#haha slow morning at least

[lineffability]

woke up with a BURST of inspiration and writing motivation but ofc it's a Saturday on which I have to work, now I'm typing fic on my phone in-between making coffees I love this life

[jobean12-blog]

The Fine Print

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.

Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘

Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.

Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.

You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.

Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.

You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”

He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.

“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”

You stop and meet his glare.

“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”

Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.

“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”

You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.

“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”  

His jaw clenches tightly.

“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”

Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.

You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”

He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.

Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”

He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.

“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”

When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”

He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”

You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.

“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”

You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.

Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”

She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”

Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”

When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.

You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”

“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”

Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.

“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“I have A LOT to get done.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.

He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.

“What the f…?”

You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.

“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”

The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.

“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.

The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’

You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.

Fifteen minutes. Shit.

As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath you knock.

“Come in.”

You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.

At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”

Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.

His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.

“I uh…I had lunch.”

“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”

At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.

“No. I haven’t.”

He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.

You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.

“I just need to find…”

The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.

“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.

You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.

“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“James. Call me James.”

The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.

“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”

“What? Why would I?”

His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.

“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.

Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.

“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.

You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.

He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.

He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.

An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.

When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.

He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.

His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.

You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.

You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.

“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”

He curses again and continues to stare at you.

“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.

He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.

“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.

You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.

“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.

His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.

You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.

With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.

You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.

Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.

You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.

He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.

You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.

As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.

You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.

You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.

You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”

He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.

Your eyes narrow contemptuously.

He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”

You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”

“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”

“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”

You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.

His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.

He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.

His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.

“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.

His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”   

“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”

He once again easily tears them from your hips.

Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.

You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.

“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”

“You’re such an ass…”

He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.

His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.

You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”

You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.

“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”

His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.

When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.

He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.

“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.

He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.

“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.

You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”

He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.

You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.

When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.

The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.

You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.

But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.

With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.

His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.

You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.

“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”

You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.

As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.

To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.

“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”

You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.

It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.

There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.

He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.

“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.

“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.

He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.

“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”

You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me.”

When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.

It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.

His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.

His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.

“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”

You hide your surprise at his confession.

“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.

“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”

“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”

You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.

“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”

You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.

It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.

“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”

His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.

“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”

Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.

“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.

He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”

He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50

[f4iry-dvst]

PRETTY SWEET

a/n: guess i’m back haha!

pairing: pussy drunk!Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: No one loves the taste of pussy quite like Chris; he never fails to show you that.

cw: smut, oral (fem!receiving), squirting, mommy kink, sub!chris

“Let me, please mommy, wanna taste you so bad”

The whine that trails off of his sentence makes you giggle in that degrading way you know makes his head mushy, while your hand gently tucks a rogue curl on his forehead back behind his ear. Chris is between your legs, stomach pressed to the mattress as his restless hips grind into the mattress while he thinks you aren’t paying attention and he’s looking up at you with those godforsaken pleading eyes of his that you cannot deny. Of course, you can’t say no to him, he’s your precious, precious boy. That doesn’t mean you’re opposed to teasing him though — sometimes he has to work for it.

You chuckle again at the rustling of the bedsheets from his desperate movement before giving in.

“Of course you can sweetheart”

Chris near enough shouts with joy. That’s one thing you’ll never understand: how he gets such a kick out of getting you off and is legitimately upset if he can’t. You do get it, obviously. Toying with him until dawn breaks is like, better than crack rock; you’ve never gotten so sad when he doesn’t want to be played with though. It’s endearing at the very least: you can’t say you minded how much attention he pays to your pleasure, even disregarding his own for it routinely.

Not even a second later you feel the delicate touch of Chris’s tongue winding its way from your navel to your middle, and that’s when you stop his fun with a tug of his hair.

“But, Mommy wants some marks first, okay? Can you do that baby? Can you claim me from everyone else?

He’s quick to nod, willing to go to the world's end if it meant he got to taste you. It’s not often he finds himself the giver of a hickey; always rushing into making you cum, it’s very rare he stalls long enough for something like that. Chris knows you love them: love being adorned with the bruises and the bite marks, feeling the burn when he gets a bit excited and nips a little too hard or accidentally brushing over one in the morning and being reminded all over again just how much he loves you. He knows. His head just gets a little bit cloudy sometimes, that’s all. You’ll never blame him for that, it’s all your fault anyway.

You weren't sure where he was going to start his assault with his mouth, as he typically chooses your chest. If there’s anything that comes close to his love of pussy, it's boobs. But he’s still between your legs, hands bound tightly around your hips and he doesn’t seem to be moving: excitement was beginning to bubble low in your stomach. Chris’s lips latch onto the pudge of your thigh a beat later, sucking the skin into his mouth like it’s his last meal and letting his tongue swirl to soothe any sting he might inflict. The edges of your mind begin to blur as he hums and whines away as if he’s the one being sucked on; you can practically feel yourself gush at that. He repeats this process a few more times, scattering pink and purple blotches across your inner thighs like they’re his canvas until he pulls away again to look you in the eyes. They’re wet with arousal and need, glistening and oh-so-blue in the gentle light of your bedside lamp. He just looks so beautiful like this.

“That’s my good boy…I think you deserve your treat now don’t you”

He whines pleadingly, rapidly nodding again.

“Go ahead, make mommy feel good”

Well, no need to tell him twice. He’s shockingly slow to it at first: the tip of his tongue dragging through your folds from your hole to your clit, circling the pulsing bud before pulling away to dribble a little saliva on it. His thumb reaches round to flick it – once, twice and then a third, each one making your hips jolt upwards towards his face. You may be in control of him, but that doesn’t mean his touch doesn’t reduce you to a mess of your own. He giggles all sweet like a child with candy, like he doesn’t even know how much all this is affecting you. Of course he does, he just loves playing up on it.

Then, his tongue flicks back out and starts playing with your clit almost teasingly. Chris knows your body like the back of his hand; he knows just how to work you up, what makes you cum and what sends you flying off the side of the earth. This is his area of expertise – as he likes to say – he’s well practised and he can get you there so quickly you won’t even know what hit you. It’s always been so interesting to you how someone so sweet, so innocent and needy could be such a beast between your legs. Don’t get him wrong he still needs your instructions and demands, you’re comforting words and praise, but this is where he thrives.

You don’t even notice when he pulls your clit into his mouth with a suction you could never replicate until he starts letting it go, slow, agonisingly slow and the fire that alights in your veins is feisty. It’s all over every inch of you yet simultaneously all in his mouth and it’s wild how incoherent you’ve become in a few short minutes. He sucks it all back in his mouth again and starts flicking his tongue over the tip, and it’s clear then just how close you truly are already. Your hands are gripped tightly onto the bed sheets, pulling so hard to ground yourself the cover has pinged off of one mattress corner but you don’t have it in you to care.

“Mommy, mommy I need you to cum, please… cum on my face please”

You’re not quite sure why that does it for you. Maybe it was the pleading and whining, or the way he sucks your clit back into his mouth so roughly when he was done begging. Whatever it was, it had you bursting at the seams immediately. You feel his left hand pushing down on your stomach as your pussy begins to convulse and throb, and a feeling hits you that you haven’t felt in a long time. With not even a second to acknowledge what he’s forced out of you, your pussy gushes into his mouth. It throbs harder as you squirt, every muscle in your body pulling tought and your head thrown back deep into the pillows. Chris swallows it all dutifully, moaning loudly into your middle at the taste of your cum on his tongue.

You’re not quite all back to yourself yet when he yelps and cries out your name, but you know exactly what just happened to him. His hips are still pistoning into the mattress when you finally look down, rubbing his sensitive cock through his orgasm like a pathetic dog. You can’t help but coo at him even through your laboured breaths.

“Thank you, baby, you made Mommy feel so good”

Chris whines at that, nuzzling his head into your stomach and grinning against your skin. What a perfect boy.

[signedeclipse]

hello! saw your request is open again hehe 🥰 douma, muzan, gyutaro, enmu and gyokko keeps on delaying in turning their human s/o into a demon because they worry that their s/o might forget them. i actually thought of this because i have been having memory fog haha - 💀

Douma | Enmu | Gyokko | Gyutaro | Muzan [X Reader]

In which they fear turning you into a demon would result in you losing your memories of them.

Douma

He had turned into a demon when he was quite young, and fortunately for him nothing really changed about his attitude or his way of thinking; he only became stronger

But you were the opposite of him, brimming with emotions, feelings, human patterns and strange doings

You did and felt more than the average person, which balanced you both out when you we're together

Douma understood that it would mean trading death with what made you

He isn't sure what he would rather, for you to grow old and live out your life to the fullest as yourself, or to transform and remain by his side forever at a fraction of yourself

He, for once, feels a sense of dread and helplessness when the topic comes up, because he knows it won't go his way no matter how he wishes for it

Douma would let you pick what you wanted, so at least one of the two of you would be happy

He's glad that at the very least, he can hold onto the current for as long as he wants

He doesn't sleep when it's morning, and instead opts to be there for you in all your waking and sleeping hours just so time slows even for a bit

Enmu

Enmu is one of many who has little to no attachment to his past, and although he has none of these strings holding him back, he can't help but wonder who he might have been

When he sees you, rushing to hold onto him when he comes back from a mission or you back from work, he starts to think of all the things he would know that you may not

Would you remember your job you had worked so long to get? The garden you tended to tirelessly? Would you remember the midnight train rides, or when you clung to him to thightest you ever had when he just barely made it home after a long mission

And he was devout, but would you be? He didn't care much that his other lower moons had been killed, but when he thought of if you had been there, he wondered what it would have taken for you to survive

Anytime he thinks about it, he gets especially clingy and wants to do more with you, because it reminds him how little time he might have with you

He doesn't care much for looks, he wants you to stay with him until you grow old, and maybe then he will look into turning you

Gyokko

Becoming a demon was so easy for him, there was nothing for him as a human

He was much happier now, with endless time, delicious 'food', and all the strength he could ask for

All he does remember was pain and neglect, but seeing you now, you seem perfectly fine

You had worked especially hard to give yourself this life, and he did what he could to keep you comfortable and safe

You were creative, you were there for him in ways no one had been, and for that he owed you at the very least his love

Even when you had just met you matched his eccentric self, you'd dress in ways inspired by his looks and your compliment his pots; the only thing he cared about besides you

And becoming a demon, it would change that

He wants to think you'd have enough will to remain the same, but with his life's track record he expected to lose you entirely

Gyokko would do what he can to convince you to remain as you are; he understands humans cannot be eternal and wants the best for your life

He could never move on, and he rather you rest at peace than continue half alive

Gyutaro

He was fortunate enough to remember some of his background, being one of the younger demons, but most were negative and drove his distaste for the town which he was raised

Daki remembered much less than him, but as far as he recalled, she was more or less the same as she had always been

Being aware that you aren't your true self isn't very troubling for him, because he never knew otherwise and has always been what you consider your lover

But he met you when you were a human, meaning when turned, you'd likely lose that sweetness and grow to resent the world

Part of that made him wondered if you would resent him too, if he had upset you and it would blossom in your demon form

If you would still love him, or if all of those hidden emotions would take over so you could leave him

It also meant you'd be under Muzan's command

He didn't mind it much, but it meant one wrong move and you could perish, or you could be subjected to extremely difficult work and killed while he isn't there to protect you

For now, he wants to savour what he has

Muzan

He's had it happen before

It wasn't a lover of his, but an old friend whom he had known for a long time

And when he turned, his will was weak, and it resulted in him becoming nothing but his negative traits

And with memory goes personality

Some demons became feral killing machines with no purpose, others only follow Muzans every command

You listened to him for the most part, but the idea that you might force your love to be exactly as he wants it regardless of yourself hurts him

The transition doesn't necessarily erase your memories, but it creates a fog that can easily become overpowered by hate and hunger

He remembered you said you wanted to be turned while you were still young, while you were at your prime

But he found it hard, and he had to consider all the negatives

He would know your every thought, the transformation would be painful, and you could potentially lose your sense of self

Ultimately, he would do whatever it is you wish, but he would have a hard time opening his eyes after, still clinging to the hope you'd be there

Authors Note - I wanted to try a new format for my multiple headcanons that'd help summarize like my other one! Hope you like it!!

Nice to see you again skull anon!! A few of my friends experience brain fog to the extremes so I can't imagine how it feels for you! I hope this helps a little <3

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (9/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited, smut, fingering, eating out, unprotected sex.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 8.0

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: lol, hello, I'm sorry for being so MIA lately. I kinda have had half of this written since November but my mom came to visit me in Korea and I forgot about it haha. If you are still here thank you for sticking around! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

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10 Years Ago

Things were finally looking up.

“If you just remember everything we have gone over you'll be fine.” He simply says like it's no big deal, waving you off. 

You on the other hand are filled with the gnawing pain of your nerves. As you look down at your notebook filled with an equal mixture of correct and incorrect answers. 

Maybe things weren't really looking up. 

“I think we should do a few more.” You rush out, flipping to a new page. In that exact moment, the buzzer in Namjoon's hand goes off, and he stands up. 

He pushes in his chair and walks to stand beside you, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Over studying is not the answer.” He says gently, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before walking away to pick up your drinks. 

Your protest dying as you burn daggers into his back. You aren't sure if it's a good thing that he has so much faith in you. When you don't have an ounce in yourself. Especially when in two days you'll hopefully end your misery with the dreaded math final. 

It's been two whole months since you've started your weekly tutoring sessions with Namjoon. You aren't completely lost in class anymore. If you are, you just come to the broad man and drown him in all kinds of questions. With this tactic you've even managed to get an eighty-five present in your last math test. 

The only thing left for you to pass is the stupid final.

You have been seeing Namjoon a lot more this week. Scheduling, and practically begging him to squeeze you into his tight schedule since Monday. A request to brush up on equations and gain some clarity on things you might have forgotten. To say the least, your test anxiety has reached a whole new level. You visibly look exhausted, your skin is oilier than usual, sporting a few painful pimples on your chin, and your hair looks so greasy despite just washing it in the morning. You should feel slightly ashamed for even leaving your house looking like a hot mess, but your thoughts are suffocating. Staying in would make the panic in the pit of your stomach worse. 

Especially when you and your tutor have recently discovered your inability to do word problems. The main reason why you keep calling Namjoon at three in the morning. Even though he thinks you're just being paranoid, especially with the silent sigh of defeat you hear through your phone speaker. He tries his best to reassure you that you're going to be fine at the end of the day. 

“There will probably be three, five at most. He had said last night when you called. 

Thankfully he had stayed up revising his final paper, instead of being three dimensions deep in dream land like on Sunday when you called. Still, even though he had muttered out a tiny complaint, he stayed on the line with you. Until you were calm enough to fall asleep again. 

In just three months your acquaintance has blossomed into a full on friendship. Along with your sneaking suspicion that both Taehyung and Jimin like him better. It was obvious last Friday night when Jimin had a small end of the semester get together at his apartment. Namjoon got so drunk he performed the entirety of Grease Lightning on karaoke. Including the dance break with special guest and step brother Jeon Jungkook. 

Later on in the night the older of the four cried about the final scene in the Titanic. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but heartwarming to be able to see a different side of the Philosophy student. 

“Look who decided to join us.” You jump, placing your pen down in your notebook, closing it to hold your page. You turn around, feeling a wide smile come onto your face when you lock eyes with the other source of your happiness these last few months. 

“Hobi,” you exclaim, holding your arms out to him. He chuckles, and leans down giving you one of those awkward hugs one gives when the other person is sitting down. It only lasts a few seconds and then he is leaning his head back to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you cringe. 

“Ew,” you pout, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. He chuckles, pecking your lips lightly and then taking the seat next to you. 

“Joon says you need a break from being a math wizard.” He chuckles, dragging your notebook to him. He places his arms over it keeping it hostage.

You whine crossing your arms in front of you, pouting like a child. “But what if I don't pass. I don't want to have to take the class a third time.” 

Namjoon shakes his head, sets your chamomile tea in front of you, and sits down. “I already told you, you won't. I did the math last night. Even if you get a sixty five percent, you'll still be able to pass the class with a B.” He states firmly and takes a sip from his coffee. 

You huff, sinking further into the chair. “I don't want a B, I want an A.” 

Hoseok snakes an arm over your shoulders and brings you close to his side.” “Then you will pass the class with an A honey cakes.” He kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head. You take a deep breath, nodding and snuggling closer to him.

“So are you two dating now?” Namjoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him.

Hoseok waves an arm, brushing off the question that has been surrounding the two of you these past three weeks. “You know it's not like that.” He answers before you can. He pulls his arm away and sets them both on top of your notebook. He sends you a knowing wink. 

“Yeah you out of all people should know it's not like that.” You back up Hoseok, sticking your tongue out at the other. “How's Rina by the way?” You challenge making the man next to you burst out in a fit of giggles. 

You see, most of the things Jungkook told you about Namjoon prior to your first meeting have all been lies. Or just not the whole truth.

Namjoon was a broody person. He did put his studies as one of his priorities in life. And he didn't want a relationship. 

Yet in the last few months you have gotten to know the career driven man. You've also managed to peel back some of his layers. 

He did have his moments of indignation, but he could also be very playful and funny. This side mostly comes out when Hoseok is around or when he wants you to get your mind off the things that have been stressing you out. He does have a strong work ethic, but he also knows when to take a break. 

There have even moments in your tutoring slash now study sessions when he forces you to take walks. He says it helps clear your head, but you also know it's his way to get his ideas to flow again whenever he feels stuck. 

During these walks you've managed to find out more things about him. He loves museums because he's shit at art, and knowing that there are people out there who aren't makes him appreciate the art a lot more. At least once every two months he visits the tree he and his father planted his mother’s ashes at to update her on his life. He cares so much for Jungkook and his mother even if he doesn't show it all the time. And despite not wanting a relationship he has been head over heels for the girl he's been casually hooking up with for the last two years. 

Though he won't come out and say it himself. You have witnessed the way his face settles down into something calmer. And his eyes light up whenever his phone rings and her name pops up on the screen.

He once spent thirty minutes talking about a joke she had told him one night. Spoiler alert, it wasn't a good one, but it was adorable watching him try to get it out in-between chuckles. 

You also know he shares the same negative sentiment Jungkook has about your current relationship with his best friend. But just like he claims that his relationship with Rina is complicated. So, is yours with the ray of sunshine you get to now call friend.

“She's fine.” He shrugs, clearing his throat and looking out the window. You share a look with Hoseok before letting out a fit of shared giggles. 

If someone had once told you that your strict math tutor slash friend would turn into a shy mess with just the simple mention of a name. You would've thought they were fucking with you. Even if it still surprises you a little bit. 

“You should just ask her to be your girlfriend.” Hoseok chimes in. 

Namjoon throws his head back groaning. “It wouldn't work out if I do, plus that would require for me to act like a boyfriend and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.” He speaks with his eyes trained on the high ceiling of the cafe. 

You lean forward placing your elbows on top of the table and wrapping your arms around the hot mug. “You already do Namjoon. A switch of labels is not going to change anything. And don't you think she deserves some kind of confirmation and respect when it comes to your relationship?” You finish tilting your head to the side. 

“I do respect her though, which is why I don't want to ask her, like you just said a label won't change anything.” 

You let out a sigh, “I didn't say that you didn't respect her. I just think that from a girl's perspective she might be feeling a little bit confused with your words and actions. You say the two of you aren't anything serious but then you act like you can't live without her. If I was in her shoes I would feel very frustrated. So, maybe you don't have to make this big grand gesture or ask her to officially be your girlfriend but just clarify things between the two of you. If you aren't serious about her then so be it but if you are then tell her that.” You finish and take your first sip from your tea. 

“I agree with honey cakes, just be a little more straight forward that's all.” Hoseok shrugs before standing up. 

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and looks between the two of you. “And what about you?” He counteracts childishly. You knew it was coming. In his eyes the two of you giving him advice when you're in a similar situation is a bit hypocritical. Plus you and Hoseok are on the same page so it's di–

“That's different.” Hoseok speaks before you. “And this is about your love life not ours.” He states stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“Whatever.” Namjoon brushes off. You sigh, aware that if you choose to continue the conversation it will end in the three of you having a petty argument. You look at Hoseok as he leans down, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, making the man witnessing the affectionate gesture scoff in annoyance. 

If he wants to say something he doesn't voice it instead he opens his leather bound notebook to a new page. 

Hoseok ignores him and stands up straight. “Are we still on tonight?” 

You nod. “I can't stay for long though I want to catch up on sleep.” 

“Fine then just one movie it is.” He winks before turning on his heels. Leaving you behind with the grumpy man. He looks up from his journal, opening his mouth, but you raise a hand to stop him. “It's different Namjoon.” 

Namjon clicks his tongue in annoyance and shrugs. “Whatever, let's just do one more world problem before calling it a day.” 

“Fine,” you huff, sliding your notebook in front of you and opening it to a clean page. 

Just one more day and you'll be free from this torture. 

Hoseok's apartment is everything you expect from the maximest man. Just upon walking in you are hit with waves of bright colors. By the doorway there are different KAWS figurines that you can only imagine cost a fortune. Yet they greet you with their x'd out eyes as you remove your shoes. 

Then you have to pass by the Supreme beaded curtain to finally enter the living room. A bright red leather couch is settled in the middle. With wine colored pillows and a black throw blanket that you've adopted since the first night you spent in Hoseok's arms.

Abstract art lines the walls behind the television. There are more figurines lining the shelves in between books, records, and framed pictures of his friends and families. Along with a few miscellaneous items that he's told you he's obtained over the years.

His TV is huge. Takes up almost the whole wall, but your favorite to watch movies since he installed a surround system upon moving in years ago. 

You still remember the first night he invited you over. It was after spending two whole weeks texting non stop. He simply asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him and you thought why not. 

One night led to another and now another. It always starts the same. The two of you spend days teasing one another through text. Lewd texts along with pictures. You come over for a movie and then you end up underneath him. 

When it's over, he lets you use his shower while he orders takeout from the vegan restaurant a block down the road. And the two of you resume watching the movie as if neither of you were panting each other's names in pleasure. 

A simple arrangement with absolutely no strings attached.

It was what you were expecting when you came over tonight. Not that you don't mind the nights in which you do come over and nothing happens other than the deep hearted talks over a slow record playing in the background. But that wasn't happening either, because ever since you arrived at his doorstep, the overzealous man has been quiet. Biting the inside of his cheek and moving around you far enough to raise suspicion. 

It has your mind traveling back to the conversation that occurred in the afternoon. Was Hoseok having second thoughts? Or was there more to his actions than what you were picking up? 

“Hobi,” you whisper the minute he enters his living room with a bowl of popcorn stepping over your legs that were resting on his coffee table. He silently settles down next to you, on the other side of the couch with a gap wide enough to fit a person in between. 

Now you're more than positive that something is wrong. 

You groan, “I think I'll just go home then.” You mumble, pushing the throw blanket of your shoulders. 

This is enough to catch his attention. His eyes are wide behind his dark rimmed glasses and he sits up. “What why?” He tilts his head in confusion. 

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. “You obviously don't want me around, so I'll just go. I need to go to sleep early anyway.” You shrug, slipping your feet in his fuzzy slippers and swiftly start making your way to grab your stuff in his room. 

“No I–wait.” Finally, he speaks up, earning an eye roll from you that he can't see as your back is still turned. 

With haltered steps you spin on your heel to face him again, “What? You've been acting strange since I got here. So, if you don't want me around I will just go home.” 

At lightning speed he sets the bowl of popcorn on his coffee table, and stands up. He makes hasty steps towards you and when he is finally standing in front of you, he sets both of his hands on top of your shoulders. 

“Don't leave…I'm sorry.” Hoseok's eyes cast down past your face. They settle upon the graphic on your old washed out t-shirt. He takes a deep breath and looks up again. His face twists into something you can't decipher. It's a look you've never seen him wear, and it settles hard into your chest. 

He looks troubled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes dart to five different focal points. You know he's arguing with himself. When he finally looks at you in your eyes again. You can't help but shrink a little bit. 

His features have hardened, and you want to reach out to smooth over the little worry lines in the middle of his forehead. Guilt washes over you. 

For what? 

You don't know but you hope more than anything that you'll soon find out. 

“Can we talk?” He speaks up, letting his arms fall down, his knuckles brushing against your skin. 

For a second you think he's going to pull away. Retrieve into his body, but when he grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours. The guilt in the pit of your stomach dissipates and you're left with confusion. 

When you don't answer his question, he repeats himself. This time differently, “I just think we need to talk, I've been thinking since this afternoon. I want to check up on you, and I guess us.” He clarifies, and now you're filled with a different kind of emotion. As much as you're relieved that you didn't do anything wrong per se. You are slightly annoyed that he couldn't just tell you that when you first arrived. Instead of ignoring you until you reached your breaking point. 

Frustrated, you say slowly, “Then just say that, instead of ignoring me.” 

Hoseok closes his eyes and sighs, nodding his head before speaking, “you're right I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind and I am not sure how to bring any of what I'm thinking about up.” 

“Hobi, just say it. We agreed on clear communication when we realized that this was going to be more than just a one night stand.” You sigh, beginning to walk in the direction of his couch, stringing him along. “Whatever is on your mind, just say it.” You push him onto his couch and take the seat next to him, your body fully facing his, and you fold your legs beneath you. 

He nods, running a hand down his face. “I don't think this is working anymore.” He whispers, eyes trained on his ceiling. 

Okay you were definitely not expecting that, but instead of voicing your surprise, you squeeze his hand. Encouraging him to continue. 

He does, “I think I'm slowly falling for you, well I don't know I'm confused about my feelings.” He whispers the end and falls quiet. 

As much as you want to run away and hide at his confession. He looks troubled and you wouldn't be a good friend if you just left him to wallow in his thoughts. No matter the pressure that has settled in your chest. Or the fact that your heart thinks you're running a marathon, making your ears feel like they're about to fall off too. 

With every passing moment you're finding that it's getting harder to breathe. You aren't dumb, the atmosphere has also changed, but it isn't because of his confession. It's because you are also a bit confused about your feelings.

You clear your throat, “W-What are you confused about?” 

He stops his staring game with the ceiling, shifting his whole body to finally face you. “Do you know why both Kook and Joon are so against us?” 

The question throws you off guard but you suppose it has to do with what he's going through. You do have an idea as to why your friends are raising a brow at your relationship. Jungkook’s warning the first day you met the barista is enough for you to get a rough idea of what they mean. But you want to hear it from him. 

Still you don't know if you can trust your voice so you shake your head. 

He continues, “I've never been in a relationship because I don't trust people to love me the way I know I can love them. So, I just sleep around, and when I get bored I break it off.” 

 “I know. They warned me about you when you immediately showed interest. And trust me I knew what I signed up for when we agreed to keep seeing each other. I don't expect anything more than what we are doing.” You tilt your head to the side.

“I know that's why I'm confused. At first that's all I expected and wanted. But then I don't know I feel so full and empty when I'm with you. I don't want you to leave when the night is over. You're the last thing I think about and the first thing I want to see. I've never felt this sure and comfortable with anyone ever, and I don't know what to do because we both know this isn't forever, your forever is with someone else, and so is mine. But for now I just want to be with you and know what it's like to fall in love and with you.” He takes a deep breath. “Even if it's just for a little bit. You know that next year I'll be leaving for that design school, and I'm sorry but nothing and no one is going to stop me. I've waited too long for this opportunity. I know I'm being selfish to ask you this, but can you please find it in your heart to let me be yours until then?” 

Hoseok finishes. And you're left to your own devices. To deal with your emotions as they spill out of you in hot tears. You've never had someone confess to you so passionately before. Actually nobody has ever bothered. And even though it's semi depressing you can't help but feel on cloud nine with all his words wrapping around you in the warmth that he radiates. 

Without thinking you kneel, and wrap your arms around his neck. “Okay let's do it.” You beam and he matches your smile. He leans in to kiss you but you place your hand over his mouth to stop him. 

Confusion plagues him like a bitter sting. You laugh, “But only if you agree that when everything is over there's no drama between us, and if I ever get married you have to design my wedding dress.” You remove your hand, and cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his eyebrow. 

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You will get married.” 

“Nah, but it's okay. I've accepted my faith.” You shrug, resting your forehead against his. His hands come up your cheek, squishing them slightly.

“You will honey cakes, that's why I'm already planning your dress design in my head.” He wipes your forgotten tears, and tilts your head to the side. 

You feel your breathing get faster, as his heart shaped lips rest centimeters apart. “How are you so sure?” You whisper, swallowing thickly at the end. 

He smirks, with a glint in his eye. Like he knows something you don't, “because I know someone who is also falling for you but they’re to dumb to notice “ 

“Who?” 

“Secret,” he says before finally crashing his lips onto yours.

Hoseok’s room is equally as loud as his living room. It’s a little more diluted with simple decorations and a huge abstract painting on the wall in front of his bed. His bed takes up most of his space, adoring a black duvet with black sheets. He has three pillows and two of those you’ve taken ownership of. His brown dresser holds little trinkets of things he buys or finds in the pockets of his pants. It’s also home to a series of designer colognes. Your favorite one was definitely Terre d'Hermes. Somehow the smell always fills with comfort. 

Your favorite part of his room–other than his bed–was his desk. They say you can tell a lot about a person by just looking at their work space. 

He’s a messy artist. His sketches are always thrown around, or pinned on the corkboard hanging over his desk. He has two bookshelves filled with sketchbooks and magazines. Sometimes if you’re lucky he will leave his sketchbooks open, awarding you with a small glance of his work. He has different notebooks for different magazine cutouts. Each one labeled something like, ‘street’ or ‘formal’ or ‘one-day.’ The latter always peaks your interest but you’ve never thought to ask. He has a thousand different sketching materials, and so many colorful markers. You just know that he was that kid in class with the sixty-four crayola back. 

He's passionate about his craft. A passion that shines through everything that he does. Especially when he’s sharing that passion with you. Now, as he lays you down onto his soft mattress. He kisses his way down your neck, slowly pushing your shirt up to reveal your stomach and the few stretch marks that appeared one day in your early adolescent years. 

For years it was hard to be intimate with someone in fear that they would disgust your partner. But the one thing you learned while growing up was that most men didn’t give a shit unless they were getting it. 

Yet Hoseok, your boyfriend, now. 

He cares. 

In a good way. The first time he saw you naked he almost came in his jeans. Your curves were all in the right places. You have enough skin to grip onto, and he loves all the marks and imperfections your body has. 

He couldn’t understand why you were so beautiful in the soft glow of his bedroom lights? Why he didn’t have the words to describe how his heart was literally beating against his ribcage?  Why for the first time in his casual dating experience he feared he wouldn't be able to give you the pleasure you deserved? 

So, that first night together, he took his time. Trying to get his thoughts under control. He painted your body with featherlight kisses. Determined to leave his trace imprinted in your body for however long you two would engage with each other. 

Everytime you came over. He did just that. He took his time, choreographing a dance with your body. It was a no-brainer that he had fallen for you. Something he knew shouldn’t have happened. He had plans for himself. He had a future mapped out since he was teenage. Though, he had the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t stop him from achieving his goals. That you would support him through everything. He should’ve stopped his feelings for you from growing. 

He kept them quiet until his portfolio got accepted. Until he saw the brief glances Namjoon gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. Perhaps it was the jealousy that made him confess. Or that his time with you was now limited. Whatever the reason was that led him to his confession, he only hoped that you felt the same. 

You giggle, the beautiful melodic sound grounds him as he wraps a calloused hand around your right breast, circling his thumb around the pebble. 

You're his girlfriend now. 

He, your boyfriend and he will bring down the moon for you tonight if you asked him too. 

“What’s so funny?” His curious stare meets your amused one. 

You had failed to keep your giggles at bay while he made out with you on his couch. He let a few of his own out when he had had enough of kissing and grinding in his living room, and guided you into his room. 

He loved the sound, and he loved that it was only because after months of dancing this tango you were still shy underneath him. 

“Nothing, it’s just that Mickey is staring at us.” You whisper gasping when he grinds his lower half against yours. Hoseok playfully rolls his eyes, reaching and turning around the newly added picture of his family dog on his bedside table. No more prying dog or human eyes around to interrupt the two of you. 

His attention returns to you. Gaze burning with lust as he leans down, pecking your lips lightly. “Can you stay over?” He says, kneading your breast again. The teasing touches were driving you insane. But this is how you preferred it. Slow and intense, tangling your body with his, until the two of you became one. 

“I’ll make an exception if you promise to drive me to my class tomorrow with a free coffee.” You smile, pushing your chest into his hand. 

He shook his head, reaching down to your lips. “Hustler.” He mumbles, capturing your mouth in a slow sensual kiss. “You got yourself a deal baby girl.” 

Your body shudders at the nickname. He only used it when it was just the two of you. He knew the effect it had on you. “Can I take your shirt off now?” He smirks. 

You let out a pleasurable sigh, nodding your head, before verbalizing a soft, “yes.” 

He pulls away, sitting back on his heels, peeling his shirt off before helping you with yours. He discards the two of them somewhere behind him. He pulls you towards him again, resting his forehead against yours. A bright smile adorning his perfect face. 

It makes your stomach crumble, knowing that from this moment on.

Hoseok would always be the one who got away. 

Your big “what if.” 

