

Together they walked out of the cold, basement room. Luther gave dark glares at nearby nations while (Y/N) smiled and waved at the nations that walked by.

As they walked, Luther decided to get to know this little beauty more.

“So, how long have you known Luciano?”

“Since the third century, after all we grew up together in a way, though I am still way younger than him.”

This comment caused Luther to stop walking. Was she like them or some other thing that he didn’t know existed? Any way Luciano has some explaining to do later.

Luther watched as (Y/N) slowed, stopped and looked back at him. Her eyes seemed to be full of mischief and a cat-like smile rested on her face.

“Luther, if you don’t want to walk me to Luci’s I’m sure some other nation would be more than happy to take your place.”

Luther’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t expecting this sweet woman to be an observant and playful tease. It was hot.

“Liebling, why call someone else when I’m the only one you need.”

Both let out a chuckle as they stepped through the door that led into the stairwell. This seems to be the start of a classic love story.

#2p headcanons #2p hetalia #2p russia #2p germany #x reader #fic

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

DP/HP twin fic chapter 1

This would be the first chapter of that DP/HP twin fic... I need a name for it before I post it elsewhere... I can’t think of a name... help... @ladylynse I blame you for this entirely. It’s 3k and they haven’t even met yet. What am I doing.

Here’s the thing. Danny had encountered wizards before. And witches. Multiple times.

He was not a fan.

Burning, or other forms of murder, hadn’t ever crossed his mind as a solution to them, even when Freakshow decided to derail his life yet again. Still. There were only so many times you could stumble upon members of a certain group zapping people with bargain-bin neuralyzers and leaving hours’ worth of uncertain memories in their wake before you got sort of fed up.

Memory erasure was great in fiction. Not so much in real life.

Danny got it. He’d erased a couple of memories himself. Well, a lot of memories, depending on how one took the Reality Gauntlet incident. But as far as motivations went, ‘trying not to be dissected by the government’ was a lot different from ‘we can’t be bothered to be discreet about our sporting events and we think it’s funny that our venue managed to attract ghost hunters when these magicless fools have never seen a real ghost in their lives so we’re going to mess with them.’

Yeah. Danny was still annoyed about that. Also, about their reactions to him when he crossed an invisible line that was apparently supposed to repulse ‘no-majs.’

That was before getting into Desiree, one of the few witches to become a proper ghost. According to her, witches and wizards had a different system, and it was rare for magic users to enter the Infinite Realms. Dora’s dragon amulet had also been enchanted prior to her death, although that could have been a ghost’s work, and Dora had never shared where it had come from.

Anyway, the point was that Danny knew about magic as an entity separate from ghost powers and at least a small subset of the living beings that relied upon it.

So, when the woman who dressed like she was living a century ago and smelled of magic walked up to his house, he’d braced himself for a fight. He wasn’t going to let his parents be ‘obliviated’ again. They were oblivious enough as it was!

But. No. She’d come in, no wand in sight (although Danny still wasn’t entirely sure those were necessary) and sat down on the couch, hands primly folded, ignoring all of the… rather questionable features of the Fenton living room.

To add to the weirdness, his parents had been expecting her. They knew her by name. They wanted Danny to be in the room to meet her.

“Edna,” Jack said, with a strained smile. “How have you been?”

“Well enough,” said Edna, her eyes flicking to where Danny stood in the kitchen door, watching. “And this must be young Deneb Alased, correct?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, frowning. There weren’t a whole lot of people who knew his legal name, let alone his middle name. So, who was this? “I am.” He looked at his parents, willing them to clear up whatever this was.

Both of their faces were sour, but they were trying to hide it. Maddie was doing better than Jack.

“This is Edna,” said Maddie. “Why don’t you come and sit down, Danny?” She patted the back of Jack’s favorite recliner.

Danny noticed how Edna’s mouth twitched down at his nickname. His fingers curled, ghost energy buzzing under his skin just barely kept from his eyes. He didn’t like this.

“It’s alright,” said Edna, smiling kindly. “This must be very confusing for you. I would be concerned myself, under these circumstances. What I’m about to tell you may be difficult to process, however.”

“We’d like to start it off, actually,” said Maddie. “When you called this morning—” She broke off, making a face. “We were told this wouldn’t happen.”

“Yes, well,” said Edna. She shrugged. “Purebloods. What can you do? Evidently—Well. You should have your say, first.”

Danny gave Edna another suspicious glance. Maybe all wizards weren’t bad. Maybe Freakshow was an outlier and sports fans just sucked in general.

Yeah, honestly, that tracked. (Cough, Vlad, cough, Dash, cough.)

He sat down. “Okay,” he said. “Way to be ominous. What’s going on?”

“Well, Danno,” said Jack. He laughed nervously.

“You’re adopted,” said Maddie, bluntly.

Danny blinked. “Wait, what?” he said. “Adopted? But I look just like you guys!”

Jack’s nervous chuckles continued. “We are related to your birth parents… not closely, but… Yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, feeling several layers of personal identity float away from him. He’d always blamed his weirdness on genetics and family history. Especially the ghost stuff. Then again, his name, which definitely did not match with his parents’ or sister’s, probably should have tipped him off. “You’re serious?”

“I’m afraid so, Danny,” said Jack, kneeling by the chair and patting his knee. “But don’t worry! You’ll always be a Fenton, no matter what!”

Danny nodded, swallowing back emotion. “And Jazz? Is she…?”

“She’s adopted, too. At about the same time as you, in fact,” said Maddie. “So am I and Alicia. It’s a long story.”

“Okay,” said Danny, determined to get that story at some point. “Why is she here, then?”

“I was involved in your adoption,” she explained, “and certain members of your birth family want to get back in contact with you.”

Ancients, that was sure a thing to hit a guy with right after the ‘you’re adopted’ revelation.

Hold up. He was forgetting something. This was a witch. How did that play into this? Because it had to. Witches and wizards, as far as Danny could tell, tended to isolate themselves from the rest of humanity.

He decided he did not like the probable trajectory of this conversation.

“Why?” he asked, because he wasn’t going to say he knew about magic until and unless someone else cracked first.

“Yes,” said Maddie. “Why? Why now? We were under the impression that they would never contact us.”

“Evidently,” said Edna, “Deneb’s birth mother was not properly informed of the decision to put him up for adoption.”

Okay. Yeah. That was a lead-in to his biological parents being magical because he couldn’t think of a single modern western country where that would fly.

“So, what? I was kidnapped at birth or something?” asked Danny.

“Not exactly,” said Edna, wincing. “It was your birth father who filed the paperwork.”

“And she’s only now wondering where Danny is?” asked Maddie, a little shrilly. Her stress from before was now spilling over into anger so sharp Danny could taste it like a knife on his tongue. “Did she somehow manage to forget giving birth?”

“No,” said Edna. “Which brings us to the other matter. One of the other matters. The one who first sent the request for your adoption information was actually your twin brother.”

A third monumental revelation. Wonderful. What next?

“We, of course, contacted his parents, and discovered the irregularity regarding your birth mother’s consent. Hence my presence here today.” She opened her bag and removed a small glass tube, about twice the length of Danny’s palm and the same diameter as a quarter. “There was also the issue regarding how young you were when you were put up for adoption. Generally, our agency deals with the placement of children aged from five to eleven.” She held the tube out to Danny. “Could you hold this, please?”

“Do you really need to do this?” asked Jack.

“Due to all the irregularities involved, yes,” said Edna. “Our organization charter unfortunately requires it. If the mother was not consulted, as is required, the reasoning is that other required things are not as certain.”

“Hold up,” said Danny, hands tightening around the ends of the armrests. “These people—” Who were most probably wizards, and wasn’t that a thing to get his head around, “—they’re not trying to get custody of me again, are they? After giving me away?”

“No,” said Maddie. “We won’t let that happen.”

“We’re not going to give him back to people who were going to abandon him just because—!” Dad broke off. “Uh. Because.”

Smooth.

“You know,” said Danny, deciding to cut off… whatever this was. “Even if this ‘test’ is, like…” He trailed off. “Whatever result you want it to be. I don’t know. I’m still going to find out whatever it is you’re dancing around anyway. Because I’m not going to forget this conversation.”

Silence.

The witch twitched slightly towards where Danny knew her wand was hidden.

Screw it. “And I’m not going to let you erase my memory. You people do get how messed up that is, right?”

Danny was treated to the sound and sight of three jaws dropping open.

“How do you-?” started Maddie.

“You remember when we went to that camp because people thought it was haunted? But you didn’t find anything? Well, they managed to get both of you that time, but not me. And I know you’re one of them, so I’m betting that whatever this is, it has to do with magic.” He paused. “It was some weird magic sporting event, apparently.”

“The-? You went to the Quidditch World Cup?” asked Edna.

“What? No!” protested Maddie. “That was in Britain, wasn’t it? We were just in the next state.” She scowled. “I’m going to write a letter of complaint. Even if we’re living without magic, we’re not no-majs. We’re squibs. They had no right to obliviate us.”

“Okay,” said Danny. “Yeah. You’ve lost me. Squibs?”

No one seemed willing to answer the question.

“If you’d just take this,” said Edna, holding out the tube a little desperately. “It will be much easier to explain all at once.”

Danny looked up at his parents. Jack looked at Maddie. Maddie drummed her fingers on the back of his chair.

“It’ll be fine,” said Maddie, “probably.”

“Fine,” said Danny. He took the tube. Almost at once, it started glowing green.

“Oh,” said Edna, frowning and leaning closer. “It usually isn’t—”

The tube exploded, embedding several small glass shards in Danny’s hands.

“Ow,” said Danny.

“Oh,” said Edna again, evidently not registering the small splinter of glass in her cheek. “Well. Whoever your birth father hired to test your magic as an infant obviously got it wrong. Congratulations, Mr. Fenton. You’re a wizard.”

“My hand is bleeding.”

“Yes,” agreed Edna. “It isn’t supposed to explode, you see.”

Once Danny got cleaned up, which involved a lot of glaring at Edna from Maddie and Jack, they adjourned to the kitchen, which was free of random glass shards.

“The adoption organization I work for,” said Edna, “places squibs—people born to magical parents who do not have magic themselves—with families of squibs. Assuming the child’s birth parents do want to give up their child over something like not having magic.” Her nose wrinkled. “The common wisdom is that it is easier for such children to grow up in an environment that is not explicitly magical. In any case, it is my personal belief that anyone who would give up a child over something like that isn’t going to be the best of parents.”

“Alright,” said Danny, “so… all of us are squibs.”

“Except you, apparently,” said Edna. “It’s hard to tell whether or not someone as young as you were when you were given up will be magical or not. Which is why we usually only deal with older children. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed anything odd happening around yourself? Or unusual abilities?”

Danny stared at her flatly for several long moments. His entire life could be classified as ‘odd,’ and most of it he wasn’t about to share with Edna. Or his parents, as much as he loved them.

But, on the other hand, he now had a great excuse for at least some of his weirdness. His parents wouldn’t think ghost if they could think wizard first.

“Like, define ‘odd,’” said Danny. Despite his earlier encounters with wizards, he had no idea what was normal for them. Other than memory wiping. Which he could not do and wouldn’t have demonstrated anyway.

Okay. If was actually a wizard, and Edna’s doohickey wasn’t just reacting to his ghostliness, he probably could learn how to do the memory thing, but he didn’t know now, so the distinction was meaningless.

(Maybe being a wizard or a squib or whatever was why he wasn’t just. Dead.)

(Yeah, he didn’t want to think about that.)

“Just… Being in one place, and then a different place. Surviving something you shouldn’t have been able to unscathed. Things moving by themselves or changing color or size. Temperature changes. Something you want very badly happening, even if it is impossible or extremely unlikely.”

“Okay,” said Danny. “Yeah.”

“To which one?” asked Jack, concerned. “I haven’t noticed anything like that except what the ghosts do.”

“Um,” said Danny. “This?” He put his hand down on the table, intending to leave an icy handprint. That should be acceptable, right? If temperature changes were normal…

His nerves got the best of him. He knew he was nervous showing even one of his powers around his parents. He overcompensated.

The table was covered with frost.

“Oops?” said Danny.

All the blood had left Edna’s face. Jack and Maddie didn’t look much better.

“Dear lord,” said Edna. “You can do that at will?”

“Yes,” said Danny, holding his hand close to his chest. “More or less.”

“Danny,” said Jack, “why didn’t you tell us?”

“I thought you’d think it was a ghost thing. You kind of shoot first and ask questions later about ghost things.”

“Oh my god,” said Edna. “Never mind that. You can do wandless magic and you’re fourteen?”

“Fifteen,” said Danny, “but, yeah. I guess.”

Evidently, this wasn’t normal.

Also, his comment about shooting first hurt his parents’ feelings. Go figure. Not like they weren’t keeping a massive secret.

“So,” said Danny, once the other discussions had been shelved for the time being, “I have a brother? I think a brother was, at some point, mentioned.”

“Yes,” said Edna. “A twin brother. He wants to meet you. Along with your biological mother.”

“And if I don’t want to?” asked Danny. “If I don’t want to have anything to do with them?”

“I don’t even know,” said Edna. “I can’t believe you slipped under the national detection spell. There’s going to be so much paperwork involved in this. International paperwork.”

“Huh?”

“You were born in Britain,” said Edna, as if this were a minor detail.

Yeah. Like his sense of self needed any further pummeling.

“But it isn’t our fault everything is so messed up,” said Danny. He maybe had some curiosity about his twin brother, but if there was any risk he’d be taken away…

“I understand,” said Edna, “but nothing like this has come up before, as far as we know.” She sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I will use any influence I have in the matter to recommend that you retain custody of Deneb. In the meantime… Do you want to, uh, open communications with any members of your biological family?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “Can I think about it?”

Relations in the Malfoy household had been strained ever since Draco’s investigation of his family tree (unrelated to the return of the Dark Lord and how blood purity was now much, much more important) had revealed that his twin brother had not, in fact, died at birth.

And by strained, Draco meant that his parents had taken to living on opposite sides of the manor, interacting only when there were visitors. Visitors such as his father’s Death Eater friends, members of society, and various government officials. All of whom were more alike, and had greater overlap, than even Draco had initially suspected.