Your biggest treasure. Your safe place. Your blueprint for a future with someone else. The love story that was made to end. But one that burned so bright that would have you telling your future daughter to never be afraid of love. 

“Can we go slow today?” You run your hands down his torso, playing with the belt buckle of his expensive belt. 

“I’ll go at whatever pace you want me to go, baby girl.” He reassures,  his fingers play with the bra strap that had fallen down your shoulder. 

You tilt your head, looking at him with soft eyes. And he swears he feels himself melt. 

The next few minutes were a mess of soft kisses and clothes being discarded. Each article of clothing, landing with a soft ‘thud’ against his bedroom floor. You’re on cloud nine, his lips kiss down your neck, your collarbone. His hands part your thighs, baring your cunt to him. He sits back, mouth watering at how wet you are. He couldn’t wait for a taste. 

He could never wait. And he never did. 

He kisses your mound before wrapping his lips around your clit. He savors the sigh that escapes your mouth. He smirks when he immediately feels you grip his hair, pushing him further. Just like he couldn’t resist, you also couldn’t.

He sucked, distracting you from his finger circling around your entrance making you gasp in surprise when you feel him insert one. Slowly thrusting it as he licked you like a man who has been starved for weeks. 

“Hobi,” You sigh, pushing his head further. He fingers you faster until he feels you clench around him, and he stops, making you whine. 

“Please,” you plead. He chuckles against you, inserting another finger. This time he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You feel him thrust into you with no hesitation. His mouth sucking on your clit, swirling his tongue around it playing with the nub. 

You were withering, moaning his name, and anything your mind could conjure up in this moment. 

Overwhelmed with blissful pleasure, you grip his bed sheets, bucking your hips into his face. He groans, knowing you were on edge from how tight your grip on his head was now. And he did the one thing he knew would drive you insane. He slowed down, until he came to a complete stop. 

“Hoseok,” you groan, slamming your hand onto his comforter. He chuckles, lifting his head. Your body was flushed, your lips swollen, your hair splayed out around you. He loves bringing you to this moment. 

“You said you wanted slow.” He grins, taking his fingers out of your pussy. Loving the way it clenched over nothing now. Almost as if it was begging to be played with again. 

You roll your eyes, pouting. “Not this slow. I want to come.” You say, sitting up on your elbows. 

“Oh baby you will.” He winks, licking his fingers clean. He leans over, pecking your lips quickly. “You will come as many times as you want. But I want the first one to be around my cock tonight.” 

You gasp at his words. You knew his mouth was lethal but sometimes it still surprises you. The lust lacing with his soft timbre made you weak in the knees. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. 

The word ‘slow’ is forgotten from either of your vocabularies, while the two of you kiss hungrily. Sucking on tongues, teeth clashing, hands touching and clutching onto anything and everything. 

Hoseok lays you down on your side, climbing in behind you. His teeth nips at your bottom lip and he wrapped your leg around his hips. He kisses down your neck, while you help guide his cock to your entrance. He locks his eyes with yours as he slowly pushes himself in. His arms wrap around your torso, and he pushes you closer to his chest. 

Both of your heartbeats are in sync. Racing against the clock, basking in pleasure that you never want it to end. 

“Move please.” You say, lifting your face to kiss him. 

He begins to move his hips, making you gasp into each other's mouths. It’s a sloppy pace from the start but you don't care. You want more, so you met his thrusts halfway. One of his hands palms at your breast. He alternates between swallowing your moans and leaving his mark on anything he can get his lips on. 

“B-Baby.” He moans, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m close, are you?” He thrusts, letting out a low moan when he feels you clench around him.

He didn’t give you a minute to answer, before he was lifting your leg higher around his waist, allowing himself to reach the deepest part of you. “Touch yourself baby.” 

You moan his name, letting go of his hand, your finger meeting your clit, rubbing it in circles. Trying to keep up with his unrelenting pace. And soon you feel him still behind you, eyes shutting in pleasure as he spills himself inside of you. His orgasm triggers the coil in the pit of your stomach as you feel your release wash over you in a tidal wave, making you push his cock and cum out of you. His fingers frantically come down to meet yours as he helps you ride out your wave. He whispers praises against your skin while you come down.

Hoseok kisses your lips slowly, chuckling before whispering words that you will forever hold near and dear to your heart. 

“I love you.” He pushes your hair away from your face. “I love you so much to know that one day I’ll have to let you go.”

You giggle, turning in his arms, nuzzling your head into his neck. “I love you.” 

You feel him laugh, twinkling his fingers down your spine, “Let’s get matching tattoos.” 

You look up at him, raising a brow before shaking your head. “You just made me squirt, told me you loved me, and now you want to get matching tattoos?” 

“What better way to commemorate the best ego boost.” He shrugs. 

“You’re insane.” You untangle yourself from his embrace. You stand up, putting on his shirt. 

“I didn’t hear a no.” He says smugly, putting his arms underneath his head. 

“Because you’re an insane idiot who makes me agree to things like these.” You smile, before walking out of his room. 

“Great, I’ll make an appointment.” He shouts after you, “I love you.” He adds after a moment. 

You enter his kitchen, and turn on the lights. You can feel your smile take up your entire face. For a moment you realize that for the first time in a long time you felt happy. 

So yeah, maybe, things were finally looking up. 

“You’re late.”

Namjoon says after taking a slow sip from his coffee. He looks at you from over the rim of his glasses. 

You roll your eyes, setting your bag down on the empty chair. “It's raining, and I forgot my umbrella. I had to wait for the rain to stop.”

“You could’ve texted to let me know.” He shrugs, setting his cup down on the coaster and flipping the page of his book. 

You sigh, before (gently) throwing your phone onto the table. “It’s dead. And before you ask, no I didn’t bring a charger. No, Jungkook wasn’t in class today so he couldn’t give me a charger, an umbrella, or a ride. Jimin is sick. And Taehyung doesn’t even go to our school. He's probably getting high with his new fling, so I wouldn’t have been able to ask him either.” You say, listing all the solutions he would’ve thought about in seconds. 

“Mhm,” he nods, closing his book. “And your boyfriend?”

Annoyed, you let out a whine, crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t know, let me go downstairs and ask him. I’m sure he can stop managing a business to give me an umbrella.” 

Namjoon leans his elbows against the table. “Trouble in paradise?” He tilts his head, clasping his hands on top of his book. 

You shake your head, pulling out your chair and slumping down in it. “Hobi and I are fine. It’s not like he’s leaving in two months or anything.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. 

It’s month seven into your shining relationship with Hoseok, and you should’ve known that things would start to hit the fan sooner rather than Later. Your boyfriend was in the middle of the most tumultuous change of his life. Things were moving quickly and his time dedicated to you was bumped down his monstrous daily to-do list. 

Yet you couldn’t do or say anything because isn’t this what you signed up for? 

“Ah, so there is trouble.” Namjoon chuckles before opening his book again, setting his fancy leather bookmark aside. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships, they just attract problems.” He adds, giving you a pointed look. 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up asshole, not all of us can be like you and Rina.” 

“Sure you can, it's simple just don't attach any strings to it.” He shrugs, underlining a sentence in his book. 

“Two people who have been only exclusively seeing each other for years literally the definition of strings attached. You can keep denying it all you want but she’s your girlfriend. You guys do all the couple-y stuff.” You grumble, leaning back in your chair, looking out of the window. The gloomy weather adds to your shitty mood. 

“She’s not, we are not dating, and I don’t need to talk about this with you again. Rina and I are on the same page.” He finishes, taking a long sip from his coffee.

“Well, how would you feel if Rina was spending time with another guy, completely ignoring your presence when you walk into her coffee shop all wet and angry because your professor basically told you your topic for your essay was shit.”

Namjoon smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re jealous of Yuri.” 

“So what if I am?” You bite, “I understand that he’s training her to take over his position, but all he talks about is her and what he needs to teach her when we’re together. And whenever I come in they’re always laughing at something behind the coffee machine. And I know she’s nice and all but I would like his attention too.” You scoff. 

Namjoon hums, tapping his index finger against the table. “Do you trust him?” 

The question doesn’t catch you off guard, the obvious answer is on the tip of your tongue. But with how things have been going lately. You can’t help but hesitate. 

“I don’t know anymore.” You whisper looking down at your hands, turning the ring on your middle finger. “I know I should, and I do…I think I do. It’s just things have been so shit lately and I feel like a burden to him because of everything he has to do.” 

Namjoon lightly kicks your foot under the table, making you raise your head to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I am being of much help, but he loves you. I know that whatever is happening he’s not doing it intentionally. Just talk to him about it.” 

If only it were that easy. 

“I’d love to but he never has time.” 

“Why not talk to him now then.” He says reaching into his bag to take out his cigarettes and lighter. 

“He’s busy downstairs with Yu–” 

“No, I’m not busy now.” 

You jump at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. You turn your head to look at him. A small tray with a mug of probably chamomile tea on top of it. His hair is shorter than the last time you saw him two days ago. He got a haircut and didn’t even tell you about it. That’s how low you have made it on his list. He can’t even send you a stupid picture of his new haircut. He can’t even send you a ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ text. He also probably forgot that you were nervous for the meeting with your professor about your essay topic.

All these realizations make you want to roll into a ball and cry. You knew your time with Hoseok was limited. You just didn’t expect for the end to be so torturous. 

“That’s what I told her.” Namjoon speaks, narrowing his eyes at you for a second before turning his attention to his best friend. “She’s jealous of Yuri, because you’ve been spending too much time with her.” He shrugs, walking quickly to the stairs before you can bury him ten feet underground. 

You hear Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, and take the seat next to you. “Honeycakes,” he starts.

“Nice haircut.” You interrupt, slumping into your chair more. It earns another heavy sigh from the man sitting next to you. 

“Is Yuri the reason why you’ve been so upset lately?” He says placing a hand on top of your knee underneath the table. 

You let out a dry laugh before shaking your head. “No, it’s not her. It’s how you’ve been acting lately, it’s the time you’ve been spending with her. It's never having time for me anymore. It’s forgetting our date last week. It’s not even telling me that you got a haircut.” You finish, closing your fists to keep yourself from crying. 

Hoseok gives your thigh a squeeze before leaning back in his chair. “You know how things have been lately. I’m trying so hard to do everything I need to do. I don’t mean to be so dismissive but I can’t juggle everything at the same time.” 

You flick off a piece of lint from your jeans. “It’s nice to know that I’m just something you juggle around.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You knew what would happen when I started my application process. You said you understood.” 

“I did, or I thought I did Hoseok. I didn’t think I would become so secondary to you.” You sniffle. “I love that you’re chasing your dreams, but this is me trying to support you. I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling. But you stop me. You have shut me out and now I’m just something you remember sometimes.” You close your eyes, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks. 

The last thing you wanted was to be crying like this in public. 

“I-I want you to tell me when you’re having a hard time like you used to. I want you to feel like you can relax around me when we’re together. But every time we are together, we either argue, you don’t talk, or you talk about work, deadlines, or how you can’t wait to move. How do you think that makes me feel Hoseok?” 

Hoseok sighs, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your temple. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier before it got to this point.” He whispers, rubbing your back, while you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

“But Hobi like you said, this is what I signed up for. This is what I agreed to.”  You add bitterly. 

“Yes Honeycakes, but you’re still my girlfriend. And I know that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I do care about you and I do love you.” He lifts your head from his shoulder. He gently grabs hold of your face, making you look at him. “Just like how you want me to talk to you when something is bothering me, I also want you to talk to me.” 

You close your head sighing, “You’re right, I’m sorry that I keep making things difficult.” 

He shakes his head. “You don’t. I’m the one that can’t seem to keep my girlfriend from doubting me. I’m the one who hasn’t told her how much I yearn to be in her presence at every waking moment.” He says, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I love you, and I think that’s why I’ve been so avoidant lately. I know that our days are numbered and I would rather ignore the fact that I’m moving away soon than cherish the moments I get to spend with my family, my friends and you.” 

You nod, holding out your pinky out to him. “I promise to keep trying my best.” 

He hooks his pinky with yours bringing your laced fingers up to his lips. “I promise to keep trying my best too.” 

“I love you,” You whisper, letting go of his finger and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

His low laugh makes his chest vibrate against your head, “I love you.” He adds, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “Now, can you please drink your tea before you get a cold. I texted you earlier asking if you needed an umbrella but you didn’t answer. And now look at you coming in here all pouty and wet.”  

You raise your head to look at him, opening your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the forgotten voice of your friend. “Her phone’s dead.” Namjoon throws his lighter onto the wooden table. 

Hoseok tsks shaking his head, reaching over to push the tray of your lukewarm tea closer to you. “I should’ve known. I knew you didn’t charge it last night, just like I knew that you left your umbrella at my place.” He pinches your cheek. “How did your meeting go?” 

“He basically said that I need to restart my essay topic over again.”

Hoseok laughs, bopping your nose with his own. “Well did he say those exact words?” 

“No but it was basically implied.”  You emphasize. 

“Fine, I’ll talk to your study partner if my baby isn’t being told that she’s a genius all the time, then what am I paying him for.” He jokes, which earns a glare from said study partner. 

“You’re not paying me, idiot.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing his brown leather messenger back and stuffing his cigarettes into the front pocket. 

He’s grateful that he came back to smiles and not tears. The stoicness of his actions makes the two of you laugh hard. Your laugh resonates longer in his mind. It always does. No matter how much he tries to deny it. You always resonate longer in his mind. But he pushes that fleeting thought aside. 

Namjoon is happy. 

His friends are happy. 

Things in his life were finally looking up. 

“I have to go, but don’t be late next time and charge your phone.” He says hoisting his bag onto his shoulders. 

You nod, saluting in his direction, before bursting out into a fit of giggles as Hoseok tickles your side. 

Namjoon doesn’t stay for longer than he needs to. He’s already running late to meet Rina, but he can’t hide the smile taking up his space.

He can’t help but feel proud that things were finally looking up for you too. 

a/n: I hope you have enjoyed it. I will try not to be so MIA and upload a little more frequently rather than every 6 months haha. But my life has been pretty busy lately. In the past few months. I have moved to a different part of Seoul and I got a new job. I basically just hang out with my friends when I have free time haha. I also do dance class 3 times a week, and I started personal training last week. But I will try to manage my time better because I do miss writing and this story!

[ghost-proofbaby]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie faces the perils of being a coffee shop opener, and meets you. you, who's so damn optimistic it should be annoying. you, who makes the job that has given him trouble seem like a cake walk. you, who seemingly bleeds sunshine. god, he should really hate you.

warnings: TWO uses of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), PHYSICAL descriptors used for reader (she has a nose ring and a septum piercing! that's all), eddie is just a bitter and grumpy idiot.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: i apologize in advance for all the technical 'barista' talk in reference to positions. i tried to elaborate on a few of them, haha. also... yes. i gave reader two nose piercings. it's definitely not even more self-projection psh. (because i have three)

the full menu

Eddie Munson is not a morning person.

So, why, for the life of him, he ended up as an opener, he couldn’t tell you. 

It had been a snowball effect. He got tired of working odd jobs here and there to produce enough cash to slip Wayne for bills, decided the quick change made off of fixing up neighbors’ cars or mowing lawns just wasn’t cutting it for his desired spending habits. He was tired of being so restricted by his misfortune; he was tired of watching Wayne pull long shifts only to continue living paycheck to paycheck. He was tired of his friends like Harrington and Buckley having money from their part time gig at the movie store to freely agree to impromptu late nights at Benny’s or seeing the latest slasher films in the theater as they premiered while he had to deliberate over counting change to see if he even had the funds to join in. He was tired of eyeing that guitar in the mall and constantly telling himself one day. 

Eddie Munson had been tired. But now, as he forced himself awake most mornings before the sun even rose, he was exhausted.

Originally, he’d wanted to be a closer. He didn’t mind being the clean up crew, having to spend late nights in a coffee shop sweeping up grounds and scrubbing away the stickiness of the day. But then the hiring manager that interviewed him had hinted towards the fact that their store already had enough closers when he’d spotted Eddie’s availability, made a few off comments about how what they really needed was a couple brave souls to take over opening shift, and that tiresome cycle rang in Eddie’s ears. Before he even had the chance to think it through, in his desperation, he’d insisted that oh, actually, my availability is completely open. I don’t mind working earlier than that. 

What bullshit. Eddie definitely minded working earlier than that. He more than minded it — he loathed it.

Long story short, it had been a series of unfortunate events that led Eddie to where he was now. In his van, fifteen minutes early, staring out at a parking lot bathed in the lingering night as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

The clock on his dash read 4:46 in a taunting blink, flickering against his bleary eyesight and making him question every decision in his life that had led him here. Adjusting to the new job had been easy enough — his trainer was nice enough, learning how to make drinks and what routines were required in the morning had been meticulous but rewarding — except for the time. It wasn’t just his start time that tortured him vehemently; shifts seem to pass miserably slow, the seconds dragging their feet in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. The clock didn’t care if Eddie yearned for his bed and a few extra hours of sleep gifted by a nap. Traffic didn’t either, when he’d hit the highways and catch just the beginnings or the tail end of the morning rush.

You’d think he’d complain more about the commute. But the gas spent on the twenty minute drive to the town over was the least of his concerns.

“Fuckin’ John,” Eddie mutters when a large truck pulls up to the drive thru, a notable regular he’d begun to recognize after not even a month of working there. They had just recently changed their opening time (they used to open an hour earlier, his manager had informed him. Eddie had nearly burst into grateful tears that he’d never experienced that crime of humanity.) 

None of his coworkers had arrived yet. Most lived closer, able to garner extra snoozes on their alarms and shorter drives of contemplation. Eddie only ever envied them on mornings like today.

“We don’t open for, like, another forty minutes, asshole,” Eddie curses out loud to himself, counting down the time until John gives up and drives away. The man would just circle the store like a vulture anyways. He always did; he always had to be the first customer, grabbing his ridiculous coffee order before scurrying off to play cards at the casino, “How do you come here every fuckin’ day and not know that?” 

It took the older man a full four minutes before he finally roughly shifted his truck back into drive, being the farthest thing from gentle as he hit his gas and jerked his vehicle out of the drive thru line. Eddie couldn’t see him clearly through the stubborn darkness, but he could easily imagine that look of irritation at not receiving the caramel frappucino with a quad shot that he seemed to feel entitled to. 

God, that man was a dick. 

Eddie nearly misses another coworker pulling up to park beside him during the spectacle. 

By this point, he’s learned what cars all his coworkers drive. 

Carmen, the fellow barista who had trained him but he now rarely worked with due to her availability being a bit later in the day, drove a bright red 2012 Kia Soul that had certainly seen better days. Nicole, one of the shift leads he worked with often during his opens, drove a small and silver Nissan Versa. The year is lost on him, but he’s willing to bet it was a few years old at this point. James, another shift lead who went by Jamie and never had much to say, drove a Volkswagen that looked to be straight out of the 70s. And that was just the beginning, the ones he could think of off the top of his head while he was still waking up inside his van. 

The car parked beside him wasn’t any of these. He didn’t recognize it at first glance, and found himself doing a double take as his face scrunched up. 

A Jeep. A two-door Jeep Wrangler with vibrant, chipped yellow paint now sat idle beside him. 

Who the fuck drove a yellow Jeep? 

He can’t even bother to be annoyed or fatigued anymore with the mystery presently before him. He can’t see through the tint of the windows, can’t make out the silhouette of who it was. He was well aware that he hadn’t been acquainted with all of his coworkers quite yet – there was a plethora of baristas in the store he’d only heard spoken of in passing rather than properly meeting – but it had seemed like the people who opened always came from the same rotation of sorry suckers. 

Nicole’s car pulls up. So whoever drove the Jeep was not one of the shift leads. 

Five minutes to 5:00 AM, Nicole’s car door opens first and Eddie can hear the Jeep’s engine kill. He’s quick to fumble with his own keys, pulling them from the ignition in a haste and throwing a hand out to blindly grab his apron from his passenger seat.

A deep shade of green. Everyone had one or two of them laying around, and they were the root of the nickname for all new hires: green beans. He had just finally gotten the one embroidered with his name a little over a week ago, and his manager had apologized profusely as she swore it usually didn’t take that long.

Eddie really didn’t care. The moment he started wearing the apron with his name on it, customers had taken to randomly addressing him by it, and it made him fucking uncomfortable. 

“Rise and shine, campers!” Nicole’s voice echoes through the parking lot the moment all three openers are out of their cars. 

Eddie doesn’t answer at first (which isn’t unusual; Nicole was used to his ever-present sleep-deprivation induced silence). He’s too busy nearly tripping over himself as his eyes stay glued on that Jeep, on the door that swings wide open roughly from two parking spaces away as he waits with bated breath. 

Would this new coworker he was about to meet even like him? 

“God, Nicky,” a new voice groans – a girl’s voice.

Ah, fuck. 

Eddie had noticed the mysterious phenomenon of the way everyone who worked here seemed to be attractive to some extent. Nice on the eyes, always smiling and always flirting in a friendly manner to garner more tips. He’d had plenty of bisexual panics in the bathroom anytime one of his coworkers extended that friendly flirtation his way. All the fellow guys (as few as there were) and all the confident girls he’d been in the trenches with – it didn’t matter, they all affected him. 

Hawkins didn’t have nearly as many pretty people. Eddie sort of felt cheated for having lived a mere twenty minutes from a goldmine of such people for so long, completely unaware. But he also felt sort of relieved, knowing that if he were still a teenager barely scraping by in high school, this coffee shop would have been his downfall with awkward stumbles and feelings caught from all those faux smiles and joking winks that his now coworkers laid on heavy with their regulars. 

With this in mind, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t prepared for when you stepped out of the Jeep. Slamming the door shut behind you, your arms were full with an apron that was definitely not green, along with an oversized water bottle and what he thinks is either a cardigan or jacket. A tote bag slung over your shoulder looked to be stuffed full as well. You were a walking cliche for the type of person that people would expect to work at a coffee shop. The type of person that embodied all those jokes of if an alternative person isn’t making my coffee, it’s not going to taste good. 

Eddie should know; he’d been the butt of many of those style of jokes given that he also fit into that category. With his long hair, with his sparse tattoos, with his new nose ring – he knew he was as much of a cliche as you were. 

Didn’t stop him from staring at you, suddenly wide awake. 

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Nicole jokes as she rounds the front of your Jeep, stopping and looking between you and Eddie before she says to you, “You’d think after a month’s vacation you’d be happier to see me.” 

You take two steps forward, lining up right between Eddie and Nicole, and suddenly contort your face to be such an over-exaggerated smile that it’s nearly a grimace. Eddie is so caught up in the scrunch of your nose, he nearly misses the way you grit out a sarcastic “Better?” from between your teeth. 

“Oh, that’s the winner,” Nicole cackles, keys jangling as she shakes them and leads the two of you towards the front of the store. Over her shoulder, she continues to joke, “Keep on smiling like that, and I sense a twenty dollar tip in our future.” 

Eddie still hasn’t said a word. What is he supposed to say? All he can do is trail slightly behind you, doing everything in his power to not let his eyes roam over your legs or backside. You were just wearing black jeans, in line with the same dress-code everyone else followed, but they were doing you favors. 

“Y’know, I think I already saw John’s truck this morning,” your voice was surprisingly pleasant despite the insinuation Nicole had made that your first impression should be grumpy. Far less gritty than Eddie’s would have been had he spoken up, “Think I can sweet talk that out of him? Maybe I’ll ask about his wife. Or- Oh!” you exclaim, bursting with sudden energy that should give Eddie a headache this early, “Put me on bar! I’ll douse his drink in caramel how he likes, that’s sure to tug on his wallet- Sorry, I mean heart-strings.” 

Nicole continues to laugh as she fumbles with unlocking the door, and it’s not lost on Eddie that he has never made any of the fellow baristas laugh like that. Although, to be fair, he has never been quite as enthusiastic as you. He didn’t seemingly bleed sunshine like you. Here the three of you were, outside in the dusky beginnings of a morning, and he could have sworn that the sun had already risen from the light that seemed to emit from you. 

It should have made him nauseated. It kind of did, actually. 

You turn suddenly, just as Nicole finally turns the lock, and face him. Your smile is subtle, eyes so wide he wouldn’t notice the bags even if you had any. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

You stick your hand out and he can see you sticky with it – with hopefulness, with friendliness, with kindness. His stomach churns. 

Nope. Not a chance. 

The moment Nicole opens the door, he’s barely muttering his name back to you, and is rushing past you to enter the store. His shoulder brushes against yours, and he has to tell himself repeatedly he did not just shoulder-check you. He has to tell himself that it’s okay he didn’t meet your level of enthusiasm. He has to tell himself that you’re just another barista, someone else who makes coffee for a living and that this new energy you bring is just due to that vacation that Nicole mentioned. 

It’ll fade. He’ll be fine. At some point, his stomach has to stop churning. 

—

It doesn’t. 

Your energy doesn’t falter, to his surprise. Not only are you sunshine personified, but you’re also damn good at your job. Eddie can only imagine how sluggish he’d be if he had a month off from anything, especially a job, but it doesn’t even seem as though you have to dust any of your skills off for the day. 

You offer to take over opening up the ‘drive thru’ aspect of the store, brewing all the coffees and teas without complaint as Eddie lingers in his misery of shuffling through the tasks of opening up the food portion of the store. As he’s sorting the croissants to be replenished, implementing the technique of FIFO (first in, first out), he can hear Nicole still cackling at whatever you’re saying in the back of the house as you clean the syrup pumps. When he’s labeling all the new breakfast sandwiches for the day with their best-by dates, he can hear you humming a few feet away from him over the clicking of the sticker gun in his hand. And when the clock finally reads 5:30 to signify the time of opening, you’re putting on your apron, tying it around yourself more securely than Eddie always lazily did. Even your black apron seemed to fit on you better than his did, as if you were more made for this job than he was. As if you had years of experience to carry on your shoulders, and God, were you carrying them with grace. Constantly smiling, constantly joking. He’d once thought Nicole incapable of even breaking a grin, but he’d hardly gone longer than a minute without hearing her laugh during the time of your opening together. 

God, he sort of hated you. 

You never even mentioned how rudely he’d shrugged off your introduction. Occasionally, he’d even caught you looking his way during the conversation, a soft expression on your face as if you were ready to include him in all the inside jokes at a moment’s notice. 

He made sure to consistently stare straight ahead, never once seeming to glance your way when you wore that expression. 

You were just too nice. You were putting all the other openers to shame right before his eyes, himself included, and he hated you for it. 

Once the store is open, John is the first customer in drive, as always. Eddie wears the headset (the one you’d grabbed for him, sanitizing it and slotting a freshly charged battery in without him even asking. God, he hated you.) and listens in to you greeting the awful bastard, and his stomach does another flip. 

“Good morning, John,” you chirp happily. He couldn’t see your face from around the corner, but he could only imagine that you were wearing a smile. Maybe you even had that damn camera on so that the customers could see you just as you could see them. 

He waits. Anxious to hear John’s grumpy reply, be reassured when someone else also didn’t match your energy. The man had never been pleasant a single day that Eddie had worked thus far. Simply barking out his order, acting offended when someone didn’t recognize him. 

If anyone was going to be cruel to you, Eddie would bet all five dollars in his pocket that it would be John. 

But even John wasn’t fucking mean to you. 

He had replied in the most cheerful tone Eddie had ever heard leave the man’s throat.

“And who am I speaking to?” he almost sounds teasing. It fans at Eddie’s irrational irritability. 

“I’ll give you three guesses.” 

He hates the way your customer service voice was so similar to just your normal voice. A bit squeakier, a bit more polite, but still bottled sunshine. He hates how nicely it caressed his eardrum as compared to the grate of some of the other barista’s tones while on drive thru. He hates that some deep part of him secretly hoped that Nicole stationed you there your entire shift, and that if she did, he would fight tooth and nail to keep this damn headset on. Just to hear your voice. Just to hear your light.

“Only three?” John’s gruff voice scoffs, “There’s only one person who works here who is this damn cheery before eight in the morning.” 

Nicole laughs from where she’s bent over to put down a few of the sanitizer buckets by the bars, shaking her head as she also listens in over her headset. 

“I’m making it easy on you, then,” you say as you suddenly come into view for Eddie. He’s trying to replenish the sandwiches and protein boxes that the store keeps on display for the customer by the register, still working through his morning tasks as he realizes you’ve completed yours.

Man, he fucking hated you. 

You don’t miss a beat as you begin to tap one of the espresso machines awake, punching all the right buttons to pull John’s espresso shot before you turn to make your way towards the cold beverage station. “You still drinking the same thing, old man?” 

“I’m not old.”

“Right, and I’m not already over-caffeinated,” that’s a lie. He hasn’t seen you touch a drop of coffee this entire time, “Just pull on up. It’s a billion dollars, or whatever your total normally is.” 

John’s cackle is cut off by him pulling away from the speaker box, effectively disconnecting the two way mic. Even Eddie finds himself nearly grinning at your reply, but he stops himself. Because you’re annoying. Because no one should be this witty this early. Because the ability to make others laugh this often should be a cardinal sin. 

He stops the grin because he hates you… right?

You do manage to get a tip out of John. Eddie sees it with his own two eyes. It’s a quick deposit of whatever spare change the stingiest man Eddie had ever had the displeasure of meeting has lying around his car, and it happens so quickly while you’re leant out the window to pass the man his receipt that he always requests that Eddie almost convinces himself it didn’t happen. But it did. He saw it with his own two eyes, as he tripped over his two left feet, effectively nearly knocking Nicole over with him. 

The look she gives him makes his stomach twist this time as his heart lurches. It’s a knowing look. It’s despicable. 

She doesn’t say a word until later into the shift, once more baristas are scattered across the floor and peak is in full swing. Eddie isn’t kept on food, and you aren’t kept to manage taking orders or run the window – he’s the one reassigned to the window position as you are moved to the cafe bar. He’s tasked with quick connections before handing out drinks to bored business people, as you fly through making drinks for both mobile orders and any customers that choose to physically walk into the store. 

Nicole puts herself on the position of ‘DTO’ – she greets the drive thru customers over the headset and takes their orders, her tone not nearly as honey-sweet as yours had been. She’s lacking in jokes, she sticks to a script that must have taken her years to make sound even remotely natural. 

Eddie’s just grateful he doesn’t have to wear a headset and listen to her directly in his ear. 

Rush has died down when she turns to him and cocks a brow with her hip. He has the window shut, fiddling with his thumbs as he anxiously awaits for the partner on drive bar to finish making the iced white mocha for the customer currently sitting on their phone. He’s sure the look she shoots his way is in regards to the fact that he isn’t ‘connecting with the customer’ or putting himself through insufferable small talk. 

It isn’t.

“Do you not like her?” 

His head shoots up, fully meeting her curious gaze, “Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” she clarifies, “Do you… not like her?” 

“I don’t know her,” he weakly defends himself.

He had been a dick to you this morning, hadn’t he? What a weak defense for being a bad person to someone who makes this entire store glow simply by being here. 

“You should give her a chance,” Nicole speaks softly as she leans back on the counter that holds the order screens, “I… She can be a lot, but she’s one of our best. Think of her as the people’s princess, so to speak.” 

He knows you’re one of the best here, just in the short few hours he’s caught glimpses of you. He has no idea how you’re so quick with making drinks, or how you manage to hold such genuine sounding conversations with all of the customers who stand right at the hand off plane. He just gets irritable when they stare at him with prying eyes as he tries (and fails) to keep up his pace. 

“I… I can see it,” he nods, bringing a hand up to pinch his bottom lip, “I mean, John clearly loves her.” 

Nicole gives a pointed look, “He does. She doesn’t take his shit – him and his wife bring her gifts for every holiday. They know her damn birthday and bring her cards. It’s insufferable.” 

He cracks a shy smile at that, “They bring her birthday cards?”

“They bring her birthday cards,” she echoes back to him. Eddie finally receives the drink he was waiting on and turns, quick to hand it out with a soft mutterance of ‘have a good day’. Once he’s finished and the drive thru is officially empty, he faces her once more, “You don’t have to like her as much as everyone else. I know you’re still new and adjusting but… she’s one of the best for a reason.” 

“Because she can turn out drinks like it’s no one’s business?” Eddie questions, side stepping and lifting his chin in your direction as you finish yet another drink, as if to prove his point. 

“That,” Nicole shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter, “And because she actually gives a damn.” Eddie’s brows shoot up as he waits for her to continue, “She knows these customers, man. Learns about their lives, hears them out. Remembers the small things. She’s the same way with all of us, too. She once got turned down from being a shift lead because she’s too nice. Have you ever heard of someone being shot down from a job for that?” Nicole pauses, and Eddie can only shake his head, feeling the ends of his ponytail brush the back of his neck, “She has the management experience – she knows how to run this place. Sometimes, I see it. The way she steps up and takes responsibility. She chooses to be that kind even if it makes her seem like a nut job. She chooses to let people hear walk all over her, because she cares. She cares more about treating us as humans or whatever than she does an upgrade in pay.”