This left Draco walking on eggshells between the two of them and wishing for Hogwarts to start again. Anything he did to please one had to be entirely out of sight of the other, or else they began to fight again. Truthfully, Draco was more on his mother’s side, all things considered, but his father was the one with the friends, and Draco couldn’t stay home under his mother’s wings for all his life. Like his dragon namesake, he had to fly.

Which he would most certainly do. Soon. No, he wasn’t hiding from his parents in his room. That would be ridiculous. They knew where his room was. They could find him if they wanted to, and neither of them was anywhere near him. He knew. He’d checked.

This made the inarticulate shriek of rage he overheard from his mother all the more concerning.

It was enough to make him emerge – cautiously! – from his self-imposed exile.

He was curious. And stupid. It got him into enough trouble at school, why not at home?

Also, he really needed to know. For his own safety. Tiptoeing around whatever disaster just happened would be impossible if he didn’t know what it was.

Instead, he tiptoed after his mother.

His mother, who was angry enough that sparks were coming off the end of her tightly gripped wand. Green sparks.

Draco had never actually seen the killing curse in action, but his mother’s face screamed murder all on its own, no magic required, despite the fact that Draco was only catching glimpses of it as she strode towards his father’s half of the house.

This was going to be bad. Terrible. Possibly the kind of event that saw one of his parents in Azkaban and the other in little, tiny pieces all around the smoking room.

Lucius, for his part, looked paralyzed where he stood, and Draco briefly entertained the notion that Narcissa had managed to cast petrificus totalis on him without moving her wand or speaking the words.

Narcissa planted herself firmly in front of Lucius and glared up at him, seething, her breath making sucking noises as it passed through her teeth.

She punched Lucius in the face. The man toppled, clutching his nose. Narcissa kicked him.

It was a good thing that the Malfoys had no neighbors, because what Narcissa screamed next likely could have been heard for at least a mile.

“He wasn’t even a squib, you lying bastard!”

#danny phantom #harry potter #dp/hp twin au #dp/hp crossover #my writting

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yangrdn · 3 years

Note

hiiii! if you're still taking requests for joaquin, can you do a fluff oneshot of him with a fem!s/o with adhd?

moments

pairing: joaquín torres x fem!reader with adhd

a/n: first joaquín one-shot! now, i had to do research to find symptoms in girls and adults to write this and tried to be as accurate as possible.and if this is inaccurate, i'm ready to take criticism and learn. i hope u enjoy reading this <3

summary: moments with joaqo.

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: none

my m.list

request | my taglist

growing up, you hadn’t had it easy. facing issues kids your age didn’t struggle with made it hard to make friends, focusing in class became a problem, fidgeting became a routine.

when you started school, that was the first time your mom noticed. your teachers had called your parents in, telling them about your different behaviour. at first, it got excused as excitement. you had just started school, being excited was normal. and the fidgeting wasn’t uncommon for children your age, as they also couldn’t sit still. but as you grew older, it got obvious that this wasn’t just you.

not being able to stay on one topic in a conversation and constantly being impulsive made it hard to communicate with others. to some, you were seen as arrogant or mean. to the ones willing to educate themselves and having patience, you were just a normal girl who liked to talk.

due to all the energy inside you, you’re also hyperactive. activities that were physical were the ones being chosen over the typical things girls like, as your teachers liked to call it when they explained it to your mom. calm activities are still having a good effect on you, too.

but still, you didn’t get the diagnosis until you got older. different doctors had told you before that you’re good and don’t need help. a reason for the misdiagnosis was the fact that in girls, symptoms of adhd were seen as a character of your personality. it wasn’t until your mom complained more than once to your doctor and explained to him that not being able to focus in class and getting distracted easily wasn’t normal. after running many tests and being asked questions, they finally had a picture of your symptoms and could give you a reason behind it all.

they also say that adhd in girls is much different than in boys, which is why you didn’t get a diagnosis with it until a couple months after you turned 17. after that, you were happy you had the knowledge of what’s been happening for years, but it still made it hard to communicate and brought its problems into your everyday life.

like right now.

the doodles at the side of your book page long forgotten, you stare at the tv screen. adventure time is playing, yours and joaquín’s favorite show. normally, you’d watch it together. but today you feel like reading instead, so you’re seated next to your boyfriend with his arm draped around you. you hum along to the theme playing, nodding your head slowly. when you look down, you grab the pencil placed next to you on the sofa and start drawing doodles on your book again, still humming along to the theme.

you hear joaquín’s stomach grumble, raising your head to look at him. he’s already looking at you, lips pursed in an attempt to stifle his laugh. you giggle and set your book down next to you, marking the page you’re on with your pencil.

“i’ll go make us something to eat, i’m hungry anyways,” you say, getting up and stretching out your limbs. “do you want muffins? i think there are still some from yesterday.”

“sounds good,” he hums, kissing your hand before letting go of it and letting you leave the living room. you leave him watching tv, walking into the kitchen. once you’re there, you halt in front of the cabinets.

where are the muffins again? you look through the different cabinets, searching through them and moving your hand inside them, in case joaquín put them at the back of them, hiding them from you. nothing.

you sigh and look around you, grabbing a glass and the bottle of water laying on the counter before walking back into the room to your boyfriend.

upon seeing you, joaquín frowns, but still opens his arms and welcomes you back in a warm hug.

“weren’t there any left?” he asks, kissing your temple. you shake your head and give him the water bottle to hold. he takes it.

“no, i didn’t find them,” you state.

“what? but i saw you putting them in the fridge yesterday before we went to sleep,” he notes. you let out a breath and turn your head to him, frown resident on your lips.

“did i?” he nods. you huff and stand up again.

“i think i forgot again,” you whisper and make your way back to the kitchen. there, you open the fridge and feel your eyes widen and a smile creeping up your face as a gasp leaves your mouth. “i found them!” you shout, letting joaquín know. you grab the pack of muffins and walk back to your boyfriend.

“i think i put them there in fear of having them melt overnight,” you remember and take one out, handing the other one to the boy next you. you plop down at his side and start eating, reverting your eyes back to the screen in front of you.

“they taste so good.” joaquín’s voice comes off muffled by the food in his mouth, crumbs of the chocolate muffin falling down his lips and landing on his lap, some on the sofa. you groan and throw your head back.

“amor! you’re leaving everything on the floor and the sofa!” you complain. he only laughs in response, prompting more crumbs to fall down.

“ugh,” you groan and roll your eyes, leaning closer into his arm.

“did you find it?” you look over joaquín’s shoulder, glancing at the amount of dvd’s in his hands and biting your lip nervously.

“y/n, i’ll find it, don’t worry,” he assures you and lowers his head back to the dvd’s.

sam and bucky are coming over today for lunch and a movie. they let you decide the movie, so you chose to watch the maze runner and have been searching for the movie inside your house all day long. at some point, you got anxious that you lost it and couldn’t watch it.

“yes but they’re almost here! what if you don’t find it by then!” you sigh and throw your head back.

“i’ll find it! if you want you can go and already take some snacks out,” he offers with a soft smile. you nod hastily and leave him.

there’s chips, popcorn and some cake. you decide to take everything into the living room and place it on the coffee table, letting joaquín know you’re back.

“ok, i think everything’s made. did you find the movie?” you step closer to joaquín, grabbing the dvd’s left on his left side and looking through them. “remind me why we decide to buy movies almost every month.” the boy next to you chuckles, nodding along.

“y/n?” you only hum, staying focused on the movies in your hand. “i- i think you found the movie,” he says. you frown, looking up at him and back down at your hands. shaking your head, you frown again.

“que? no, i didn’t fi-” you stop yourself from talking when you focus on the movies in your hand, giggling when you see it. “i think i didn’t see it.”

your leg is shaking, going up and down as you wait for your ice cream with torres sitting next to you. it’s warm outside, so you chose to sit in the shop today, since it’s cooler in there. the lady at the register calling different names, every sound ringing in your ear as you wait for your order to be finished.

“you good?” joaquín asks, glancing at your nervous fingers. you’re picking at your skin, again. you hum, not really listening. he sighs and takes your hand, drawing your focus back to him and making you look up.

“you need the pencil?” he takes out a blue pen, rolling up his sleeves as you nod and take the pen from his hand, starting to draw flowers on his arm and the palm of his hand.

“does this tickle?” you wonder out loud, stopping to glance up at him.

“no tanto, but it feels good, don’t worry.” he pecks your lips.

it’s late, the rain outside pouring and the moon casting a glim light in your room. you’re laying in bed with him.

“‘quin?” you whisper into the dark, wanting to know if he’s still up. you hear him shuffle behind you, raising his head from where it was resting in the crock of your neck. he hums in response.

“are you up?” you feel his hot breath hit your neck when he laughs.

“i am, now,” he croaks out. you turn your head a little, staring at his face.

“you know, i was thinking about this dog we saw earlier. can we get one?” you ask. he frowns, coughing.

“uhm, yes if you want. but now we’re going to sleep, i’m tired,” he mumbles and cuddles back closer to you, pulling you into his embrace, pressing your back to his front. you hum, closing your eyes.

“oh and earlier you said you were going to explain to me how that one blue game works. i forgot the name,” you trail off at the end of your sentence and frown, what was it called.

“what blue game?” “the one from earlier.”

“what game from earlier?” you roll your eyes and free yourself from his hug, sitting up.

“the one sam told you about! he showed you a picture, too!” you throw your hands up.

“babe, that was monopoly, the game you’re talking about isn’t even blue. now come back i was about to fall asleep,” he answers and pulls you down. you nuzzle into his chest, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again.

“ok ok, i think i keep forgetting the games he’s shown us. night,” you whisper and raise your head to kiss his chin, humming in content when he lowers his head for you to kiss his lips instead.

“can we go get more ice cream tomorrow?” you hear him sigh and chuckle, knowing that he’s probably trying his best to ignore you.

translation:

amor - love

que? - what?

no tanto - not much

taglists

permanent

@bi-lmg @aayaissaa @fandomxreaders

joaquín torres

@samscaptain @jades-tea-shop

#joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquín torres x fem!reader #fem!reader #joaquín torres x you #joaquín torres x y/n #joaquín torres imagine #joaquín torres imagines #joaquín torres fluff #joaquín torres oneshot #joaquín torres one-shot #joaquín torres oneshots #joaquín torres one-shots #joaquín torres ff #joaquín torres fanfiction

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

hi nat it's the avdol anon again 😳 i noticed that ur requests were open and uh... you might know why i'm here. feel free to take this in any direction u want but i was wondering if afab reader could get a tarot/palm line reading by avdol which foreshadows their quickly budding romance. this is just an idea but i think it's cute! tysm for reading <3

prediction - avdol x reader (2k)

warnings: none! neutral reader, neutral pronouns. sfw.

It is your third time stepping foot in Muhammad Avdol’s little fortune-telling shop, and your heart is beating faster and more nervously than it ever has before. The first time, you had come with a friend who had not stopped chattering on about how they’d heard that this man was the real deal, they had friends who he’d been able to tell the life story of from just a glance at a tarot card spread. You had been sceptical but humoured them, agreeing to come with them to get a glimpse of this mysterious character who would so easily be able to read one’s past. It would have been dangerous, you reassure yourself, to send your friend alone to a strange new place.

Avdol himself had looked at you and smiled and you had been hit by how warm he was. You’d assumed he’d look like a charlatan, a snake-oil salesman – but his hands had seemed genuine as he’d shook yours, his thumb warm as it brushed your wrist, a curious expression on his handsome face before he’d turned to your friend.

His shop smelt like burning incense, draped in rich warm shades of red and ochre, comforting as he poured you both a cup of tea. If he’d been perturbed that your friend had brought with them an audience, he did not show it; merely motioned for the two of you to sit as he shuffled a well-worn pack of tarot cards.

You had expected the same vague kind of allusions as you’d heard so many people make before – broad statements that, if thought about, could be connected to anything in one’s life if the listener was desperate to do so. You’d expected his dark eyes to be sharp as he searched your friend for weakness, as he picked up on various little tremors of their face and voice and twisted them into something like cleverness.

But his voice had been unwavering and calm as he’d said names straight off the bat, as he’d confidently recounted incidents in their life in not quite elaborate detail, but in enough detail for you and your friend both to understand that he was the real deal. As he’d predicted moments in the future, his brow furrowing as he gave advice as to paths that should be taken carefully and paths that should be embarked upon with wild fervour and excitement.

He’d taken their money with a small smile, before he’d turned to you and said;

“And you?”

The thought of your future spelt out by him suddenly seemed terrifying. You had shaken your head, backing away – and he had given you that curious look again, like he saw something inside of you that you’d never noticed yourself.

“Maybe next time I see you,” he’d said, and you’d followed your friend out of the room with a dizziness that you couldn’t quite explain.

He had not said ‘if I see you’. In Muhammad Avdol’s mind, the two of you meeting again was a fated occurrence. You had told yourself that you would not allow that to happen, to afraid of all of the things that could happen to you and hadn’t yet.

Of course, you go back. Your friend is desperate to see him again, after some advice that he gave them leads to a promotion at work. They want to thank him, and ask him advice for an upcoming business trip that will take them out of Egypt for six months – when you hesitantly shake your head and bite your lip, they pout at you.

“Please?” They wheedle. “I won’t see you again for half a year, this is our chance to do something together before I leave--”

And because you love your friends, you agree, and you step foot in the comforting, homely little fortune-telling shop for the second time in your life.

Avdol does not look up from the table.

“I already poured you tea,” he says. “Please, take a seat.”

Something about the atmosphere of the shop is at once terrifying and comforting to you; like a place you’ve been a hundred times in your dreams. Your fingers trace the delicate gold embroidery of the table cloth as Avdol listens to your friend’s ardent thanks. It’s pretty; constellations on dark midnight blue velvet.

“Do you like it?” You’re snapped from the daydream by Avdol. He’s looking at you, his face unreadable. “I made it myself.”

“Oh,” you say, heat rushing to your face. “Y-yes. It’s beautiful. So delicate. It must have taken a long time--”

“I like projects,” he says to you. “Small work you have to take your time over. It’s satisfying to see it turn into something beautiful at the end.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you. “Watch out for your own constellation, habibi.”

You don’t know what he means, but your friend is tugging you out of the door before the two of you outstay your welcome, chattering on about all of the advice that Avdol has given them about making the most of their six months in a foreign country. When you round the corner and Avdol’s little shop is no longer in sight, she gives you an elbow to the ribs.

“I think he likes you,” she says, and you go all over hot and bothered at the thought of it. There’s something about him that frays at the edges of your consciousness – you have never felt quite so safely ensconced in anything as you feel within the warm incense-laden air of his rooms. But him liking you is ridiculous. And you don’t believe in anything so nebulous as fortune-telling.

You do some spring cleaning that weekend. In the very corner of your wardrobe, almost falling into a gap between the floor of it and the chipboard of the back, is a necklace that your mother gave you for your eighteenth birthday. It’s not precious; it was a silly little gift picked up for pennies in a market to go inside your birthday card, cheap metal. It’s a representation of the constellation you were born under.

Your heart beats too fast in your chest as you put it on.

And that’s the series of events that leads you to be stepping foot in Muhammad Avdol’s fortune telling shop ten minutes before he’s due to close. The lights are already off, but Avdol is sat by his table with a book in his hand and looks up as the bell over his front door rings, a smile splitting his face.

“I was expecting you earlier,” he says. Your hands fly up to the necklace, twisting it between thumb and forefinger. “Ah. I’m glad you heeded the warning.”

“How did you know?” You ask him, your throat dry as you take the seat that he points to opposite him. There is already a steaming teacup in front of it; you know it will be steeped exactly how you like it, will have two spoonfuls of sugar in it, will be your favourite blend. Avdol has seemed to know that since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“The universe works in whatever way it wills,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his own tea. The teacup he has put in front of you is patterned with your favourite flower. “You wanted me to read your palm, didn’t you?”

You nod. You do not ask him how he knows what you came here for. Too many coincidences have lead you to this point, and with Avdol so close to you and you finally alone with him you are beginning to wonder if your scepticism has been misplaced. He holds his hand out over the finely embroidered velvet cloth – you realise that your own birth constellation is exactly beneath it.

Up close, he’s so handsome you can barely breathe. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, his skin reflecting the flickering candlelight beautifully. His hands are warm and dry; well-kept, as you place your own in it palm-up.

“You’re soft,” he says – which is not the most professional thing for him to say, you don’t think, but your breath catches in your throat anyway. “Let me see.”

He gently traces your life line. He murmurs something about your family, about your past, about your driving force and your career – all of it true, all of it right. His finger dances over it as he tells you to be wary of people offering you chances that are too good to be true.

Head line. Fate line. His fingers are so warm, he holds you so gently – you imagine what he would feel like holding your hand as a lover and chastise yourself in your head. Everything he says to you about your past is true. Everything he says about your personality, about how you value certain things and about how you are feeling right at that very moment is true. You can barely breathe as his index finger brushes along your heart line.

“Ah,” he murmurs, soft. He coughs. You swear you see his cheeks change colour, just a little, but you don’t know how to react to it. “This is interesting.”

“I-is that a good thing?” You ask him, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Perhaps,” he says. There’s a rigidity to him that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“What . . . what does it say?” You ask. “What does it mean? Am I going to meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger?”

“Not a stranger,” he says. He swallows, and for the first time you see Avdol looking a little nervous. “And I think perhaps it would be remiss for someone like me to call him handsome.” You look curiously at him, but his eyes are focused on your smaller palm. It feels so right, being held like this. “Your heart line. Well. It says you were wary of this person at first, that you did not quite believe everything they were saying – but that something about them seemed to draw you in even so, like a magnetic pull. It says . . .” He seems more awkward than you’ve ever seen him, and certainly more awkward than you’ve ever heard anyone describe an encounter with him. “It says you should trust your instincts. And if you want to make a move . . . well. It seems to think today is as good a day as any.”

Your eyebrows scrunch as you think about what he could mean. You haven’t had any thoughts about anyone like that, recently. There’s nobody in your life. Hell, Avdol is the first man you’ve touched like this in the past week--

And a lightbulb goes off over your head.

It explains the way that you feel in his shop, the way that your heart seems to beat just a little bit quicker around him. It explains the constellations and the teacup and the way the two of you keep not quite meeting one another’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Avdol says. “This is unprofessional, I should be closing up shop right now--”

He goes to drop your hand, but you breathe in soft and sure as you whisper with a dry voice;

“Wait.”

He looks at you from under thick dark lashes. The whole of outer space feels like it’s contained within his eyes; dark constellations, secrets you can only wish you understood. You take a deep breath to gather all of your courage up within you. You think of Avdol warning you about things offered that seem too good to be true, but you push back the anxiety.

“Would you like to get something to eat, sometime? I’d ask about something to drink, but . . . I don’t think anything will measure up to the tea.”

Avdol looks at you. His eyes linger over your face; the cross between trepidation and hopefulness. They flicker back down to your palm. The small smile he gives you in return to yours is just as shaky as your own.

“Yes,” he says, quietly. “I would love to.”

#writing #jjba #avdol x reader #muhammad avdol #jojo's bizarre adventure #muhammad avdol x reader #jojo fluff #avdol fluff #neutral reader #Anonymous

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kaeyastopmakingicepuns · 4 years

Text

Diluc x Reader Fake Marriage, part two

Part One

So, this is a continuation of the fame marriage fic, which I didn’t really intend to continue, but here we are.

Summary: Fake marriage, you know the drill.

Rating: T

Preview:

"You said, and I quote: 'you should really bring the Knights of Favonious with you next time,'" you reminded him.

Diluc faltered. "I didn't mean it like that."

Also on AO3

You had barely made it a hundred paces past the bridge that led out of Mondstadt before you began to regret you choice of travelling companion.

"Not getting cold feet, are we?" Kaeya asked as he walked backwards a few steps ahead of you, his hands casually clasped behind his head so that his elbows stuck out.

You rolled your eyes. "Cold feet from what?"

"Ya know..." Kaeya grinned. "Having Mondstadt's greatest Calvary Captain-"

"--Only Calvary Captain," you corrected.

Kaeya didn't miss a beat. "--Most handsome and charming Calvary Captain accompany you on your errands?"

"What is this, 'bring your obnoxious, little shit to work day?'" You scoffed. "I simply asked for an extra pair of hands, don't you think that this--" you jerked your head backwards small battalion of knights marching in formation behind you-- "is a little much?"

Kaeya gave you a nonchalant shrug. "Jean asked me to show some of the new recruits the ropes. Ya know, let 'em get their feet wet. I figured what better way than by shadowing my favorite adventurer?"

"Ah." You understood now. "I see what this is, you're trying to get me to do your job for you."

Kaeya gave you an impish grin. "Does that sound like something I would do?" he asked, well aware that was exactly the sort of reputation he'd curated for himself.

You didn't grace that with a response. "I thought that new honorary knight was your favorite adventurer?" you asked instead.

"Oh, no, no, no, my dear," Kaeya said, waving a finger back and forth in front of your face. You smacked his hand away and tried to will a small stone or a tree root to trip the backwards-walking idiot. It would serve him right.

"They are my favorite traveler. You-" he tapped your nose. You willed harder. "-are my favorite adventurer."

“Gee, I’m flattered,” you said drily.

You continued walking in silence-- well, you were silent, Kaeya was most decidedly not-- and it wasn’t until you were halfway through the Windwail Highland that Kaeya finally thought to ask, “So what’s the plan for today?”

“We’re going to see Andrius,” you said. “I need a spirit locket.”

“Spirit locket?” Kaeya echoed playfully. “Whatever for?”

You glared at him. He knew exactly what for, using up all your raven insignias the moment you could get your hands on them, occasionally not even waiting until you had removed them from the alchemy bench.

Kaeya placed a hand on his chest in mock surprise. “For me?” he asked, words practically dripping with that false honeyed tone he used when he felt like being particularly annoying. “Why, you shouldn’t have!” He was right. You shouldn’t have. Except Kaeya was your best friend (but Archons, at what cost?) and you had agreed to help him when he had bemoaned his difficulty in taking on the ice wolf due to his cryo vision.

Speaking of which-- “Oh, but I don’t know how much help I’ll be, what, with my cryo vision and all. I guess I’ll just have to watch while the rest of you fight,” he said, not sounding even remotely sorry.

“I did tell you not come,” you reminded him.

He opened his mouth to retort, but a voice in the distance calling out your name caused you both to turn your heads.

There, making his way toward you from the direction of Dawn Winery, was Diluc, his coat and bright red hair billowing dramatically behind him as he walked, which was odd, seeing as the ‘Windwail Highland’ was uncharacteristically un-windy. How did he always seem to do that? He must be personally blessed by Barbatos, you mused, and to his own credit, Diluc certainly knew how to make an entrance.

As he drew nearer, you could make out an irked expression on his face. That is to say, a different irked expression than the one he usually wore.

Once he was close enough to converse without shouting, he spoke to you directly, ignoring Kaeya and the other knights completely. “Since when do you hang around with the Knights of Favonius?” Was he pouting? Not quite, but he was coming very close to it.

You blinked. "I'm just taking your advice."

Diluc looked scandalized. "I would never advise such a thing!"

You spoke slowly, surprised at your own patience, "You said, and I quote: 'you should really bring the Knights of Favonious with you next time.'"

Diluc's indignant expression faltered with uncertainty. "We were just standing around," he defended himself weakly.

You could actually feel the vein in your eyelid twitch as you tried to control your sudden rage. "We were standing next to a campfire, so that we didn't freeze to death!" you said through gritted teeth.

Diluc knew he had no leg to stand on, so he switched tactics. "When I said take the Knights of Favonious with you, I didn't mean it like that," he said with indignance.

What was he even talking about?! Stubborn bastard. "There's only one way to take that you-- you--" You jabbed a finger into his chest repeatedly, trying to come up with the right word, but found yourself distracted by how ridiculously toned his abs were. You stopped poking him and flattened your hand against him, marveling at how well-defined he felt. It took at least a full thirty seconds before your brain reminded you that this was a weird thing to do.

Then a light chuckle reminded you that you also had an audience.

You quickly dropped your hand, clearing your throat awkwardly. Was Diluc staring at you? Probably, but you didn’t dare a look as you turned your attention towards Kaeya.

“Come along now,” he said, ushering the trainee knights back towards Mondstadt. “Let’s give these two lovebirds some privacy. We’ll find some nice, gentle dummies for you all to fight.” Some of the new recruits looked intensely relieved at not having to go up against the legendary wolf on their first day, which, yeah, was fair. But with them gone, you’d be left alone in this embarrassing moment with Diluc.

“Kaeya,” you hissed. “Get back here.” Kaeya kept walking. “Get back here,” you repeated more frantically, pointing at the ground in front of you. Kaeya put a hand up to his ear mouthing something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,’ as he continued on. “Get back--” Kaeya turned around, and you let out an angry squeak.

“ W-what I-I meant was--” Diluc stammered as the group disappeared from view.

You turned to face him to find his face had turned tomato red.

He took a deep breath and tried again. “I meant if I am unable to go with you. But, I am.” He coughed. “Able, that is.”

You raised an eyebrow. That was literally not what he said, but you’d let it slide. You assumed that he had only made the original comment out of stress, and it took seeing you parading around with the knights to realize what a jerk he’d actually been.

“Alright,” you said. “Want to go challenge an ice wolf?”

Diluc’s expression flattened. “This is for Kaeya, isn’t it?”

“I can call the knights back if you’d rather not--”

“No.” You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before Diluc grabbed your hand and began leading you down the road towards the Wolvendom.

---

“So about what we discussed last night...” Diluc said carefully as the two of you headed back towards the Dawn Winery, prize in hand.

You tensed. So much for never bringing it up again. “Last night?”

“Yeah, you know.” Diluc either didn't notice or decided not to take your out. “The whole... ‘fake married’ thing.”

“You’re not actually considering that, are you?” Why were you so damn nervous all of the sudden? It wasn’t like you had agreed to anything. But then again, why not? It wasn’t like you would fall for a guy like Diluc, right? Someone as prickly as him? Did he even have a romantic bone in his entire body? It would be like falling in love with a mitachurl. Of the blazing axe variety, to be precise. Because of the fire.

“Well, I was giving it some thought, and I realized it could actually be incredibly beneficial,” he explained. “To both of us, I mean. You take most of the commissions around the Windwail Highlands and Brightcrown Mountains--”

“--Because of the treasure,” you reminded him. Why did you feel the need to remind him every time it came up? It wasn’t like you had some other secret reason. Okay, so yeah, the treasure in these areas was pretty much the same as anywhere else, but whatever.

“Right, because of the treasure.” Diluc continued, “So living in the manor just makes sense, I mean, even if we don’t get fake married, it makes sense, it wouldn’t be weird or anything.” Who exactly was he trying to convince, here? “And not having to be worried about having hopeful suitors dropping by the manor would give me more time to work and focus on...” He faltered. “Other duties.”

You rolled your eyes. “Diluc, I know you’re the Dark Knight Hero.”

Diluc looked shocked, but didn’t deny it. “How?”

"It was the hair.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Oh...”

“Yeah.”

“...I’ll get a hood,” he decided before he caught up to you, as if that would solve the problem. Somebody needed to help this man. Wait, as the one who noticed, was it your responsibility now? Archons, it just might be.

“But anyway. The marriage. The fake marriage, that is.” The Archons had a cruel sense of humor to make this man as awkward as he was and then give him a blush that matched his hair color. “What do you think?”

You stopped walking and turned to him. He stopped, too. His face was serious, but his eyes were... hopeful, maybe? Did he really need this that badly? Suddenly the thought of turning him down made you feel extremely guilty. Although, oddly enough, you didn’t want to turn him down. Because of the manor. You wanted to fake marry him for the manor, obviously. Just like how you took the commissions that required you to pass by the winery for the treasure.

“...Alright,” you finally agreed. “But don’t expect me to fall in love with you.”

“I thought that was the point,” Diluc agreed, and you had to summon an image of every cranky, sour, disgruntled face you had ever seen Diluc make in an attempt to block the image of Diluc smiling (not smirking, but actually smiling) that had seared itself into your brain. Not a problem, you assured yourself, it would probably only take a few days of cohabitation before you remembered how aggravating he could be.