“Makes sense they wouldn’t make her a shift, then,” Eddie dares to say, which earns him a sharp look, “I mean, management positions aren’t for the weak of heart. You have to make tough decision-”

“Once, a man was harassing one of our baristas. This dude who was married. Came in like clockwork and picked up a mobile order under his wife’s name, wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept flirting with one of our poor girls. I’ve never really been afraid of her, but I was every time that man stepped foot in here,” Nicole grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the counters with a low whistle, as if she isn’t spilling serious store lore right now to Eddie. As if she isn’t bringing on more questions than answers, “She’s not weak of heart. She’s good of heart. And if she hadn’t been on vacation, she would have been your trainer. You don’t have to like her, like I said, but it would do you well to give her a chance.” 

Trainer? 

Carmen had mentioned something about another barista being the usual trainer. She had even tried to joke around with Eddie that he would have liked the other girl better, something about how she was funnier and easier to get along with. 

You. You were the girl she’d been talking about. The people’s princess, as Nicole had put it. 

Eddie opens his mouth to say something in reply, although he isn’t quite sure what he can say. 

God, he had been a fucking dick. And Nicole was matching sure he felt all seven levels of Hell, of guilt, for it. 

It ate him alive for the rest of his shift. His stomach churned with it. All that guilt gnawed on him from the inside out, using his bones for toothpicks, and he already knew what he needed to do without Nicole saying it.

—

“Did that hurt?”

The two of you got off your shifts at the same time, as most openers do. At ten o’clock precisely, Nicole was shooing the two of you off the floor, two fresh baristas taking both your places as you scurried to the back. 

He’d overheard the joke made ten minutes prior, Nicole speaking to a fellow shift lead about who would be replacing you, already mourning your absence. She didn’t make such a joke about Eddie.

“Huh?” you look up quickly from where you had been carefully rolling and folding your apron into a bundle. 

Eddie gestures vaguely to his nose again, repeating himself, “Did it hurt?” 

It was the best he could do – pathetic small talk about the nose piercings of yours that had caught his eye. 

You grin radiantly, and he tries to swallow down that instinctive voice that whisper hate, hate, hate. “Which one?”

Right. You had multiple nose piercings. A hoop that matches Eddie’s own, only on the left nostril rather than the right like his, and that septum piercing. He’d probably look dumb to ask about the nostril considering he had his done, and should already know that it definitely doesn’t feel nice. 

“The septum,” he clarifies, “That combination, though, um… It looks sick.” 

Oh, he sounds so fucking stupid right now. He wishes the sticky floors beneath the two of you would split and swallow him whole. 

“Eh,” you shrug, finally glancing away from him to finish wrapping the strings of your apron snugly around the bundle you’d made of it, “My nostril honestly hurt worse. If you’re thinking of getting one,” you pause, and look up, offering him a look of pure mischief. Heart, stomach, mind. They all lurch with that look as you whisper, as if letting him in on a secret, “Do it.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off,” he’s quick to blurt out, eyes widening, resisting the urge to take several steps back and put distance between you two. 

Fuck, he didn’t hate you. It hits him like a truck – this shift had managed to slip through his fingers so quickly. The fastest one to date. Between all of your jokes, all of the laughter you managed to pull out of others and that he had to fight down, the day had flown past as easily as a shift really could. 

He regrets spending the shift moping. He regrets ignoring your introduction. He regrets not giving you a chance. 

“I think you could,” your tote bag now hangs from your shoulder, and you have your keys prepared in one hand as you hold your water bottle in the other, “Everyone says that, but if you can already pull off the nostril, adding a little septum to the mix never hurt nobody.” 

Is your face stuck like that? Stuck with a subtle and shy smile pulling at the lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle in the slightest? 

He hopes not. If it is, he’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with you. He’ll always be too distracted, too infuriated, too overwhelmed. 

“You’re a very optimistic person,” he almost lets it slip out as a scoff, but refrains, Nicole’s words echoing in his mind. It would do you well to give her a chance.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” you casually say to him. 

“Did you just quote Star Wars to me?” 

Eddie is aghast, staring at you with even more awe than before. And you – oh, you look so goddamn proud of yourself and the way you’ve left him shellshocked, smugly lifting your chin and smiling more intentionally. You’re smiling so widely that your eyes pinch nearly fully shut and even more of that sunshine is now flooding the backroom up to Eddie’s knees.

“I don’t know,” you start to step around Eddie, carrying an air of arrogance that would only be so endearing from someone who had been proven to be as kind as you were, “Did I?”

You never give him the chance to answer. You leave him there, standing in the middle of the back of house and not even clocked out yet as you walk away with a bounce in your step and a quick have a good day, Eddie! over your shoulder.

When he’s finally off the clock and having given a half-ass goodbye to everyone on the floor (which no one replied to as enthusiastically as they had yours, by the way), you’re still sitting in your damn yellow Jeep. You give him a slight wave through the windshield as he makes a beeline for his van, and he doesn’t even bother to return it. Pretends he doesn’t see it. Looks straight ahead. If Nicole is watching from the drive thru window that serves as a front row seat to the entire interaction, she’s going to rip him a new one next shift they work together. 

God, Eddie wishes he hated you. 

Instead, he’s left hoping that next time he opens, you’re there to make the time fly. Maybe he’ll be the one quoting Star Wars to you. If he can ever get the stick out of his ass, that is.

taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles

(tag list is open - if you'd like to be added, let me know!)

[0oolookitsme]

Double Date Day

The smut that I've left you guys hanging for in this fic, is coming sooner than you think it is! So, don't be too sad haha! Best believe, it is coming right after the next fic! Also, I like started writing this concept probably last year, if not the one before that; and I just COULDN'T write it! But finally, I've re-written it for the millionth time and while I'm not very happy with the way it has turned out, I still hope you like it!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - None! A scene alludes to smut, but it doesn't happen!

It is Valentine's Day, also known as the Double Date Day in the Styles' house. And being one of the highly anticipated days for the family, a lot of preparation and antics take place throughout the day!

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

It was showing to be a clear morning; and, as Harry laid in bed with his eyes cracked open seconds prior, he imagined the clouds softly moving along with the brisk wind, and the sun peeking in between, as if playing peek-a-boo with the world. He knew it to be a deceiving setting though, because no matter how bright the sun was shining after days of disappearance, the weather was still chilly and would bite at his skin were he to go out.

Turning to his side he met with Y/n’s crouched back as she slept, curled into herself. He couldn’t hear anything from her but the slow rise and fall of her figure indicated that she was still fast asleep.

His lips curled into a crooked smile as he formed a cocoon around her, covering her back with his chest, slipping his hand around her waist and tucking away his chin into the back of her neck – her hair that seemed to be had slipped out of the braid she’d made last night, fell on his face and Harry gladly breathed in the comforting scent of her shampoo. 

His eyes fell close, as if almost compelled to go back to sleep in her warmth. And, he had just begun to drift away when he felt the bed dip behind him. This was nothing new, still Harry opened his eyes cautiously and shifted his gaze to the scene going on behind him.

One of the twins was standing up on wobbly legs, bending down to, according to Harry at least, help another one up. And he’s only proven correct once Amore is standing tall again, and Andre seems to be holding onto her arm for his dear life while he tried to balance himself on the mattress. They shared a look at for a little, as if revising the same plan that they follow through on every fourteenth of the February, since they’ve turned three, and passed each other a grin with a thumbs up, like signing off a pact.

He silently grinned and before he could begin pretending to be asleep, his eyes fell on Y/n’s bare chest that was seconds away from revealing her breasts. Looking at the kids, he slid her flimsy shirt down her torso and, once done, unintentionally swung his legs up her calf like he always does, instead of being sneaky and stilled, hearing Amore squeak – “Daddy’s Awake!” followed by Andre’s giggling. 

Tilting on his back, a throaty laugh escaped his mouth because of getting caught and also at the sight of Andre’s blonde curls sticking out in all directions. “Good morning, my monkeys,” he sang funnily, wrapping his arms around their little bodies as they snuggled up on his right side with their never-ending giggles.   

“Morning daddy,” the two wished him back in hushed voices, as if Y/n wasn’t already awake by the sound of their sweet-sweet laughter.

Harry hummed for a little, before beginning – “It’s the double date day today, isn’t it?” He asked and felt them nodding on his shoulder. Looking down at Amore and laughing when she poked at his double-chin, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You know what to do, my love.” He began and turned to look at Andre, asking him if he were ready to take on the day. On receiving a cheery reply, he took the blanket off of him and got out with Andre clung to his chest, putting the boy back down once he was on the floor. 

“Enjoy you time with mummy,” he chirped at Amore and kissed both her and Y/n’s cheeks quickly before pretending to run off with his other little one cackling and running behind him.

On the very first Valentine’s Day that Harry and Y/n had celebrated as parents, they had come up with an idea to turn it into a double date day. For what reason, they aren’t sure – it just seemed cool to do, and now the family awaited this day every year with great excitement. 

The first time, Y/n had gone on a date with Andre and Harry had gone with Amore. It was nothing but another domestic little excuse to spend some more quality time with their kids. The second year around, Y/n and Amore went on one, while the boys went with each other and, for the third year, the kids had gone over to Anne’s, so Harry and Y/n had gone on a date. 

This year, they were following the suite of the February fourteenth on which Y/n was pregnant, and ready to pop any minute, sat in the bed with breakfast served to her by her lovely husband, who hadn’t even managed to get dressed because he had missed his alarm, surprisingly enough. Which meant, they were starting anew this year, and the whole family was going to be sat on one table and just chit chat like they do all the time and discuss Harry and Y/n’s first meeting for the thousandth time. 

Right now, Y/n very sneakily wrapped her arm around Amore’s frame and dragged her towards herself. She laughed lightly when she realized that she’d scared the girl as her eyes remained widened for a second too long. “Good morning, mi amore,” she chuckled, kissing the top of her nose and sighed when she snuggled closer to her. 

With her face tucked away in Y/n’s chest, Amore shyly greeted her back, “morning, mummy.” Her voice was muffled, and Y/n knew she wasn’t too far from slipping back to dreamland.

“Did you get anything?” Y/n asked, pressing another kiss to the girl’s hairline. 

The girl hummed and Y/n wondered how Harry hadn’t noticed such similarities between him and Amore. “There was a box beside my pillow, but I haven’t opened it yet,” she answered, and pressed a return kiss on her mummy’s chest through the ridiculous gaps between the shirt’s buttons, her body shaking with laughter when Y/n giggled.

“What about Andre? Did he get his gift?”

“Yeah! He opened his first thing in the morning!” Amore laughed. “He was very happy to see all that paint and the brushes,” she said, taking a deep breath right after. 

“When do you plan on opening yours, munchkin?”

“After the breakfast,” the girl mumbled and Y/n coddled her body closer to her, sensing that she was dozing off in her warmth. 

Amore began snoring and Y/n also gave in to sleep slowly and slowly, all while hearing the muffled but loud chatter going on downstairs. 

Harry simply couldn’t stop questioning Andre, who was sitting on the kitchen island – “You are always helping out your mum, why aren’t ya helping me?” He asked with a pout on his lips and a dramatic frown between his brows, all while opening the drawer for a fork.

On receiving no answer, he looked up to see Andre struggling to get back on the Island with a glass lunch packed with Strawberries. “What are you doing?” he questioned again, watching as he began putting some into the empty bowl Harry had brought out to stir some batter in. 

“Just a snack for the two of us,” he whispered with a finger on his lips. When asked to spill some details by Harry, he elaborated – “Amore told me she and mummy had some last night when you and I had gone to sleep,” with an angry and pouty look on his face.

Harry laughed loudly at that, realizing that Amore had tried to make a fool out of his son, and how she had succeeded. On seeing the little one grumbling and getting off the island, he tried to cover up quickly as he rushed to his side to face him.

“I’m sorry darling, but I think she might’ve been fubbing,” he said with an apologetic look, but chose his words wisely. “Don’t you remember you two had slept off on the couch and how me and mummy had tucked you in the bed?” He continued and chuckled when realization dawned on Andre’s face. 

“Well, cheer up and help your daddy now,” Harry grinned, patting the boy’s head and moving to take out another bowl. 

They spent the rest of the time in the kitchen just that way – Harry constantly spilling jokes and pulling on Andre’s leg, who just sat and brought him things with a pout on his mouth because of the teasing.

Every time, Andre would find a new spot to put flour on Harry's face and get a whiney ‘heyy!’ in return from his helpless dad whose hands remained busy the whole time. 

The boy was feeling done with Harry, wanting to be by his mother’s side now that he’d had his daily dose of dad jokes ingested in his system. Every once in a while, he’d dip his finger in the cookie-dough that Harry had left out to make biscuits later when the two girls were to join them in the kitchen. 

The one moment he finally felt at peace was when Harry asked him to decorate the pancakes with some maple syrup and passed him the bowl of strawberries he'd taken out earlier. And, as he got right to work, forgetting to breathe and blink as he put his all in putting everything in the right place on the plates, he didn't quite realize how long he'd been at it.

The wind outside was flowing in with free reign through the open kitchen windows, helping Harry in staying cool. A blow whiffed both of the Styles’ curls with a great force, causing a chuckle to escape Harry’s mouth.

“Andre? Are you done yet?” Harry asked from somewhere in the Kitchen, his hands on his hips as he looked at his child with tired eyes, but a lopsided grin on his face. He wouldn't want to disturb the boy’s work, but it had been ten minutes of him saying “just one more second" and Harry was growing antsy, trying to busy himself with making some fresh orange juice – but even that was done now, and he couldn't help himself any longer. 

“Why don't you go and wake up your sissy and mummy?” He exclaimed, knowing that Andre would not miss a chance to finally stick himself to his mummy after a long morning of having his dad annoy him. 

That pulled Andre right out of his zone, and he quickly rushed to get off the stool he'd been standing on the top of. “Yes, daddy!” He squeaked, a grin on his face that Harry caught sight of right before his gaze landed on the mess atop the kitchen island. 

A deep sigh left his mouth, and he rubbed his forehead a couple times before getting back to work, cleaning everything up as quickly he could. And also, to lick some of the maple syrup by his fingers off the breakfast because Andre had poured about half of the little bottle on the pancakes and situated the berries on the very edges of each plate. 

And, while at that, Harry quickly checked off the ‘maybe he'll become a chef’ off of his mental checklist about Andre’s career choices that he'd noticed so far – and laughed a little to himself, finally putting the glasses of the juice beside the plates.

And when he heard the kids running down the stairs, he immediately yelled out a 'Slow down, there!' while closing off the running tap. Quickly, he dried off the last two dishes and turned, frowning when he couldn't find sight of his wife.

"Where's mummy, love?" Harry asked any one of the kids, looking at them gush over the 'yummy' breakfast while drying off his hands on his pants, the kitchen towel hanging not far from him.

"Oh daddy, mummy said she would only come down if you'd ask her to," Amore quickly answered, like she'd forgotten to inform Harry that and went right back to smelling the juice. 

He stood there dumbfounded for a little, and then a giddy smile pulled up on his soft lips, quickly turning into a wide grin. He shook his head as he began climbing up the stairs hurriedly, brushing his hair out of his face with a jerk of his head.

"Now, what is this behaviour, darling?" Harry asked without having yet caught a sight of her, opening the door to their bedroom.

When he saw that she wasn’t lying in bed, the confusion caused his eyebrows to frown, until he heard the running water, and a look of realization dawned over his facial features -- causing him to turn towards the bathroom, to which the door was left slightly open ajar.

He could hear her humming a Fleetwood Mac song, potentially Landslide, with each step he took, and when he knocked on the door, all of the noises stopped at once -- the running water in the bath, her humming voice or the candle's crackling, all of it. A smirk tugged at one of his mouth's corners, and he called for her once again before asking, "Did you like your gift?" with a change in the tone of his voice.

As Harry’s mind drew an imagery of her wearing the lingerie he had got her as one of the gifts and had kept in the bathroom, he felt himself thickening in his pants. It was a colour close to Magenta, and Harry knew her body well enough to know how well it was going to suit her skin.

The thought of her chest freckles that lied rather at her cleavage peeking through was driving him insane and he was only growing more and more impatient with each passing second, his foot beginning to tap on the floor beneath. He knocked again, and Y/n swung open the door at that very second, like she'd just been reaching for the doorknob.

"Hi! Sorry, the hot water was feeling way too good this morning," she looked at him with a grin so wide that Harry was sure she had it on her face just to mock him.

She was dressed in her own clothes from head to toe but his cardigan was draped over her shoulders and Harry wasn't sure if she was doing all of this intentionally. Maybe somewhere, by the mischievous glint in her eyes, he knew -- maybe.

He jerked when she grabbed a hold of his face in the cold palms of her hands and calmed down when she pressed a chaste kiss on his mouth. "What are you thinking?" She whispered, her front teeth peeking out of her slightly open mouth, perfect contrast against her skin, as she stood so close to him that he could smell the scent of the creams she must've put on her face earlier.

His voice came out in nothing but a cracked whisper when he mumbled, "nothing."

He knew that this moment wasn't yet over as he followed behind her out of their bedroom and down the stairs. Feeling like a lost puppy suddenly, he almost only had eyes for her. That was until they reached the dining table, and he was reminded again of their kids, who must be ready for food by now.

"Mummy! What did you get?" Amore asked the moment she saw her mum, running away from Andre who seemed to be in the middle of showing her another one of his drawings.

Harry swallowed his laughter at the sight of his offended son and walked over to carry Andre over. "Mum's looking pretty, isn't she?" Harry whispered to him and grinned when the little one agreed loudly, causing Y/n to look over with a blush covering the highs of her cheeks.

"I'm not sure yet, I'll open mine after breakfast as well," Y/n shrugged as she sat on the chair Harry had pulled behind for her. Because she had panicked, she said she wasn't yet aware when in fact, she knew exactly what she'd been gifted – it was clinging to her body beneath the cozy clothing she’d gone for. So, now as she sat and brushed the girl's bangs out of her face, she wondered what white lie she would have to tell later.

Turning to face Harry, Amore asked him the same question. "What did you get, daddy?"

"Ah, it's this cute little dainty necklace! I absolutely am in love with it," Harry confessed, quickly passing Y/n a look of gratitude and adoration. "I'll show you once we finish eating, yeah?" He continued before Amore could force him to walk up the flight of stairs again.

"I know Andre loved his gift, he wouldn't stop going on and on about it when we were cooking," Harry spoke, making everyone at the table laugh. "Did you like yours, hm?" He asked his daughter.

Amore told him about how she would open hers along with her mum, and when Y/n was done putting pancakes in everyone's plates, the kids dug right into it, causing both her and Harry to warn the kids to slow down.

Shouts of praises and 'yum's were shouted at Harry, making him grin endlessly out of shyness. It was when he couldn't shrink his smile that Y/n announced him the new chef alongside Andre, making him turn to face her with pure horror coating his features.

Don't get him wrong, he absolutely loved cooking, and his son. But to cook with Andre in the same vicinity in the morning was something Harry was sure he couldn't do every single day.

The table roared with laughter and cackled all over again as Harry said that and they all continued with their breakfast with continuous chats, except for that one time that Harry choked on a berry’s crumb, causing Y/n to strictly announce that no one was going to talk with food in their mouth.

But then, Amore masterfully stole a sip of Andre's orange juice, making everyone lose it once again.

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ joshua edition

member: joshua x reader genre: established relationship, bullet points word count: 738 summary: joshua's boyfriend things ;) warnings: mentions of food and i think that's it! let me know if i missed anything! author's note: y'all i am almost two whole days late with this oh god it keeps getting worse. i am...very tired haha i've been working a lot to build up some money while i'm not in school so yeah. i lowkey forgot about joshua/taehyung day until i opened twitter and saw people talking abt shua and i was like WAIT THAT IS TODAY anyway moral of the story i'm tired and need a break but here is the joshua fic we've all been waiting for! ily all and enjoy <3

He lowkey gives the vibes of like. The foreign exchange student bf with a relationship with a deadline 

He’s the silly bf!!! 

He’s also one of the members I see the least as a boyfriend so this is going to be interesting to write…

Quality Time 

Mans is a fan of everything fr !!! He absolutely loves spending time with you and your shared group of friends 

Loves doing silly little activities with you like making bracelets and painting 

He might just be the artsy bf we all want 

Joshua loves to go to different places with you like thrift stores, arcades, cafes, literally anything as long as he is with you <3

Loves the feeling of mixing his friend groups - the day you meet his friends aka his brothers he will be imploding with love for everyone 

Is the “i get bored easily” bf so y’all gotta be doing like ten different things at once 

Will totally ask you to dance or just close your eyes and be with him when a slow song comes on at a party / get together / playing music at home 

Words of Affirmation

You totally call him Joshy or Shua and he loves every minute of it bc he thinks it’s cute 

“Darling, would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow morning?” SCREECHING 

Believes the relationship revolves around pet names (ie. baby, sweetie, darling) he's adorable 

Is always proud of you and encouraging!!! 

Likes to leave little notes for you around the house. Maybe by your favorite drink in the fridge that reads, “I got these for you. stay hydrated, love” 

At the beginning of the relationship he was so formal with you, that it took him saying “I love you” for the first time to relax for five seconds LOL 

Physical Touch

Joshua loves handholding ‼️

This man always wants to have some sort of contact with you, whether that be holding hands, linking fingers or rubbing your back

Loves having you sit on his lap or lay your legs across his 

His go-to move when you are in public is linking your pinkies together (how cute :3) 

Leans on you when he laughs because he cannot sit still 

I feel like Joshua would like. move his fingers on your leg in the way of playing piano keys but with guitar if that makes sense? Like where the frets are? Idk

Is also the type to be scared of touching you in front of others until you explicitly tell him that it's okay

Acts of Service 

Loves doing the chores for you

“Hey, baby, I'm gonna fill my water bottle. Do you need me to fill yours?” 

Or even a, “hey i borrowed your car, but i filled the tank before bringing it back” we love a man who can afford to fill a vehicle’s tank at this point in time

Likes to bring you lunch once or twice a week --- he’ll make it himself and pack it in a cute little bag and everything 

Helps you in little ways like folding the laundry or helping you pick out outfits on those days that you struggle to do anything 

Is always there for you when literally anything happens. You need someone to help fix your car? He’s on the phone finding a shop. You can’t reach a high shelf or your back hurts too much to bend down to get something from a low cupboard? He’s right there ready to help

Gift Giving 

I touched on this a tiny bit earlier but !! handmade jewelry omg he would make matching bracelets for y’all or even a necklace or earrings for you if bracelets interfere with your job

Always buys little trinkets that remind him of you or your relationship 

“Hey I found this little glass rose decoration and it reminded me of the time i got you flowers when i asked you out the first time” 

HE WILL ALWAYS HAVE THE CUTE SHY SMILE WHEN HE GIVES YOU SOMETHING TOO as if you’ll ever tell him that you dislike something he got for you 

He would also love if you gave him gifts too like, “hey joshy I got this little container that can help you keep your beads organized” and he’s melt into a puddle of goo onto your living room floor 

Also gets something for you (usually your favorite snack or drink) when you’re especially sad or stressed out - like a super gift instead of his regular daily gifts or something 

Idk just know he’s really sweet and enjoys crafting

[wing-ed-thing]

... And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part III

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 7.4k

Tags/Warnings: Naive!Servant!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Canonically Mean Vinsmokes, But Reader is Kinda Into It, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Language, Reader Falls First, Yonji Falls Harder, Academic Discussion of Dark Themes, Suggestive Commentary

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Notes: We're just doing a slew of fairy tale inspired Vinsmoke fics aren't we? Fun fact, the "the beast" doesn't refer to Yonji at all, but the size of these chapters ay yo! hahahahahaha... haha...ha

When Yonji requested you back in his quarters for his morning routine, you assumed that things were returning to what they were— that is, not normal. Rather than spending time in the archive just downstairs from the attic space where you made your sleeping area, you made directly for Yonji’s quarters just as the sun rose to prepare him for breakfast with the rest of the royal family.

Judge, for as pragmatic as he typically was, always gathered his four children for breakfast and dinner. A rather sentimental notion, the meals were held at strict times every week, and any excuse short of standing in an active war zone or teetering on the brink of death did not hold enough weight for any of the Vinsmoke children to be absent. No matter how spread out the fleet was on any given day, granted that no paid work was being tended to, the towers of all four children, the kitchen, and the throne room convened at least once a week. 

You knocked on one of the double doors leading to Yonji’s bedroom, and as anticipated, you received no response. Yonji could sleep through a hurricane— and did once— but you didn’t want to risk the brutal punishment that would have come with walking in on him if he were miraculously conscious so early in the morning. 

Light from the hall flooded into his bedroom as you opened the door, and the triangle of golden illumination dwindled as you closed the door behind you. The blackout lights were drawn exactly how you left them the night before as you crept through the darkness of the room. 

You approached the curtain to the left of Yonji’s bed, drawing it to the side to brighten half of the room. Yonji’s sleeping form instinctually twitched as he buried himself farther into his luxury cotton sheets. You moved to the other side of the bed to draw the other curtain.

“Prince Yonji,” you called his name softly. Yonji grumbled something incoherent into his pillow. “It’s time to get ready for breakfast.” You turned to rifle through his wardrobe. His attire was the same for the most part, but Yonji liked seeing options. 

You let the top cabinets close with a quiet thud. Yonji groaned again, tossing to face the opposite side of the room. He threw an arm up that smacked against his headboard. His covers fell to around his hip on his left side, exposing half of his bare chest. You kept your focus on the drawers of his wardrobe as you plucked out a few more articles of clothing. 

You draped two of everything over your forearm and walked once more to the opposite side of the bed. Yonji lay with his eyes cracked open as you placed everything neatly on the end of the bed. You held up two white button-ups, one with a ruffled collar and one without. In his half-awake state, Yonji made a gesture to the shirt with the ruffles. You hooked the approved shirt’s hanger on your arm and placed the other one back at the end of the bed. 

You did the same for his slacks, and by the time Yonji finally sat up on his own accord and threw his legs over the side of the bed, you had already established a complete outfit for the day. It hardly took Yonji a single yawn and a few complying motions before he was completely dressed, eyeing you as you knelt between his thighs to finish buttoning his shirt. You had been quick to slide a pair of pants over his briefs. 

Even after all this time, the better part of your thoughts were painted on your face. Most of Germa, the royal family especially, was the furthest thing from shy when it came to nudity. Most of the soldiers shared tight quarters, after all, and the raid suits for the princes and the princess required complete disrobing before and upon use. While you hadn’t grown up in Germa yourself, you couldn’t help but secretly consider that the way in which you dressed Yonji in the morning alone was quite intimate, even for Germa’s standards. All of this, Yonji, of course, knew, but he never tired from getting a rise out of you, especially when the means were so simple.

You offered him his earphones, which he took and placed around the back of his neck before standing. You placed his rejected selections back in the wardrobe before turning to make his bed.

“Forget about that.” Yonji waved flippantly toward the messy bundle of sheets and blankets. “Go back to the library and prepare for my arrival. I’ll be there after breakfast.” He didn’t say anything else before walking out into the hall, leaving you to panic.

***

You didn’t quite understand what “prepare the library” meant, considering that your job mostly consisted of knowing what things were and where they were. (Given the infrequency of people taking books from the library archive, you hardly ever had to put books back that you didn’t take out yourself.) Even the custodial duties weren’t your responsibility, given that cleaning staff were sent to your snail every two weeks or so to manage the red carpets that lined the hall and dust the shelves. If anything, your most laborious work occurred every spring on archival week, so you weren’t exactly sure what you were meant to prepare.

You considered bringing down two tea cups and a pot of hot tea but swiftly decided that Yonji would likely not only be insulted but disgusted by such a low-quality product. Unsure of what to do, you collected your documentation from the archival week that occurred just a few months ago and meandered around the center of the large chamber awaiting Yonji’s arrival. 

He came just as the sun outside began shining at full capacity. You stood in the center of the room on the intricately woven carpet below, with the files in your arms. Yonji hardly regarded you as he strode into the room before taking the door handles of the massive double doors in his hands to push them closed. Your breath hitched as he latched them, officially cutting off your only means of escape. 

Yonji turned back to you, his brows furrowed at the paperwork in your arms. 

“A detailed organizational account, Prince Yonji.” You politely dipped your head. Yonji’s mouth turned into a wide, closed-lipped frown as he approached you. When he stood just a short distance before you, he snatched the documents and threw them to the ground. 

“Not necessary.” He circled you and stopped just behind you to give you a shove forward. “Go grab all the shit you’ve been reading.” 

You swiveled your head back, “Um—?”

“You do everything I say with that stupid look on your face for months, but when I ask about your dumb interests, you go, ‘Prince Yonji, um’?” he mocked, imitating your expression with a pucker of his lips before they reverted back into a scowl. Yonji gestured toward the shelves that lined the walls. “Pull everything.”

“Yessir!” You nodded adamantly as you started toward the closest shelf. Yonji’s eyebrow shot up.

“What was that?”

“Yes, Prince Yonji,” you corrected, already taking a book from the shelf. You tried to spare a glance back at him, but the nervous smile that tugged at your cheeks made you turn back to the shelf quickly.

Even Yonji couldn’t hold his scowl for long, not when you had that gleam in your eyes.

***

He followed you with a closeness that made you conscious of your stride. You pulled a few selections from the shelves, glancing back at Yonji every so often for approval. He positioned himself as awkwardly as he could, trailing to your right and backing up as you slowly skimmed the walls. Yonji, as a rule of thumb, imposed himself wherever possible and least convenient. 

 With a few books piled in your arms, you wandered past an entire section of Sora comics. Germa 66, whether it be out of vanity or an unspoken sense of humor, boasted the entire running collection of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. Despite the thin volumes, the collection easily took over two long shelves. You hoped that Yonji wouldn’t notice your purposeful ignorance of the comics, but you supposed you couldn’t have been that lucky.

“Not a fan?” Yonji laughed. He placed a hand on one of the upper shelves and the other dipped into the left pocket of his slacks. He purposefully towered over you, not allowing you to move forward to the next section. 

You didn’t think quickly enough to hide your expression. Yonji grinned.

“Go on.” He gestured to the collection with a jerk of his head. “I know you’ve read ‘em.”

You looked off to the side with a sheepish grin, and when you took too long, Yonji grabbed you by the sleeve of your shoulder and shoved you toward the shelf. Your reluctant fingers easily found the limited-edition volume somewhere in the middle of the compilation. Yonji snatched it from you the moment you began to pull it and laughed even louder than he had before, quickly yanking the comic from its clear plastic wrapping.

“You know I was fucking with you, right?” he bellowed with another quirk of his brows. An amused hissing teased through his teeth as he flipped through the glossy pages. 

The publishing company had released a limited edition volume featuring Germa 66 in which the branding was overwritten from Sora, Warrior of the Sea, to Ichiro, Son of Germa. The short story that centered around Germa 66 commander “Ichiro” depicted a day in the life of the supervillains when they weren’t up to their sinister plots. The end of the comic even included some uncharacteristically heroic actions taken by the group. And while the edition had been clearly named after Ichiji, all four Vinsmoke siblings received a rather generous, albeit exaggerated, depiction. It experienced limited printing due to many complaints that a flattering depiction of Germa 66 was in poor taste.

 “I grew up reading the Sora comics,” you said, trying to look anywhere else but Yonji. But even so, you could feel his eyes boring into you. Mischief painted itself on his face as he couldn’t help a mean smirk.

“So you are a fan,” Yonji teased. The comic fell closed. “Or maybe you’re trying to suck up to me.” Your eyes widened in just the way he liked.

“Oh, no, I’m not trying to—”

“Who’s your favorite?” His nose scrunched up in an overwhelming display of amusement. He held up the cover, which illustrated all members of Germa 66 with “Ichiro” in the center and Garuda’s silhouette in the background. The way he seemed to hunch over you didn’t escape you. Yonji drew a bit closer with one hand still propped against the shelves. There was only one right answer, or at least only one answer he would accept. “C’mon, you’ve gotta have a favorite.”

“My favorite?” You couldn’t even look at him. Yonji stared at you, his thorough enjoyment of your flustered state showing no sign of dissipating. 

“Your go-to volume is the Ichiro edition? Yeah, you have a favorite.” Yonji laughed. He bobbed his head to himself before inching closer. “Want me to guess?”

He wasn’t going to let it go until you answered. You adjusted the stack of books in your arms, unconsciously treating them like a barrier. You sucked in a deep breath. 

“Winch Green is my favorite.”

“HA! Wow, what a suck-up!” Yonji let out a roaring chuckle, finally straightening himself to stand at his full height again in self-satisfaction. Despite his rude words, that was the correct answer and it had been true. He eyed you incredulously when his laughter began to die down. “You weren’t born here. You came here a while ago, didn’t you? You really are a fan! That explains why you’re such a freak.” 

You kept your eyes on the collection of neatly wrapped comics as Yonji cackled. You readjusted the stack of books in your arms again, unable to help your visibly flustered demeanor. 

“Well…” You started, and your voice cracked. But like every other occasion when Yonji thought he had finally driven you to tears, you bent but didn’t break. “I owe a lot to Germa 66. You probably don’t remember, but you saved my country.” You nodded in accent, quirking your head slightly to the side. 

It was a single moment, but you caught it. You caught the millisecond that the harsh crease between Yonji’s brows flattened and the way in which his cheeks fell just before he recoiled. What had phased across his face less than a second before contorted his features from amused wideness to narrowed and disgusted confusion. 

“Cut it out with the sappy shit,” he snorted and turned on his heel to move onto another section of shelves, the comic still under his arm. 