In fact, it was mere moments later, when you stopped to gather some small lamp grass, (for him, no less,) that he reminded you of just that by cutting you off mid-comment with a growled ‘I don’t do small talk,’ before he looked at the sky impatiently to assess the time.

“I still have a lot to do at the guild, how about you take a rest while I go back?”

Oh, you were so bringing the Knights or Favonius with you next time.

#genshin impact #gi diluc #diluc x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr

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xmalereader · 4 years

Text

Theseus Scamander X Male Reader X Brother! Thomas Shelby

|| Masterlist ||

Summary: Reader is secretly dating Theseus Scamander a man that neither of his families or brothers know about so what happens when Thomas finds out that is little brother is seeing a man that is a little older than him? Let alone a wizard that is hiding from society? How will the reader explain to his family that Theseus is a wizard and how will he explain to Theseus that his family is a poplular gang known in both London and Birmingham?

Warnings: language, slight angst, some fluff, Theseus being a good boyfriend, Thomas being protective, some crossover between the peaky blinders and the wizarding world, newt being a cinnamon roll!

“Were have you been?”

Y/n gasps in surpise as he turns around to see is older brother, Thomas, sitting at the table with a cigar between his lips. It was was midnight and the room was dark, only one candle was lit and somehow it wasn’t enough light to see the rest of the room. “What?” Y/n stutters out nervously, Latelty he’s been sneaking out to see his boyfriend, who by the way lived in London and it was rare for him to visit due to his work keeping him busy.

“Y/n, its late and dark and dangerous, so—“ Thomas stands up from his chair and puts out his cigar in the ashtray that was nest to the candle. “Where were you?” He asks again, his tone being serious this time as he eyes y/n.

Y/n was consider as the baby of the family even though he wasn’t the youngest one, he was actually a few years older than Finn and somehow they still treated him like a baby and his family and brothers were very protective of him. They saw y/n as the innocent type since he wasn’t the one to into his brothers business or to be around whores. No, he wasn’t any of that becuase he was a gentlemen and kind to others, he never smoked or drank neither did he fancy women, he wouldn’t bat an eye at any of them. Something his brother didn’t know about yet.

“I was with a friend, they were visiting town and we decided to catch up by going to the bar.” He mumbles out, trying to lie his way through this one but he already knows that his brother can see right through him. Feeling Thomas’ eyes on him causing him to frown a little. “Who was this friend?” He questions as y/n glares at his older brother. “Why should I tell you? So, that you can look him up and scare him off just like you did to the rest of my friends that you’ve met?” He shot back with crossed arms.

He couldn’t allow his brother to know about his secret. “He can be dangerous.”

Y/n scoffs at Thomas and opens his mouth to say something back to him but quickly stops himself. “Wait...did you say ‘he’?” He questions as he noticed thomas’ lips pull up into a small smirk, causing his own eyes to widen in realization. “You’re not a good liar, y/n.”

“Where you spying on me?!” He hisses out in silence, not wanting to wake up the rest of his family as he clenched his hands into fists. “Not spying, I just happened to see you with a man, you looked rather happy leaving his palce.” Said Thomas as he approaches y/n. “So, tell me who was this man?”

Y/n looks away, he’s kept this secret hidden for two years and he always thought that he was going to make it a little longer but turns out that his time is up. Thomas now knows the truth and before he knows it he’ll be scaring him off too and he’ll end up alone again just how his brothers wanted.

Looking away from his older brother he gives in.

“His name is Theseus and we’ve known each other for two years and he was visiting today. We haven’t seen each other is days and he took the day off from work to come and see me...he’s a really nice guy but knowing you and the others you wouldn’t approve.” He mumbles out, glancing up to see Thomas’ face. He was expecting to see a hint of disappointment or disgust now that his secret was out but he wasn’t able to read his brother. He didn’t know what he was thinking and it was slowly freaking him out.

“Last name.”

Y/n lets out a sigh through his nose, looking down as he quietly answers. “Scamander.”

With that his older brother steps away and walks past him, heading towards the door and without saying anything else he leaves the flat. Hearing the door shut behind him causes him to break down. Knowing that this was officially the end of his relationship.

The next morning he was sitting at the dinning table, eating his aunt Polly’s breakfast as he silently stares out the window. His brother hasn’t returned yet and he was expecting him to come back with a smile on his face but instead he gets a grumpy set of brothers that walk through the door. Thomas slamming it closed as y/n looks over to see his brothers walk over to him, standing around the table as the towered over him. This causes y/n to shrink back in his seat as Polly stares at the others with a confused look.

“The man you were with last night, who was he?” Tommy asks as he stands over y/n with a harsh glare. “I—“

“Theseus Scamander, who is he?!” He shouts this time, causing y/n to flinch as he stares at his older brother and then over to the rest of them. He studies his brothers, taking them in one by one as he suddenly puts the puzzle pieces together, causing him to grin widely. “You didn’t find anything did you?” He challenges his brothers, knowing that it wasn’t making them any happier.

Y/n can only giggle at the realization, not only could his brothers not find out about Theseus but also becuase they don’t know that his boyfriend isnt really from around here.

“Y/n this is serious!” Her hears thomas say but continued laughing.

“What’s going on here?” Said Polly as she steps up to glare at the boys who only gave her a simple glance. Thomas was the first to start explaining their small situation. “Little y/n, here has been seeing someone—“

“A women?”

“No, a man.” Said Thomas. “A man that we can’t figure out, we’ve tried looking into his files but nothing came up and I even sent out my men to search for someone that went by the name Theseus Scamander and we came back with nothing.” He hisses out as Polly takes in the information and frowns. “Thomas this is your brother, you should know that he too can be a good liar.”

This causes y/n to cough. “Actually Polly, I didn’t lie. I told Thomas who he was and his real name, what’s funny is that he can’t seem to find him anywhere.” He slowly stands up from his seat and collects his plates. “And you’ll never find out who he is.” He says the last part darkly as he puts his dirty dishes away and heads up the stairs towards his room, ignoring his brothers calls as he slams his door shut behind him.

He leans back against the door and lets out a deep sigh before pushing himself off, heading towards the window he slides it open and sticks his house out. “Lucy.” He whispers out as he looks around the roof top and grumbles. “Lucy!” He calls out again and gets a hoot in response, causing him to look up to see the white owl standing at the edge of the roof top. Y/n chuckles and extends his arm out, causing the owl to fly down and land softly on his arm as y/n moves back inside the room. “I have a letter for you to send to Theseus.” He sets the owl at his desk and pulls out an envelope.

Good thing he was able to write this letter last night, explaining everything about his family and brothers. Theseus knew that he was a muggle and promised to keep his secret about him being a wizard, he told him a bit about his family but he feels like he hasn’t exactly told him everything so, last night he took his time to write down a huge explanation about his family and he hopes that he doesn’t loose Theseus over this but yet again his family is a gang and they are known for their name.

“Here,” he hands the sealed up letter to Lucy who chirps in return to takes the letter. He helps carry her back outside as he sighs, “be safe.” He adds before watching Lucy fly off into the air. He leans against his window seal as he watches Lucy grow smaller each time to got farther away. “Now, we wait.” He tells himself as he closes the window and curtains. Instead of going back downstairs to face his family he decides to stay locked indoors, not really in the mood to see anyone right now. So, instead he lies in bed and waits for Theseus to respond back.

“Thee, you got another letter.”

Theseus looks up to see his little brother standing by the doorway of his office, holding a letter in hand as he approaches slowly. “Who’s it from?” He asks as Newt sets it down on his desk where Theseus picks it up and checks to see who it is from, Turing it around he sees the name written in nice hand writing and in cursive.

Y/n Shelby

“Its from y/n.” Said thesues with a small smile on his face.

“Must be important, y/n doesn’t usually write.” Newt said, causing worry to hit Theseus. His brother was right, y/n rarely wrote and seeing a letter come in today after seeing each other just yesterday could mean anything.

He gives newt a glance and opens up the envelope, pulling out the letter as he unfolds it and leans back in his seat, reading it silently as newt sits by the fire, drinking some tea with Pickett standing on the table, trying to steal some biscuits from his plate but of course Newt wasn’t allow that.

Theseus on the other hand was reading his lovers letter;

Dear, Thesues

You’re probably asking yourself as too why I am writing since I rarely send you anything, only during urgent times like that last time when our anniversary hit and I sent you a last minute gift by owl. I was actually a little worried, how can such a small creature carry something so big without dropping it? But, of course you always tell me that it involves magic so I let it be and just continued on with sending you stuff, but made sure that they were small items. But anyways, your probably wondering what this letter is for, well you see...I’ve told you about my brothers and how overprotective they can be and last night while you were visiting my older Thomas saw us leaving the hotel last night and he wasn’t too happy about it.

I’m not saying that he doesn’t accepts us—to be honest I don’t even know if he approves or not but he spent all night looking through government files about your family and turns out that he didn’t find anything due to you living someplace else with your own magically government and I was actually happy that he didn’t find more about you but I can’t help but be worried for us.

Theseus, you’ve told me about your family and your world and I feel like I should tell you who my family really is and you see, my family are the Shelbys, we are known as London’s most dangerous people and my family deals with alcohol and horse racing. I’m not really involved with it since I wish to have a normal life but knowing my brothers they won’t allow me to be happy, too afraid that something bad will happen to me. If you’ll like you can try to look my family up and I promise you that you won’ t find anything good about them and I understand if you want to stop seeing each other, I don’t want to expose your world to mine and ill allow you erase my memories so that you can feel safer.

I didn’t want to keep any secrets anymore but now I’m afraid of losing you, but I understand that your wizarding community comes first. Their safety comes first and I dont want to be the one to expose your world. So please, think about what your going to say so that I can be prepared for what’s to come.

Love, Y/n Shelby

Theseus sets the letter down, leaning back in his chair as he takes in the information that y/n had given him. “Thee?” He looks over to see his brother standing next to him with a small smile. “I know its none of my business but, I think you should write back to him...he’s a good man and a good friend.” He said softly as Theseus looks away. He and y/n have been together for two years and they always told each other everything so he knew why y/n would fear his family, afraid of them finding out about him being a wizard, being a powerful human being that can do anything.

Knowing more about y/n’s family did upset him but he loved him with all his heart, for the first time in his life he was actually happy. He’s always wanted to come back home with y/n waiting for him so that the two could kiss and share the same bed. He knows that the ministry can be busy but he always makes time for his loved ones. So, no matter how bad y/n’s family is he isn’t going to let this destroy his happiness.

“You’re right, newt.”

“I am?” He says a little baffled as Theseus chuckles at his brother.

He sits up and grabs some parchment and a quill. “For once you are newt,” he leans forward to starts writing his response.

“Is he nice?”

“Yes.”

“...how old is he?”

Y/n rolls his eyes in annoyance as he sets the paper down. “Aunt Polly I’ve told you before, I’m not saying anything else that’ll only upset you more.” He states out. Its been two weeks since he’s sent Theseus that letter and so far he thinks that their relationship has ended, jus the Thomas wanted all along. “Besides, Thomas scared him off so their is nothing to know about him.” He pushes himself off the couch and makes his way towards his aunts kitchen. He’s been staying with her for the last couple of days, not wanting to face his brothers until he apologizes for what he did but he doubts that his brother would apologize.

“I just want to know who this man was that you were seeing for the last two years.” Said Polly as she sits on the dinning table, giving him a small grin as she says. “I want to know the man that made my nephew happy.” Y/n silently makes himself a cup of tea, avoiding his aunts stare as he bites his lip. “He was a perfect man and a kind lover.”

“Oh.”

He blushes. “He’s also a hard worker, its only him and his brother Newt; his father died in the war and his mother died from an illness leaving the two on their own...he’s the oldest so he watches over his little brother—kind of like thomas.” He shrugs a bit as he sets some water to heat up. “He’s different, he’s not like the other men that I’ve met before; he doesn’t think with his cock.” This causes his aunt to laugh out, bringing a small smile. “Theseus was just—perfect.” His smile soon disappears into a sad one. “And now its all gone, thanks to Thomas.” He turns back to the boiling water, removing it from the stove and pouring some into his teacup.

His aunt watches him as she leans back in her chair. “thomas can be a little overprotective.”

“A little?”

“Alright, a lot! But, y/n you are the baby in the family.”

“Funny how I am the baby when I am ten years older than Finn.” He responds back with a frown on his face.

“What I’m trying to say is; you’re different from everyone else. You don’t go around causing trouble and you wish to be normal, darling you don’t even drink nor smoke I’d say, your barely a Shelby at all.” She explains as he sits across from her. “Thomas doesn’t want you going down the same path as him or the rest of your brothers, which is why he wants to protect you.” Y/n sighs at Polly, listening to her explanation as he stares down at the tea.

“Well you should all know that I’m not a baby anymore, I can take care of myself and I don’t need you all to be spying on me! What I am doing shouldn’t concern you if you know that I’m not like my brothers then maybe you should stop looking out for me...I mean, focus on what is happening with our deals and relationships with other gangs. For all we know, tommy could be getting shot at without us knowin and yet you all worry about me.” He huffs, taking a large drink of his tea. Burning his tongue a little as he cringes in pain.

Polly frowns. “We do this becuase we love you, y/n and we want you to be happy but also we want to make sure that you don’t get hurt while you are alone! Your brothers almost got killed by Solomons last night!” She blurts out as y/n looks away. “If you want me to be safe than let me go.” He says, causing his aunt to gap at him in shock. “Ada has tried to live normal and that didn’t work but I have a chance to be normal if you let me go.”

Polly sighs as she reaches over to takes one of his hands into hers, holding it tight as she slowly nods. “I think you should leave too...if that makes you happy than go.” She gives him a reassuring smile as y/n smiles back. “I’ll help you, we can get you a ticket to London and I’ll make sure to give you some money.”

“I won’t be needing money where I want to go.” He adds in as his aunt raises a brow, causing him chuckle. “Trust me, I know where I want to go.”

Before his aunt could say anything they are cut off by a small tapping on the window. This causes y/n to look over and see Lucy perched upon at the window with a letter in her beak.

“Lucy.” He breaths out, quickly he stumbles out of his chair and heads towards the window. Pushing the window open he allows Lucy in who flies in and finds a cozy spot next to the fire place.

“What the bloody hell is that thing doing here?” He hears Polly say but he ignores her and takes the letter from Lucy who only squeaks in return.

He stares at the envelope, seeing the Scamander heirloom on the front and seeing his name on the back.

Nervously he rips open the envelope and pulls out the letter. Too afraid to see what he says he looks over to his aunt, not knowing what to say.

“This lover of yours must be rich if he can have an owl sending you letters.”

He chuckles at his aunts statement before looking back down the folded up letter. Taking his time he unfolds the letter and reads the black ink writing.

I want to meet your family

Y/n’s eyes widen, “what is it?” Polly asks as he licks his lips. “He—he wants to meet you all.”

“Brave man.”

Y/n nods in return as he looks back at the letter and looks below to see extra writing.

I’ll be Visiting on Thursday, meet at the same spot as usual and don’t be late.

“Thursday, Thursday—“ y/n looks around frantically and picks up the newspaper that he was reading this morning.

Checking the date his eyes widen as it read; October 7th, 1927

He looks over at the calendar to see that the 7th was in fact a Thursday, which meant that Theseus will be arriving today.

Pacing around anxiously by the tunnels he starts to think about what was going to happen today. His aunt had called in everyone for a family meeting and explained to them that Theseus was going to visiting, wanting to meet his family.

Y/n was actually afraid about this, he didn’t know if this was actually a good idea at all and he knows it!

“Y/n.”

He froze in spot and looks up to see Theseus standing at the end of the tunnel.

“Theseus...” he breaths out as he slowly steps forward.

Theseus was making his way towards him as he frantically tried to explain. “I’m sorry thee, I didn’t expect my brother to find out and I know your upset because I lied to you and I just—“ he is cut off by Theseus cupping his face and pulling him into a deep kiss.

Y/n gasps as he stands still, not knowing what to do as Theseus pulls away softly and leans his forehead against his. “I’m not upset or angry I’m just—“ he sighs deeply. “I’m actually nervous.”

Y/n rasies his brows in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He says back as the two chuckle at each other.

“All my life I’ve been looking for someone who’d love me for who I am, I don’t care if your a muggle and your family are all gangsters. All I want is to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to come home everyday to you and be able to sleep on the same bed.” He strokes y/n cheek with his thumb as he smirks. “So, once this is over we are leaving to London and I want to get married.”

Y/n eyes widen. “M—married? Theseus that isn’t allowed here.”

“No, it’s not. But where I’m from it’s legal, a muggle and a wizard can get married as long as your society doesn’t know then will be fine.” He explains, looking down at y/n to see him smiling with tears in his eyes. “Then let’s get married.” He whispers back, leaning up to give Theseus a kiss.

“This is him?” Arthur points at Theseus, scoffing as he looks at him up and down. “Scamander, funny name ain’t it?”

“Arthur.” Both y/n and Polly say at the same time which comes to shock the brothers.

Arthur can only grumble as he stares at the others with a disapproving look, Arthur was always disapproving of everything.

The rest of the brothers stayed silent, until Finn was the first to step up. He walks over to Theseus and extends his hand out to shake, “I’m Finn, the baby of the family but they don’t really treat me as one since y/n took that spotlight from me.” Y/n shakes his head and chuckles.

Theseus gives Finn a smile and shakes his hand. “Theseus, your brother doesn’t talk much about me for reasons but he does speak highly about you.”

“Really?” Finn grins at y/n who rolls his eyes. “Alright, we get if your the best brother.” He murmurs out as Finn giggles and lets go of Theseus hand.

John was up next, introducing himself as well as the two shake hands. “Names John, I used to share beds with y/n each time he had a nightmare but from the looks of it you seemed to have stolen my job.” He smirks at the two as y/n blushes deeply. “John!”

Theseus laughs. “To be honest we haven’t shared a bed together, I’ve been busy working in London that we only have enough time to have dinner together.” He explains, this shocks the brothers a little bit.

They know that y/n doesn’t ‘sleep’ around with anyone but they all expected him to be sleeping with Theseus by now since they’ve been together for two years, but once this information came out. Now they know that their brother must be really innocent!

Ada is the third one to greet Theseus, instead of shaking his hand she immediately hugs him, catching Theseus by surprise but of course he hugs back. Y/n grins and leans close, “He’s a hugger.”

“I can tell.” Ada laughs out as she pulls away and gives him a small pat on the shoulder. “I might say; you’ve got a handsome one, you said he has a brother right?” She teases out.

Theseus smiles. “Yes, Newt but unfortunately my brother is actually engaged.” Ada pouts, “Well it was worth a try, he must be a very handsome man as well, maybe a gentleman too.”

“Oh believe me, he’s something.” Both y/n and Theseus say.

They continued on with meeting everyone properly. Theseus seems to get along more with his aunt Polly and Ada, he tries to speaks to his brothers and of course arthur is still not amused but he too tries to get to know Theseus.

So far, everyone is happy to know who his mysterious man was. All but Thomas, he’s been sitting by the corner watching Theseus carefully.

Tommy was going to be the hardest to get aporoval from since he was seen as the higher upper. Whatever choice Tommy made was the choice that everyone had to either agree or disagree too.

“Tommy.”

Y/n calls out for his brother who’s gaze slowly turns to him. He was nervous and fidgety, “I know you hate the idea of me being with a man but, can you at least talk to him or get to know him?” He pleads out.

“It’s not the idea of you dating men, what bothers me is that your growing too fast.” This catches y/n off guard.

“Tommy I’m not a child anymore, I’m twenty eight and I know how to take care of myself. Theseus has done nothing to make me feel uncomfortable and he’s patient too.” He sits next to his brother, looking over to Theseus as he bites his lip nervously.

“Theseus proposed to me.”

Thomas’ eyes widen.

“I’ll be leaving tonight to live with him.”

“Y/n—“

“Before you say anything, hear me out!” Y/n turns to face his brother properly. “I know what you and the others think about me and I know that you want me to have a normal life and far away from all this and that is what I’m doing. I’m leaving to London Tommy, to a place where no one knows me—a place to restart, so I need you to let me go.” He explains to his brother. “I promise to visit whenever I can, Theseus isn’t someone who’ll keep me locked up. He knows his precious my family is to me and he won’t ever do something to keep me from seeing you all.”

Thomas Can tell that his brother was being serious about this, about leaving and starting a new life. He’s always watched over him, watching him grow throughout the years only to see him leave.

He looks over to Theseus who was speaking to their aunt and brothers, getting along just fine before turning back to y/n, giving him one of his rare smiles. “Go, go and get married and live a normal happy life.”

Y/n smiles widely and leans over to hug Thomas who also hugs back. “Thank you.” Said y/n as he pulls away from his older brother.

Thomas chuckles and stands up. “Right then, let go meet your fiancé and see if he fits too my satisfaction.” Y/n laughs, “I think you’ll like thee very much, he reminds me a bit of you.” He adds before watching his brother head over to Theseus. Giving him a proper greeting as y/n leans back against the wall with a smile on his face.

This was his family and home but it was time to move on and to restart once again.

#male reader #peaky blidners imagine #peaky blinders x male reader #thomas shelby x male reader #thomas shelby #theseus x male reader #theseus scamander x male reader #ftawtft #crossover

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sunaswife · 4 years

Text

A Suna Rintarou Series |

Summary: Suna was the best boyfriend you could ask for, after fighting with your inner demons that screamed you were ugly, worthless, and annoying. You finally decided to go the next step with your boyfriend, only to find out it was all a game.

A\N: Part 5!!!! Lajauwjshwisjsusjs lol

Warnings: underaged drinking, smut, guys talking badly about women, heartbreak, messed up shit that you shouldn’t do and a bit of fluff if you squint

Disc three-slide one: Kageyama Y/N 🤍

You hummed quietly as you grabbed your books from your locker. Completely unaware of the boy behind you. “Hi Kageyama.” You heard a whisper in your ear. You jumped and put a hand over you chest. “Jesus, Miya.” You sigh but quickly push that aside. “I wanted to see who stole my boy Suna’s heart.” Atsumu gave a closed eye smile.

You blushed and looked away as the twin stared down at you. “You’re so much cuter than how Suna described you, ya know.” He said and you covered your face in embarrassment but your ears gave it all away due to your neatly kept ponytail. Atsumu thought it was so funny and cute how flustered you got with such little words. “Thanks i guess, is there anything I can help you with?” You asked. “You’re working on that project with Suna during lunch right?” He asked and you nodded.

“Darn.” He snapped his fingers and put his hand on his hip. He seemed to be in deep thought. “I need help with chemistry so I was wondering if you could help me study for an upcoming exam.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. “I’d be more than happy to help you out, Miya. But you have practice before and after school, and I’m booked during lunch because of the project.” You frowned.

“I know.” He sighed, “Guess I’ll try to ask ‘samu but he yells and I don’t like the way he teaches.” He whined. You fiddled with your fingers not knowing what to say, I mean you wanna help him out. If he fails his test he won’t be able to play volleyball and you don’t want that. “I-if you want...I can tutor you after practice for a bit...” you spoke up completely unaware of your fox like boyfriend towering behind you. “Tutor for what?” You heard and long arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Suna rested his chin on your head and gave pissy hair a glare.

“Rin—I thought we agreed on no PDA...” your face was flushed red. “But princess, how am I supposed to show players like ‘Tsumu that you’re my girlfriend.” It sounded more like a statement than a question. “He just needs a tutor for chemistry..” you answered honestly. “Is that so..? Can I join the study party too? I’m not doing so hot in chemistry as well.” Suna admitted and you turned your head to look at him. “I don’t see why not..” you told him.

Before you knew it his hand grabbed your chin and he stole your lips into a kiss. You kissed back but quickly pulled away because you were at school and now everyone was looking at you three. You looked back at Atsumu and his eye twitched when he looked at your boyfriend.

“So today after practice is fine?” You asked and they both looked down at you and nodded. “Okay, I’ll see you both later.” You said simply and pulled away from Suna’s grasp. You closed your locker with your needed books in hand and you walked away. You head was down and your books covered your face to hide your blush.

“Bitch what was that?!” You friend whisper yelled and shook your shoulder. You looked at her and shook your head, “I honestly don’t know.” You said. “Are you dating, Suna?” She asked and you nodded. “Eeeep! I need details later okay?” She asked with a wink and you hesitantly nodded. “Bye bye!” She waved and you waved back to head to your first class.

You shared a class with Suna so when he sat next to you to pair up for the project again everyone was looking at your every move. Almost everyone saw what went down by your locker and Suna didn’t seem like the type to do something so bold. Let alone with the top student of the class. Word spreaded around fast like wildfire and Suna was satisfied. All that PDA that went down in the morning was forgotten in his mind and he never touched you for the rest of the day.

You were originally going to go to the library after school to wait for the boys but Atsumu persistently asked if you could come see their practice. You eventually agreed and wondered When was the last time you’ve been on a volleyball court.

Atsumu was chatting your ear away about how good of a setter he was and he started explaining what a setter is and you tried not to laugh because you know how volleyball works and not only were you a good setter in middle school but your cousin is an amazing setter as well.

But he seemed so happy you didn’t want to burst his bubble. “Well well well, who do we have here?” You heard and turned around. “‘Samu! Look isn’t Suna’s girlfriend cute!~” Atsumu patted your head and you removed his hand. “She’s so adorable I just wanna gobble her up.” He gave a smirk to Suna’s way and they both shot daggers at one another. You stood in between them completely oblivious to their fighting and you gave a slight bow to Osamu. “Nice to meet you. Rin has told me a lot about you. It’s nice to know he has a good friend.” You smiled softly.

Osamu coughed and looked away,

Why are you so fucking cute?!

Suna really did get such a cute girlfriend. “It’s nice to meet you too, please take care of Suna and my idiot brother since he told me you would tutor him today.” He said and you nodded. “Whatever, we’re gonna be late. Y/N, wait by the gym entrance for our captain, Kita or the coach.” Suna said and you nodded. He gave you a small smile and he walked away to the club room with the twins following behind him.

The coach arrived first and asked who you were and you explained that you would be tutoring Suna and Atsumu after practice. You apologized for barging in but he shook his head and said that it was fine.

“If you don’t have anything to do, do you mind helping me out with a few things while they practice?” He asked and you shook your head. “I don’t mind what do you need help with?” You asked. He gave you several tasks such as a small inventory in the storage area, filling up the water bottles and getting the colored vests ready for a practice match. You were honestly buzzing with excitement, you haven’t seen a volleyball game so up close in ages. Even if it was simply a practice match. You managed to meet the rear of Inarizaki’s volleyball team and Kita was very kind to you and it made you wish he was your older brother.

You helped out the coach more by taking a few notes for him as he talked and you thanked god you were such a fast note taker because you managed to get every single word down. Everyone on the team especially the twins and your boyfriend noticed how good and natural you worked around the court. “Suna ask her to be team manager.” Osamu nudged him. “Hell no.” He shook his head. He sees you enough during class, and in all honesty he doesn’t wanna actually catch feelings for you. You were naturally sweet and he didn’t want to feel more like a piece of shit.

“Why does Suna have to ask her?” Ojiro asked, by this time everyone turned to look at the three second years and Atsumu spoke up with a smirk. “She’s Suna’s girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?!” They all repeated in shock.

“What the fuck does she see in you anyways? Poor girl must be blind.” Hitoshi said which lowkey pissed off your boyfriend. “Nah he’s more like her Prince Charming because he was so romantic on their first date.” Atsumu teased which caused Suna’s ears to turn red. “That’s hard to believe.” One of their teammates spoke up. “Either way I think, Kageyama is doing a good job. If he won’t ask her, I will.” Kita said seriously and the three second years gulped.

The gym doors opened and the team they would be up against arrived.

Previously

Next Part

Series Masterlist

AN: UGH THANKS FOR ALL THE SUPPORT! I love you all! THIS IS MY FIRST SERIES AND IM GLAD YALL LIKE IT 🥺

Taglist: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @compromised-rodent @atsunflower @kagsh0e @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @woshimai @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @chichi-chanischibi @changkyunslovespot @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @lovinnoya

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massivedrickhead · 4 years

Note

you’ve done lots of prompts recently with Chloe taking care of Beca could you do one the other way around? Thank you ❤️

Read on AO3

Chloe was tired. Frustrated. Burned out.