Yonji continued to hover as you made your way around the rest of the library. He started from a short distance away, but it didn’t take long before he practically floated right over your shoulder. Yonji hunched a bit, imposing himself over you as he studied your literary selections. And to your surprise, he remained mostly quiet, although every so often, you would select a book apparently so ridiculous it would cause Yonji to scoff. 

Balancing a growing stack of texts against your chest, you reached up to grab another a few shelves above your head. Your fingers grasped at the spine, trying to pull it close enough to the edge. Yonji reached up and grabbed it with ease. You thought he was going to place it in your hand, but Yonji only scoffed, holding the book in front of his face to read the cover.

“Ancient Alabastian runes?” He squinted before quirking a brow at you. He waved the book in the air in accent. “You know how to read ancient Alabastian runes?” 

“I taught myself a bit,” you admitted. Yonji was already thumbing through the pages with a shake of his head. His shoulders tensed upwards with a rude scrunch of his face. 

“Why?” 

“Well, the architectural accomplishments of the period are legendary. Not to mention the culture…” 

Yonji’s chest jumped, a rude snort resounding from his nose. 

“The world’s obsession with that desert wasteland is so rudimentary,” he sighed. You blinked at his word choice. Yonji flipped through a couple more pages with an exasperated shrug before snapping the book closed. “They build a few triangular buildings, so what?”

You almost laughed, “The pyramids that are considered an engineering marvel?”

“If you want to talk about culture, you should take more interest in Elbaf,” he said, his boyish rasp drawing out the syllables of the name. Yonji leaned his shoulder against the bookshelf, still holding the book of runes as he spoke. “The way the giants integrate all of their traditional rituals with modern ways of life is pretty insane.”

“How did I know you were going to say Elbaf?” A playful smile crept onto your lips, a stark contrast to Yonji's acute expression of offense. A mix between a grunt and a gasp stalled in his throat. “I read a little bit about turf construction, and I like the sustainable approach.”

“Beats thinking a pile of sand is pretty,” he sneered, but his words lacked true weight. He reached up to one of the taller shelves, scanning the selection with his tongue poking out from his lips before he finally found what he was looking for. Yonji placed the book on your stack, giving it a rude poke that nearly made you drop your collection. “Turf construction is interesting, sure, but if you’re interested in some actually impressive architecture, try that.”

Yonji pushed off from the shelf, meandering backward to a new section of books.

***

It took the two of you the better part of the day to make it through the room, and you had only rifled through the main chamber of the southern tower. None of your searches included scientific texts or specialized materials, just general topics and narratives. You still didn’t understand what Yonji was looking for, but considering the amount of time you spent in the main chamber, your examination of the thousands of books housed in that room alone should have been more than sufficient. 

You had started on the lower level at the shelves to the right of the double doors, working your way around the side, up the stairwell, and around the balcony before descending the opposite stairs and ending up at the shelves to the left of the doors. Yonji had run a few stacks of books from the balcony down to the wooden table and at some point, began carrying the mass amount of books you pulled from the shelves. 

He had had no issue with the sheer volume— it was, after all, what he asked of you in the first place— but the compilation you held began to slow you down and made scaling the rolling ladders impossible. Just as you made it to the bottom of the first set of stairs, Yonji snatched the unbalanced stack in your arms from you. He held them easily with one hand, along with the other two materials he carried.

“Why are servants so goddamn helpless?” he muttered before gesturing impatiently for you to continue. 

Yonji could hold more than triple the amount of books you could, having little issue carrying three stacks by himself until they were piled up over his chin. And while the scoffing didn’t cease, every so often, Yonji would match one of your selections with one of his own. 

He had placed The Technological Evolution of Combating Summer Island Summers: Tradition, Astrological Patterns, and Scientific Discovery on top of the stack in his arms shortly after you had pulled another book on Alabasta. 

“There are more interesting islands out there than Sandy Island, but if you really like the place, you might as well read the stuff that’s actually interesting,” he sighed before quickly moving along. 

Stacks of books littered the long table below, and you allowed yourself to sit down for the first time in hours. The plates from lunch still sat at the far end of the table. Yonji’s lunch, not yours— you didn’t get one— although he requested enough food for two or three people. 

The cook aboard the archival snail nearly had a heart attack. 

“The prince wants lunch here?” He nearly passed out on the spot. The cook, after all, was assigned to the least-frequented snail in the entire fleet and hadn’t had to face feeding the royal family before. Even during archival week, all members of the royal family typically brought their own crews and, by extension, their own cooks. During all other occasions, feeding the Vinsmokes was Cosette’s duty as she was responsible for the main kitchen.

The library snail only held a servant’s kitchen— something you tried to tell Yonji, but he demanded the quickest meal you could summon. The crew and the handful of other servants who sailed with you weren’t exactly picky when it came to food. In fact, the only people who seemed to hold the most judgment about the cook's meals were his own children. 

“Prince Yonji wants his meal quickly,” you warned, making pointed eye contact at the cook. And whatever he made seemed to do the trick. 

You had carried in three plates—one on your head even—and all three were cleared with inhuman speed. Now, they sat forgotten at the end of the table. 

Per Yonji’s request, you pulled every single book you recalled reading in recent recollection, and they sat piled haphazardly in front of you. Even despite the fact that most of your days were spent reading, you were generous with your selections. Yonji made a face if you walked by any section without taking at least a book or two (he seemed to be under the legitimate impression that you had read every single text in the entire library).

It took you a moment to breathe before you noticed Yonji wasn’t with you. You glanced over to where he stood, just in front of your usual, comfortable reading chair next to the lefthand set of stairs. His left arm didn’t strain as he balanced an excessive stack of books, and he tucked his right hand into the pocket of his slacks as he craned his head toward the book of fairy tales and stories that sat on the side table. 

The collection was open this time and Yonji was already messing up your bookmark, but unlike all of the other books in the room, Yonji didn’t include it in his compilation. By the time he turned to where you were seated, he had closed the cover with a frown. 

“What are you so tuckered out for?” He placed the last stack on the table. “You didn’t do a goddamn thing.” 

Sometimes, you had to remind yourself that Yonji didn’t experience life the same way you did. Yonji seemed to forget the same, but you doubted he put much thought into it. 

***

Yonji appeared to no longer be interested in retaining you as his personal assistant from dawn until dusk, although that didn’t mean he had gotten rid of you altogether. He still expected you to wake him in the morning and get him ready for breakfast, but from thereafter, you were to return to and remain in the library. And in his time between mission work, drills, and other responsibilities he typically tended to as a commanding officer, Yonji hovered around you in the library.

Still unsure what he was expecting from you, the first few days of your new routine had been tense. Yonji would drop in at random intervals throughout the day, and if he wasn’t following you around the library as you worked, he was quietly planted somewhere in the room with one of your newly plucked-out books in his lap. 

The way he would drop in unannounced used to make you uneasy, and within the context of it all, you were still unsure how he wanted to be served. You bolted up several times from your plush chair in those first few days, placing your book half-hidden in the cushion for whatever startled reason before Yonji waved you back.

“Sit back down,” he would almost drawl as he made directly for the long wooden table still piled high with books. (You were surprised he didn’t evict you from your seat, given how he’d take the chair any time you weren’t using it. It was the only seating with a cushion.)

Your schedule might have changed, but Yonji’s domineering presence certainly did not. You still couldn’t help but consider how out of place he looked, especially on the occasions he wore his raid suit into the archive. Ever-tall, ever-bulky, even the way Yonji contorted himself when hunched over a book made him stand out against the background of your humble archive. 

“Prince Yonji,” you couldn’t help but tentatively call as you watched Yonji lower himself onto the carpet. His presence and behavior gave you never-ending whiplash. “Please, take my chair. Royalty shouldn’t lay on the floor!”

Yonji shrugged, propping his head up on his palm as he flipped his book open. 

“Your spot doesn’t get any sun” was all he said with a quick glance up at you from where he lay on his side. 

As the days went by, you found yourself more at ease with Yonji’s regular presence in your archive and even began growing excited at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. The table piled high with books became a staple, and for once, to your surprise, you had someone to talk about all of your books to.

“Yeah, the guy kidnapped her. But she ended up liking it, didn’t she?” Yonji started from his usual warm spot on the floor. He had rolled over onto his back, holding both sides of your recommended book above him. He moved it to the side to meet your eye. “I mean, she gets to be a queen and then visit her mom sometimes. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Yonji tilted his head to one side, then the other. 

“It’s a tale told to young girls to make them feel better about being sold into slavery to Celestial Dragons.” You lounged across the two armrests of your chair with your own novel in your lap. “Of course, she’s going to warm up to being with him to prove that the people you take are better off having been taken.” 

Yonji scoffed and frowned. 

“She chose to stay. There were three goddam chapters dedicated to her thinking about it. It was so boring.”

“It’s less about the characters and more about the context that the story was written,” you gently corrected. Two weeks prior, you wouldn’t have imagined speaking to Yonji in such a casual way. “The whole point is that it’s her decision to stay.” You lowered your book to prop your elbow on the armrest your back was leaning against. “It’s to keep young slaves hopeful that even the Lord of Death is secretly a charming prince.” 

Your eyes flickered back to your pages. 

“I still think you’re readin’ into it.” A pause filled the air. You didn’t notice how Yonji’s gaze lingered on you. “Where are you in yours?” 

“I just finished the section on shipbuilding.”

Yonji slowly sat up. He rested his forearm over his bent knee, and his opposite palm rested on the soft carpet fibers below. An excited grin creased his cheeks.

“And? What do you think?”

You couldn’t help but pause at the expression on Yonji’s face. His brows lacked tension and rested higher on his forehead than you recalled seeing them before. His eyes appeared more rounded as the skin around them was raised. You sat up a bit higher. 

“The clinker construction was cool to learn about, and the emphasis on ship flexibility actually makes a lot of sense. And given the history of Elbaf, I’m not surprised, but pretty amazed that there’s really nothing else out there like their crafting techniques… given that this book is accurate.” You absentmindedly took a second look at the front cover, wedging your fingers between the pages to keep your spot.

“I don’t think there’s a ship out there as suited for long voyages, and that stuff’s generations old.” Yonji crossed his legs. One of the books you had pulled from the shelves, the classic West Blue myth for young slaves that you were just discussing, sat closed and finished in his lap. 

Yonji, you had learned, could devour books. He read at a rate that made you envious, completely demolishing books that took you a few days at least to read in a matter of hours. Yonji had actually made a significant dent in the compilation he had tasked you to gather, and when he was done, he took great pride in handing it back to you to place back on the shelves.

He wasn’t above throwing them at you nor did he care about what you were doing at the moment he finished. But for as much as he seemed to like seeing you flinch as a hardcover novel slammed into the wood shelf next to your head, Yonji had taken to unceremoniously dropping them into your lap. 

This time was no different. Yonji stood as you continued to exchange words about ship construction before strolling over to where you sat and letting his latest book fall directly onto your thighs. He stood over you, and you wondered if he realized he was waiting as you continued your conversation. Yonji, you also discovered, was quite chatty.

—“Well, I think that has more to do with the narrow hull and shallow draft.”

“You think so?” you hummed.

You stood, placing the book on Elbaf to the side and picking up the one that Yonji had just dropped on you. Neither of you batted an eye as you began to move, climbing the set of stairs to your left as you continued. 

—“I think I would use a Knarr if I were to try that,” you considered, sliding the book back onto the shelf. 

A loud, deep ring resounded throughout the room. You instinctually looked toward the large clock below. Yonji, no matter how long he stayed on any given day, always left just a bit before dinner and made it clear that you were to not bother him until you were to retrieve him the next morning. That had been the most drastic change to your routine, and it was getting to be about that time. 

“Dinner already?” Yonji seemed to have the same thoughts as you. “Damn, I’m starving.” And just like every day before, Yonji strolled toward the doors with little regard, shouting some direction over his shoulder. “Work on the rest of that book. I want to talk about weapons, and you’re taking too goddamn long.”

Although, with Yonji gone, your nights weren’t completely free. After tidying up a few things following Yonji’s departure, you headed out of the southern tower, around the back, and down into the cellar doors leading to the servant’s quarters. 

The structural material was half that of your standard Germa building and half snail shell. An entire level that sprawled the length of the ship, in addition to a few pockets for storage, was completely furnished and liveable within the snail shell. Sometimes, when the host snail retreated into its shell, you could see its fleshy body move under the floor in the right light. The overall engineering of the “below deck” quarters escaped you, but the animal didn’t appear to ever be in pain. 

Now that Yonji was spending more time at the library, it became routine for you to retrieve the cook’s twins from downstairs. You’ve been distracting those children for years, and while you hadn’t intended on playing babysitter to the two little rascals that made your ship a bit more lively it allowed the cook time to prepare dinner a bit faster. From mealtime on, you were able to do what you pleased with your evenings. And given how isolated you usually were from the rest of the fleet— your snail typically trailed at the end of Lady Reiju’s brigade— you weren’t opposed to the occasional company.

When waiting on Yonji, you typically had to request that meals be reserved for you in the fridge, considering how late you’d get back to your own ship. Servants typically ate after the royal family anyway, but with your new routine, you could be on a more manageable cycle. 

“Send Walker upstairs when dinner’s ready,” you said to the cook, his two children in tow, ready for storytime upstairs. 

“Will do,” he replied, “The doors will be open, right?” You hummed with a nod.

“I usually keep them open. Prince Yonji is the one who locks them when he visits.” 

The cook’s face faltered for a moment as if he wanted to ask you something more, but he said nothing and returned to his cooking. You led the children upstairs, letting them run around on the carpet in the southern tower before they settled in for a story. 

You took the book from the table next to your chair, enjoying the breeze that blew from the window and out the doors of the southern tower.

***

On a random afternoon sometime in the following week, Yonji sifted through the piles on the table, placing a few books aside. You watched as he did, studying the passing book covers as they landed on top of each other with a soft thud. Most of them centered around spring islands, including local flora and fauna. 

“You really read this?” Yonji scoffed. One dark-spined book missed the pile and fell to the side. You picked it up, gazing at the important man depicted on the front. 

“Do you remember when people said he was going to change the world and abolish piracy?” you mused. 

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering to Yonji to gauge his reaction. You scanned him for approval every so often after speaking, your casual tone only becoming more common by the day. With the way he seemed to be changing his expectations at random, you were never sure when he might decide you were speaking out of term. 

He glanced down at you as you plucked the cover open to read the table of contents. His eyes didn’t linger.

“Politicians are full of hot air,” Yonji said, returning his focus back to his sorting. “Especially that guy.”

You breathed in steadily. You were in the clear for another day. 

“You know him?” you asked.

Yonji’s chest puffed in what might have been mistaken as a light laugh. He still didn’t look at you. 

“Yeah, I know him.” His brows jumped on his forehead as he muttered a vulgar name under his breath at the mere recollection of the politician. You studied the front of the autobiography again. “I can’t believe you read that dickwad’s whole life story. Since you’re here all day, I thought your taste was better than this.” 

Yonji tossed another book across the table. It hit another stack, causing all of them to tumble to the floor. You immediately stood to collect them. Yonji didn’t stop you. 

“The papers were talking about him a lot. With all his ties to the world government and his background as a Marine, I thought we’d be hearing more about him.” You gathered up the fallen books and placed them a bit more nearly on the table out of Yonji’s way. “Besides, Lord Judge likes keeping those kinds of texts at hand.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t much more than 200 pages of bragging. I’d be surprised if you learned anything useful.”

“I share a birthday with his wife?” you volunteered with a laugh. “But no, the stories were so convoluted, I couldn’t even keep them straight.” 

“Figures,” Yonji scoffed. 

You meandered over to your reading chair, trying to be discrete as your eyes scanned the book of fairy tales. The bookmark you placed was crooked. You glanced back toward Yonji, who continued to shuffle things around on the table. 

Yonji hadn’t been afraid to shove book recommendations into your arms when you had gone around the room before, and you saw him toying with the book at least twice before. And yet, this one had escaped the pile mounted on the table. 

Your hand jerked as you reached for the book, hesitating for a second before you ultimately decided to take it in your hands. 

You strolled back to the table, placing it with the others on the corner of the table. Yonji’s shuffling immediately stopped, and you failed to notice his narrow stare. Only when you sat down again did Yonji speak.

”What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was harsh, snapping through the tranquility of the room. Yonji’s eyes flickered from the cover to meet yours. His hands had stopped in the middle of what he was doing with a bulk of pages draped over his fingertips. 

“It was one I’ve been reading—“ You paused with the intention of ending your reasoning there, but Yonji remained silent and disapproving. “… Your Highness.” 

And suddenly, Yonji, as if he had remembered where he was and who he was, scowled severely at your transgression. The sobering reality hit you like a rock and the rapport you had been eased into evaporated at the sight of the sneer around Yonji’s nose. He scrambled the energy in the room in an instant, and suddenly, Yonji was a prince again, and you were a servant. 

“I thought Your Highness was interested—-“

“Don’t get a big head now just because I need something from this pit of a ship,” Yonji spat. “Put it back.” You expected Yonji to throw it, but instead, he rolled his eyes and sat down at the table with an annoyed but otherwise light sigh. 

Despite his short fuse, Yonji reached a simmer more often than he exploded into fits of rage. In fact, it was almost rare that Yonji grew genuinely angry as much as he seemed to go through bouts of pettiness. Frustration, annoyance, and imagined slights were all on the table, but at least according to the servants from Castle Niji, Yonji’s targeting was nowhere near as cruel as the Vinsmokes could be. 

But that wasn’t something you were necessarily eager to test.

A loud pounding suddenly sounded from the library doors. They jiggled against each other, creating a discordant sound as the latch shook violently. The yelling on the other side of the door made your heart sink. 

“What the hell?” Yonji frowned, watching as the doors continued to tremble before muffled commotion broke out in the hallway. He walked across the room with wide strides, and you couldn’t even hope to stop him before he flicked the latch and opened the doors wide. 

Golden light flooded from the chamber into the dark hallway, and just down the red carpet, a servant tried to wrangle the cook’s two children out of the southern tower. Their little voices reverberated off the stone, as did the harsh shushing that came from the servant.

“Why can’t we go inside?” the boy asked loudly.

You ran up just behind Yonji, eyes widening at the sight. The servant met your eye, his face frozen in petrification has he silently begged for help. Even in the prince’s presence, the children continued to squirm around. The boy kicked his feet in the air as the servant held him under one arm and the girl complained from where she was thrown over the servant’s shoulder. You glanced pointedly from Yonji back to the servant’s terrified gaze.

But to your surprise, Yonji only pivoted a foot on the carpet, turning to glance at the large clock that sat to the left of the chamber’s large window. He shoved his left thumb into his pocket as he tended to do. The servant took the opportunity to make a break for it with the children. 

“It’s dinnertime already?” Yonji wondered aloud, throwing his head back with a groan. “I didn’t even realize how damn hungry I was.” He sighed, barely turning his head as he spoke to you, “Don’t bother me for the rest of the night.” 

And just like that, Yonji began to walk down the hall without further commentary.

“What would you like me to do with the books, Prince Yonji?” 

“Leave ‘em.”

***

Yonji, despite receiving the same education as his brothers, wasn’t necessarily considered the brains of the operation. He liked destroying things through flashy displays of brute strength and was content to assume that role on the field. Not to say that Yonji wasn’t a capable commander of his forces, but when paired or grouped with any of his other siblings, Yonji was typically content with and expected to lay off the heavy thinking.

And so, when Yonji shoved Niji out of the way of the grand safe that was left for them to plunder in the ruins of what used to be a politician’s estate, saying, “I got this one,” the immediate assumption was that Yonji certainly did not have it. 

Yonji pinched the lock dial between his fingers, tongue poking out from his lips.

”You’re gonna break it!” 

“Got it!” The safe’s door clicked and then popped open, revealing riches for the taking inside. The royal treasure wasn’t explicitly on the table when Germa 66 was originally hired for the mass political assassinations, but what were the townsfolk going to do with it?

Niji gaped as Yonji began unloading the jewelry. 

“How the hell did you—?” Niji inspected the lock, even going so far as to run his fingers over the mechanisms. He had been working on cracking that code for nearly a half hour on top of bypassing every other security measure in the room. “Yonji. Yonji.”

Niji shook his brother by the arm, only to be shrugged off. Niji let out a low growl, wasting no time in shoulder-checking Yonji to shove him out of the way. He budged a little, but not nearly enough for Niji’s liking. The two of them immediately began fighting. Niji wouldn’t even get an answer to his question until they returned to Germa.

“Yonji guessed the code,” Ichiji said. He crossed his arms, giving nothing away by the blank expression on his face. The space between his brows twitched. Ichiji was certainly asking a question. “Yonji.” 

“Hey—” Yonji spoke with his mouth full, pointing a pea chip toward Ichiji, who stood in front of an equally unamused Niji. “Why’d you gotta say it like that?” he protested. Niji slapped him hard on the back of his head.

“Do you ever stop stuffing your face?”

Yonji reached an arm over the back of the couch he lounged on to push Niji away. Ichiji stood near the end of the short couch, his wrist just shy of brushing the back. 

“You just guessed the code,” he stated, the only one in the room remaining with the subject. 

“I thought birthdays were obvious passwords,” Yonji spoke with a mouthful of chips, shrugging as he sprawled out over the cushions. Ichiji and Niji exchanged glances above him, two sets of dark goggles meeting each other.

“Did you try the president’s birthday?” Ichiji asked.

“Of course not,” Niji spat. “What kind of moron do you take me for?”

“Not his birthday, his wife’s birthday,” Yonji corrected. One of his eyes squinted closed as he shuffled the last portion of his chips to the opening of the bag. Ichiji and Niji’s eyes met each other’s for a moment for a second time as a beat of silence overtook the room. Yonji didn’t notice.

“Uh,” Niji started with a crease in his brow. “How did you know her birthday?” 

The Vinsmokes were typically able to recall unhuman levels of information, and Germa 66’s wealth of knowledge was not easily challenged, but when it came to the string of assassinations they were hired for on Rivulette, the acting president’s wife’s birthday wasn’t on the briefing docket. 

“Did we get birthdays in the files?” Niji scratched at his undercut as he turned toward the eldest Vinsmoke son. 

“It was in that stupid autobiography,” Yonji spoke before Ichiji had a chance to answer. At this point, Yonji had exhausted his entire supply of pea chips. He flicked the bag around, trying to salvage any large crumbs, not nearly as interested in the conversation as his older brothers were. 

“You read that thing?” Niji sneered. 

“We do have a copy in the library,” Ichiji mused stoically. His eyes flickered down to Yonji from behind his dark glasses. “Is that why you’ve been spending so much time there?” A deeper judgment, along with a lengthy analysis, lurked somewhere in his words, but as was natural for Ichiji, he gave nothing away. 

Niji let out a bellowing laugh, the force of which was so great that his hands flew over his torso.

“You’re actually reading down there? I thought you were just going there for some ass!”

Ichiji said nothing, unnoticeably semi-deep in thought. Niji and Yonji continued to bicker in the background. 

***

Another day of Yonji on a job meant another day alone in the library. And while you couldn’t complain about not having to navigate bouncing between ships or waking Yonji up in the morning, you couldn’t help the tinge in your chest that missed the companionship. 

It was already a dismal day. The seas had been rough, and dark gray clouds loomed overhead. You spent most of your time securing the library in preparation for the rough seas. With the unique ability of Germa’s ships to occasionally sail vertically, every vessel had equipment made specifically for securing objects around the country. Most fixtures were already screwed into the floor, and a majority of the rooms held special, small, padded chambers for placing objects into that couldn’t be tethered. 

And considering the cold that was going around the archival ship, you did most of the preparation yourself. The indoors were unspokenly allotted as your territory by the greater staff, most of whom worked on the more physical aspects of piloting the ship. 

You had just finished organizing the books from the table into stability boxes when you heard the double doors to the southern tower open. The unmistakable clicking of the massive entrance was unmistakable and caused your head to snap up. You shut the lid to the box, crossing the room in an instant.

You had closed the main chamber doors to prepare for the storm, but you reached for the handles with a quiet giddiness and threw your whole weight into heaving them open.

“I thought you were going to be gone for another few days—”

Your words died on your lips the moment you looked up. Ichiji stood tall just outside the doorway, as unreadable as ever. But even so, you could feel his cold stare from behind his glasses. He regarded you with a slight frown.

“Were you expecting my brother?”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I can feel it. The hyperfixation slipping through my fingers. I'm determined to end this before I'm left with a half finished series that I have a hard time writing... like every other series I have... hahaha we will persevere indeed!!! (Sure, Wing, we'll end this when the anticipated length will be about 10+ chapters that are about 6-8k words each sure sure sure)

I was determined to not have this chapter end with another Yonji mission... like the first two, but alas we can't always get what we want.

I also put an obscene amount of time into making gifs, including editing this one together and Yonji's fucking earphones gave away all my hard work dammit.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

[diremoone]

4 am | f. toji

w — non-curses! au, periods, mentions of blood and severe cramps and everything that goes with having a period haha. this is short sorry; this is total flop material but I need it outta my drafts 🤣

a/n: it’s that time of the month again lmaoo. I’ve had this in my drafts for two months. i need to make a masterlist for all my period-comfort fics now 😂

[ divider credit to @/firefly-graphics ]

You’re already out of the bedroom and probably downstairs by the time Toji’s able to blink the blurriness from his vision. You turn from one side to the other, then just shoot up out of bed — that’s what initially wakes the man — before disappearing.

Toji’s eyes turn to the door, then to the clock, 4 in the damn morning. He then looks to the ceiling as he groans and lifts himself up. Holy fuck I don’t want to be awake, he thinks. But you’re awake, and he doesn’t like the way you left the room because he knows something isn’t right with you.

Toji blinks a few times and shakes his head free of sleep (as much as he can anyway). It’s a slow trek to the living room, but once he gets there, he sighs. You’re sitting on the floor, legs curled up to you as your upper half rests against the couch. You don’t raise your head from your arms on the cushion as he sighs.

“I’d ask if you were okay,” he says, “but you clearly don’t look it.”

“Mmmnnnn, nope,” you mumble. He’s just barely able to hear it. “Feel like a tired, smoldering pile of shit.”

Toji almost laughs. He coughs behind his hand, enough to tell you he was holding back laughter.

“Come on,” he then sighs. “At least lay on the couch. You’re not helping your back.”

“I’d rather have a stiff back than these cramps. Fuck off.”

He snorts. He leaves you be, only to return a few moments later with a heating pad, some crackers, and a bottle of water. You almost say ‘thank you’… until he turns around and walks back into the kitchen.

“Ass…” you mumble.

You close your eyes and climb up onto the couch and curl up against the armrest. You hear Toji in the kitchen, glass, metal, plastic, and pans clinking all together as he worked on whatever he was working on. As curious as you were, you didn’t want to bother him. You weren’t even sure you had the energy to hold conversation.

You assume twenty minutes pass. You almost begin to doze off when Toji’s deep voice speaks to you and wakes you up. You blink in surprise, then are surprised even more when you see what is on the coffee table: pancakes and sausages, lemonade in a tall glass.

“It’s what I know will help,” he says. The man sits on the ground and pats his leg. “Come here.”

You gaze down at him tiredly, a small fatigued but happy smile on your lips. You settle into his lap, and as his warmth hits your back and hot hands over the front of your tummy where your uterus would be, you moan loudly as relief settles over your body.

Toji, however, let’s a frown cover his face at the feeling of all of your tension leaving your body, finally relaxing against his own. He almost cusses in shock, but bites his tongue as you begin to slowly eat the pancakes and sausage he’s made for you.

You won’t eat it all, he knows this. You lose your appetite whenever your personal monthly hell rolls around. But—

“Thank you, Toji.”

—whatever he can do to make you feel better, especially with the newfound realization of how much tension your period can cause, he’ll do it without hesitation.

(Just don’t confront him directly or try to tease him about it, unless you want him to ban you from his kisses and/or cuddles.)

[kidney9-9]

Father Figures - Severus Snape

Anonymous asked: I love your Snape Stepdaughter can you do one where she gets drunk at a party and they get busted by him and she throws the “your not my dad” type at him when he tries to get her to go to bed before she has a hangover tomorrow no worries if not it is fime

Hey there, thank you very much! I hope you enjoy! I had no idea what to title it haha and please read the warnings before you continue. Requests are open but I get to them very late. I'm not writing as often as I used to! Enjoy :)

Stepdad! Professor! Snape x Reader [Platonic/Angst] Warnings: Underage alcohol usage, cursing, unstable family dynamics

-

Going to the Hufflepuff party was not your original plan, but after hearing your friends got busted for doing something stupid in the library, you decided to go to the party since you had nothing else to do.

You had a few acquaintances there, and you hung around them for a few minutes at the party before getting bored and going to the drink table.

“Hah, you’re seriously going to drink? Or you’re just stopping by to get some little kid juice?” Keith, an irritating classmate of yours, interrupted you.

You looked him up and down, before making a disgusted face. He was always on your nerves, wanting to be a rival of yours, but you always did your best to ignore him. But for some reason, today, you were feeling a bit too bothered by him.

“I’m obviously here to drink some alcohol, you dimwit.” You rolled your eyes and poured yourself a drink. It was a random mix, but you knew it definitely had some hard alcohol in here. Hufflepuff parties always had the best drink mixes.

“Even with your daddy around the school?” Keith sneered, and you took a moment to close your eyes and breathe in deeply to calm yourself down because you were so close to decking him in the face.

That was one of his go to insults. Professor Snape is your stepfather, and everyone knew you hated the fact he was your teacher.

“Shut up, you shit face, like you can even handle any alcohol.” You snapped and took a few gulps from your cup.

“Oh please, I definitely can handle alcohol better than you, I can practically already hear you slurring your words.” He spat back and took an unopened bottle from the bottle. “Let’s see who can drink more, loser.” He challenged you.

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Hm, really? Can you handle it?” You couldn’t help but love the offended look on his face.

“Fucking hell, I can.” He took two cups, opened the bottle, and poured an equal amount of alcohol into the cups. He pushed one your way and stared at you as he chugged it down. Then he slammed the cup down on the table and grinned sloppily, “There. See?”

You scoffed at him, “Pour yourself another. I’m not some girl who taps out after one drink.” Once you said that, you picked up the cup and drank it all within a few seconds. At this point, a few people were starting to form around the table with you two, watching the strange competition take place.

He did as you said, chugging another drink and then so did you, trying your best to hold back the disgusted facial expression from the twang of alcohol going down your throat.

“Guh, you guys are so gross drinking that straight up. Pour some lemonade in it or something.” Devon spoke up into the conversation, pouring herself a drink from the mix.

“Nah, I’m good without it. Go ahead if you need it, little girl.” He taunted you but you ignored him and drank the next drink, counting to three drinks for both of you.

Devon shook her head, “You guys are going to feel awful in the morning. Shouldn’t you slow down at least?” She did her best to try to persuade both of you, but you were feeling a bit too arrogant to listen to her.

“I’m doing this to prove a point to this asshole. I don’t need anything added to my drink.” You answered her. She shrugged and left the table, muttering something about a potion for hangovers.

You and Keith shared a similar look of distaste for each other before drinking another cup of alcohol. This time, you started to feel it in your system. You did your best to stop yourself from stumbling in place, so you leaned up against the table, almost sitting on it.

You both continued to spew insults at each other as some people cheered you on to keep chugging, which encouraged you greatly. You couldn’t let this weird ass beat you to a game of drinking.

Keith wasn’t looking too good at this point, you both were at drink 9 and he was blinking strangely, snorting, and coughing as he spoke to a few people in the crowd.

“Yeah, like when I got on a broom the first time, I did it perfectly. Flying is so easy, I don’t,” He hiccups, “I don’t get how people have a hard time with flying with brooms.” He burped and leaned against the table, looking at a few common friends nearby.

“No way, I very distinctly remember you crying harder than a baby when you first flew.” You interrupted his story, waving your hand in the air.

A few people laughed at that, and Keith scowled, “You weren’t ever better than that, too. I remember your daddy was watching from a window, like some creepy stalker.”

You scrunched your nose up because you had no idea Snape was watching the class. You rolled your eyes at Keith though, annoyed he brought up Snape. “You really like talking about him a lot. Unfortunately, he doesn’t like snotty boys like you.” You responded.

His jaw dropped, “You’re such a bitch. I might be gay, but I’m not gay for him.”

You stay silent for a moment before you burst out laughing, “Oh fuck, I didn’t know you were gay. That’s cool for you though. Thanks for letting me know you don’t want to fuck our professor.” The people around the two of you started laughing too, and he cracked a smile as well, obviously wanting to laugh too.

“Well. Nice to know you aren’t a total prick.” He said, finishing his drink. The two of you continue insulting each other for a few minutes, drinking even more to the point you’re used to the burn of the alcohol going down your throat.

You could even feel the music beating almost in sync with your heartbeat and you wanted to go to that crowd in the middle of the room and dance with them.

Within a span of a moment, the atmosphere grew dark, and people went completely silent. You were completely confused and looked at Keith, who seemed to be about confused as you were.

“Out! Everyone out now!” A yell went through the crowd of people at the party.

You immediately stiffened as you recognized the voice. Snape, of course it was him. You closed your eyes and groaned quietly as people started to shuffle out of the room quickly.

“Oh damn, I kinda feel bad for you now.” Keith chuckled but dropped his drink and rushed off into the crowd. He wobbled a lot, and for a moment you wanted to laugh at the sight, but when you started to walk, you wobbled too, stumbling even as you tried to blink off the feeling of weightlessness.

You did your best to hide yourself, but Snape was standing at the door, yelling, and disciplining each and every student that crossed the doorway. There was no other exit. This was like one of your worst nightmares and you were so drunk, you were pretty sure that you might have been drooling as you slowly stumbled towards him.

He eyed you with something you couldn’t place at the moment, but just as you reached him, his face turned into this disgusted judgmental look that you recognized, and it was pointed directly at you. Immediately, you want to shout at him for looking at you like that. He had no right to stare at you with those mean eyes, you thought. He wasn’t your dad, fuck that.

“Stay here.” He hissed at you through his teeth, and you rolled your eyes at least twice to make sure he saw it.

“Mm, you’re not my fucking father.” You slurred under your breath, sliding your back down against the wall behind him. He didn’t hear you of course, due to the chatter from the other people at the party.

Dozens more students poured out the room, some staring at you sympathetically and others looking at you with horror, as if they could picture what was about to happen with Snape being both your professor and your stepfather.

“Professor Snape, I can assist her to her room.” One of your friends popped up. You smiled wobbly to her and waved.

“No, you insolent child, leave now before I decide to take even more points away from your house.” He snapped and your friend chirped in shock and rushed away without a single word more. You pouted at that and watched everyone else leave. Even the Hufflepuffs left without arguing – which was mostly due to the deadly glare and stance Snape had.

He had turned around and stared at you as you kept your eyes cast to the floor. “Child. Get up.” He spoke up.

He couldn’t even say your name, you thought with a scoff aloud.

“Don’t wanna.” You muttered back. You could feel him staring at you with an even worse gaze, something cold and mean it felt like. Then to your surprise, he crouched down to your level and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Get up.” He said again, voice sounding confusingly strange to you. A mixture of anger and disappointment (what’s new, you bitterly thought), but something else was in it as well, and you couldn’t point it out.

“Didn’t you hear what I told you? Just leave me here.” You spoke back to him, feeling a wave of dizziness hit you as you tried to roll away from his hand on your shoulder. You were feeling so many waves of emotions, especially negative ones.

Why did everyone associate you with this man? Why did he have to be your stepfather?

It was so painfully obvious that he didn’t care about you. Maybe the only thing he did care about was making you feel disgraceful to everyone in school and everyone at home.

You became separated from your family because of him. Your father left and his side of the family barely communicated with you anymore because of who your mother married. And your mother tried her best to include you but how could you possibly want to stand by her side when your horribly mean professor is standing with his hand wrapped around her waist?

He took everyone away from you. Now even with your friends, it was a nightmare come true. He was bringing your worst fears to life with you being forcibly separated from everyone you cared about.

“You have to get up,” He paused, watching you mutely struggle to get away from him. “I’m taking you to your room to rest.” He finished. You stared up at him abruptly.

“That’s funny. Why?” You smiled bitterly and slowly accepted his grip on your arm as you forced yourself up. You knew you couldn’t stay here, you’d have to get to your room.

“You’re drunk. You could get hurt. Must I go on?” He muttered at you as his grip on you tightened as you stumbled out the door.

“Oh yeah, go on, tell me why you hate me and how much of a stain I am on your reputation…” You chuckled darkly.

He paused in his steps, staring at you intensely.

“Do you not understand I’m taking you to your room because I care about you?” His words came out fast and you took a moment to comprehend them before you laughed loudly.

“You are not my father! You will never be my dad! What’s with you acting this way? I know it’s fake. You hate me. You made me alone. I can’t even – breathe with you everywhere. I hate you!” You screamed, throat burning as it felt like blood rushed up and started to choke you.

You ripped yourself away from him and watched as his face crumbled in a way so familiar to you – it made you want to run away when you realized this was how you looked when you would glance into the mirror at yourself whenever he was around and made you become so unlikable to everyone else.

It was despair. Pain, anger, confusion, and you could almost feel the self-loathing coming off him at that second.

“Is this how you truly see me? Of course, I’m not your father. I will never try to replace your father.” He shook his head. His eyes slowly became blank, like he was trying to dissociate from this moment in time. You couldn’t understand how he was so alike you right here and right now. Why was he looking like this?

“You made me feel scared in my own home. I don’t have a place to call home anymore now because of you.” You spat out, tears forming in your eyes.

He slowly wiped his hand down his face and sighed deeply. “Dear, I have tried to give you space. I have tried to include you. I have tried to bend to your will at every point at home. Is this what you really think?” His words had started out so quiet and then rose in volume.

“Why are you saying that stuff? It’s fake.” You tried to call out, but he shook his head at you, looking so miserable.

“You’re drunk. We will speak in the morning. I am taking you home during the break.” He stopped and seemed to have to take a few seconds to breathe and calm himself, but then he continued, “I have cared for you this entire time, but I see that you have trouble believing that. I will show you how much I care about you and this family, along with how you are doing as my student, in a way you will understand. But firstly, please hold onto me, I will take you to your room.”

When you quietly watched his face to see if you could detect any lies, he sighed and looked distressed. You took his arm in your hand and quietly moved along with him to go to your room. Thankfully the halls had cleared at this point, everyone had gone back to their rooms with a few of the other professors ordering them to.

“Careful,” He called out as you got to your room, trying to reach for your bed. You tripped slightly, only to be caught by him and he slowly sat you down on the bed and grabbed one of your blankets and wrapped it around your shoulders.

Your roommates were either pretending to be asleep or were asleep, but you couldn’t find yourself to care about that. “Did you mean it?” You murmured just as he took a step away from your bed.

“Excuse me?” He quietly answered.

“Did you really mean it? That you – you’re trying?” You couldn’t fully say it, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him aloud if he had actually cared about you this entire time. You felt strangely sober now. That weightlessness feeling had gone and now you felt drawn to the floor, stomach dropping into a bottomless pit.

He seemed to understand your question after a moment and nodded. “I have been giving you space, trying to comprehend what you might be feeling… I was once your age too before in case you have forgotten. I hoped you would understand that I was simply giving you what I thought you wanted.”

“I didn’t.” You managed to press out, “I didn’t understand that.”

It was almost a silent apology. But you both needed to apologize to each other, it seemed like, for misinterpreting things for so long and so violently.

He blinked away an emotion you’ve never seen in him before, something like hope and understanding. He took a step back and went to grab you a cup of water, and to give you a little time. You fell back against your bed with a strangled sob wrecking through your body at last, like something lifted and things were being solved finally.

You shook with each cry, trying to silence yourself. Was this really happening? Did he actually care? Had this whole time, you’ve been isolating yourself on a huge misunderstanding?

You wanted to see your mom, talk with her to try to understand it all. You wanted your dad’s side of the family to reach out once more, just to connect with them again. You wanted your family, new and old connections.

“Dear, sit up just a bit.” Snape walked back into the room. His voice rang out very quietly, and you struggled to sit up. He held the cup against your lips as you sipped some cold water, which helped your crying slow slightly.

“Can you stay here? For a little while?” You whispered as a few more tears ran down your face. He wiped them away with a tissue he grabbed from the other room.

“Yes, till you fall asleep. Come to my office when you awaken, you’ll be excused from your classes tomorrow, for this… situation.” He worded out, and you sniffled and nodded.

You had slowly stopped crying after what felt like ages, feeling a low headache start to form. You sniffled once more, “I didn’t mean to drink that much.” You felt like you had to say before you fell asleep.

In the darkness, you could very vaguely see a quirk of his lip curl upwards, “That’s what they all say. Again, I was your age too once.”

With that, you managed to drift to sleep, feeling emotionally wrecked and almost unavailable, but you felt clearer. Much like a heaviness was lifted from your shoulders and the stress held in your chest removed like stones being cleared away. Things will get better now, in the morning. You two will figure it out and things will be better than they were.

It seemed that he was not your father, but much more like a father figure.

[grayhyacinth]

Random Act of Kindness Day

Hello! It's been O-O Like six years since I last posted a work? A lot has happened during my long hiatus (writers block). But, I hope that this is a fun, new beginning.

Disclaimer: This work is with an assumption that Dipper and Mabel are older, but is still set in the current timeline of Gravity Falls (if that makes sense).

Links: ao3, tumblr, masterlist

The warm sunlight filters in through the cracks of the blinds, shining down onto your face. Your legs move against the soft sheets, scrambling away from the warm light and back into the cool, dark shade. You feel the accidental touch of another's limb entangling with yours, and suddenly, the awareness of a nearby person kicks in.

Your eyes open begrudgingly. Blinking away the sleepy fog, the hazy outline of a breathing figure becomes obvious. Bushy brown hair, tousled in every direction, and a red shirt peeking out from beneath the cozy blanket—it’s Dipper.

His back is turned towards you, but you could tell it's him even in the dark.

A slow smile spreads across your face, your eyes softening as you watch your boyfriend sleep peacefully. A part of you is tempted to pinch him awake.

Reflecting on the previous day, you realize that your stay at the Mystery Shack is likely to extend longer than expected. The dragon that terrorized Gravity Falls and subsequently reduced your home to ashes with its fiery breath has made sure of that. It'll take at least a miraculous week for the construction workers to rebuild your house. Adding to the uncertainty, your aunt and uncle, with whom you were spending the summer, are still out of town and won’t return for a few more days. The only explanation you could recall for their departure was something about Las Vegas—perhaps they were seeing a show?

Lost in thought about your temporary situation, you barely notice Dipper shifting beside you. He turns to face you, rubbing his swollen eyes. His gaze drifts from your distant stare to the slight purse of your lips.

"You're awake before me…"

His somewhat raspy voice pulls you back to the moment. You refocus on him, a light chuckle escaping as you tease, "Morning, sleeping beauty. How was the sleep?"

Dipper groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand, while the other remains tucked under the pillow, acting as an extra cushion. "Ugh… seriously?"

You laugh, satisfied with his reaction. "What? I'm just surprised you slept in. Usually, you're up at the crack of dawn, either heading off to the basement with Grunkle Ford or helping Grunkle Stan with the Mystery Shack." Your eyes flick to the clock on his bedside table. It’s midday—meaning we both slept through the entire morning.

Luckily you skipped eating Stan's pancakes. The idea of eating one of his arm hairs gave you shivers.

"Hmm," Dipper hums thoughtfully, preparing his throat to respond. "Well, someone had to take down that dragon. And it definitely wasn't you." With a mischievous glint in his eye, he reaches out and lightly pokes the tip of your nose.

"Haha, hey!" You laugh, swatting his hand away playfully. "It wasn’t you either! If I remember right, a certain Grunkle with a pot belly climbed onto the dragon’s back and punched it in the face until it plummeted into the canyons beyond Gravity Falls."

Dipper shrugs nonchalantly. "Someone had to tell him what to do. I used the journal to figure out the dragon’s weakness. That’s what led to Stan recklessly defeating it."

"Okay, okay," you concede, sitting up and raising your hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough. You're the hero, Dipper."

A smug grin spreads across his face, a self-satisfied smile that stretches from ear to ear. "That's right, (Y/n)."

You swing one leg out of the comfortable bed, the sticky, humid air in the attic making it increasingly uncomfortable to stay under the covers. Yet, despite the heat, a part of you longs to retreat back into the cozy embrace of a lazy afternoon. But the thought of wasting away a perfectly good summer day doesn’t sit well with you.

Before you can fully escape, Dipper scrambles forward, catching your waist with his arm and pulling you back toward him. "Where do you think you’re going?" he teases, rubbing his nose playfully against the back of your shirt, bunching up the fabric.

A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you grab his forearm, trying to pry him off. But to your surprise, his grip is stronger than you expected. "What are you doing? Let go, Dipper!"

Dipper lets out a soft noise of defiance, clearly agitated by your unusual willingness to leave his embrace. Normally, you would do anything to stay near him for longer than ten minutes, as he would usually be too flustered to stand beside you without almost exploding. Now, he buries his face deeper into your back, inhaling the scent of your shirt while mumbling incomprehensible words.

You twist slightly to get a glimpse of him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the tips of his ears are bright red, and a flush of color highlights his cheeks. Why was he clinging to you so desperately? You sigh gently, your tone softening as you ask, "What's wrong, Dipper?" You run your fingers through his messy brown locks, ruffling his hair. Despite the occasional knot, it’s incredibly soft to the touch.

"Let's just…" he mumbles again, his voice barely audible as his nose nuzzles against your hip. His arm tightens around you, pulling you even closer.

You swallow thickly and look up at the slanted ceiling. If this is some kind of blessing, waking up to a clingy Dipper, then you ought to thank whatever higher power is responsible. You also hope your dead relatives are averting their gazes from this private moment.

Taking a deep breath, you lay back down and adjust both of your bodies on the twin bed until you're facing each other. His legs instinctively intertwine with yours, and just as naturally, his hands find your waist, while yours cup his cheeks. Now that your eyes have fully adjusted to the dim light, you notice the drooping eye bags beneath Dipper’s swollen eyes. It looks like his thoughts kept him up last night.

"Dipper…" you murmur, rubbing his face soothingly. You're careful, pressing lightly against his pale skin. "You can tell me what's wrong, you know? Whatever it is, it’s okay to let me know what's upsetting you."

Despite the reassurance in your voice, Dipper hesitates, weighing whether to open up. It’s not fear holding him back; it’s the worry that you might see him differently. All summer, he’d been crafting an image of himself that he hoped would impress you—from hunting monsters to showing off his latest inventions. The last thing he wanted was for you to think less of him for being a bit vulnerable.

"I thought…" Dipper swallows hard, blinking a few times as he gathers his thoughts. "I thought I was going to lose you yesterday." His words come out gruffly, almost like an old man grumbling to himself, but there’s a tremor in his voice. Saying it aloud makes his fear feel both foolish and painfully real. Maybe you mean even more to him than he realized. "I thought that dragon was going to eat you, (Y/n). Or worse, you could’ve fallen from a million feet in the sky! I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve done something sooner."

You feel him clench your shirt, his fist trembling slightly as his breath hitches at the thought of losing you. Your expression softens, and you gently brush your fingers against the corners of his eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Dipper… Aww… you know, we’ve been in much scarier situations, right?"

"Yeah, but the dragon literally picked you up with its sharp fangs and started flapping its wings!"

"Like a giant bat?"

"…Yeah… like an impossibly ginormous bat," Dipper sniffles, ducking his head lower. His eyes and the upper parts of his cheeks are hidden in the shadow of his hair, making it difficult for you to see his expression.

You can sense the weight of his fear, the way he’s been holding it all in, trying to be strong for you.

"Well," you begin, careful not to coddle him in a way that might make him feel ridiculed, though he was undeniably adorable in this moment. "Just like those bats you scramble to catch in Stan's kitchen, I knew you'd come to save the day." A gentle smile spreads across your face as you squished his cheeks and then pulled him into a deep embrace.

As you press against him, the familiar scent of clean laundry and pine trees fills your senses, a surprisingly comforting combination that always reminds you of Dipper. For someone who often fumbles through awkward moments and sweats through tense situations, he actually smells pretty pleasant. Perhaps it’s that ever-present vest that usually traps the worst of it, but right now, in this quiet moment, he’s almost intoxicatingly comforting. Ugh… that sounds weird.

You pat his back soothingly, your hands moving in slow, rhythmic circles as the creaks of the wooden shack and the distant, boisterous shouts of Dipper’s relatives filter in from outside.

But then, the tranquility is interrupted by a loud, unmistakable grumble from Dipper’s stomach. You pull away just enough to meet his eyes, your own widening in surprise.

"…That did not sound human," you quip, laughter bubbling up from your chest.

"Haha… sorry, (Y/n)," Dipper mumbles, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson as he sits up, sheepishly clutching his stomach. "That’s… embarrassing."

"Pfft…" You stifle your laughter, finding his awkwardness endearing. It’s a relief to see him returning to his usual self, though a part of you still worries that the earlier sadness might creep back in if you’re not careful. "Come on, let’s get something to eat, Dipping Sauce."

The nickname rolls off your tongue effortlessly, and before Dipper can muster up a protest against the new name, you’re already on your feet, heading for the door. His half-hearted objections follow you, but you’re too quick, slipping out of the musty attic with a change of clothes in hand.

Just across from the bedroom door is a small, worn bathroom. You step inside and lock the door, twisting the handle a couple of times to ensure it’s properly secured. In this old, creaky house, you’ve learned to be cautious—the faulty locks have nearly resulted in more than one embarrassing incident. You didn’t need a repeat of someone barging in on you in a moment of privacy.

As you glance at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but smile, a mix of affection and amusement lingering from your interaction with Dipper. There’s something about this place, despite its decay and oddities, that feels like home—or maybe it’s just the people in it that make it feel that way.

On the porcelain sink sits a pink cup adorned with colorful stickers, filled with three toothbrushes: a blue one for Dipper, a purple one for Mabel, and your own. Hanging on the hooks on the wall is your towel, and then a vibrant, multicolored one, and another, more subdued in color. As you glance around, you realize how seamlessly you’ve settled in with the twins over the summer. The cozy familiarity of the bathroom feels like a small, comforting victory.

You finally take a good, long look at yourself in the mirror. Your face is a bit puffy from oversleeping, and your hair is a tangled mess from constantly shifting around the bed in search of a cooler spot during the night. Sighing, you reach up to open the mirror's door, revealing a hidden medicine cabinet. Three bright yellow sticky notes catch your eye.

The first reads: YOU'RE DA BEST! The second says: SMILE Someone LOVES IT! The third states: U R MY FAV PERSON!

The large, eccentric letters and the myriad of smiley faces, hearts, and stars bring a smile to your face. Mabel’s penchant for spreading positivity is evident, even when she’s not around. It’s a small reminder of her vibrant spirit and how much she values the little things that make life bright.

Singing a song, you freshen up for the day ahead. After changing into some flexible clothing, you double-tie the laces of your sneakers—just in case running from a monster becomes part of today’s agenda.

Tucking your pajamas under your arm, you open the door and are greeted by an unexpected sight. Dipper is sitting on the floor beside the bathroom door, his nose buried deep in Journal 3. The soft glow of the morning light filters through a narrow window, casting a warm hue on his focused expression.

"Dipper!" You exclaim, startled by the sight. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh um…" Dipper snaps the book shut and looks up at you, his face a mix of guilt and awkwardness. "Just… you know… waiting for you?" He hesitates, his eyes darting to the left as if searching for a more convincing excuse.

"…You know, that's kind of weird, right?"

"Umm… haha… yeah… I wasn’t actually waiting for you," he stammers, standing up abruptly and shuffling away. The tips of his ears flush a vivid shade of red. "Just needed a place to sit. Definitely wasn’t listening to you sing earlier or anything, haha."

You blink, taken aback by his strange reaction. He blinks back at you, looking equally bewildered.

You open your mouth to respond, "Dipp--"

Suddenly, he cuts you off, turning on his heel and dashing down the hallway. "You know what! I think I just heard Stan call for me! What’s that, Stan? You need help with the Mystery Shack?" His voice grows increasingly frantic as he hurries away, and soon, you’re left standing there, confused by his sudden flight.

You tilt your head, a mix of confusion and amusement on your face. "Huh… that was…" You slowly said, wondering what might have set him off. Perhaps he’s just hungry or disoriented? After a moment’s thought, you shrug it off and head back into the twins’ room.

The sight of the room never fails to catch your attention, no matter how many times you see it. Mabel’s side is a riot of color and creativity. The walls are covered with a vibrant array of stickers, photos, and posters, each one adding to her charm. Her pink bedding is decorated with a cheerful yellow flower on the headboard, giving her bed a whimsical touch.

However, Mabel’s natural disarray is evident. Her bed is a jumble of sheets and pillows, and the floor is strewn with toys, sweaters, and other belongings. It’s a vivid testament to her vibrant personality but also a stark contrast to the neatness you’ve come to expect elsewhere.

You can’t help but smile as you take in the scene. Despite the clutter, the room radiates warmth and character. It’s clear that Mabel’s creative spirit knows no bounds, and her space reflects her energetic and carefree nature.

As you settle your dirty clothes into the laundry bag, you catch sight of a small, hand-drawn poster pinned to the wall. It’s a whimsical doodle of a unicorn with a rainbow mane, surrounded by hearts and stars. Beneath it, in Mabel’s characteristic scrawl, is a note that reads: Be awesome today!

That’s too cute.

Turning your gaze to Dipper’s side of the room, you find an equally personal space. His walls are decorated with a more restrained collection of posters and maps—mostly sketches of mythical creatures, cryptic symbols, and adventure-themed designs. There’s a large, hand-drawn map of Gravity Falls pinned above his desk, with various notes and markings indicating mysterious locations and possible leads.

Dipper’s bed is neatly made, with a plain blue comforter and a couple of well-loved pillows. The bed frame is tucked against one wall, and next to it stands a wooden table cluttered with research materials: a stack of notebooks, a magnifying glass, and a few stray paper clips. On the wall above his bed, there’s hooks with binoculars hanging down. One corner of the room is dedicated to his growing collection of journals and reference books.

Despite the empty room, it felt like the twins were still there bickering.

Smiling, you spun on your heels and bounced down the staircase, humming a tune that matched your upbeat mood. As you entered the living room, you were greeted by the sight of Mabel, who was knitting away on the yellow-striped armchair while Waddles snoozed contentedly on the armrest.

“Mabel! How are you?” you called out, your voice warm and cheerful.

“(Y/n)!” Mabel’s voice rang out, filling the room with her boundless energy. “Wanna see what I’m doing?” Her eyebrows shot up in excitement as she thrust her arms out, revealing the project in her lap. The green knit was a large sweater, adorned with a huge yellow heart on the front. It was only halfway finished, but already it radiated Mabel’s signature charm.

“Aww! That’s so cute, Mabel! Who’s it going to be for?” you asked, genuinely impressed.

“It’s for Stan!” Mabel’s excitement caused her to nearly leap from her seat. “It’s so soft! Do you think he’s going to like it? I even made a matching one for Grunkle Ford.” She dramatically produced an identical sweater from behind her, its vibrant colors contrasting with the green of the first.

You felt a pang of hesitation. Mabel’s innocent enthusiasm was endearing, but you had to be honest. You gently took her hand and, with a serious expression, said, “I hate to say it, but I don’t think Stan or Ford are the type to wear sweaters. I mean, Stan can barely wear pants, and Ford… well…” You glanced around to ensure no one was within earshot. Leaning in, you whispered, “He’s kind of weird…”

Mabel blinked, her eyes wide with surprise. You held your breath, hoping she wouldn’t be too disappointed.

“My Grunkle isn’t weird!” Mabel exclaimed, her face turning from shock to fierce determination. She pushed you away, and then suddenly stood on the couch cushion, her two hands firmly planted on her hips. She was gripping her needles tightly. “He’s just… quirky! And Stan is awesome! They’re gonna love these sweaters, I just know it!”

“L-Look, Mabel!” You quickly stood up, backing away slowly as if trying to distance yourself from an impending storm. With both hands in the air, you tried to gesture away her frustration. “You see—”

“He is not weird!” Mabel’s voice was filled with indignation, her face flushed with a mix of anger and hurt.

“Woah, woah…” Dipper appeared in the doorway, sandwich in one hand and the other extended in a placating gesture. “What’s going on? Mabel… put the needles down.”

Mabel glared at you for a moment before reluctantly setting the knitting needles aside, her defiant posture faltering. You sighed in relief, glancing at Dipper with a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

Dipper stepped closer, taking a bite of his sandwich before speaking. “So, what’s all this about?”

Mabel took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I was knitting sweaters for Grunkle Stan and Ford for Random Act of Kindness Day!”

“Random Act of Kindness Day?” Dipper asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he took another bite of his sandwich.

“Yes, Random Act of Kindness Day!” Mabel’s voice trembled slightly, but her determination remained. “It’s tomorrow, and I wanted to do something nice for Stan and Ford.” She sat down on the edge of the couch, looking utterly defeated. Waddles, sensing her distress, waddled over to nuzzle her side, offering his comforting presence. “B-But (Y/n) says that they wouldn’t like it.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Mabel’s disappointment hanging heavy in the air. Dipper set his sandwich down and approached Mabel, crouching beside her.

“Mabel,” he said gently, “I think (Y/n) was just trying to be realistic. But honestly, I think it’s really thoughtful of you to make these sweaters. They might not wear them all the time, but they’ll definitely appreciate the gesture. It’s the thought that counts.”

Mabel looked up at him, her eyes still shiny with unshed tears. “You think so?”

Dipper nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “Definitely. And I’m sure Stan and Ford will be touched by your kindness. Besides, it’s not about what they wear—it’s about knowing you care.”

Dipper glanced over to you with a look of concern, his worry evident in the furrow of his brow.

You quickly stepped in, your voice firm but reassuring. “I never said they wouldn’t like it! I just mentioned that they might not wear it.”

After a brief pause, Dipper’s expression softened as he considered your perspective. He gave a reluctant nod of agreement. “Yeah… I’m sorry, Mabel, but I have to agree with (Y/n).”

Mabel’s face remained etched with frustration, tears streaming down her cheeks as her emotions ran high.

“Wh-What I mean is,” Dipper’s voice wavered slightly, a trace of panic coloring his words, “let’s think about it. Have we ever actually seen Stan or Ford wear sweaters? Especially bright green ones?”

Mabel blinked, her anger giving way to confusion. “No…”

“Then…” Dipper extended the word, taking a cautious step closer to his visibly upset sister. “Maybe we can help you come up with another gift idea?”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Mabel’s features softened, the earlier anger dissipating into a mixture of sadness and contemplation. Dipper managed a small, half-hearted smile, a gesture of both apology and reassurance.

You decided to chime in, trying to break the tension with a hopeful tone. “What would they like then?”

The three of you fell into thoughtful silence, pondering what Stan and Ford would truly appreciate for Random Act of Kindness Day. Stan had a well-known affection for money, while Ford’s interests leaned heavily towards his eccentric, nerdy pursuits. The possibilities seemed both endless and implausible.

A golden statue with laser eyes? A goose that pooped wads of cash every time you fed it a screw? The more you brainstormed, the more convoluted and impractical each idea appeared.

Mabel, regaining her composure, gave a small, thoughtful nod. “Well, Stan does love money, and Ford… he’s always talking about weird science stuff. Maybe we could come up with something that combines their interests?”

Dipper’s eyes lit up with a spark of inspiration. “We could go find something in the woods? Ford could research it and Stan could turn it into an attraction.”

“Oh! Great idea, Dipper!” Mabel bounced with enthusiasm, her earlier frustration melting away. “I’ll make them flower crowns and turn them into pretty princesses.”

You raised an eyebrow at Mabel’s statement but decided to focus on the more pressing matter. “Monster hunting…? While I love to agree with you, Dipper, we’d need to be careful. Last time we ventured into the woods, it didn’t exactly go as planned.” You were making a point to the time Dipper, Mabel, and you set out into the woods for what was supposed to be a straightforward search for a unique artifact that Ford had mentioned in his research. According to the old legends, the mirrorstone reveals a glimpse of alternate realities or possible futures. Though, it looks like a plain, unassuming rock. Ford thought it could be a fascinating addition to his collection, and Stan would surely enjoy the story behind it.

However, as you ventured deeper into the cave, you began to notice strange occurrences—whispers in the wind, eerie shadows flitting between rocks, and the sudden chill in the air. Unbeknownst to you, the "mirrorstone" was guarded by a mythical creature known as the Shadow Serpent, a guardian of the forest with the ability to manipulate shadows and create illusions.

As you approached the cave, the shadows around you seemed to come alive, twisting and writhing into serpentine shapes. The Shadow Serpent emerged. The ordeal left you all exhausted but triumphant. But, while you managed to retrieve the rock, which turned out to be even more beautiful than you imagined, the experience left the three of you exhausted.

Dipper nodded, understanding the concern. “You’re right, we need to be careful. But what if we keep it safe and still make it fun? We find something interesting in the woods, and Mabel can still make the crowns. It could make the whole thing more special—and we’d have a good excuse to explore a bit”

Mabel’s eyes sparkled at the idea. “That sounds awesome! We could find something magical and then give it a special place with the crowns.”

You smiled at the compromise, feeling reassured. “That sounds perfect. Just as long as we stay careful—I’d rather not have another run-in with mythical creatures.”

You pulled Dipper aside, lowering your voice. “Hey, thanks for earlier. Mabel was really upset, and you handled it like a pro.”

Dipper blushed slightly, scratching the back of his head. “No big deal. I just didn’t want her to stay upset. And, honestly, exploring Gravity Falls never gets old.”

You smirked, nudging him playfully. “Well, with you around, I guess we’re always in for an adventure. Or at least, a grand tour of ‘Things That Can Go Horribly Wrong.’”

Dipper chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, if you’re going to stick around for all the chaos, I guess I should warn you—my tours come with a no-return policy.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like a deal. I’ll just make sure to bring extra snacks and a sense of humor.”

Dipper grinned, giving you a friendly bump. “Perfect. We’ll need both. And maybe a few emergency supplies, just in case.”

As you all geared up, packing essentials and making sure to bring plenty of supplies, the anticipation of the adventure grew. The idea of finding something both incredible and fitting for Random Act of Kindness Day became an exciting prospect.

With the sun filtering through the trees and the crisp air hinting at adventure, the three of you set out into the forest. The peacefulness of the woods was a stark contrast to the thrilling escapades that lay ahead. Birds chirped cheerfully overhead, and the rustling leaves provided a calming backdrop to your journey.

As you trekked over fallen branches and through the underbrush, you chatted excitedly about the possibilities. Dipper and Mabel shared their theories about what the enchanted grove might hold—a squirrel with a tiny top hat and monocle, who speaks in a posh British accent and gives out riddles; or bioluminescent flora that light up the forest with a mesmerizing, otherworldly glow You joined in with suggestions of your own, a staff with a clock-like face that can briefly slow down or speed up time. Maybe finding it could lead to you sleeping in for an extra hour.

The forest seemed to envelop you in its embrace, with the dappled sunlight creating shifting patterns on the forest floor. Mable picked various flowers along the way. Anything that seemed interesting or pretty, such as flowers that glowed in the shade, or a normal daisy. But as the hours passed, the peaceful ambiance gave way to a more ominous feeling. The trees grew denser, the shadows deeper. The path, once clear and inviting, became increasingly tangled and overgrown. Even the sky changed shades. It was once clear and blue, but now storming clouds blanketed the sun.

Dipper paused, consulting his map and muttering to himself about landmarks. “Where even are we? This doesn’t look right…” He avoids stepping on a peculiar mushroom with thorns sticking out of it.

Mabel, her enthusiasm undeterred, continued to weave her flower crowns, her eyes occasionally glancing around for inspiration. “I can’t wait to see what we find! Imagine if we discover something truly magical!” Her large doe eyes sparkle with interest, innocently admiring the sights before her.

“Mabel, stay close,” you advised, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing unease. “We don’t know what’s out here.” You raised your bat, ready to face whatever might emerge from the underbrush.

After a tense moment, a playful squirrel burst from the leaves, its tiny eyes wide with fear at the sight of the humans and their defensive stances. You all breathed a collective sigh of relief, the tension breaking into nervous laughter.

“That’s one way to lighten the mood,” you said, shaking your head with a chuckle. “I was almost ready to face a dragon or something.”

Dipper laughed, adjusting his grip on the journal. “Yeah, I’d say we’ve had enough dragon encounters for a lifetime.” He tucks his hat lower upon his head, securing the band for fear of losing it.

Mabel giggled, still clutching the flower crows. “If only we could find a dragon that’s friendly and loves flower crowns!” Despite her statement, you sense that she wasn’t willing to sacrifice the gifts to escape a giant lizard.

“Now that would be something,” you agreed with a grin. “But let’s focus on finding something less fiery for the day.”

The forest seemed to hold its breath as you continued, every rustle and snap magnified in the stillness. What had started as an exciting quest was turning into something more intense, with a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air.

Suddenly, the trees parted to reveal a clearing bathed in an ethereal light. In the center stood a grove of ancient, gnarled trees that arched together to form a natural gateway. The sight was mesmerizing but also a bit unsettling. The air crackled with an otherworldly energy, hinting at the enchantment and danger that lay ahead. Various circles of mushrooms and pops of colorful flowers decorates the green grass.

It was like a true depiction of spring.

“Flowers!” Mabel dashed forward, her excitement momentarily overriding her sense of danger. Her hair flew behind her as she sprinted towards the vibrant scene.

“Mabel, wait!” Dipper’s voice trembled with concern as he scrambled to catch up to his reckless sister. He glanced at you with wide eyes, the urgency in his expression clear.

You followed closely behind, casting wary glances at the arching trees and the shifting shadows, ready for anything that might leap out to capture the three of you.

Mabel collapsed into the fluffy grass, her hands eagerly plucking various flowers to add to her nearly completed flower crown. Her eye for aesthetic was impeccable as she created a crown that was not only beautiful but also unique. “Look at all these amazing flowers!” she exclaimed, beaming with pride. “This is perfect for the crowns!”

Dipper, catching up, bent over to catch his breath. “Mabel, this place is incredible, but we need to be careful. We don’t know what kind of magic or creatures might be here.”