She felt like the Bellas and classes for college were taking everything from her, and she was running on empty.

She was feeling almost claustrophobic in the Bellas house, so tried to spend as much time away as she could without raising questions.

The Bellas trusted her to lead them to victory at the Worlds in a few months, and she couldn’t let them down.

They were relying on her, she couldn’t let them know she was cracking.

That she was breaking.

She should have known there was one person who she couldn’t hide this from.

It was late one night when she was sat staring at an almost empty word document on her laptop, her eyes burning with exhaustion, her head throbbing, when she heard a quiet knock at her bedroom door.

“Yeah?” She said, her voice a little rough. She coughed to clear her throat, and turned to see Beca standing in her doorway. “What’s up?”

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah?” Chloe said, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s 2 am,” Beca said. “Not exactly typical Chloe Beale hours.”

Chloe looked at her watch. She hadn’t realised it had gotten so late. “I, uh, must have lost track of time. I’m trying to write this paper but,” she cleared her throat again, “I’m having some trouble.”

Beca stepped further into the room and looked over Chloe’s shoulder at the screen.

“When is it due?” Beca asked.

“Tomorrow,” Chloe said. “Or… today I guess.”

Beca nodded. “Okay,” she said. “What do you need?”

“What do I need?”

“You want water and some aspirin I’m guessing,” Beca said. “Do you want coffee? Maybe a snack?”

“Uh…”

“I’ll be right back,” Beca said, leaving Chloe sitting, her mouth half open mouthed in confusion.

Beca was back in five minutes holding two mugs of coffee, a bottle of water tucked under her arm and a bag of chocolate coated pretzels held between her teeth.

Chloe’s favourite.

Beca placed the mugs on Chloe’s desk, followed by the bottle of water and the pretzels, before digging in her pocket for the strip of aspirin pills.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, worried she was about to cry. She took two aspirin and gulped down half the bottle of water. “How did you know I had a headache?”

Beca shrugged. “You always get headaches when you concentrate too hard.” She sat on Chloe’s bed, her back against the headboard. “Come take a break.”

“Bec I have like eight hours to finish this,” Chloe said.

“Come take a break. You’re not gonna get any further with it if you just keep staring at the screen like that.” Beca tapped the spot on the bed beside her, and Chloe gave in and joined her.

She was never very good at saying no to Beca.

“Thank you for this,” Chloe said, taking a sip of the coffee, smiling because Beca knew how she took it.

“No problem,” Beca said. “How come you left your paper so last minute?”

“I dunno,” Chloe said, taking another sip. “I kinda forgot about it. I kept putting it off.”

“Do you think you can get it done tonight?”

“I have to,” Chloe said. “As long as I don’t fall asleep at the keyboard, I should be okay.”

Beca laughed. “I’ll just throw a pretzel at you every time you nod off.”

“Are you going to stay here all night?” Chloe said, laughing too.

“Why else do you think I made myself a coffee?”

Chloe turned to look at her, and realised she wasn’t joking. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Beca said.

Chloe couldn’t help but smile. She leaned in and kissed Beca on the cheek, before moving back to sit at her desk.

“You’re not just gonna sit and watch me, are you? I’ll get performance anxiety,” Chloe said.

“No,” Beca replied, laughing. “I’m gonna go grab my laptop, I’ll be right back.”

When Beca returned, laptop in hand, Chloe was typing quickly. Her notes were spread over the rest of her desk, and she kept pausing to look at them. Her finger would trace down the page until she found a quote she was looking for, and then she’d carrying on typing.

They didn’t speak for a while. Chloe seemed to be on a roll but Beca was facing her own block.

It was the reason she’d even been up at 2 am in the first place.

A music producer wanted to hear what she had to offer, and Beca had been terrified to discover that she had absolutely nothing original to say.

To her, making mixes was as easy as breathing. She heard music in a way that not many other people did. She could deconstruct and rebuild songs with ease. She could combine them and remake them without any doubt or fear.

But to create something new? To make something out of nothing? That, she was discovering, she couldn’t do. If making mixes was like breathing, this was like breathing underwater.

She just couldn’t do it.

“I’m gonna need a vacation after this,” Chloe mumbled after a while.

Beca laughed, still staring at the empty track on her laptop.

“What are you working on?” Chloe asked.

“Nothing,” Beca replied, looking up. “How are you getting on?”

“Maybe halfway?” Chloe said.

“That’s great,” Beca said, smiling. “Do you need another coffee?”

“No, I’m good thanks Becs,” Chloe said. “Let me hear what you’re working on?”

“It’s nothing,” Beca said. “Having a bit of a creative block so there’s nothing to hear. Anyway, don’t let me distract you, you were on a roll before.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, frowning slightly. She turned back to her laptop and carried on typing.

Beca sank back against the headboard, and closed out the music program.

“Where would you go?” She asked after another period of silence, the only sounds coming from Chloe’s keyboard.

“Huh?” Chloe asked, rubbing her eyes, clearly exhausted.

“If you went on vacation, where would you go?”

“I dunno,” Chloe said. She thought for a minute. “I guess… I kinda miss the sea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “The sea makes me feel… calm. When I was a teenager and I’d have a bad day, I’d just go for a walk on the beach and it always made me feel better.”

“Okay,” Beca said.

“Shame there’s no beach near here, huh?” Chloe asked before she carried on typing.

“Yeah,” Beca said, already pulling Google maps up on her laptop.

Chloe finished her paper at 5:30, the sound of her closing her laptop lid in triumph waking Beca from her nap.

“You did it?” Beca asked, rubbing her eyes.

“I did it,” Chloe said, smiling. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“No problem,” Beca said, laughing slightly as she realised she’d spent the last hour asleep.

Chloe climbed into bed beside her, relieved she now had one less thing to worry about.

“Do you want me to go?” Beca asked.

“No,” Chloe said. “Do you want to go?”

“Not really,” Beca replied. “Do you want me to set an alarm?”

“I don’t have any classes tomorrow,” Chloe said.

“Me neither.”

As Chloe got comfortable, Beca began typing something into her laptop.

“What are you doing?”

Beca hit enter, and the soft sounds of the ocean started playing through the speakers.

“I can do some seagull impressions too if you want?”

Chloe laughed, and pulled Beca close to her, her arms wrapping around Beca’s waist.

“Dork,” she said, smiling.

“Rude,” Beca replied, also smiling.

“Do you wanna talk about the creative block thing?” Chloe asked, trying not to let her eyes close.

“Not right now,” Beca said. “It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“I can’t help but worry,” Chloe said, cuddling Beca tighter.

“I know,” Beca replied. “But you worry too much. You worry about everyone. Everything. You’re not allowed to worry about this too.”

“Bossy.”

Beca laughed, and felt Chloe’s breath tickle her neck as she laughed too.

“Go to sleep weirdo.”

——

A few days later, Beca knocked on Chloe’s bedroom door again.

“Come in.”

Beca entered, and saw Chloe sitting on her bed, still in her work-out gear, unlacing her running shoes.

Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was in a messy ponytail, strands sticking to her face.

Beca forgot for a moment why she had entered the room.

Post-work-out Chloe always distracted her.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Beca asked.

“It’s Saturday, we have an all day rehearsal,” Chloe said, confused at how Beca could have forgotten this.

Beca bit her lip, trying not to grin too hard. “We had an all day rehearsal. Can you be up and ready for like 7 am tomorrow? And make sure you pack like warmish clothes. Enough for one day and night.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wanna vacation or not?”

——

Beca was half asleep at the kitchen table when Chloe got downstairs at 6:45 the next morning.

“Ready?” Beca asked with a yawn.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

Beca smiled but shook her head.

“Come on,” Beca said, standing up. “Your chariot awaits.”

“My chariot?”

“My dad’s Toyota, same thing.”

——

They drove for almost five hours before Chloe spotted the sea, and the squeal of delight was like music to Beca’s very tired ears.

It was another hour before they reached their Airbnb for the night, and then, hand-in-hand, they walked to the beach.

It was mostly deserted and the beach itself seemed to be more pebbles and stones than the sand Chloe had grown up with, but she didn’t care.

She could feel the sea air making its way through her. Shaking out all the creases and blowing away all the cobwebs.

She felt like she could finally breathe for the first time in months. She didn't feel the crushing responsibility of school and the Bellas anymore.

The smell of the sea was like home, and the sound of it was more comforting than she could explain.

It wasn’t a rough sea, but the soft sound of the water being pulled back across the rocks, before rushing forward up and onto the beach seemed to empty her head of every negative thought.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, softly, squeezing Beca’s hand. “I needed this.”

“You know you can tell me when you’re struggling, right? I know you feel like you need to keep it together for the rest of the Bellas… Like you need to be strong and calm all the time, but you don’t. At least not with me. We’re co-captains, remember? Partners. We’re supposed to share the load, and I feel like you’ve been carrying mine this year.”

“I just… I don’t want to fail. I don’t want to let everyone down. If we don’t win… If the Bellas have to disband after this year… They’re my home, Beca. My family. I can’t lose that.”

“You won’t lose it,” Beca said. “No matter what happens, we’re still family. Nothing will change that.”

“Even if we lose? Even if this legacy that’s existed for years and years has to stop? Because of me?”

“Not because of you. This isn’t all on you,” Beca said, brushing away one of Chloe’s tears. “Chloe, we’re all still in this because we’re a family, you know that right? We’re not here to win trophies and titles, we’re here because we like being together. We like singing and hanging out and living together.”

Chloe laughed softly and another tear fell. “The girls are all working so hard and-”

“-for you,” Beca said. “They’re working hard because they can see how much it means to you. They don’t care about winning, not really, not deep down. They just don’t want to let you down. They love you. I… I love you, Chloe.”

Chloe swallowed and more tears fell. She turned to look back out to the sea, waiting for the sounds to calm her again, but her heart was pounding too hard for that to happen.

Beca didn’t know whether she should be freaking out or not, but Chloe’s hand was still in hers, so that hard to be a good sign. It grounded her enough to keep on talking.

“Whatever happens at the Worlds, it won’t change anything. We’ll still always be the Bellas. We’ll still be Beca and Chloe. I’ll still be in love with you,” Beca said. “And you don’t need to say that back, if you don’t feel the same. But I wanted you to know. To me, you’ll never be a failure, or a disappointment.”

There was a silence between them that, to Beca at least, felt like it lasted a lifetime.

She didn’t understand how Chloe didn’t know how much they all loved her.

How much she loved her.

The silence stretched on, punctuated by the sounds of seagulls and waves crashing.

Beca might have found it relaxing, if her stomach wasn’t busy tying itself in knots.

She was sure of one thing though, and that was that she didn’t regret what she’d said.

She knew she’d never regret telling Chloe that she loves her.

“Beca,” Chloe’s voice broke slightly, and she coughed to clear it. “Beca, I never thought… I’d almost given up…”

“On what?”

“On us. On us being more than friends. And don’t get me wrong, Beca. I love being friends with you. Your friendship is everything to me. But… But I always wanted… I always hoped we would have more.”

“Me too,” Beca said. “It’s not too late for that, right?”

“No,” Chloe said, smiling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Never.”

“Cool,” Beca said, grinning. “Can I kiss you?”

Chloe nodded, and closed her eyes at the feeling of Beca’s hands cupping her face.

When their lips met, Chloe thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest.

“No more shouldering this alone, okay?” Beca said, their eyes closed, foreheads touching.

“Okay,” Chloe said.

“We’re a team.”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, not knowing if she wanted to laugh or cry. “God, I love you. I love you so much, Beca.”

“I love you too.”

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crimecaro14 · 4 years

Text

@saiouweek Day 2 Past life/despair disease

Just another, bound to be boring day was about to start with it's first lesson on hopes peak academy - the school of the ultimate elite. Well class sure won't be boring for Shuichi Saihara since one of his classmates entertained him every single day. But today was something off, he wasn't there.

"Hey", Shuichi leaned over to his best friend Kaito, "have you seen Kokichi?"

The boy shrugged disinterested, "Don't know, don't care. Maybe he's sick."

Shuichi hummed as he turned his gaze to the missing boys chair. He had never been absent from class - even though they were allowed to do so - something had to be off.

Between classes Shuichi met with Makoto and Hajime in the cafeteria like every Thursday. After talking for a while they noticed that in each of their classes one student had been missing. Beside Kokichi also Kyoko and Nagito were missing today.

"That's rather strange", Makoto thought out loud. "Kyoko never misses a class, at least not without telling me."

"Similar to Kokichi", Shuichi threw into the round.

"Did you guys try to reach them somehow? Nagito also doesn't answer the phone, which is odd since he always picks up right away to tell you that he can't believe someone called him", Hajime explained.

As he spoke his classmate Ibuki Mioda passed their table and overheard their conversation.

"Oh, Mikan confiscated their phones so they could rest properly", she explained as she sat down next to Hajime without asking.

"You know where they are?", Makoto asked excited to finally have a clue. Ibuki tilted her head in response. "What, you didn't hear Kirigiris screams earlier as she tried to flee from Mikan?"

"She did what?!"

Ibuki laughed, "Yeah, the girl sure can get wild."

Hajime interrupted, "Ibuki, how do you know all this?"

"Uh well duuh, I checked on Mikan before I got here. The tree are in the nursery, sick or something."

With that testimony the three boys decided to visit the nursery - after Ibuki had finished her lunch since they didn't want to leave her alone.

Stressed and nervous as always Mikan rushed back and forth until Hajime was able to stop her.

"Hey Mikan, is Nagito here?"

"A-among others, y-yes."

"Why?", Makoto interrupted.

"He h-has caught th-the despair disease, just -just like Kirigiri, Ouma and Akane...", Mikan explained the situation.

"Despair disease?!", the three boys asked in union.

"Ah w-well it's another j-joke from that... bear... they all...all act like the opposite they are usually. Like while Nagito has the l-lair disease and always means the-the opposite of what he says... K-Kokichi can't lie at all... A-Akane is sc-ared o-off everything and... Kyoko-"

In that exact moment they all heard a furious scream of a female voice. "Is loud." Makoto of course recognised his girlfriends voice and headed over to give Mikan a bit of a break.