“Relax, Dipper!” Mabel said, waving him off with a carefree laugh. “It’s just flowers and mushrooms. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Let’s stick together and stay sharp,” you advised. “We’re here to find something cool, not to get into more trouble.”

“Oh quite spoiling my mood, (Y/n)!” Mabel shoos you away, frowning. “You didn’t like my sweaters and now you’re trying to ruin my flower crowns? Don’t you even want to give Stan and Ford anything?”

“Mabel that’s not what I—”

She turns away sniffling. “Whatever. Dipper! Tell (Y/n) that I don’t want to talk to her anymore.”

“Umm…” Dipper looks at you, cautiously hesitating as he decides between you or his sister.

“You know what?” You huffed and walked away, waving a careless arm in the air. “I told you. I was just offering some advice and you’re the one who took offense to it. It’s not my fault you didn’t consider Stan and Ford’s preferences in your gift.”

“What’s that suppose to mean—”

You refuse to hear the rest of her protest as you went further and further away from the twins. Who cares what Mabel thought? You were only trying to be helpful. Stan and Ford deserve a gift that they both like. Not something that Mabel thinks they’ll like.

As you neared a creak of gushing water. The refreshing sounds eases your concerns and you stopped, pausing to consider why you were so angry. “Ugh… What am I even doing?” You mumble exasperatedly, sitting down with a plop. You dip your hands into the fresh water, admiring the way it effortlessly washed away the dirt on your palms. “Mabel’s gift isn’t my gift. I shouldn’t have taken her considerations for others so personally…”

A butterfly fluttered before you, its wings a mesmerizing blend of blue and purple, shimmering in the sunlight as if defying gravity itself. You were captivated by the way its colors shifted with each flap, and instinctively, you reached out a hand to touch it. But just as your fingers were about to brush against its delicate wings, a high-pitched scream shattered the peaceful moment.

“Mabel!” Your heart leaped in your chest as you tore your gaze from the butterfly, dashing back through the underbrush toward the sound. Branches snagged at your clothes, and the forest seemed to close in around you as the scream echoed again, spurring you forward. It was unmistakable—Mabel was in trouble.

You burst into the clearing where you'd left Dipper and Mabel, expecting the worst. But what you found was far from what you imagined. Mabel was there, unharmed, standing amidst a cloud of glittering dust, her eyes wide with wonder. A pair of pixies were hovering above her, playfully tugging at her flower crowns, while Dipper had his backed to to you, shouting and jumping in delight.

The scream, you realized, had been one of delight, not fear. Mabel was giggling, twirling in the grass as the beautiful beings danced around her, their tiny wings leaving trails of shimmering light in the air. They were beautiful, with their iridescent wings and cherubic faces, but there was something unsettling about the way they moved, the way their eyes sparkled with a mischievous, almost malevolent, light.

"Mabel!" you called, trying to keep your voice steady. But she was lost in her own world, completely enchanted by the creatures.

You approached Dipper cautiously, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. He jumped, startled out of his intense focus. When he turned around, a grin spread across his face, wide and almost delirious. "(Y/n)! There you are! Aren’t they amazing?" His voice was pitched higher than usual, his excitement palpable.

"Umm... what's going on?" you asked, taking a step back. Fear laces your senses your boyfriend’s unusual state.

"These are Glimmerlings!" Dipper exclaimed, holding up Journal 3 and flipping to the entry on the creatures. He began to read aloud, his eyes wide with fascination. “They’re tiny, about the size of a hummingbird, with wings that shimmer in every color of the rainbow. They look harmless, almost angelic, but they’re actually really dangerous.”

As he read, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of dread. The Glimmerlings were indeed beautiful, but Dipper’s words painted a darker picture. "They’re fond of stealing small, precious items—things with sentimental value—and hoarding them in their nests. But what’s worse is their ability to create powerful illusions, leading people into traps or making them lose their way in the woods."

You looked over at Mabel, who was now stumbling toward the edge of the clearing, the Glimmerlings hovering just out of reach, giggling as they lured her deeper into the forest. Her hands were empty. Panic flared in your chest. "Dipper, how do we avoid getting enchanted? How do we know if we're already under their spell?"

Dipper glanced at you, the seriousness of the situation finally sinking in. "Probably when we start seeing things that aren’t there... or if we start following them without thinking." His eyes widened as he realized Mabel was already under their influence. "Mabel! Wait!"

Without another word, you both sprinted after her, but the forest seemed to close in around you, the trees growing thicker, the path more treacherous. Mabel’s laughter echoed eerily through the trees, but no matter how fast you ran, she seemed to slip further away.

"(Y/n)... give me... a second..." Dipper gasped, finally stopping to catch his breath, his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his composure. You stopped too, collapsing to the ground beside him, your chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.

"How could she get so far away?" you groaned, wiping sweat from your brow.

Dipper shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "I don’t know... Maybe the Glimmerlings are speeding her up somehow?"

"Or maybe it’s just Mabel being Mabel," you muttered, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more sinister was at play.

Dipper pulled out the journal again, flipping through the pages with shaky hands. "Okay, here it is... To break free from their illusions, we need a loud noise or a bright, concentrated light. A whistle or a flashlight should work."

You slipped off your backpack and began rummaging through it. Pulling out a flashlight, you held it out to him. "This should do it."

Dipper smiled, albeit weakly. "Nice, (Y/n)! But we still need to figure out how to get the flower crowns back."

He skimmed through the journal again, nodding as he found the right passage. "We can create a decoy—something shiny or magical. If we throw it near their nest, they might go after it, and we can grab the crowns while they’re distracted."

You pondered your options for a moment, tapping your index finger against your chin. “How about,” you suggested, “We shine the flashlight on the Glimmerlings first to break any illusions, then run back to the meadow, find the nest with the flower crowns, and throw the flashlight to distract them?”

Dipper nodded, but something in the back of your mind nagged at you, a lingering doubt that you couldn’t shake. The forest seemed to grow darker, more ominous, and you realized that the trees around you appeared to be closing in, twisting into shapes that made your skin crawl. The path ahead was barely visible, just a thin trail through dense, gnarled branches that seemed to reach out toward you.

You glanced at Dipper, but he didn’t seem to notice the impending doom. Maybe it’s just exhaustion or the fact that the moon has finally risen while the three of you were trapped in the forest?

Dipper reaches a hand out to help you up. “Let’s go find Mabel, (Y/n).” His grip on your hand tightens, refusing to let it go.

“Yeah…” You smiled weakly. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you. As the two of you walked, hand and hand, over and under various obstacles, it seemed as though everything was trying to corner you into a singular space. Like you were walking in circles. What made it even more odd, was the fact that not a singular bird chirped or crowed in the wind, or bugs echoing their calls. It was completely silent.

You tug at his hand. “Wait a minute,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you looked around. “Something’s not right…?” You couldn’t believe yourself. But your instincts told you that the prying eyes that watched you with delight wasn’t normal, and neither was this odd forest.

Dipper’s eyes widened as he took in your words, and he quickly lets go to flipped through the journal, scanning the pages with growing urgency. “You’re right… this doesn’t make sense. The Glimmerlings create illusions, maybe…”

You both fell silent, the air around you heavy with an eerie stillness. The trees loomed closer, their shadows stretching out like dark tendrils. The overcast sky was barely visible. Panic started to bubble up inside you as the realization hit: you were already under the influence of the Glimmerlings’ magic.

“Dipper,” you whispered, your voice tight with fear, “we need to snap out of this, now.”

Dipper fumbled with the flashlight in his hand, his fingers trembling as he turned it on. The beam cut through the darkness, but it barely seemed to pierce the suffocating gloom around you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Mabel’s laughter, faint and distant, drifted through the air. She sounded so far away, but something about the way her voice echoed didn’t feel right.

“That’s it!” Dipper exclaimed suddenly. “The illusions—they’re warping our perception of distance and direction. We’re not as deep into the forest as it seems.” Immediately, Dipper shined the light up, and the darkness seemed to flicker, like a screen glitching before resetting. The twisted trees and suffocating shadows wavered, then began to dissolve like smoke in the wind. For a brief, disorienting moment, the world around you warped and shifted, and then—

The illusion shattered.

The dense, menacing forest melted away, replaced by a much more normal sight of trees and rocks. Even the sunset sky became visible. There were Glimmerings floating above the two of you, they screeched in pain as they struggle to remain stagnant in the air against the light. They began to fly further and further away as Dipper waves the flashlight, disappearing beyond your sight.

Relief flooded through you, and you let out a shaky laugh. “Nice one, Dipper! You saved us from glittery doom.”

Dipper grinned, a bit of his usual confidence returning. “Hey, I’ve got a thing for solving supernatural problems, remember? Besides, someone had to keep us from getting lost in fairyland.” His hands were sweaty and so he hid them behind his vest to wipe them.

You smirked, nudging him playfully. “I’ll give you that. But let’s not celebrate too soon. We still have to find Mabel and get those crowns back.”

Dipper’s smile faded slightly as he nodded, the weight of the situation settling back in. “Yeah, you’re right. She couldn’t have gone far—probably just ahead.”

You both pushed forward, urgency driving you. “Come on, Dipper, we’re almost there.”

Just as the trees gave away to an opening, your heart nearly stopped when you spotted Mabel—she was standing less than ten feet away at the very edge of a steep cliff, teetering dangerously close to the brink. The Glimmerlings fluttered around her. their eyes were upturned in delight, trying to coax her into the deadly drop below.

“Mabel, no!” you shouted, sprinting toward her with all the speed you could muster. Dipper was right behind you, the flashlight’s beam bouncing wildly as he ran.

“Mabel, stop!” Dipper yelled, his voice cracking with panic.

But Mabel seemed entranced, her eyes glazed over as she reached out for the Glimmerlings, oblivious to the danger she was in. The creatures snickered and fluttered just out of her reach, luring her closer to the edge.

You knew you had to act fast. “Dipper, shine the light on them—now!”

Dipper skidded to a stop just a few feet from Mabel, aiming the flashlight directly at the Glimmerlings. The beam of light caught them in mid-flight, and the effect was immediate. The creatures shrieked in high-pitched, unearthly voices as the light struck them. They scattered in all directions, their shimmering wings leaving behind trails of glittering dust as they fled.

The moment the Glimmerlings’ hold on her was broken, Mabel stumbled forward right over the cliff, her eyes widening in shock as she realized how she was going to plummet down straight to her death. You lunged forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to safety, your heart racing as the adrenaline surged through your veins.

“Mabel!” you gasped, holding her tight. “Are you okay?”

Mabel blinked, dazed but unharmed. “(Y/n)? Dipper? What just happened?”

Dipper was panting, his face pale with fear, but he managed a shaky smile. “You almost took a very bad fall, Mabel. But we got you.”

Mabel’s eyes filled with tears, and she hugged you tightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to play with them. They were so pretty.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, smoothing her hair. “We’re all safe now. But let’s get out of here before those things come back.”

A long moment passes as the you held Mabel tightly. You couldn’t believe that you almost lost her. This is probably how Dipper felt when the dragon whisked you away in its jaw.

As you and Dipper helped her up, one of your arms wrapped securely around her waist while Dipper’s other arm supported her shoulder. Mabel wasn’t injured, but the near-death experience had left her shaky and unable to walk steadily. The three of you made your way back through the forest, and it quickly became apparent that there had never been a beautiful clearing with arching trees—it was all an illusion conjured by the Glimmerlings.

Just as you helped guide Mabel over a fallen tree trunk, Mabel gasped in surprise. Startled, your head whipped around, expecting to find a Glimmering, but there wasn’t one in sight.

“W-What is it?!” Dipper’s voice cracked with panic.

“The flower crowns!” Mabel suddenly pulled away from the two of you and pointed frantically in the direction you had just come from. “Those pesky fairies took the flower crowns I was going to give to Grunkle Stan and Ford…” Her lips pursed in a shaky pout, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Oh… it’s just the flower crowns.” Dipper sighed in relief and gently grabbed Mabel’s arm. “They’re just flower crowns, Mabel. You can always make more.”

“No! They were flowers from our adventure! I can’t just give them any other flower crown!” Mabel protested, her voice cracking with emotion. She shook off Dipper’s hand and prepared herself to climb back over the trunk.

A part of you wanted to rip out your hair at Mabel’s stubbornness, but you also understood. To Mabel, her Grunkles were irreplaceable, and they didn’t deserve substitutes or replacements.

Dipper groaned, rubbing the space between his brow as he tried to think of something comforting to say.

You reached out to Mabel and pulled her into a hug. “I think…” You breathed in her scent—a sweet mix of sugary but warm vanilla. “Those sweaters you made for them will mean more than some dirty flowers from the forest.”

Mabel sniffled, still not reciprocating the hug. “But you said they wouldn’t wear them…”

You paused, realizing how your earlier words had hurt her. You pulled away slightly, cupping her cheeks in your hands and rubbing your nose fondly against hers. “Who cares what I think? Beautiful sweaters from their favorite niece will last longer than flowers that’ll decay in a few days.” You smiled warmly at her. “Besides, Dipper was right. It’s the thought that counts.”

As Dipper approached, he hesitated for just a moment before stepping into the hug, his arms wrapping around both you and Mabel. "You know, (Y/n)'s right. Those sweaters are awesome, Mabel. Stan and Ford are going to love them."

Mabel sniffled again, a small smile breaking through her pout. "You really think so?"

You nodded, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Absolutely. And even if they don't wear them all the time, they'll always treasure something made by you."

Dipper added with a grin, "Plus, I bet they'll rock those sweaters when no one's looking."

Mabel let out a small giggle, wiping away her tears. "Maybe I'll make matching ones for Waddles too."

You laughed softly. "Now that would be a sight to see."

Dipper groaned. “Waddles in a sweater? Don’t you think it’s kinda weird to make sweaters for a pig?”

Even as the three of you laughed merrily, the embrace lingering as you held onto each other, the warmth of the moment made the chaotic adventure feel worthwhile. The tension of the day seemed to melt away, leaving only the comfort of being together. The birds finally cawed as they flew from tree to tree, squirrels danced in circles as they fought over nuts, and the bugs crawled along the dirt in search of food. It was a completely normal and unassuming hug.

Then, out of nowhere, you heard a loud, unmistakable sound of a fart.

“Oops! Sorry…” Mabel grinned, looking both sheepish and proud. “It’s my body’s way of saying it’s dinner time!”

“Ew, Mabel!” Dipper groaned, taking a step back with an exaggerated look of disgust. “Seriously?” Despite his protest, his eyes sparkled with laughter, unable to hide his amusement.

You tried to stifle your own laughter, teasing, “Shouldn’t it be your stomach making noise? Not your butt?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved to see the Mabel you knew and loved was back to her usual self.

Mabel just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Hey, when nature calls, I answer! Besides, it’s a gift.”

“A gift?” Dipper raised an eyebrow, pretending to be horrified. “What kind of gift is that?!”

“Yeah, we’ve had enough surprises for one day,” you added, shaking your head with a grin.

Mabel giggled, wrapping her arms around both you and Dipper again. “I love you guys, even if you can’t appreciate my talents!”

After the laughter died down and the three of you finally released each other from the hug, the forest around you seemed to settle into a peaceful quiet. The chaos of the day felt like it had been left behind in the clearing, replaced by a warm, contented silence.

Dipper was the first to break the quiet, looking around with a thoughtful expression. “We should probably start heading back,” he said, glancing up at the sky. The moon was out. “We’ve had enough adventure for one day.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a twinge of tiredness in your legs. “Yeah, let’s get out of here before something tries to eat us.”

With that, the three of you began making your way back through the forest. Dipper walked ahead, occasionally turning around to make sure his two favorite people were following, while Mabel chattered happily about all the things she wanted to do once you got back to the Mystery Shack. You listened with a smile, glad to see her enthusiasm hadn’t been dampened by the day’s events

Eventually, you could see the familiar outline of the Shack in the distance. The sight of it brought a wave of relief—finally, you were almost home. As you approached, you could hear the faint sounds of Stan and Ford arguing inside, their voices rising and falling in what sounded like a heated discussion. They paused abruptly when they spotted the three of you through the window of the gift shop, safe and sound, and their expressions shifted from concern to a mix of relief and confusion.

As you reached the patio of the tourist gift shop, Grunkle Stan rushed out, his arms wide for an embrace. He pulled the twins into a tight hug. “You three had us worried sick! What were you guys doing out there?”

Ford followed shortly behind, his hands in his pockets and his glasses perched high on his nose. His expression was a mix of sternness and concern as he glanced between you and the twins. “And where have you three been?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of reprimand.

You glanced sheepishly at the twins, who seemed momentarily frozen with fear. You could practically feel the weight of Ford's gaze. “Um…” you began, trying to choose your words carefully. “You know… exploring…? In the… woods…?”

Stan held the twins out at arm's length, his face etched with a mix of relief and exasperation. His voice was higher than usual, laced with a note of panic. “Kids! Didn’t I tell you how dangerous it is out there?!”

Dipper and Mabel both looked down, their expressions a mix of guilt and fatigue. Stan’s eyes softened just a bit as he saw how exhausted they were, but the worry remained in his voice.

Ford stepped in, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. “Exploring can be risky. Especially this late in the day. Who knows what could have happened?”

You took a deep breath, stepping forward to ease the mounting tension. “We did run into a few... complications. But we’re all okay now. And, um, we have quite a story to tell.”

“Grunkle Ford, Stan! Don’t be so hard on us.” Mabel steps out, hands behind her back as she gives him the largest eyes in the world. “We were only trying to have fun.”

“There are better—safer, ways to have fun.” Ford’s scowls, clearly not falling for her puppy eyes.

Dipper pitches in hastley. His arm is around Mabel’s shoulders and he then reaches out to grasp your hand. “Next time, we’ll be more mindful of our safety. Promise.”

Ford and Stan raises an eyebrow at you and Mabel, expecting a unanimous agreement. The moment you and the brown haired girl echoed “Promise,” Stan’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his concern was still evident. “Just... next time, listen to the warnings. I don’t want to be dealing with any more close calls.”

Ford gave a reluctant nod, his stern expression softening slightly. “We’ll talk about it more later. For now, let’s get you all inside for a shower and dinner.” They stood ushered you guys inside, and then followed suit.

After the three of you got cleaned up, the aroma of Stan’s cooking wafted through the air as the group settled around the dinner table. Stan had outdone himself with a hearty meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. A difference from the usual ice cream for dinner. The comforting smell mixed with the sounds of plates clinking and utensils scraping as everyone took their seats.

Stan poured himself a generous serving of gravy and glanced at Dipper and Mabel. “So, what exactly were you kids up to today? You looked like you were through the wringer.”

Dipper exchanged a glance with Mabel, a subtle signal passing between them. Mabel’s eyes darted around the room, and she quickly shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth, her cheeks puffed out and her eyes slanted sideways.

“Yeah, um,” Dipper said, his voice slightly strained as he took a large bite of his meatloaf. It seems like he also thought stuffing his face would avoid the question, because when he realized that his silent Grunkles were awaiting a reply, he choked out a reluctant response, “You know, just some harmless wandering around.”

Ford raised an eyebrow, leaning in with an analytical look. “You didn’t get up to anything too... unusual, did you?”

Mabel, caught between chewing and swallowing, managed to mumble through her full mouth. “Nope, nothing unusual at all! Just saw… dirt… and trees...”

Stan’s eyes narrowed slightly, not entirely convinced.

Dipper gave an awkward chuckle, clearly uncomfortable with the way Mabel answered the question. “No, really. We’re fine. Just had a few... challenges, but nothing we couldn’t handle.” He glances over to you, his eyes pleading for help.

Just as your fork pierced a slice of meatloaf, it slid off your fork and clattered to your plate. You cleared your throat and interject. “So! What were the two of you up to today?”

Ford and Stan seemingly buy into the switch in discussion, and the conversation shifted to less intense topics—like the latest gossip from town and upcoming events.

As the meal wound down, Stan cleared the table, grumbling good-naturedly about the absence of dessert, while Ford retreated to his laboratory with a napkin filled with jot down inspirations he found during dinner. The twins and you gathered into their bedroom, the comfortable space filled with the soft glow of a lamp.

Mabel, pulled out her knitting supplies and set up a cozy corner on her bed. Her fingers moved swiftly and skillfully, the rhythmic click of the knitting needles filling the room as she finished up the identical sweaters.

The tinkering sound of needles clicking together as they tied strings of yarn filled the room. Occasionally, the turn of pages from Dipper notebook and the soft murmurs beneath his breath would join along. You were busy rustling a random shopping bag filled with ribbons, stickers, markers, and plastic gift bags.

As she worked, she chatted animatedly, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "So, what do you think we should give Stan and Ford? I mean, the sweaters are awesome, but we need something to go with them."

You sat cross-legged on the floor, organizing a small assortment of colorful ribbons, preparing to cut them, while Dipper lounged on Mabel’s bed beside her, flipping through a notebook filled with ideas. The room was warm, lit by a soft glow from a string of fairy lights draped across the walls.

“Okay, what about this?” Dipper began, his eyes brightening as he looked up. “I was thinking of setting up an outdoor spot with blankets, snacks, and a small fire pit. We could roast some marshmallows over a campfire and share stories under the stars.”

Mabel’s fingers never paused as she worked on the final touches of the sweater. She glanced up with a wide grin. “Ooo, sounds like someone’s trying to impress a certain someone,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Hey, I can’t help it if I have great ideas,” Dipper shot back, feigning innocence. “Plus, I thought you loved s’mores, Mabel.”

His sister giggled, playfully nudging Dipper with her elbow. “Only if you don’t burn them like last time. Seriously, how do you mess up a marshmallow?”

“Hey, that fire was really unpredictable!” Dipper defended, turning towards you with a mock pout. “Back me up here, (Y/n).”

You laughed with Mabel, glad that their playful bickering was lifting everyone’s spirits. As Dipper looked at you with those wide, expectant eyes, you couldn’t help but tease him a little.

“Well, Dipper,” you began, tapping your chin, “I think you might have been a bit distracted... but not by the fire.” You smirked, enjoying the way his cheeks turned slightly pink. “But hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Dipper rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Mabel snickered, nudging him. “Looks like you’ll have to redeem yourself with those s’mores, bro.”

You grinned, deciding to shift the conversation to your own idea. “Speaking of redeeming ourselves…” You reached into your backpack and pulled out a small glowing leaf you’d been keeping aside. “Hmmm… I wasn’t exactly prepared for Random Act of Kindness Day, but I did find these bioluminescent plants in the forest earlier. I thought it’d be nice to make glow-in-the-dark muffins with them.” You held up the leaf, its ethereal glow illuminating your face. “Plus, I’ll wrap them up in cute little bags tied with ribbons. It’ll be like giving them a piece of the forest night sky.”

Mabel’s eyes widened with excitement. “That’s so cool! Imagine the look on Stan and Ford’s faces when they see them!”

Dipper smiled, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. “Glowing muffins? Now that’s something they’ll never see coming. You always find a way to surprise me, you know that?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you replied with a wink.

Dipper’s face flushes red, but his grin widened. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, the sound of crickets chirping in the night and the exhaustion of the day's adventure began to settle in. The soft rustling of leaves and the gentle sway of the curtains created a peaceful atmosphere. You could barely keep your eyes open, signaling that the gates of dreamland were opening wide. Slowly, the moon reached its peak in the sky, casting a silver glow over the room as the three of you tucked yourselves into bed. Mabel snuggled up alongside Waddles, her soft murmurs barely audible as she drifted off to sleep. You nestled into Dipper’s arms, feeling the comforting weight of his embrace. It was soft, warm, and familiar—everything you wanted it to be and more.

The soothing snores combined with the occasional creaks from the old floorboards, lulled you deeper into your dreams. The night passed peacefully, with the warmth of Dipper’s body against yours grounding you in the safety of the Shack.

When the first rays of the sun crept through the curtains, gently warming your face, you stirred awake. Groggily, you opened your eyes, allowing them to adjust to the dim room. As you rolled them around to moistened the socket, you felt the stare of another. Your gaze flickered over, finding yourself face-to-face with Dipper. His eyes were already open, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As he noticed you waking up, his mouth parted slightly in a silent “oh.”

It seems like he’s been caught admiring you while your eyes were closed.

“Who’s the sleeping beauty now?” he teased, his smirked with amusement.

Your face softened as you mumbled something incoherent, not quite ready to leave the warmth of his embrace. You tucked yourself in further against his chest, the scent of pine and a hint of his laundry urged you to linger in the moment a little longer.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice a gentle rumble that echoed through his chest. His hand moved up to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair in a soothing motion.

“Ugh,” you grumbled, feeling the warmth of his laughter vibrating against you. “You’re such a dork, Dippin’ Dots.”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the soft morning light making everything feel a little bit more magical. Wrapped up in each other, the world outside the Shack felt like it could wait just a little longer.

Unfortunately, before you could fully bask in the peaceful morning, the door burst open with a loud bang. Mabel, brimming with energy, dashed into the room and leaped onto the bed, her laughter ringing out like a bell. "Rise and shine, lovebirds!" she declared, tugging at the blankets and yanking both you and Dipper out of bed.

"Mabel!" Dipper groaned, rubbing his eyes as he tried to resist her enthusiasm.

"No time for sleeping in! We've got a whole day of kindness to spread!" Mabel insisted, her voice filled with excitement. She grabbed your hands and pulled you both up, practically bouncing with eagerness. "Come on, come on! We’ve got a lot to set up before everyone arrives!"

As you stumbled out of bed, still shaking off the remnants of sleep, Mabel’s infectious energy was impossible to resist. After speed running your morning chores, the three of you quickly got to work, setting up the cozy outdoor spot Dipper had planned. Blankets were spread out, snacks arranged in baskets, and the small fire pit was prepared for marshmallow roasting later in the evening. Your cooled muffins were placed inside personalized bags set on a picnic table, each tied with a colored ribbon representing a person.

By the time Soos and Wendy arrived, they were tasked with the leftover decorations. The two of them shared their own acts of kindness. Soos, ever the handyman, had crafted personalized wooden trinkets for everyone, each one etched with a special memory he shared with the person. Wendy, with her cool and laid-back style, had put together a mixtape of everyone’s favorite songs, perfect for playing in the background as they all spent the day together.

You guys shared a casual chat, catching up on the missing times and events. You and Dipper were sitting on a log, blowing up balloons while Soos was balancing himself on a ladder, trying to hang up a banner.

Soos grinned broadly, his eyes shining with excitement. “Dudes, this is like, the most epic Random Act of Kindness Day ever! You guys really know how to throw a party. I’m totally gonna eat those glow-in-the-dark muffins later. They look like they’re straight out of a video game!” He rubs his stomach, almost stumbling a bit as he leans too far forward.

Wendy, leaning casually against a tree, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you guys nailed it. This whole setup? Super chill vibes.”

She gave Dipper a playful wink, smirking. “You’ve got some serious planning skills, Pines. Maybe you should do this more often.”

“Haha…” Dipper shares a shy smile. He rubs the back of his neck, glad that his idea brought smiles and laughter. “Honestly, I couldn’t do this without you guys.”

Suddenly, you hear the distant sounds of voices approaching. With upturn eyes of delight, you gesture for everyone to get into position.

“Come on! Hurry! Hurry!” Mabel urged gleefully, practically bouncing on her toes as she tugged along Ford and Stan. Both men chuckled behind her, trying to keep up with their energetic niece.

Stan’s voice called out, full of warmth and curiosity. “Alright, alright, we’re coming! What’s all the fuss about?”

Ford, adjusting his glasses and grinning, added, “I have to admit, you’ve got my curiosity piqued. What’s this all about?”

The moment they rounded the corner, a burst of excitement awaited them. Dipper and Wendy blew party blowers with wide grins, while you and Soos threw handfuls of confetti into the air. Mabel let go to run over, joining you. “Surprise!” you all shouted in unison, your voices echoing through the clearing.

They stood there. Shocked. Stan’s eyes widened in delight as he took in the scene—an outdoor setup complete with blankets, snacks, and a small fire pit ready for marshmallow roasting. Ford’s stern expression softened, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Pausing for a moment as tears welled up in their eyes.

It seems like their hearts were soaring.

“Do you guys like it?!” Mabel exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “This is like the best surprise ever isn’t it?!”

Stan, ever the tough guy, tried to hide his emotion, but the gleam in his eyes gave him away. “You kids really went all out, didn’t ya?”

Ford nodded, looking genuinely touched. “Indeed. This is… quite something…”

Wendy laughed, giving Soos a high-five. “Aww guys!” She shoots finger guns at the old men. “Ford and Stan, you two deserve all this and more. It’s like you’ve got your own personal fan club now!” Gesturing at the scene, it really does seem like a party.

Stan chuckled, trying to keep his cool. “You know, I might have to admit this is one of the best surprises I’ve ever had. You kids really do know how to make a guy feel appreciated.” He seems to want to say something more.

Ford, noticing Stan’s struggle to find the right words, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s clear how much thought and care went into this. It’s not just about the gifts or the festivities—it’s about the thoughtfulness behind them.”

You all stood there, basking in the warmth of gratitude and love. It seems like no one knew what to do next.

Seeing the tender moment, you decided it was time to shift gears. With a spark of mischief in your eyes, you stepped forward and flashed a bright smile. “Alright, now that we’ve got the heartfelt stuff out of the way, how about you two join us in the fun? We’ve got games, music, and of course, lots of snacks. What do you say?”

Mabel’s grin widened as she picked up on your cue. “Yeah, we’ve got a whole evening planned. And trust me, it’s going to be a blast. Plus, we can listen to the tracks Wendy made!”

Soos literally jumped in, adding his own enthusiastic flair. “I call dibs on those marshmallows and muffins!”

With everyone now gathered around, the night sky glittering overhead, the mood was set for a cozy, celebratory evening. As the fire blazed wildly, its warm light dancing across everyone's faces, everyone sat down on the logs, ready to enjoy the festivities.

Time passes and everyone bellies began to bulge from sweets and treats. While the fire crackled, the group exchanged their gifts, and laughter filled the air. It seemed like Mabel hadn’t just made sweaters for her Grunkles; she had crafted identical ones for everyone! As you all shrugged on the bright green attire, it felt like you were part of a colorful, quirky family of green people.

Your glow-in-the-dark muffins were a hit as well. Everyone enjoyed the sweet flavor with a hint of tang. It even looked cool as they shone in the dark night. Though, you swore that Soos ate too many and his eyes began shining like flashlights.

Mabel leaned over, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she observed Soos. “Soos, are you sure you don’t have superpowers now? You’re looking pretty electrifying!”

Soos, trying to look serious but failing miserably as his eyes flickered like strobe lights, replied, “I dunno, Mabel. I didn’t realize these muffins came with a side of superpowers! If I keep eating them, I might start charging my phone just by standing near it.”

The group burst into laughter, the playful banter adding to the joy of the night.

Dipper chuckled, glancing over at you with a smirk. “Looks like you’ve got a new competition for the most glowing personality in Gravity Falls.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, at least we know Soos won’t be getting lost in the dark anytime soon. Just hope he doesn’t start glowing in his sleep!”

Lastly, Stan and Ford had their own acts and gifts to share. Stan handed out coupons with a large step forward and a flourish, proudly declaring, “Get ‘em while they’re hot! Free knick-knacks for everyone!”

Dipper had a stupid smile as he blankly looked at the coupon, and then stared at Grunkle’s Stan’s proud expression. “Wow… I am never going to use this.”

It seems like everyone simultaneously agrees silently as they shoved the piece of laminated paper into their pockets. As for Ford’s gift, Ford begins with a warm smile, “I wanted to add my own little touch to the evening.”

As Ford hands out the personalized stargazing charts, each one meticulously wrapped in celestial-themed paper, Stan unwraps his with a bemused expression. He glances at Ford, raising an eyebrow.

“Look at this,” Stan says with a playful smirk. “My brother, the ultimate nerd, giving us star maps. Did you expect us all to become astronomers overnight?” He nudges his twin brother until Ford’s glasses falls crooked to one side.

Ford adjusts his glasses, his smile unwavering. “Well, you don’t have to keep it, Stan. I just thought it was a nice touch to remember the night sky from a special day. There’s even a booklet with some fun facts and a few anecdotes.”

Stan chuckles, shaking his head but clearly touched by the gesture. “Sheesh! Alright, alright. Guess I’ll just have to figure out how to use this thing now.”

Silence falls upon everyone as they continues to admire their stargazing charts, murmuring interesting facts and observations they found. Stan suddenly brightens up with a mischievous glint in his eye. He clears his throat, preparing to deliver his punchline.

“Hey Ford,” Stan calls out, practically to no one as he faced forward, “Since you’re so into the stars now, I’ve got a joke for you. Why did the astronaut break up with his girlfriend?”

Ford seemingly wants to groan, but he smiles knowingly and curiously says. “I don’t know, why?”

“Because he needed space!” Stan says with a grin, clearly proud of his joke. He swings a hand to smack his knee loudly, clearly delirious by his own joke.

The group bursts into laughter, and even Ford can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Out the corner of your eye, you notice that on your chart there was the Big Dipper. Just as you reached out to trace it with your finger, the actual Dipper clears his throat beside you. He’s not directly looking at you as he asks, “Do you have a moment, (Y/n)?”

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “Sure! What’s up?”