Without asking Hajime and Shuichi also made their ways to the boys they had worried about.

"Ohh, my beloved~", Kokichi greeted the detective as he saw him enter the room, "I didn't expect you to visit me."

Shuichi sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Hm, Tsumiki is right about your symptoms", he mumbled rather to himself than Kokichi.

"How come?"

"You would've said that you expected me, like the villain in that cop movie we watched together." Shuichi chuckled a bit over the memory, while Kokichi slid deeper under his blanket, he felt so naked in front of Shuichi when he couldn't lie to hide his true intentions. Yet Shuichi was the only person he wanted to see him like this.

"Why didn't you tell anyone you were sick? We could've taken some extra notes for you", Shuichi asked in a worried tone.

"Oh I just don't want anyone to know my current state, since they all would just ask me millions of questions to get a true answer", Kokichi shrugged it off as it wasn't really a problem. Shuichi could understand the urge to ask the mysterious boy everything one ever wanted to know about him without the risk of it being a lie, but taking advantage of Kokichis state wasn't right.

"Anyway, why are you here, Shumai, don't tell me you were worried about me."

Shuichi raised an eyebrow, "You've been in every class since we got to this school, except for today, of course I was worried."

"Well now you know where I am, you can might as well leave." Kokichi turned his head to look out of the window. The sudden rejection hit Shuichi on a different level. Did the boy expect that he would also take advantage of his situation?

"Kokichi... are you afraid I'm gonna ask you a lot of stuff to find out the truth too?", he asked a bit insecure. Kokichi still didn't look at him but nodded.

"Like you out of all people aren't curious."

"If course I am but I want to get behind your lies without any help of a stupid disease. That won't help me to understand you next week, when you're no longer sick."

Kokichi turned his head back to face Shuichi again, a slight smile on his lips. "Then you are allowed to stay, my beloved."

"A-Actually...", Shuichi got a bit flustered, "there would be one thing I'd like to ask you..."

"Ask. You'll see if you get an answer."

"You always call me your beloved... do you... do you mean it?", Shuichi averted his gaze, embarrassed that he asked in the first place.

"Would you ask me that without the disease too?", was all Kokichi wanted to know beforehand.

"If I... if I'd bring up the courage eventually... some day...", he stuttered, "Since... I fear that you'll tell me what I want to hear but then just state it as a lie..." ... and hurt me, Shuichi couldn't say the last bit, even now he missed the courage.

"What you want to hear?", Kokichi tilted his head, "you want to hear that I mean it, right?"

Shuichi nodded.

"Weeell then today's your lucky da-", he couldn't finish his cheering announcement due to the stupid cough coming with the disease.

"Kokichi! Are you okay?! Should I get you some-" amused Kokichi grabbed for his glass and emptied it in almost one gulp. "-water, you know nevermind." Embarrassed Shuichi scratched his cheek.

Too cute, Kokichi thought, happy to see that Shuichi actually cared.

"I mean it", he suddenly said.

"Huh?"; Shuichis head snapped up.

"I mean it when I call you my beloved. I like you the most out of all people in this school. You are not boring." Kokichi smiled at him as he explained how he saw Shuichi, who stopped working for a moment. He really didn't expect that, even though it was what he wanted to hear.

"Then... then I got one more follow up question..."

"But just one."

"Would you go out on a date with me, once you're well?" They were alone, something that didn't happen often, so Shuichi had to use that chance, especially after Kokichi just confessed that he liked Shuichi.

There was silence for a while. When Shuichi lifted his eyes again he saw Kokichis red face. "Ah- is it your fever?! Should I call Mikan?! I can-"

"Of course."

"The fever or Mikan?"

"The date."

"Oh... OH..."

"But no more questions for today, kay?", Kokichi played it off like this was some sort of payment.

"Okay, then I won't ask", Shuichi mumbled as he leaned in closer to Kokichi.

"Sh-Shumai what are you...!", the boy was interrupted by the pair of lips that closed his own off.

Ze, ze, can't even wait for the first date, my beloved, would be what Kokichi would say right now but he was too busy returning the kiss gently.

"I heard my name is something- WHY ARE YOU TWO KISSING?!", Mikan had entered the room but stopped right in the doorframe after she saw what the two boys were doing.

They broke the kiss and stared shocked at Mikan, who screamed, "HE IS SICK! YOU CAN'T KISS SOMEONE SICK!"

They shared a short look before it dawned on Shuichi.

"It's contagious!?", Shuichi asked shocked.

"YES IT IS!!"

Instead of their date Shuichi joined Kokichi in his infirmary just a few days later - he really got infected too after just a short little kiss. After only two days Kokichi was already sick of Shuichis extroverted behaviour, he wanted his beloved nervous emo back as soon as possible!

#saiouweek #saiouma #saioma #omasai #oumasai #oma kokichi #ouma kokichi #kokichi ouma #kokichi #kokichi oma #saihara shuichi #shuichi saihara #kokichi x shuichi #shuichi x kokichi #ouma x saihara #saihara x ouma #not entirely satisfied but eh

168 notes · View notes

peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

limits of desire⤳t.h.||epilogue

Epilogue: Wallking down an aisle.

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the wedding and the magazine article

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: hmm an article, swearing, julia roberts, fluff :)

word count: 5.K

previous chapter series masterlist Here’s my new story! Perfidy (enemies to lovers) a one shot after this: Tom’s proposal

Anyway, thanks for sticking up to this story, for giving it a chance and for the support. I’m super sad it’s ending but I’m glad you guys stuck asdlas love you.

Your wedding day, according to movies and books, is the best day of your life. The bride is blushing and glowing and everything goes perfect. But, that is usually not the case, not in real life, at least. Because you’ll see shoes flying and people screaming and running around a room. People rushing in with the bride and calling the groom.

Lizzie was staring at the clock in her phone, she was calling everyone, y/n was nowhere to be found and she needed her friend. There were a lot of things to do, and y/n had promised to be there at 7 am sharp.

It was a good thing Lizzie had not made a mistake in choosing Mexico as the location, knowing it meant a lot of drama involved with y/n, but there could’ve been a reason behind it. Where things had ended for y/n happened to be the place where it had started for Lizzie.

Lizzie was, in all matters, freaking out. Her mother and sisters were overwhelming her with questions and picking her hair and running around her room. But none of them mattered, she needed her very best friend. But she thought that maybe y/n wasn’t feeling her best. Lizzie thought about this, was y/n having a breakdown over this?

She thought that maybe y/n wasn’t exactly fine with weddings. Sure, she’d been writing about this for a while now, but it wasn’t the same writing about it than living on it.

But this was Lizzie’s big day, she couldn’t possibly be bothered by it, should she? But she wanted her best friend to be along with her.

Lizzie was getting married.

It was 8 am, where the hell was she? That’s all Lizzie could think about. And she wasn’t the only one who was late, Hannah and Jess were late too. Great friends Lizzie had.

But Lizzie, she hadn’t told anyone, was having second thoughts. She was too nervous for this. Because the stylist wasn’t there yet, her bridesmaids’ dresses had arrived in a different colour, red, not pink. Red. And because the venue had called her wedding planner and told her there had been an issue with the salmon and now they were serving chicken.

Everything was going bollocks.

Lizzie was having an attack, but it seemed like her prayers had come true because Hannah and Jess had walked in, with their dresses in their hands and makeup bags.

“I’m sorry we’re late!” Hannah said. “Y/N’s new article was published!” Hannah waved the magazine in her hand.

Lizzie blinked and frowned. “What?”

Jess nudged Hannah. “Sorry, no, that’s not why we’re late. We went to pick up the dresses”

Hannah widened her eyes and left the magazine on the bed.

“Where the hell is y/n?” Asked Lizzie. “I can’t seem to reach her, it sends me to fucking voicemail!”

Jess and Hannah side-eyed each other.

“Didn’t you see her insta story?” Hannah asked and Jess nudged her again.

“What? No! I’ve been kinda busy! Where the hell is she?” Asked Lizzie. “Gosh I need her, she’ll be able to calm me down! Did she… Did she run away? Some shit like that?”

“No! No, but last night-” Hannah started

“Shut up!” Jess glared at Hannah. “She’ll be here, don’t worry,” Jess assured her. “She went to look for another stylist because we were told Jamie hadn’t arrived yet.”

Lizzie stood up. “Alright.” They all watched her. “Alright.” Lizzie took a deep breath. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Lizzie’s mother questioned.

“Call Harrison, I can’t do this.”

“No, no,” Hannah walked over as Lizzie’s sisters were also trying to calm her down.

“It’s okay, Lizzie, you’re just stressed out, it’ll be okay,” Jess started.

“Everyone, please just leave, I need a moment to myself,” Lizzie explained.

“C’mon, Liz!” Hannah insisted.

The wedding planner stepped in. “No, no, she’s right, give her some time, everyone out,” she ordered and the room that was once full of bustle was now too quiet.

Lizzie plopped on her bed, and snuggled into her white rob and then stared at the dress. Was she able to do this?

She felt butterflies and knives at the same time. She was unsafe. She needed to talk to y/n, who had been there all along. Y/N had been the perfect maid of honour, even if Lizzie had initially been reluctant after complaining about Y/N choosing Tom over her on her first wedding.

Lizzie knew hadn’t really talked about how it felt to be about to get married, partly, Lizzie knew, it had to do a little bit with the fact that y/n wanted to marry her maid of honour instead. It came with the territory.

But Lizzie was having second thoughts because she did want to get married but it seemed like the universe was telling her not to. The salmon? The stylist? It had to mean something. Because she had planned this wedding perfectly. If there was something going wrong, it meant her marriage was going to go wrong, right?

She tried ringing her friend again and it sent straight to voicemail. She went on Instagram to see if Y/N’s story could solve anything. There was no new Instagram story, not for her close friends, and no new one. Had y/n blocked her? Was y/n having a crisis due to the wedding?

Maybe asking y/n to be her maid of honour hadn’t been the best idea, after all y/n used to call herself the runaway bride and Lizzie was sure that Y/N probably didn’t want to do anything else with weddings. Even if she wrote a wedding column in a magazine.

She knew that today was supposedly a very important day for y/n’s column on the magazine, apparently, y/n was now going to be promoted as to one of the usuals and not only a dumb column. An editor, maybe? Lizzie didn’t know, her head had been too busy planning a wedding that she hadn’t really paid attention to her best friend.

She stared at the magazine that Hannah had left there, lying on top of the white blanket. Lizzie frowned, did she have to read her best friend’s column?

She sighed, she did. It was the closest thing to having her best friend beside her. She opened the magazine to a beautiful shot of her best friend wearing a wedding dress with running shoes, surrounded by some DVDs and cassettes of old Julia Roberts’ movies.

The Runaway Bride, the title was in a big, elegant pink font. It wasn’t like her usual columns, small and with barely a page of it. This was a long article. Lizzie smiled, proud of y/n and then proceeded to read it.

Tom knew that Haz himself had had his doubts too if he was honest to himself. Harrison was freaking out and he knew that there was a big chance that Lizzie had wanted to back up. Tom had been the one to calm him down.

“It’s gonna be okay!”

“What do you know?” Haz had snapped. “First, thanks for being bloody late. Why were you late?”

Tom cleared his throat. “There was a problem with your bride’s stylist and I helped y/n to find a new one.”

“Because they have to do everything together now, remember?” Sam teased, making Tuwaine and Harry giggle.

“Shut up,” Tom blushed but then coughed away his embarrassment.

“And why did you leave early yesterday?” Haz questioned.

Tuwaine and the twins widened their eyes, Tom hadn’t told him yet.

“Uh, I had… a stomach ache,” Tom lied. “No, but Haz, calm down. It’s gonna turn out smoothly.”

“You’re one to talk! You ruined one wedding man, what if some ex of her decides to fucking show up and bloody tell her he loves her?”

“In that case,” Harry laughed. “Y/N would walk in and ruin the wedding, she’s the maid of honour.”

“You’re not helping, dickhead,” Tom told his brother off. “Haz, look, you have to calm down, everything will be alright. This is great, she loves you, alright? And I barely doubt anyone would come back for Lizzie, no, no no, I’m joking, I’m joking.”

Harrison rolled his eyes.

“Look, that stuff doesn’t usually happen, that one time happened because the bride was marrying someone who she didn’t love, and Lizzie loves you, right?” Tom pushed.

“Right, right, but fuck, I’m so bloody nervous!” Haz had his tie around his neck and he was trying to get it right.

“Calm down, dumbass,” Tom laughed as he helped Harrison with his tie. “Everything will be alright.”

“Yeah man, it’ll be okay.”

“I mean, you are marrying Lizzie, not sure how that’s gonna go but,” Tom teased, earning Haz’s middle finger. “I’m joking,” he laughed. “C’mon, c’mon.”

“Dude, everything has gone wrong,” Haz explained. “Something about the salmon and the dresses! And gosh, we’ve been planning this wedding for months and things are tearing up.”

Tom bit his lip. “Okay, I know, I know… I make everything about y/n but.”

“Oh god, don’t start,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Look,” Tom ran to his bag and took out a magazine. “Maybe… read this, maybe it’ll help you.”

“How in the bloody hell is reading a fashion magazine going to help me?” Haz questioned.

“Read it.”

And so the bride and the groom were synchronized, reading a fashion magazine.

The Runaway Bride.

By Y/N Y/L/N

I guess by now, you’ve been reading me for a while, and the world, I hope, has forgotten who I initially was. Maybe you know me as the girl who’s been giving you advice on wedding dresses, on venues and on cakes.

That’s not who I was before all of this. Maybe you knew about my name before I started writing that column here.

After the world took a turn on me, I decided to instead turn it around for me. Maybe the person who was meant to read this will actually read this and clear her doubts, I know you have them. Maybe you’ll smile. Maybe you won’t. Maybe this is my way of clearing your doubts, after all, I am your friend.

There’s not much I can say about me, my name is Y/N, I am an invisible journalist who initially wanted to talk about everyone and everything else and now I’m here writing about myself. I can’t say much about me, I guess. I like my tea with lemon and honey, and I also like it with sugar and cream. Depends on my mood, but I usually prefer iced coffee or a pink mimosa. I love poetry, and I wish I could share a dessert with someone right now,

I am a girl with layers. I do have a story, though.