He gestures with his thumb towards a secluded spot under a tree, away from the lively group. “Can I talk to you over there?”

You glance around and notice that no one seems to be paying attention to the two of you. They seem too caught up by Stan’s awful jokes. “Uhh… okay?” You follow him, slipping away from the laughter and chatter. As you walk, the warmth of the party fades, and the chilly night air makes you shiver. You pull your sweater closer, glad that it’s well knit to keep the cold out

Once you’re a few feet away from the group, Dipper takes a deep breath, clearly gathering his courage. The cool breeze rustles the leaves overhead, adding a subtle background to his nervous fidgeting. “So, um…” Dipper kicks a small rock with the tip of his shoe, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I got you something. I know it isn’t much, but I thought you might like it.”

He shyly pulls out a small, intricately crocheted keychain from behind his back. It features a charming mix of a crocheted Waddle, a tiny plastic pine tree, and a sparkling shooting star. Each piece combined to create a personalized keepsake that perfectly encapsulates the twins.

Dipper’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of red as he looks away, mumbling, “I thought it might be nice to have something to remind you of… well, of us.” He gestures to his sister and then himself.

You’re touched beyond words. You take a moment to admire the intricate details of the keychain, lifting it up to eye level, and feeling a rush of affection in your chest. It was like a bundle of nerves collecting into the pits of your stomach. “Thank you, Dipper. It’s perfect. I love it.”

His nervous smile softens into a genuine one as he meets your gaze. “I-It’s nothing. I’m glad you like it.” The tips of his cheeks and ears were lightly dusted with the shade of pink.

As you and Dipper make your way back to the party, you notice him glancing at you with a playful twinkle in his eye. “You know, (Y/n),” he begins with a smirk, “if you keep looking at that keychain with that much adoration, I might start getting jealous.”

You raise an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Oh, really? And why would you be jealous of a little keychain?”

Dipper chuckles, shrugging dramatically. “Well, it’s not every day that you get overshadowed by a tiny Waddles and a plastic shooting star. I’m starting to feel like I’m in the shadow of a bunch of craft supplies.”

You laugh, leaning closer to him. “Don’t worry, Dipper. You’re always the star of my show. Even if your competition includes a crocheted pig.”

Before Dipper can respond, Mabel’s voice rings out, cutting through the playful banter. ““Hey! You two lovebirds! Come here!” Maybel shouts enthusiastically. She’s jumping up and down with a camera in her hands to capture your attention.

You and Dipper glance at each other, your smiles widening. “Looks like we’re needed,” you say, taking his hand.

“Guess the star has to share the spotlight,” Dipper replies with a wink as you both head back to the group.

Mabel, standing in the middle of the gathered crowd with her camera, waves enthusiastically. “Come on, come on! Everyone gather around!”

You and Dipper make your way back to the campfire. Ford and Stan stand in the back behind a long, thick log, the former adjusting his glasses and the latter with his arms crossed, trying to look nonchalant but clearly enjoying the moment. Soos is to Stan’s right, grinning ear to ear, while Wendy crouches down to sit next to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

You take Dipper’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Ready for this?”

“Absolutely,” Dipper says with a grin, squeezing back as Mabel directs everyone.

“I’m going to take a picture! Everyone say, ‘Random Act of Kindness Day!’” Mabel calls out, setting the camera on the make-shift camera holder using yarn, popsicle sticks, and glitter. She tiptoed to start the three-second timer and as the seconds ticked down, she grabs Waddles, who happily snuggles in her arms with a loud oink, and rushes over to sit next to her brother.

One…

Ford flashes a rare hint of a smile while Stan grins from ear to ear. “Ever notice that posing for photos is like holding your breath? The longer you do it, the harder it is to remember why you’re smiling.” He mutters, though his eyes betrays a glimmer of delight despite his smile dropping momentarily.

Two…

You shoot him a look of concern. Man… and you thought Grunkle Ford was weird.

Three!

The camera flashes brightly, the sound of laughter and cheers filling the air as everyone enthusiastically shouts, “Random Act of Kindness Day!”

The photo prints out and gently falls onto the forest floor, the paper swaying slightly as the wind picks up. Mabel shoves Waddles into the secure arms of her brother, her shoes crunch on the fallen leaves as she leaves to eagerly picks up the photo, her smile wider than ever.

She waves the print triumphantly. “Another one for the scrapbook!” she exclaim.

You watch as Mabel’s excitement is mirrored by the rest of the group. With the photo safely in hand, she turns to show everyone, her enthusiasm infectious. They crowd around the jumping little girl, amused by their expressions or asking for a redo. Even Waddles is oinking excitedly as he wiggles out of Dipper’s embrace and runs around the group.

Soft brown hair touches the tip of your head as Dipper leans in closer to you, his voice low and playful. “So, how does it feel to be part of such a perfect day?” His eyes are twinkling.

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It feels pretty amazing. Especially with you by my side.”

[bisexualbard-writes]

KimChay prompt

I give you: Soulmate AU

Everyone has a timer in their wrist that shows how many days your soulmate has left to live

For Chay the timer changes every day but the number of days is never more than one year. Chay is very, very concerned for his soulmate and the kind of life he is living.

For Kim, he's convinced that his soulmate is also part of the Mafia or something worse because his timer is just weird. This morning his soulmate had over 50 years left, but something happened between 9am and 9:25am so now his soulmate is gonna die by the end of the week! Then, before lunch his timer changes again and Kim's soulmate will live for another 89 years

How do you think Kim would react to Chay? Just normal, kind, brave, zero situational awareness Chay who hasn't realized how many times he's been about to die

Also Helloo Hiiii how are you?

Hiiiiii, Hellooooo, I'm doing okay other than all this writer's block haha. Onto the timer soulmates!!

Kim wakes up in unfamiliar territory and nearly jolts up before he realizes the uncomfortable feeling below him is a pullout couch and the comforting weight on top of him is Chay.

His maybe-probably soulmate. 

Warmth spreads across his cheeks when he realizes they spent all night pressed up against each other like this. Trying not to jostle Chay, Kim checks his watch. The time, 7:00AM, is expected for his internal body clock. Then he pulls down the wristband on his watch and checks his timer, 20:05:03:23:15, which is not expected. 

Twenty years? When he fell asleep last night, the boy in his arms had fifty some odd years left to live, and this morning it’s down to twenty? 

The timer changes sometimes, everyone’s does. The mechanics are still a bit of a mystery to the world, but it’s a guarantee that when a timer runs out, that person’s soulmate dies. It seems like Kim’s timer fluctuates more than other people’s, but Chay hadn’t led the safest life even before he started hanging out with the third son of Thailand’s biggest mafia family. 

Actually, when Kim suspected Chay’s magnetic pull was more than just a simple crush on Kim’s part, he made a phone call ensuring all the Kittisawat debts were paid off and any loan sharks in the area knew Chay was protected.

On that day Kim’s timer jumped from a worrisome ten years to a more comfortable fifty.

That would have been more than enough for most people to prove they were soulmates, but Kim maintains a healthy amount of doubt. Or denial rather. 

He doesn’t want Chay tied to him. His little intervention took a whole week of planning to make the orders look like they were coming from someone other than Kim. He doesn’t want his family finding out Chay is important, it’s  too dangerous for Chay to get involved with them. This morning is proof of it, their deepening relationship is taking decades off of Chay’s life. 

The boy in his arms begins to stir, and then stills suddenly. The corner’s of Kim’s lips twitch up when he feels Chay’s breaths quicken as he likely realizes he’s sleeping half on top of Kim, and then forcibly slow down again. 

“Why are you pretending to be asleep?” Kim finds himself asking. He hadn’t even planned to break their peaceful silence, but he’s a little obsessed with Chay and desperate to understand what goes on in his mind. 

Chay answer about barely believing any of this is real is like a knife to Kim’s heart, because it’s not. Kim is hiding so many things from him. He hasn’t even mentioned to Chay his thought that they might be soulmates, and that’s the least of the things Kim is keeping from him. 

Chay unknowingly twists that knife when he looks up at Kim with his big, lovely eyes and asks Kim if he loves Chay. He’s never looked at the timer on Chay’s timer, but he thinks it probably just lost a decade of time. 

He doesn’t respond to Chay’s question, instead sending him off to fetch breakfast for them. 

Kim should leave, he tells himself as Chay cooks. He should leave and never return. It’s better to know Chay is out in the world without him, than have to live in a world where Chay is dead because Kim was greedy with him. 

When the doorbell rings, Kim makes his decision. He’ll slip out while Chay isn’t looking, and never come near him again. 

Then he hears Chay scream, and walking away isn’t an option. 

He fights tooth and nail, but he let his guard down too much and he’s not prepared to fight. Chay’s cries have made him frantic and erratic, and he knows he’s leaving holes in his defenses. Just as he’s starting to get his fighting brain turned on he gets tazed. It hurts like a bitch but he keeps going, fighting back as he gets tazed again. 

He goes down. The last thing he sees is Chay helplessly splayed on the ground. 

When he wakes up Chay is gone. 

Kim’s timer reads 00:00:05:08:15. 

Five days. 

If Kim does nothing, Chay will die in five days. 

He won’t let his happen. 

He picks up the phone and dials the number he swore he’d never call for help again. 

Kim watches the seconds tick away on his timer with as the call rings. 

“Kim?” Kinn asks curtly when he picks up. 

Kim takes a deep breath. “I need help,” he utters. 

His timer jumps. 89:03:12:06:45

[harvesti]

i want to start meditating, but i don't know where to start

okay, so here goes my own guided meditation... guide. taken from my own experience! 🌷

1. find time to do it. at least 30 minutes but I like to get one hour. (leave your clock behind you so you don't check it all the time!)

2. find a place to do it, somewhere quiet and with no distractions. I don't recommend doing it lying down, at least not in the beginning. find a comfortable sitting spot and position that you can hold for the whole practice. don't worry too much about sitting in the classic Sukhasana pose, just sit comfortably and steady.

3. breathe normally for a while and just pay attention to your senses. first, look around the room you're in and observe closely what you can see around you, take notice. then close your eyes and pay attention to what you can hear, identify the sounds, then what you can smell, identify the scents. then place one hand over your heart, feel your heartbeat.

4. place the other hand over your stomach, and start breathing deeply and slowly. pay close attention to it. count to four when you're breathing in, hold it for two, breathe out to five. if your thoughts scatter, it's fine, just go back to your breathing, and do that as many times as you need.

5. if you start to get tired of the position you're in, stretch, but remain sitting. focus then on how your body feels with each stretch, how your breathing affects the feeling in your muscles. once you're comfortable again, go back to your breathing, feeling it with your hands.

6. do that until the time is up. when you're done, come back slowly, stand up, stretch some more, and don't go immediately back to watching tv or messing with your phone. give your mind some time to just observe things. go out, look at the sky, look at some plants, or just look around the room again. just take it slow.

7. the next day, do it all again.

yes, it's repetitive, not very exciting and kind of boring at first. it's hard to be still and focused. but that changes with time and practice. I personally like to do it in the mornings before I have to get on with my chores and work! I also don't recommend doing it after having coffee. I love taking a nice shower afterwards as a way to keep the introspection going some more before I have to turn my brain back on haha

I hope this helps, and if it does, tell me about it 🩷

[luciferlightbringer]

Talk to Me

Chapter 5

I am so sorry this took so long, con really took it out of me but now there we are!

Lucifer x Fem Fallen Angel Reader Word Count: 3k CW: Angst, trauma, trust building, slow burn, enemies to lovers(ish?), curiosity, care

Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Chapter 6 In Progress

The next couple of days you spent decompressing and taking care of yourself before the next time you had a talk day. You realized you would need to be careful with yourself when it came to doing this, or else you were going to get too overwhelmed with all of the new ways you were exploring pain and suffering with people. You were also trying to think of a better thing to call these meetings. Emotional support sessions maybe? That sounded at least a little more structured.

Earlier in the week, Charlie had asked if you needed anything for your work, and you had thought a sign to show when you were taking people for your door would be nice. Charlie got excited and ran off, later that same day she came back with a sparkly sign with pretty designs on it, one side said “Talk to Me” and the other side was blank and had a button, and in pressing the button, that back side could switch between things like “Session in Progress”, “Off Duty”, “Please Knock”, and other things.

You smiled and hugged Charlie to that her, then you put the sign on your with “Off Duty” up.

Now that it was the day of your next set of Emotional Support Sessions, you flipped it back to “Talk to Me” and nodded proudly before going into the room. This time, you did not have to wait as long before Angel can up to your room and walked in. You went to change the sign to “In Session” before beginning with Angel. Angel sat and talked with you for about an hour, going into more details about his relationship with Val, and how he got there. Bringing up more how he lived in a time where he was not allowed to be himself and was forced to do things he hated, and how here he is at least able to be out in hell as a gay man and express himself how he wants.

As you were talking with Angel, Lucifer was up in his Apple tower part of the hotel trying to get up the courage to talk to you. It wasn’t you he was nervous about, it was talking about what had happened, he had that wall up for so long he didn’t even know where to start. And he was afraid of it opening the floodgates for him. He felt tears well in his eyes just thinking about some things, he fought back the tears, shaking his head.

No, I need to not run away from this, Lucifer thought. Then his thoughts drifted again to you specifically. Who were you? Why did he get this nagging sense of familiarity from you? He really needed to work through this fog so that maybe he could figure that out, or he could just ask you… Would that be weird to just ask? He would have to think about that.

An hour later he was prepped as much as he could be and headed down to your room, to see the door open with the sign shining with his daughter’s handwriting welcoming him in. He smiled at the sign gave a quick knock on the doorframe.

“Good morning” he said gently. You turned around at the sound of his voice and bowed.

“Your majesty” you said.

He waved a hand “Please, just Lucifer. Is… now an ok time?”

“Ya! Let me just go get Vaggie and…”

“I also have the ability to be the silencing spell. If that would make it easier,” Lucifer offered. You stiffened a little. The idea of Lucifer using any magic on you made you feel a bit nervous.

“I uhh… thank you. But uhh… I just wanna keep the wording consistent for everyone and… she has it down so I’ll just get her.” As you called for Vaggie, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a little rejected, but he tried not to take it personally. He didn’t push the matter.

Vaggie came up and smiled to see Lucifer I’m ready to talk to you. She cast the spell and then gave him a quick “I’m proud of you” squeeze on his arm before leaving. You and Lucifer both looked at each other for a moment, then Lucifer looked away.

“I uhh… haha. I’m sorry, I’ve never done all of this before,” he said looking away from you.

“It’s ok, I figured this was not something that people had here. A safe place to talk about anything, I’m also just trying to figure it all out,” you smiled, studying him in all his nervousness, another side of him you never expected from the great fallen deceiver, the King of Hell.

“Did you do stuff like this ever on earth?” He asked.

You were surprised by the question, “why do you ask?”

Lucifer shrugged, “I don’t know, I know this time is supposed to be about me but I can’t help but be curious about others sometimes. You don’t have to answer that…”

You thought for a moment, “This type of thing was… an element of what I did in the past, I was more like an aid or a right hand man. I’d listen, give support, do what was asked.” It wasn’t the full truth but it wasn’t a lie either, you were trying your best not to lie to anyone.

Lucifer nodded and started to sit down, “Ya, I get that, I used to have someone like that when I was still a seraphim. Someone at my side. Although… I felt like they were just there to watch me and to try keeping me in line. I don’t remember anything about them… especially because I was sneaking off to Eden so much to see…” his jaw tightened before her name could escape, it was still to painful to even say her name.

“Lilith?” You added gently as you sat across from him. He nodded blankly. “Maybe we can start there? At the beginning?”

Lucifer took a deep breath, “I might not get through the story all in one sitting. It… it’ll probably be too much.”

“I don’t expect you to,” you replied gently.

Lucifer took another deep breath and started to fidget with his cane, before looking up at you.

“Ok uhh… well… I was once an angel, a seraphim. We were angels with… greater powers, not like the Elders or Archangels but more than the others. I… created things, I loved making others laugh and smile, I had so many ideas for Heaven, and Earth… but the Elders did not like any of them… There were certain… limitations that we had… but I was never told why, was never told what the issues were with my ideas, only that they were bad and should not be thought of.”

“What kind of ideas?” You asked.

Lucifer perked up a little, “Wait, you want to know what my ideas were for Heaven and Earth were that they did not like?”

You nodded. Lucifer thought, he hadn’t thought about that in a long time, and no one had asked him that besides Lilith.

“Well… sometimes it was little things like animals… ways that humans could interact with the life around them… I thought it would be easier if animals could talk… maybe start off with more than just two people… have there be more choice for them… a lot of it was just kind of around communication between levels. About feeling equal, we could do almost anything as angels, and I wanted that for humans too, I wanted us all to talk to each other, for humans to be an extension of our Heavenly family, be able to talk to God and the Elders. And most importantly… to be able to do whatever we wanted to make us happy…” Lucifer folded more into himself, “That’s where everything went wrong.”

“What happened?”

Lucifer sighed, “Well… not wrong exactly, but that’s when my fallen essentially started. “The great deception” I think they called it. They created the Earth without me, they wouldn’t let me touch it at all, which hurt but I understood, I just wanted to see it. I snuck down to Eden and I found all of the animals, I found ducks for the first time, and I found the first man and woman, Adam and… Lilith…” Lucifer sighed and shook his head and took another deep breath before continuing. “They… were interesting to watch, I watched from afar. I never intended to get involved, but I saw how much Adam ordered Lilith around and it made me so sad for her.”

“Wait, he ordered her around?”

“Ohhhh ya, I mean, he was like “In charge of Earth” as the first human, but so was Lilith, and he just bossed her around! I watched him argue with her over how they needed to put the leaves back on the trees when they fell, even though they are supposed to fall! They couldn’t agree on how to take care of the animals. I mean… I understand that it was a big responsibility and stress, but he never wanted to work with her! He always had to be the one calling the shots and… heh… that’s just not how Lilith works… she is creative, a dreamer, bold, smart… beautiful…” He drifted mentally into those first few memories of Lilith seeing him, how they would sit and talk for hours.

You sat patiently as he thought, surprised but also now not at the way he spoke about Lilith.

“Lilith had enough one day and ran from the garden. I was worried about her, so I followed, I found her crying. Again, I never meant to interact with her, but she saw me, and called for me… I had seen angels for thousands of years, but there was no one like her that I had ever met. She saw the corruption of the system that had been built around her, she had wants and dreams, she wanted to be able to do whatever it was she wanted, and I wanted that too. Also, she had the most incredible voice. Oh how I could hear her sing forever, she’d sing just notes, sometimes she would sing about her frustrations, her joys, her sorrows… and… eventually… about her love for me… I didn’t expect to fall in love with her… but I did… she did… it was beautiful… I still remember her song…”

He lifted up a hand and conjured and orb of golden light that played a melody. He listened to the melody for a moment, and then he quietly started to sing “My Lucifer, my Morningstar on high, there’s something that I’ve been dying to say, more than anything…. More than anything… need you to know I love you more than anything… more than anything…”

The further into the line he sang, the more his voice crackled with tears, but it was still so beautiful. At the end he let the song fade and tears were pouring down his cheeks, his head tipped down so that his hat covered his face. His crying got harder and harder, he clenched his hands into the fabric of his pants.

“Lucifer?” You asked softly.

“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt! I didn’t mean to go down and cause trouble!” His hands turned more into claws, his tail and horns emerged, his eyes turned red. He was terrifying, but not in the way you had expected to be terrified of him. This rage was not at you, it was at himself.

He looked up at you, “I just wanted to be free! I wanted everyone to be free! Also who puts the tree of knowledge right in the middle of the damn garden?! It was too easy, we didn’t want to hurt Adam, and especially not Eve! We just wanted them to know and to have free will like how we wanted it! We didn’t make her take it… But then in the end, it’s all my fault! Everything is my fault! Evil, Hell, sinners, my daughter and wife leaving me, my daughter having to fight Adam and heaven! None of this would have happened if I had never existed!”

At this point, your body moved without thinking, as you closed the space between you and Lucifer and you enveloped him in a hug, a tight grip that you knew he could tear through if he wanted.

Your hug made Lucifer stop in his tracks, he felt your warmth around him and he melted into it, wrapping his arms back around you. You felt his horns and tail start to retract as he relaxed a little into your embrace, you stood there holding him for what felt like hours, even though you know it wasn’t. Just hugging in pure silence.

“I see you, Lucifer… I hear your pain,” you said softly. “The system is unfair, there are problems, but the problems aren’t there because of you. You are just the reason why we see the problems now. It’s not your fault that the system has issues and they don’t want to do anything to change it because of how it serves them.”

Whoa, where in Hell did that come from? You and Lucifer were both shocked by your statement, Lucifer reacted by tightening his hug on you and burying his face into your shoulder as he started sobbing again. You watched the most hated being in all of creation try in your arms, and you felt something break inside of you. Was this really who heaven was afraid of? A man who could be brought to tears at the thought of his own actions of 10,000 years ago like they just happened yesterday?

You thought back to the words that had slipped out of your mouth, and realized that those beliefs didn’t just form now, you just finally saw your own pain reflected in someone else. Had you always silently suffered to some degree in Heaven and it only just now turned into a coherent thought? Was that just from the general structure of Heaven or was that due to something else?

Your thought was cut off by Lucifer moving away from your embrace, whipping away his tears. “I uhhh… oof.. I sorry you had to see, that.”

You smiled and put a hand in his arm, “It’s ok Lucifer, I’m happy to be here for you.”

In a moment, your vision flashes to the same scene, but you were in Heaven, before flashing back. It couldn’t have lasted more than a millisecond, but it took you by surprise, and you felt your hand half pull away from Lucifer’s arm, and a micro expression of panic flickering across your face. Luckily for you, Lucifer is too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice.

Lucifer was thinking of the next part of the story, preparing himself for those words.

“The counsel… Sera… they bound me in chains… Lilith too… put us on trial… then…”

“The fall,” you said flatly.

He nodded, “Ya… it was… a pain behold comprehension… I…”

You held up a hand, stopping him, trying not to let your own pain show through. Your own fall was still a bit fresh in your mind. You took a deep breath, “I don’t want you to push yourself to get the rest of the story right now. We have all the time it the world, to get through the whole story, ok?”

He thought, and he nodded, his shoulders slumped. “Sorry… I’m just not used to getting this whole story out, I haven’t even told Charlie or Lilith the story like this… I don’t want them to know how much pain I am in, even though I am sure they already know… I guess I just felt like I won’t have another chance to tell the story. To get it out.”

You nodded, “You will, I’m not going anywhere.”

He smiled, “Thank you, I’m glad I can take full advantage of your support this time….”

He trailed off, confused by the last few words he added to you. “Because… ya know… you were busy the other day, when we first met!” He flashed you a big smile to try covering up the awkwardness of his comment.

“Oh! Right, of course,” you smiled at him. You both stared at each other for a moment, both trying to sift through the strange feeling of familiarity with the other.

You shake yourself out of it and clap your hands once, “Well! That seems like a good place to end for the day, is there anything you need from me to feel ok wrapping up for now?”

Lucifer thought for a moment, and stood up and opened his arms to you, “Can I ask for another hug? I can try to not cry on you this time.”

You smile and stand from your seat, opening your own arms for him. He moves to enter your embrace. You hug him, his head resting on your chest. You stood there in each other’s embrace for a few minutes, a hug long that should have been uncomfortable for how little time you had known each other, but it wasn’t, it was honestly the most calm you had felt since you had fallen, but also the least. You were lost in both the fear of who you had known him to be from the stories in Heaven, versus the soft sad creature who was snuggled up into you now.

As he hugged you, he too felt a weird sense of familiar comfort. The ask for the hug was party to feel that safety again, and partly to explore his feelings when he held you. It was comforting and infuriating, he still couldn’t place where he felt this from. Something felt kinda… like Heaven? But how would that make any sense? You were a sinner.

Eventually he gave up with a sigh and released the embrace, looking up at you.

“Thanks… for doing all this. It hurts, but it feels good to talk about it,” he said with a weak smile.

You smiled back at him, “Anytime, your ma-… Lucifer.”

With that you walked him to the door and said goodbye before closing the down behind him. You went over to your bed and flopped, while Lucifer teleported up to his own bed in the Apple Tower and flopped. Both of you proceeded on your own mental journey of your experiences of the last hour. Mostly unsure of what to think of it at all, but you both knew one thing. That you both were already looking forward to your next conversation.

______________________________________________________________

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[messedupfan]

Chapter 15

Summary: It's the morning after Y/n's drunken night and they have no idea where they are. Wanda recruits Agatha to help with a legal issue. And Tommy and Billy have a tournament that they are excited about.

A/n: Y'all this is almost 10k so please don't be mad at me for the slow update haha. Also, this kind of got away from me so I hope it's good? I don't know. Also, I can't believe we're at Chapter 15 and it's not even close to being done! Ugh, I have such good chapters planned too! I can't wait to write them. Anyways... Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

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You wake up, confused by your surroundings. You fear for a moment that you might've slept with someone random at the bar the night before. You don’t remember getting flirty with someone but with the way things have been you wouldn’t be surprised if you acted impulsively the night before. You groan softly as you shut your eyes. The last thing you need right now is another compilation. So you're careful as you step out of the bed, hoping you’re able to make a clean escape. 

You're filled with relief as you find yourself fully clothed as you sit on the slightly familiar bed. Is this an ex’s bed? Did you call Daisy? No, you doubt she’d have answered anyway. You are almost certain she has blocked your number by now. Then you think back to who you invited and consider that maybe this is Darcy’s home. Your head is pounding as you wrack your brain to remember where you know these soft sheets from. As you look around the room you notice pills on the nightstand and a glass of water. You take the pills and brace yourself to stand up. As you stand in the middle of the room, it clicks in your mind where you are and you can’t believe it took you so long to figure it out. Wanda. You stretch before you walk out of the room. 

As soon as you open the door, you're greeted with an inviting aroma. You follow it as if you were a cartoon character all the way down the stairs. Wanda is in the kitchen cooking French toast. “That smells amazing,” you compliment through a yawn. 

“Good morning,” she says as she hands you a cup of steaming coffee. “You gave us all quite the scare last night,” she says as she keeps her focus on the stove. She isn’t ready to look at you after what went down between the two of you last night. With how much restraint you’ve shown her in the past, she is upset that you kissed her last night. She knows that she is guilty of kissing you when she shouldn’t have but she couldn’t let go of the annoyance she feels towards you for drinking so much. You were supposed to be the stable one out of the pair of you. 

“I'm sorry,” you say with a frown. “I shouldn't have had so much to drink. I just. Things have been really weird lately. I don't really know what or how to process. I don't know. There's no excuse. I shouldn't have gotten so wasted that I don't remember last night and you shouldn't have had to take care of me.” 

Wanda places the toast on a plate as she listens to you express your guilt. “It’s okay. I'm glad Darcy called me. She and two giant guys couldn't keep you under control. It gave me a bit of an ego boost,” she smiles playfully as she takes a sip from her mug. She’s going to give you a pass because you’ve given her many. “Besides, it's not like I haven't done worse with you before. It happens. Just don't make a habit of it.” 

You nod as you remember the time Wanda got drunk with you and tried to convince you to have sex with her. At least nothing like that happened last night. You hope. “I promise, I won't,” you state as you watch her continue to cook. You find her attractive when she performs even the simplest of tasks. You wonder how you'll be able to sustain a friendship with her now that you're both single again. You pat your pockets for your phone to direct your attention to downloading a dating app before you let your heart convince you into doing something to jeopardize this friendship. 

“Are you going to tell me what it was about or do I need to mind my own business?” Wanda asks as she adds more toast to the plate. 

“I um,” you sigh as you close your phone and return it to your pocket. You look at her again and then look down into your mostly full mug. “Jean and Anna want to have a baby. With me. Except not with me. Well, they want me to help make him or her or them, they just don't want me to be the kid's parent.” 

Wanda quickly turns off the burner and looks at you with wide eyes. “What?”

You nod, “Yup and they expect me to have sex with Jean. No, wait, how did Anna put it?” You tap your chin as you try to remember. “Ah yes, they want me to fornicate with Jean for reproductive purposes only.” You scoff as you bring the mug up to your lips and take a drink.

“I can't,” Wanda shakes her head. “I don’t even know where to begin to process that,” she says as she resumes cooking the breakfast. You set the mug down and look around to make yourself useful. You start chopping the vegetables she has out so that you can busy your hands and attempt to make omelets. “Are you thinking about saying yes?” 

You sigh, “Only because I keep thinking about how much Rachel would love it. I mean.” You stop chopping and turn to lean against the counter and face Wanda. “I never talk about this but I had an older brother. I didn't get to know him because he passed away before my first birthday. But my parents would talk about him. There are pictures of the four of us in an album somewhere. And I've thought about how different my life would have been if I still had him. I wonder if my parents divorce would have been easier if I had someone by my side to go through it with me.” You cross your arms and shake your head. 

“Rachel has already gone through her parents divorce alone, Y/n,” Wanda reminds you. “Giving them a baby isn't going to change that. She's ten, she's going to be facing big changes soon and a baby isn't going to be able to help support her. In fact, I think a baby will distract from the vital issues she is bound to face. Especially when she'll need her mom's the most. I think you need to take her out of this equation.” 

You nod, “That's… well, you’re not wrong.” You scratch your cheek in thought. Trying to come up with a reason why you think you should say yes. “Jean pointed something else out to me,” you start and Wanda gives you her full attention as she stops cooking entirely. “I can have more kids whenever I want. Jean and Anna are ready to have a baby now and they don't want to have to compromise on a dream of theirs because of their inability to,” you struggle for a moment to come up with a way to end the sentence, “reproduce on their own.” 

Wanda licks her lips as she thinks. She didn’t realize that Jean had this much control over you that you would tear yourself apart in order to keep her happy. She thought the two of you had the healthiest relationship she’d ever seen of a divorced couple but now she can see how wrong she was. You cannot say no to Jean and it’s killing you at the thought of having to. It seems as though there isn’t a thing she could ask of you that you will say no to. She was the one that asked for the divorce. She wanted to keep the house you put so much care in. Wanda had only been there once when Rachel invited the boys over to play. Rachel gave her a tour of everything you’d ever fixed. Vision wouldn’t even replace the batteries in the TV remote and he was pissed that he lost the house in the divorce. You cared about that house but you gave it up without a fight. 

You once told Wanda about a car you saved up for in high school and paid for on your own but Jean convinced you to sell it, you did so without a thought. Your version of the story was that Jean had just told you that she was pregnant and that she didn’t think it was practical. There was a picture of it with you and Jean on the hood sitting on a shelf at her house. When Wanda asked if that was the same car from the story she was told. Jean laughed and claimed that she had you sell the car months before she found out she was pregnant simply because she didn’t like it. But because you are who you are, your memories were altered to believe the decision was made as a parent. That wasn't Jean's fault, it's just the way you had programmed yourself when you were young and in love. 

This, however, wasn't about a car. She'd actually prefer that you sit here and tell her about Jean asking you to buy her a car. But asking you to procreate with her this way is… Wanda can't even fathom how the two normally level headed women came to this conclusion. 

“Are you willing to sign away your parental rights? This isn't a closed adoption situation. You would have to see this child at least every Sunday for years,” she stresses the length in time to prove a point. “I think I've gotten to know you well enough that I can say, you aren't the kind of person to just help bring a kid into the world and not be part of their life.” Wanda shakes her head. 

You go back to working on the omelets as you go quiet. You didn't know what to do or say. All you know for certain at the moment is that you are hungry and that you want to have an omelet with the French toast that Wanda made. “Do you have any bacon?” You ask as you rummage around her refrigerator. “Yes, you do!” You find it before she answers. Wanda is concerned about your sudden change in attitude as she watches you move around the kitchen.  But she doesn’t say anything else. If you want to move on from the subject, she will move on from the subject.

While the two of you are sitting at the kitchen table eating in silence, Wanda is thinking of ways to help you if you do agree to help Jean have another baby. It wasn't fair to ask so much of you. What would you even get out of this? She can’t believe the couple is being so selfish. The entire time you were staying here, you were putting in a lot of overtime and it was painful to watch you come here beaten down and exhausted. And yet you smiled around the kids, you were playful and were very helpful in putting them to bed. Wanda could see it in your eyes that you were stressed but you never let it show. She thought about how dirty you came back every night. Evidence that you have to put in a lot of hard and physically demanding labor in order to provide. Something that many people have the luxury of never having to experience. Wanda thought about how grateful she would be to you if she had to depend on you that way. What she would do to show her appreciation. Meanwhile Jean and Anna are coming up with more ways for you to spend that hard earned money on anyone but you. 

As you ate your breakfast, your mind was running around in circles about the whole thing. Even though you had a week so far to think it over, you realize that focusing on work and getting drunk every night didn't make the decision easier and it definitely didn't make any of the issues disappear. You didn't want to do this but you couldn't think of a good reason not to other than you simply didn’t want to. That doesn’t seem like enough. Not when it comes to something like this. Since you couldn't think of a good argument, you felt that your hands were tied and you might as well do it for Jean. Er, for Rachel? No, Wanda is right, Rachel cannot be a factor in this decision. But it feels weird making the decision based on your ex-wife. She isn’t your wife, which means you’re not obligated to her anymore. Only Rachel. The thought is freeing as you begin to analyze your relationship with Jean. This causes you to worry you about transferring most of your paychecks to Jean instead of directly to the hospital because she said that she should be the one to manage the payments. Was she putting the money where it’s meant to go or was she doing something else with it? She wouldn’t do that. Would she? Nothing seems as clear cut as it used to. 