When I was young I remembered watching all Julia Roberts movies and aspiring to be like her. Don’t tell my mum, but I watched Pretty Woman at a very young age, even if I didn’t quite understand it if I’m honest. But I remember standing up and digging into my mum’s closet to wear some heels, a white coat and a hat to walk down her room to the beat of that infamous song, after that amazing scene.

“Big Mistake, Huge!” I would yell at the same time as Julia. It was a Cinderella for grown-ups type of story. I didn’t quite understand what Vivian's job was, but I understood that she had to kiss Richard Gere and I was fine with that.

I want that to be my job if I’m honest. Can you blame me?

Anyone who knows me, knows I love all Julia Roberts’ movies. Little would I know how much like Julia Roberts’ films my life would turn out to be?

I would like to pride myself on that I’ll become a successful writer like she was on Eat, pray, love.

However, my dream didn’t quite exactly come as I had planned it. Be careful of what you wish, I guess. So far I haven’t found myself moving to Italy to understand the power and pleasure of nourishment, neither have I gone to India to pray and so far I haven’t gone to Indonesia to find my true love.

I did go to Mexico however, and found pleasure in their food. I have gone to my mother’s house and she’s made me pray, and I’ve been to London, and honestly I think this city is truly the love of my life.

Maybe I’m lying. I have met true love, but I guess it’s not the time to talk about it. We will move on to that later.

But I guess I can’t really write a memoir on that, or should I? However, I guess I’ll have to tell my side of the story, don’t you think?

My life did turn into a Julia Roberts’ movie. Not in the ones I thought

It started with a dress, as red as Julia’s in Pretty Woman, a dress and someone helping me with a necklace. I guess by now, my name rings some stories and even though the stories are inverted, and I really feel like I shouldn’t be writing this, this was an open spot for me to speak my mind, to crawl out of my little corner where I liked to be invisible. In my constant pursuit of Julia Roberts’ life, I found myself in a very weird predicament.

I would love to think about it like that scene where he placed that gorgeous necklace around her bare neck, and it kind of stuck. Though, that scene led to a round of unfortunate events.

I fell in love, and though it doesn’t sound as a tragedy, it certainly involved into one, because I fell in love and then proceeded to get engaged… with another man.

It all continued, if I think about it, as “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” Though it sounds cheesy and different. And in no way was my ex-fiancée as Cameron Diaz. At least I don’t want to think that, I didn’t like Cameron in that movie, and I very much liked my ex-fiancé, too much for my own convenience. It’s not a sin, and I hope he’s doing amazing. I still love him.

I’m afraid I didn’t play Julia Roberts’ in that part. My best friend did, however, and I happened to be very in love with my best friend. Note to whoever is reading this: if you happen to be in love with your best friend, don’t make them your maid of honor.

Or do, and do yourself a favor, don’t let it be too late. If you love someone, tell them. If you love someone, don’t get engaged to someone else.

I guess that gives context to me.

If you were to take a few minutes to google me, I know my name is dragged with headlines which are not so pleasant to read. But hopefully, now I can be seen besides the many articles I’ve written. But a few months ago, I was painted as the bad one.

So, instead of rolling along, I decided, instead, to rename myself as yet another one of Julia’s characters. After all, that’s all I wanted to be.

“The Runaway Bride.” Sounds catchy.

Have control of my own life for once.

Because I did run away. And even if I think I should be giving no explanation to the world, I guess maybe I could use this chance to guide another person who lost herself along the way, too. Maybe you’ll find yourself reading this and understanding my words. You’re probably wondering why a runaway bride has been giving you advice on how to choose your jewels, or how to get your face prepped for your big day. Seems like a hypocrite, but I feel like someone who still believes in weddings even after running away from one, has something to say.

I’ve always been the perfect daughter, I’ve tried to, at least. I had perfect grades, got home early and didn’t cause much trouble. That was until I graduated, for sure. I’ve always done what everyone told me to do and I followed the path everyone expected me to follow.

My biggest sin has been falling in love with terrible timing, I’ve loved when I didn’t have to and I didn’t when I had to.

Timing really, that’s my biggest sin.

Most of my life I’ve known when to say no, and when to say yes. But it came to a point when saying those words would change me.

Both words have betrayed me and I am not proud of it. The first time it betrayed me was when someone got down on one knee, and even though I knew in my heart there was an indecisive voice inside, a yes came clear through my mouth.

Don’t get me wrong, at the time, I did mean it. Who would’ve thought that a simple word gave me such a nightmare?

I know, I know, why are they including me in the wedding section if I ran away from my own wedding? It sounds ironic, I was even skeptical when they asked me to.

Because even if it’s late to admit it, I may have not yet married anyone as of right now when I’m writing this, maybe someday it’ll be different. But I do know what love feels like. And I know what it doesn’t feel like.

And maybe you’ve read the articles and realized it, every advice I give you relies on something: It won’t matter in the end, because you’ll see them as you walk down the aisle, and everything will turn to be better.

Because saying “yes” should never bring in guilt. Probably, like most people, if you said yes, then you were sure of it and I truly hope you didn’t say “yes” just for the reason I now know I did. You shouldn’t say yes because you want to be loved, you should say yes because you want to love.

I’m a monster, I know. But I’ve learned a thing or two.

Someone once told me to picture my wedding. And I know, most of us have planned it since our childhood, some have pictured it perfectly, from the flowers to the band, some just know they want a big cake, or some only have been hovering through Pinterest boards. That’s alright.

But when the moment comes, it won’t matter. In the end, you won’t remember if the cutlery was gold or silver.

When you’re planning a wedding you see yourself through the different stages, there is a checklist that should be ticked, and time will rush to it. Everyone rushes you into thinking it should be perfect.

I even had a checklist and I would try to tick off every single box of it because it had to be perfect. But looking at it now, each and every one of those led to the disaster of me turning into Julia Roberts’ character and running the heck out of my wedding.

Because I gave myself such little time to understand that what I wanted was to be with someone else, and I shouldn’t have invited that said person to the wedding.

Let me tell you something, I had always wanted a certain wedding, I knew the theme, I wanted the flowers, the perfect venue. And I fell in love with an amazing wedding dress, everything was planned.

But someone told me that, in the end, it wouldn’t matter, because let me tell you something, I am very sure that when the right person comes, it won’t.

And they told me that what could go wrong would go wrong, but it wouldn’t matter as long as the love of my life was at the end of the aisle.

In my case, it did, everything went wrong. The flowers had been changed, the day before they’d told me the menu we had chosen was changed, too. My hair looked awful, I was not wearing the white dress I had chosen, and it wouldn’t have mattered. But it did, because my whole wedding was meant to be a disaster. Because they were small details, and they shouldn’t have mattered.

And trust me, at a point they didn’t.

I was walking down the aisle to commit the biggest mistake of my life. And if the love of my life hadn’t interrupted my wedding, I would have become Julia Roberts on Eat Pray Love. A sad wife.

But I knew that had it been the one who interrupted the wedding the one I was getting married to, it wouldn’t have mattered, I could’ve had paper rings, I could’ve had the ugliest of flowers, or no flowers at all, and I wouldn’t have cared, because he would’ve been at the end of the aisle.

Because that’s love. And right now as I turn around to the love of my life who is listening to his music and drinking a beer, I know it. I don’t need a checklist, I could marry him right now, wearing our pj’s and using ring pops. Yes, the actual candy. Because what matters is I want to spend the rest of my life with him, discovering his good and bad sides.

But to know this, I had to run away. And I’m not telling you to run away. But sometimes we have to be away from someone to realize they’re a part of us. Maybe you took the time to google me, or maybe you didn’t so I’ll give you a quick summary.

My best friend, and love fo my life stopped my wedding, I rejected him and then I ran away from the altar.

And maybe, you’re thinking, why not go with the love of your life?

Because I wasn’t ready. And I realized that one doesn’t have to choose. One shouldn’t have to choose.

So I chose myself. And saying goodbye to the love of my life wasn’t easy, you know?

It’s delicate, and my reputation could jeopardize his. That’s love you know? Knowing that sometimes you have to choose yourself and that sometimes you should make decisions so you don’t hurt them. But at some point you have to look up.

And I can’t stress this enough, if you don’t know yourself and you don’t know what you want, you can’t expect your significant other to know it, either.

But before I ran away, I had to make it clear that I wanted to come back to him. Which brings me to the next Julia Roberts movie, which is kind of stupid, I know. Notting Hill, then again, I wasn’t Julia in the situation. I gave away all my secrets, from someone who never liked to speak up, I had to.

Yes, like Hugh Grant did, I crashed a press conference and I confessed my love to him. Then we went our separate ways. At that point, I just saw how the whole world turned gray.

I thought to myself: ‘Is it too stupid? Maybe I regret it.’ And I just thought about it, an address I don’t want to remember, a city far away from home. A hotel that perfectly mirrors it. A time when saying no meant keeping secrets. And honestly, right now, I don’t mind having no secrets anymore, I am waiting to give them all away, when he’s ready, when I’m ready. Because now there are no limits I can think of.

And I changed, from wanting the perfect wedding, with every single detail the way I wanted it to, to the wedding that could be held in his living room. From wanting 300 hundred guests to being the two of us.

So here’s my advice to you, whoever you may be. Find a story, dream of something. Don’t get a boring life, go and try to find someone who’d understand you’d have to choose yourself first. Fall in love with yourself first and the wedding will follow along, and love, love without any inconvenience. Don’t be afraid to love, don’t hide away, don’t try to keep all your secrets. And make that checklist, and then do it for yourself, set your date, when you’re ready. Make that guest list so you have everyone you care and love, get the perfect place, the perfect food, and plan the most fun of the honeymoons.

But before anything else, find yourself and let the person you’re marrying find you, delicately, like a poem, let them read you. Because when you do this, when both of you choose yourselves and each other, nothing else matters, it’s just the strawberries decorating the care. And everything will turn out to be easy, even if love isn’t, the path will be opened and the limits of desire will finally go away.

And when you love someone, you’ll realize it, paper rings are enough. Because when your love is so strong, it won’t matter if they changed the cake, or if your bridesmaids’ dresses weren’t the colour you asked.

Maybe I don’t have the best experience, maybe my advice sucks, but I hope we can get along this journey. And I’ll be joining you in your path, help you out to stay away from the path of becoming the runaway bride like me. Helping you along the way to understand what love should feel like, helping you out to stay away from the mistakes I made. Helping you choose yourself so you can be ready to walk down an aisle. Helping you out to be the Julia Roberts you choose to be, not the one the world made you. Maybe I’ll find myself along the way, too, and maybe I’ll be ready to do it, too.

I know that by the time this comes out, I’ll be helping my friend with her wedding dress, and I know that she’ll be the happiest she could be. And with all my heart, I wish her the perfect wedding, paper or gold rings, I know she’s walking down an aisle to the love of her life. And I couldn’t be happier for her.

We’ll see how this goes.

Yours, truly,

The Runaway Bride

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Being at the end of the aisle gives you a perspective. Maybe Tom was not the one who was at the actual end, but it felt weird. Especially considering what had happened just the night before, a secret he had to yet keep to himself.

He knew Harrison was sweating. And he knew that probably Harrison would feel even more butterflies than Tom, but the music started to play, the moment had come in, everyone turned around to look at how the bridesmaids were walking down the aisle led by y/n, Tom lost it. It felt good, it felt like magic. And the moment his eyes met hers he knew that he’d never regret the decision he’d made. And she looked at him like she was feeling the same thing, as if time had stopped for her as well, as if the music was for them and only them. As if she was whispering their secret, and he looked down at her hand, and smiled.

He saw the red dress, and he knew that for once, he’d chosen the right girl, who was wearing the wrong dress. And Tom had to stop himself, even if he desired to kiss her, he knew he’d have to stop. But she walked to the end of the aisle and was across from him.

Then, everything stopped as the bride was walking in, she looked perfect, with the veil cascading down and her eyes as bright as they could be. But Tom couldn’t look at her, he was too busy admiring y/n. And maybe it was a coincidence but she turned around and locked eyes with him, and he could see how she ran out of breath as she dedicated a smile to him, one that was made for him and only him. He felt his heart stop because they were speaking with their eyes, and he knew what she meant. He felt it too. And everyone was focusing on the bride but they could only look at each other, maybe it was selfish, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the love around them was inspiring them.

‘I love you,’ they had mouthed to each other.

And Tom knew it, that their little secret was just a secret. Because this wasn’t their day, and they didn’t mind it wasn’t. But he knew that even if nobody had noticed the ring on y/n’s hand, it could’ve been made out of paper, and that if they had to set the date, they’d do,it the very next date, with only them as the guests and barely any theme. They didn’t need any flowers or any fancy venue, they didn’t need to mail the save the dates or hire a vendor. They could marry in their underwear, and they didn’t need to book a honeymoon and she needed no bridal shower, and the menu could be a chocolate cake and a strawberry cheesecake. Her something new could be a mere bracelet, and her something borrowed, old and blue could be a blue shirt of his. Their bridesmaids and the best man could be some random toys. But it wouldn’t matter, because they’d be tying the knot, and it wouldn’t matter because their vows would be perfect, and she’d finally say I do. And that was the only thing that mattered, that they’d be together.

Because that night, while they were dancing, Tom had chosen the right red dress. Because love is easy when the right person comes. Yes, they had their loads of difficulties, but it seemed that whenever they were together, everything just stopped, everything else was ordinary, everything was easy. They made mistakes, but everybody does.

Maybe Tom was not that prince charming to arrive on a white horse, and maybe y/n was not a princess either. Maybe they’ve been wrong this whole time, but they don’t want to hide anymore, because Tom may have tried to get in bed with the wrong girl years ago, but she turned out to be the right one. And y/n used to think that Tom had eyes for everyone for her, but whenever she was in the room, everything else disappeared. And yes, they had to run away to realize they’d run back into each other. Because maybe they’ve crossed the limits of desire, but maybe, they should’ve always been crossed.

The end.

aldsajkd it’s done bye i’m sad it’s over bye

previous chapter series masterlist Here’s my new story! Perfidy (enemies to lovers) one shot: Tom’s proposal

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