“Do you want a baby?” Wanda asks as the two of you take care of the dishes together. 

You shake your head, “Not right now. I've had to dip into the secret college fund I have for Rachel to pay rent this month. Not a lot but still. I’m not financially in a place to have another kid. I always thought I’d wait to even have kids when I checked all of the boxes and then well, Rachel happened.” 

“You have a college fund for Rachel?” Wanda asks as she dries the plate. You nod as you scrub a glass cup. “Why is it a secret?”

“Because, there is the one Jean and I started when Rachel was born and that one Jean is constantly using as a rainy day fund,” you state politely because she really did use it as a savings to pay for anything she didn’t want to use her money on. As you continue to wash the dishes you're starting to wonder if she even adds money in there at all at this point or if it’s only you. “The one I have kept a secret, I started after the divorce because I can't really trust Jean with money. She actually used the last attempt of the joint college fund on the DJ for her wedding last year. It was Anna’s cousin and he didn't actually need to be paid since he's in high school and the entire setup was his laptop, my bluetooth speakers, and YouTube. He didn't even have a paid plan so there were a lot of ad breaks throughout the event. The worst part of it all is that he has Spotify premium but he didn't want to use it because he didn't want his recommendations to be all, in his words ‘lesd up,’” you shake your head as you recall the sweaty sixteen-year old that vaped away your daughters college money all night. 

The more the two of you talk the more Wanda is finding reasons why you shouldn't get involved in this. Jean might say that you would have no involvement with the child but what happens when she's having a rough financial patch and she goes to the courts for child support? Wanda knew she was going to have to call Agatha as soon as she dropped you off. You clearly needed someone to intervene and Wanda has just appointed herself to be the one to do it. 

“You don't have to give me a ride home, I can pay for a ride home,” you mutter as you pull your phone out of your pocket. Wanda swipes it out of your hands. 

“Are you crazy? I've seen the medical bills you guys have to pay, you need to be saving as much as you can,” Wanda says as she puts the device in her pocket. “You can have it back when you're home.” You roll your eyes but apologize as you express your gratitude. She was being kind. You didn't need to be giving her this much attitude when she was doing nice things for you. 

The two of you chat lightly in the car ride to your apartment. You don't want to dive into the issues on your mind and Wanda doesn't want to upset you further. “Oh! Tommy and Billy have a big match coming up for their martial arts classes. They're really excited about it. Billy is more nervous than excited but he's still really into the whole thing. I've asked him if he wants to do something else but he's pretty dedicated to the sport. I'm glad he's staying committed. Besides, it'd be really unfair for Tommy to be better trained in how to beat up the poor kid more than he already does. At least this way, Billy has a chance.” 

You smile as you agree. Billy needed the martial arts classes more than Tommy did but at least they could be fighting on an even level. “Hey, what was that brand of vodka you gave me last night?” Wanda makes a face as she doesn't recall giving you any vodka last night. “Come on, I'm not going to go on another binge. It was just really good and really familiar. What was it called?” 

Wanda tries to wrack her brain for a memory of what she could have served you the night before. “I didn't, I only gave you - oh,” she smiles at you for a second and quickly returns her attention to the road ahead of her. “It was water. You wouldn't drink it so… I kind of tricked you.” 

You shake your head. “I don't know if I could trust you ever again,” you say dramatically as you turn to face the window on your side of the car. “I can't even look at you.”

“What?! I was trying to keep you alive!” 

“By lying to me?” You playfully accuse. 

“It was for your own good!” She argues. You cross your arms over your chest and pout as you slouch in your seat. 

“I'm not a child,” you say in a baby-like voice, making Wanda laugh. Her laugh breaks your act and you sit up laughing with her. It goes quiet for a bit as she gets closer to your apartment building. Then you remember the crazy work schedule you have. “Hey uh, can you help me with picking up Rachel from school this week? I'm not going to work as late as the past few weeks but I don't think I'll get out in time and I want to avoid her moms as much as I can while we figure out this whole thing.”

“You ask a lot of me,” Wanda says as a joke but you don't catch it at first so you start to stumble on an apology. “I’m kidding, of course I'll be happy to help you out with Rachel.” She doesn't mind helping with your daughter because she loves her almost as if she were her own child. Plus her boys behave better when Rachel is around. It doesn't hurt that Wanda will get to see more of you, but that’s not why she agrees. 

“Thank you,” you smile at her, grateful for her generosity. You have no idea what you would do without her. You have no idea how you’ve gotten this far in life without her. You want to express more than a simple thank you but you decide against it. Now is not the time. 

The next day you go over what you want to say to Jean and Anna on your drive to their house. You practice denying them over and over again. It goes poorly during the fake scenarios. One of the scenarios even ends with you offering to set up a date to start the process. You don't know why it's so hard for you to say no to Jean. You've done it plenty of times. You think. You can't come up with an example of when you've been able to say no and put your foot down when it concerns your ex-wife. But that doesn't mean that it hasn't happened. 

As you walk to the door you whisper the words over and over again to yourself but once Jean opens the door the word gets lost in the back of your throat. “Have you thought about it some more?” Jean asks innocently. She's giving you a look that has made you crumble and cave into anything she has asked of you over the years. 

“Um,” you start as you hold eye contact with her. Rachel has so much of her, you wonder if a new baby would look more like you or… No! You have to remind yourself that you're not doing it. You're not going to agree to this. “I have given it some consideration and I-” 

Rachel hobbles by with Anna behind carrying her school bag. She should have been able to get one of those scooters. You shake your head slowly as you take the bag from Anna. Hoping that it’s enough of an answer since Rachel is present. You watch Jean’s expression drop. “Baba! Look at all of the signatures I got at school!” Rachel says excitedly as she shows off her cast.

“Wow, look at you miss popularity,” you smile at her and she blushes as she calls you a dork. “Let's get going, sweetheart.” You walk with her to the car and Jean follows, she helps you get Rachel into the truck and once the door is shut, she asks you to reconsider. “Jean, do you know what you're asking of me? Do you really have no idea what this would do to me?” 

“This isn't about you and it isn't about me! It's something bigger than both of us!” She argues a little too loud for your liking. 

You hold your hands up as you start to walk to the driver's side of the vehicle. “I'm not going to talk to you when you're like this. I don't even recognize you right now,” you shake your head. Jean grabs your shoulder and forces you to look at her. 

“You can't say no,” she pleads, “I need you. Please. Please reconsider.” You look into her eyes and feel your throat close up. You were in love with her once upon a time. You would do anything for her. You have done everything for her. But this was too much. It’s gone too far. 

“I can't, I'm sorry. You have to find someone else,” you tell her softly. Jean lets go of your shoulder and storms off to the house. She slams the door and you enter the truck with a confused and concerned daughter. “It's nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Mom is just,” you shake your head, not really having the words. “Anyway, I'm going to work late this week so I asked Wanda to pick you up with the boys if that's okay with you.” You inform her to get her mind onto something more positive. 

Rachel lights up. Completely forgetting about her mom’s odd behaviour. “Are we staying with her again?” 

You shake your head as you start the engine. “No, no, that was a one time thing honey. She's just going to take you to her house and I'll pick you up from there. Okay?” 

Rachel frowns for a second but quickly perks up. “Okay, that will be cool.” She puts on some music and it cheers you up to hear her happy little voice singing again. 

“Wanda! Darling, how are you?” Agatha greets Wanda with a hug. “What is this big emergency?” Wanda had asked Agatha to brunch a few hours before she had to pick up the boys from their dad's. 

Her friend is a family attorney and she has seen many unique cases over the years. If there was anyone that might be able to help you, Wanda believes it will be Agatha. “It's about a friend of mine. They have been put in an interesting position and I was wondering if you could help me understand their rights.” 

Agatha looks at Wanda as she ponders her words. A waiter walks by and she stops him. “Hey there cutie, do you mind getting my friend and I here a couple of mimosas. Thank you, you are such a gem!” The young man blushes as he walks off to get the drinks. “What's the position your friend has been put in exactly?” Agatha asks Wanda, assuming that it has something to do with Wanda and she’s a bit embarrassed. 

“They've been asked to help bring a child into the world and then sign away any parental rights should they succeed in conceiving. Giving the mother sole custody and the other parent a front row seat to their childs-” 

“I'm going to stop you right there. I actually know what you're talking about,” Agatha cuts her friend off. 

“You do?” Wanda is shocked, she begins to wonder if your friends told her or worse, if Jean and Anna hired her. 

“Yes, I just didn't think it was going to be a real issue. I mean, the idea came from a shrooms trip, I wasn't exactly inclined to believe them. Oh! Thank you,” Agatha takes the mimosa from the waiter. “You are really earning your tip, sweetheart. While I have you, I'll take two omelet breakfast burritos with a side of french toast and a side cup of fruit. Wanda? What are you having?” 

Wanda is thrown off by the new information she had just received that she doesn't remember a single menu item that she had been mulling over while waiting for Agatha. “I-I suppose I'll have the same. Thank you,” she hands the waiter the menu and takes a sip from her mimosa. “So wait, they told you about this?” Wanda asks as she tries to make sense of anything. 

“You're talking about Jean and Anna right?” Wanda nods. “Then yeah, at your new years eve party, we were sharing stories about experimenting with a substance or two and they said that they had taken shrooms on their day off to help them heal or whatever and they both saw a baby that was supposed to be theirs and they were thinking of asking Y/n to help them,” Agatha explains and suddenly everything seems clearer to Wanda. Why else would they think this was a sane idea? 

“Wow,” Wanda shakes her head just as she gets into the details of what Jean and Anna actually asked of you. The food comes out before Wanda is finished explaining, interrupting her for a moment. Agatha shakes her head as she cuts into her burrito shaped eggs when her friend continues the absurd story. 

“The nerve,” she says as she stabs her fork into her food. “The amount of cases I see where people are begging for the other biological parent to give a single fuck about their children is ridiculous as it is. But never do I experience someone expecting a caring person to give that up.” Wanda agrees. She has to work so hard to keep Vision in her kids' lives. Part of her has thought about what it would be like to just stop calling him, stop dropping the boys off, but she knows that doesn't benefit the boys. Besides, he would most likely use that as a reason to take her to court or use it as a way to tarnish her reputation with mutual friends and colleagues. He's very good when it comes to working a room against those he loathes the most. 

“I don't want to believe that Y/n would agree to something like this but, I am still getting to know them. It seems like Jean is a person in their life that they can't say no to,” Wanda starts. “What legal steps do you think Y/n should take in order to protect themselves and their rights in this matter.” 

Agatha tips her head side to side as she thinks. “You're lucky I lost that bet, because if Jean and or Anna had to pay me on new years eve then I wouldn't be able to help. It would have made it a little more difficult, I should say.” She pulls one of her business cards out of its holder and hands it to Wanda. “Give this to Y/n as soon as possible and have them book an appointment immediately. I'll have to take a lot less than my normal fee but I'm willing to take the case and be their lawyer. Besides, it's a requirement that I take a few pro bono cases a year. This will help me meet my quota. Y/n just has to be vigilant and meet with me first.”

Wanda nods as she listens to every direction carefully. Agatha then changes the subject to her dating life and how she's thinking about taking a break from the dating scene. Mostly because one of her hookups turned out to be the gym teacher at the kids school. She didn't know until after an awkward encounter when Nicholas had been dropped off early without her knowledge and he recognized his gym teacher. “Poor boy is traumatized, we're both starting individual therapy this week,” Agatha concludes as she takes a sip of the tea the waiter brought out for her. 

“You're seeing a therapist?” Wanda’s mouth hangs open. 

“Close your mouth, you'll catch flies,” Agatha taps the tips of her fingers against the bottom of Wanda's chin. Wanda shuts her mouth. 

“I'm sorry, I just, I never saw you as the therapy type is all. But, no, I'm sorry that came out all… that's great!” Wanda stumbles on her words, amusing Agatha. 

“Oh please, I've been very vocal over the years about how you and Carol are the only therapy I need. But, well, now Nicholas is scarred for life and it was my actions that caused that, so I have to face the consequences,” Agatha elaborates. “We'll see how it goes, of course.” 

On Monday, Bucky and Thor check in at the start of their shifts when they arrive at the job site. They each take turns in expressing their concerns and you assure them that you are fine. You thank them and they eventually move on to do their part of the job but you can tell that they don't fully believe you. It’s not something you can dwell on when you’re working. It’s dangerous to think about anything other than work when you’re here. A distraction and a simple mistake could cost someone’s life in this industry. 

After a long shift, you drive to Wanda’s house to pick up Rachel. You’re exhausted but you mentally prepare yourself to be in Rachel’s presence. You know that she will have so much to talk about and you want to give her your undivided attention. Plus, you’re going to have to have the energy to make her dinner. When you pull up to Wanda’s driveway, you call your friend to have her send your daughter out but she invites you inside. You didn't want her to invite you to stay for dinner because she was already doing so much for you, but Wanda is pretty convincing. After some resistance, you end up in her bathroom to clean up for dinner. Washing your face and your hands to remove the dirt and grime.

Dinner starts with Tommy and Billy going on and on about the tournament that they're training for. Just as Wanda warned that they would. You hang onto their every word as they describe what they practice at the dojo. Eventually they get too excited and start talking over each other, resulting in them to start bickering with each other. 

“Hold on, boys. Please, you can go one at a time. I don't mind hearing both of your perspectives,” you say calmly to get them to focus on the subject rather than the argument of who should tell the story. The boys are so used to competing for Vision’s attention that neither considered that you’d like to hear from the both of them. Wanda watches as you get them to settle down without raising your voice or threatening them with some sort of punishment. She can't see why Jean would want to cut you out of this part of having a child. But she definitely understands why she's asking to have another child with you. Your patience is giving Wanda baby fever. 

Then you make sure that Rachel gets to talk about her day once her boys have gone on too long. You listen with the same enthusiasm that you showed her boys as Rachel goes on about how she was a warrior princess during recess even though Wanda doubts you have any interest in either of the topics. When Rachel is done speaking, you turn to Wanda. “And how was your day? I know it's tough to follow ninja training,” you gesture to the twins, “and my little warrior princess. But I’d still love to hear about it.” Your tone is soft as you speak to her. Wanda finishes her meal to occupy her mouth as she thinks of a proper response and to stop herself from blushing because of your attentiveness. 

“It was good. I got a lot of work done and then I picked up the kids,” she smiles at the three of them and messes with Billy's hair since he's the closest to her. You smile as you watch her. “We did homework and then we made dinner together. Rachel was a really big help. We were very happy to have her. Weren't we?” Wanda directs the question to her boys who nod with wide smiles. 

“I don't like salads but I think Rachel made the best one I've ever had,” Tommy compliments as he helps himself to another serving of the salad.

“Thank you,” Rachel responds shyly. “I really like the bread you made. It was my favorite part.” The meal was spaghetti with salad and cheesy garlic bread. She grabs another slice of bread to add to her plate. You watch the kids interact with a slight fear that they might develop feelings for each other in the future. For the moment, you push the thoughts away from your mind. Rachel is smarter than you and her mother, she won’t make the same mistakes. You hope. 

When the kids eventually run from the table because you warn that Rachel has ten minutes left here, that's when Wanda finally brings up the conversation she had with Agatha the day before. “I just want you to be protected if you decide to go through with it,” Wanda says as she finishes explaining. 

You stare at the card for a moment and sigh. “Thank you for this but I already told her I'm not doing it.”  

Wanda is surprised to hear that you said no. When she last saw you on Saturday, you were beating yourself up about saying yes. She wonders what changed but she doesn't question it. “Still, call Agatha and set up a meeting. Just in case. You don't want to be caught in something that you can't get out of and Agatha is a really great lawyer.” 

On Wednesday, you are spending your lunch break sitting in Agatha’s office. You tell her that you already declined Jean’s proposition but express your concern that Jean might try something in retaliation. “Interesting,” Agatha starts as she leans closer. “How so?”

You look out the large windows in her corner office and sigh. You clench your jaw as you think about the times that Jean has been denied in the past and it wasn’t ever good. “She just, she doesn’t like to be told no. I don’t know what she’ll do but she’s capable of anything. Honestly, I’m kind of scared to drop Rachel off on Sunday because she might not let me see her again until I change my answer.” 

Agtha sits up with a concerned frown. “She shouldn’t be able to do that. Unless,” she squints her eyes as she looks you up and down. “Do you have partial custody of Rachel?” 

“Yes, but it’s a little more complicated than that.” You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at Agatha like a child telling his mother that he did something bad. “At the time of our divorce I was between jobs and didn’t really have my own place to live. The judge saw me as an unfit parent that should only be allowed supervised visitations on the weekends.” You explain slowly as you go over the details from your memory. “Jean thought that was a crazy ruling but didn’t say anything in court. I think because she was broke and single at the time and wanted to be the one who received child support.” You shake your head as you remember the darkest period of your life. “We eventually worked out our own arrangement but we never updated it with the court. And honestly I forgot all about it until this stuff came up. But, gosh, I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.” You run your fingers through your hair and lift your tongue to the roof of your mouth to prevent yourself from crying. “On paper, Jean has more parental rights to Rachel than I do.” 

Agatha nods as she takes notes. “Actually, you might have more than you think,” she says. “I have looked up Jean’s address and it’s not within Rachel’s current school district. Correct?” You confirm. “But your address is, is that correct?” You confirm again and sit up straighter as you clear your throat. “Well, then that means you have documentation stating that Rachel’s permanent address is the same as your permanent address. Which could be used as evidence that you are her primary caregiver and not your ex-wife.” 

“But I’m not her primary, I mean, we both take care of her eqaually,” you respond nervously. Not wanting to start a nasty custody battle with Jean right now. 

“Listen, I know this is overwhelming. I’m not going to send a formal letter to Jean or petition the court without your say so. I’m just thinking about worst case scenario. I genuinely hope that when you drop off Rachel on Sunday that you will be able to pick her up on the following Sunday. But in the event that Jean decides to enforce her rights as the primary caregiver, then we have to be ready to present your case to a judge. Besides, for Rachel’s sake, you should have that updated soon. You’re a good parent and anyone can see how much she adores you. Do you want to have that taken from you in the blink of an eye?” Agatha poses a compelling argument and you really start to consider your options here. 

“Can I get back to you on that? I really have to get back to work,” you say instead of giving her the go ahead. You really needed to think about this some more. You worried that if you took Jean to court right now to get it formally stated that you should have equal custody of Rachel, and maybe even got your child support payments lowered, she would do everything in her power to stop you. She was so upset the last time you saw her. You’re surprised she didn’t rip Rachel out of the truck right then and there. Agatha is right, though, Jean can decide to take Rachel from you at any moment and you can’t do much to stop her. 

You consider your options the rest of the day. When you are inevitably left alone with Wanda, you talk about how the meeting went with Agatha. You tell her the information on the patio as the two of you sit and have a glass of wine together. Wanda is speechless at the end of it and she brings two fingers to her lips and blows air out when she removes them. “Are you fake smoking?” You ask as you recognize the gesture. 

“Yes, this is stressful but I'm a mom this week so I can't light a real one,” she says as she continues to pretend to smoke. I can't help but laugh at how serious she is as she speaks. I hold my hand out. 

“Do you mind if I get a hit of that?” I ask and Wanda agrees. She hands you air and you pretend to take a couple of puffs before you hand it back to her. “Whoo, you didn't tell me that was weed!” You say playfully, making Wanda smile. She shrugs in response. 

“I told you I was smoking, I didn't say what I was smoking,” she goes back to pretending to smoke. 

You look up at the night sky and sigh as you think about everything going on in your life right now. “How did everything get so messed up?” The question is rhetorical and not at all directed to Wanda and she knows that. She lets the question go unanswered for a few minutes as silence lingers between the two of you. 

“I don’t know,” Wanda looks at you with a slight frown and sad eyes. She reaches out and holds your hand. You accept the small gesture of comfort. “What do you think you're going to do?” You shake your head, not really knowing what you should do. “Do you think you can have a rational conversation with her?” You shrug, before Jean made the request you would have said yes without any doubt. Now, you're not as confident in any answer. 

“I should at least try though, right?” You ask rhetorically. Wanda shrugs, mentioning that it might not hurt. You smile. “Would you mind if I dropped Rachel off here on Saturday? So that I can have a conversation with Jean and Anna without risking Rachel's ignorance to the situation.” 

Wanda nods, “Of course! I'm sure the boys will love it. Besides, I'm probably going to be in your debt for a while since you've volunteered yourself to be the boys punching bag until their tournament is over.” 

You laugh, “You're never in my debt, Wanda. I'm happy to help the boys with any extra training. And if anyone is in debt here it's me with you. You've done so much for a stranger that you met last summer in a liquor store.” You smile fondly at the memory of seeing a woman who looked like she needed some kindness in that moment. “I don't know how to thank you enough.” 

Wanda thinks about how the two of you haven't known each other for a year and yet it feels as though you've always been in her life. She smiles, “When you put it like that, I don't know how we ever got here in the first place. I should have had you arrested.” 

“What?” You are amused by the statement. “Why would you have me arrested?”

“I was a mess that day! Then you're hitting on me? I don't know, it's kind of a red flag that you were interested in me when I was broken.” 

“Hitting on you?” You make a face. “No offense, but I was far from hitting on you that day. You looked lonely but not in the ‘I’m open for a hookup’ kind of lonely. Like the ‘I might throw myself off a bridge if someone doesn't smile at me’ kind of lonely.” 

Wanda’s jaw drops. “You're telling me that you only approached me because I looked suicidal?” 

You shrug with a nod, “Kind of.” Wanda’s grip on your hand loosens as she shakes her head but she finds the whole scenario to be a bit funny. “But hey, if we hadn't met that night, we would have met a number or times. That just happened to be our origin story.” 

Wanda closes her fingers around your hand again as she thinks about it. She was going to meet you for the first time when you came over to work on her wall. And if she hadn't met you either of those times, then it might've been because of Rachel and her boys being friends. If not then, it could've been a PTA meeting or at a school sanctioned event. She hadn't realized how connected her life is to yours until now. It feels like destiny. It feels like she was enchanted to meet you. 

On Saturday, after you dropped Rachel off with Wanda, you are standing at the front door of Jean and Anna’s house. You are working up the nerve to knock on the door. You pace back and forth making the situation bigger and bigger in your mind. 

“Y/n?” Jean’s voice startles you and you jump as you turn around. Jean and Anna both have grocery bags in their hands. You didn’t even think that they weren’t home this entire time. 

“Hey, hi, um,” you stumble on your greeting. “Here, let me get that for you.” You take the bags from Jean’s hands and she looks at you weird but she doesn’t stop you. She unlocks the front door and you follow the two women inside. 

“What brings you here?” Anna asks as she starts to pull items out of the bag, 

“Where’s Rachel? Is everything okay?” Jean asks with a concerned frown. 

You are confused by their calm demeanors. You expected the two to be upset with you. You expected Jean to be hostile towards you. “She’s fine, she with her friends. I wanted to talk to you guys about the whole baby thing. Without Rachel being nearby,” you state as you nervously rub your hands together. 

“Oh,” Jean says as she stops unpacking the reusable grocery bag. “I’m sorry about my reaction on Sunday. I’ve been so emotional lately, I don’t know why. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. Especially not with Rachel so close by.” 

“So you’re not mad that I won’t do it?” You ask with caution, not sure if you’re safe or not right now. 

Jean takes a deep breath and Anna comes up behind her to hold her. “I’m not mad at you. It was an unfair thing to ask of you. I truly apologize. I don’t know, I just thought that Rachel is such a wonderful kid and she was such a good baby that I didn’t want to risk creating some sort of little monster with someone else.” 

You smile as you think about what Rachel was like as a baby and she wasn’t easy at all. “I hate to break it to you but Rachel was a nightmare when she was a baby. She didn’t become enjoyable until she was a toddler.” Jean makes a face as she claims that’s not how she remembers it. “That’s because I let you sleep through it. But that kid had a set of lungs on her and she made sure to use them at two in the morning every night for months. Then she spit up everything we fed her, then she had the phase when she would grab her poop and fling it. I can go on and on.” Jean’s expression changes as she makes a connection from your words to a suppressed memory.

“I guess you’re right,” Jean mumbles. “I guess I just had my rose colored lenses on it all. I’m sorry.” You shrug and let her know that it’s okay. “Is that all that you wanted to talk about?” 

You bite your cheek as you wonder if you should even bring up the custody issue but decide that now is as good of a time as any. “I will admit, your reaction on Sunday did scare me. It reminded me that I don’t have as much custody over Rachel as I should and -”

“Wait, no, you do,” Jean stops you and you make a shocked expression. “Don’t you remember? There was all of this paper work that we all had to fill out when Anna was adopting Rachel. So that we have equal custody?” You crease your eyebrows as you think back to several months ago and you vaguely remember signing a bunch of legal documents. Jean walks out of Anna’s arms and over to her study. She reappears with a folder and shuffles through the documents inside. “Here it is,” she hands it to you. “Right there it states that we have an even split joint custody with no imbalance. Not like that bullshit first ruling. I think that judge was just mad that you identify as nonbinary.” You take the document and look it over and that’s when memory comes back to you. How could you forget a momentous occasion like that?

“Oh, wow, I’m sorry. I don’t know how I forgot,” you look up from the document. “I’m sorry that my mind went to the idea that you would keep Rachel from me.” You hand the document back to Jean and she puts it back into it’s folder. She hugs you and you relax in her arms. 

“It’s not your fault, I have done some questionable things in the past. I mean hell, I asked you to be a sperm donor in the most bizzare way possible. I wouldn’t have trusted me if I were you.” This causes your body to shake with laughter. “Are we okay?” Jean asks as she steps back. You nod with a relieved grin. “Good, because we are going to be in each other’s lives forever and I don’t want us to hate each other. Forever is a long time.”

“I agree,” you say softly. “I’m glad that we could resolve this too. It’s been weighing heavy on me the past couple of weeks.” You stay with Jean and Anna for an hour to catch up with them and make sure that everything between the three of you is actually resolved. Then you drive to Wanda’s house. She and the kids are playing an intense game of Mario Kart, a game you’ve been banned from because you win every time, and you don’t want to interrupt. You sit next to Wanda and laugh when you notice that she is in last place. When Tommy wins he jumps out proudly. 

“Take that! I win! I’m a winner! You’re all losers! Haha you guys suck!” He does a little dance that makes you dislike him for the moment. You know that he’s a good kid but he wasn’t a good sport when it came to competition. It was something that Wanda says that Vision encouraged. That Vision only produces winners. 

Rachel doesn’t like the excessive showboating and she stands up with a red face. “We don’t suck! You’re just a cheater!”

“Am not!” Tommy scowls at the accusation. 

“Are too!” Rachel fires back. 

You grab her around her waist and pull her to sit on your lap. “Cool off, tiger,” you say as you hold your daughter. “It’s just a game, okay?” 

“But Baba, he always wins and it’s not fair!” She pouts as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at Tommy. You look at Wanda for help but she is preoccupied with comforting Billy, he was fighting tears. So instead you start to tickle Rachel to distract her from the loss. She squeals as she tries to get out of your grasp. You let go of her and stand up after she does. 

“Bad sportsmanship has awoken the Tickle Monster!” You roar as you hold your arms up in the air and wiggle your fingers. Tommy and Billy’s eyes widen along with Rachel’s as they watch you act foolish. You stomp up to Tommy and start to tickle him until he escapes your grasp. 

“Run! It’s the Tickle Monster!” He shouts as he runs away. You grab Rachel again as she runs past you ans she screeches out as you tickle her. “No! Rachel!” Tommy says as he turns around.

“Go!” Rachel gets out between laughs. “Save yourselves!” You don’t stop tickling her until Billy and Tommy both charge for your legs. They knock you down and you releas your daughter. Tommy and Billy start tickling you back and you laugh until you can’t breathe. 

“Okay, that’s enough boys,” Wanda intervenes. You open your eyes and see that she is recording you. 

Tommy and Billy don’t stop so you have to beg them, “Boys! Boys! The Tickle Monster is dead! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” They finally stop tickling you and move away. Rachel then challenges the boys to a physical race in the backyard. You lay on the floor catching your breath as the three kids run to the backyard. 

“Thank you for that,” Wanda says as she sits on the couch. 

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure if Rachel was going to kill Tommy or if Tommy was going to kill her,” you say as you sit up and lean on your elbows. “Figure I turn myself into the enemy before we had a massacre on our hands.” Wanda laughs as she nods her head. She look out the backdoor and watches the three kids set up their little race. 

“So, how’d it go?” She asks as she turns back to you. 

“Everything has been resolved,” you state as you stand up. “It was a nice conversation, actually.”

Wanda puts her hand on her chest, “That’s amazing news. I’m so glad to hear that.” Then she makes a face as a thought crosses her mind. “Wait, when you say that it got resolved you don’t mean-” 

“No,” you shake your head, “I didn’t agree to the whole baby thing.” Wanda relaxes again and then stretches over the couch to get a better view of the kids. She doesn’t want any of them to get hurt and she is especially worried about Rachel and her bad leg. “I’m surprised she thinks she has a chance to win in that cast,” you say as you watch the kids aswell. 

“Well that’s what happens when you teach kids to believe that they can do whatever they want,” Wanda shrugs. She smiles when the boys don’t run as fast as they can and let Rachel win. She knows that they can be a little competitive at times, well Tommy more than Billy, but she still has hope that they’ll grow into kind men one day. 

After their race is over, Tommy tackles Billy, making you and Wanda run outside to break it up. Tommy gets punished because Billy got a bloody nose from the attack. While you help Billy practice for the tournament, Tommy has to do chores. He washes dishes and has to clean his room. He’s upset that he has to clean but he did feel bad for causing his brother to bleed. So he does as he is told. 

Billy’s nose doesn’t bleed for long. You examine it carefully and tap the nostrils and ask him if any of it hurts. When you can confirm that he is fine you start to ask him a ridiculous amount of times if something hurt until he started to laugh. You tell him to get his uniform on so that Wanda can get the blood stains out of his shirt and so that the two of you can practice. 

You didn’t take martial arts when you were younger but you wanted to be helpful to Wanda’s kids because she is always so helpful with your daughter. Since the day you offered to help them, you went to bed watching training videos. You were a little nervous about practicing with them but you knew how to be careful enough to not hurt them. Plus, you figured that anything you did wrong, Tommy and Billy would correct you. 

When Billy is ready, you and him stand in the middle of the backyard on the grass. Wanda is sitting on her patio with Rachel. Both of them have a glass of ice tea in front of them with a pitcher sitting in the middle of the table. They both cheer you and Billy on. The both of you bow before getting in the fighting position. You are impressed with how coordinated Billy is and you can tell that he wants to be a winner. Tommy is finished with his chores before you and Billy are done with the match and as you predicted, when you did something wrong, the boys called you out on it. Tommy ran over to show you how to properly stand and make the move. You did as he told you and then rewarded him by telling him to get dressed because he was next. 

Wanda was planning on making dinner but because she enjoyed watching you train with her boys, she ordered takeaway instead. She figured that it would be a nice treat for everyone anyway. She watches your every move, you’re not as coordinated as her boys but she is impressed by what you’ve been able to learn in the past few days. She knows that you weren’t an expert in the sport but she was touched by your dedication to help her kids. 

“Alright, time to eat!” Wanda calls out when the door bell goes off, signalling the delivery of the food. “You boys were so good,” she praises as she kisses her sons on the tops of their heads. “Go wash up so we can eat.” Rachel runs off with the boys to go wash her hands as well, leaving you and Wanda alone for the moment. You and Wanda set the table together and lay out the different types of pizza on the counter. When everything is set, Wanda surprises you with a hug. You accept it with a small laugh as you ask her what the hug is for. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re being so helpful with them,” she admits against your chest. You don’t know what to say so you just hold her for the moment. 

“Wanda, I need to wash my hands too,” you say when you’ve let go of the hug but she hasn’t.

“Fine,” she says as she steps away. You wash your hands in the kitchen sink. The kids run through and Wanda goes over the kinds of pizza’s she ordered and the kinds of drinks she has available. The each fill their plates and you help them with filling their cups. 

“Are you going to be at our tournament?” Billy asks as he adjusts his glasses on his face, they had slipped down the bridge of his nose. 

“Um,” you look at Wanda, unsure about how to answer. You figured that this might be something that Vision might go to and since Rachel isn’t in the class or even remotely interested in the activity, you couldn’t use her as an excuse. Wanda shrugs at first because she isn’t even sure if Vision will attend. He hasn’t been interested in Tommy and Billy since his daughter was born. It hurts Wanda on many levels but she knows the boys have support other than Vision. They have Pietro and Tony and their grandparents. But what helps her the most in this rough moment in her life is that her boys seek your support and validation and you give it unconditionally. She doesn’t want you to worry about not being able to attend so she decides to nod. “Yeah, of course I’ll be there. I have to support my two favorite fighters.” 

“Yes!” Both boys cheer with grins. You find it adorable that they want you there, even though you are nervous about Vision causing a scene. You just hope that nothing goes wrong.

Chapter 16

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