#this is all i wanted from winter honestly

[crappymixtape]

tangled • part one

❝ all you’ve known your entire life is in the inside of your tower – the brick walls covered in your murals skating around you in a semi-perfect circle, the view from the very top one that would take anyone’s breath away, but how could it be beautiful when you could never leave? that is, until an unexpected someone happens upon your hidden tower and offers you a chance to escape | (  3.2k, tangled AU • fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

S E T M E F R E E, O H I P R A Y 🎶 cowboy take me away, fireswimmer

You were up with the birds, awake as fingers of sunlight slipped through your window and fanned out over the quilt you’d stitched together during the winter months. Spring was coming to an end and the days were growing warmer, enough to probably not need your quilt any longer, and when you stepped out of bed onto the cobblestone floor you felt a buzz of inspiration zip through you.

Maybe it was the way the sun crept through your window or maybe it was the sound of the waterfall rushing just outside the tower, but you wanted so badly to run your fingers through the grass. Hear the way the breeze blew through the trees. Dip your toes in the water and look at the details of a petal up close and–

“Rapunzel! Let down your hair!”

Mother’s voice drifted up from the bottom of the tower and you felt your heart hammer in your chest. You’d never asked her to leave the tower before, hadn’t asked her for much honestly, but with your birthday coming up maybe she would make an exception.

Every year, on the eve of your birthday, lights would illuminate the sky. Dancing and swirling among the stars and drifting beneath the moon. Beautiful and sparkling and it happened every single year. Why? You were dying to find out. They weren’t far from the tower, surely she would entertain your request. After all, it was your birthday.

“Rapunzel! I’m not getting any younger down here!”

“Coming, Mother!” you called back and tossed your long, shiny locks up over the hook spun into the roof of the tower. They cascaded down the wall and landed in a spun pile at her feet.

Pulling and pulling and pulling, Mother ascended up to the window inch by inch until she stepped up onto the ledge and into your circular room, “Good morning, dear.”

“Morning, Mother.”

“It’s time to brush your hair dear. I saw on the way up, you’ve got twigs tangled up in the ends. Hardly a way to treat such beautiful locks, my goodness. What do you do all day? Tsk. Just another reason for me to keep you here, you can’t even manage to properly care for yourself.”

A pang of shame hit you square in the chest and you wrapped your arms around your torso, making yourself smaller. Unseen. Unheard.

“Sit,” Mother said pulling up a stool and you did as you were told, sitting on the small surface as she took the chair behind you, brush in hand. “Now sing me our song. You know how much I love it,” she demanded, not asked, and you did as you always did…

Flower, gleam and glow, Let your power shine, Make the clock reverse, Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt, Change the fates' design, Save what has been lost, Bring back what once was mine. What once was mine.

“That’s my girl,” Mother appraised, running the brush through the ends of your hair and pulling too hard at the end, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Mother…” you started, hesitant, reluctant. Should you ask? She seemed in as good a mood as ever.

“What is it?” she snapped, short. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, but something in you pushed. Please, please ask. If you don’t ask we won’t ever know. And you had to know.

“I was thinking–”

“Never a good thing,” Mother teased meanly and you bit your bottom lip between your teeth. Nerves swelling in your chest.

“I was just thinking...tomorrow is my birthday and well–well, there’s something I was hoping we might be able to do.”

Mother hummed in her throat, a sharp thing that held irritation, like you were a pest she couldn’t rid herself of. “And? Rapunzel come now, speak up!”

“And–and I was wondering if you might take me to see the lights at the castle. They’re there every year on my birthday! They can’t be stars…I’ve charted them all and I just…I want to see what they are–”

“The lights?” Mother started to laugh. “The lights? Rapunzel you must be joking.”

“No, I’m not…I’m not joking, Mother I really do want–”

“Truly, how could you think I would just take you–”

“Mother, it’s what I really want! I just want to see the lights!” you shouted, but as soon as the words left your lips you clamped your hands over your mouth. Afraid of what you’d just done.

Mother narrowed her eyes at you, lips firmed into a twisted line, angry and her patience evaporated as she took a step toward you and you shrank again.

“You will never raise your voice at me like that again, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Her voice notched up in volume as she stepped closer to you.

“And I don’t ever want to hear about those lights again, is that clear!”

She was closer still, breath heated and harsh against your cheek.

“Yes, Mother.”

Towering over you, Mother took you by the wrist and roughly pulled you up to her face so that you were inches away, the heat of her words spilling and burning and wicked, “And you will absolutely NEVER, EVER be leaving this tower! Is that clear??”

When you spoke for the final time your voice cracked, tears streaming down your cheeks, chest burning with embarrassment and shame and regret. “Yes, Mother.”

Letting go of your wrist, Mother sighed and sank back into her chair, eyes closed and fingers pinching her the bridge of her nose.

“Ugh, now I’m the bad guy.”

You sniffed, wiping your eyes hastily with the backs of your hands, trying and scrambling to regain your composure. Afraid to push her even the tiniest bit further. You wished you’d never asked, wished you kept your thoughts to yourself. The lights, your birthday, all of it. Wished you could take it all back.

Clearing your throat you sat back on your stool, curled into yourself as you peered up at Mother sitting her in chair. Impatient. Bothered. Exasperated.

“Mother…” you started tentatively, “I know what I want for my birthday now.”

“And what’s that?” she sighed.

“New paint? The kind made from the shells you once brought me.”

She fixed you with a look, the way you might regard a dog begging for scraps, “Well, now that is a long journey, Rapunzel.”

“Please? I promise not to ask about the lights again,” pressing your hands together you tried to look sorry, thankful, grateful, please.

Mother sighed again, but you held onto hope. “Oh, alright,” she conceded, standing from her chair to gather her things. Surely you couldn't do much damage over a few days. “I’ll be back in three days time. Are you sure you’ll be able to manage without me?” she asked.

You gave her a small smile, “Yes, mother. I’ll be fine.”

“You know I love you,” your mother said, a tight smile pulling at her lips.

“Yes, mother. I love you too,” you murmured.

“I’ll see you a bit, my flower!”

And with that you watched as she descended the tower, your hair in her hands sliding down, down, down to the grass below and off into the open, free, world you wanted so badly to explore, only to stand at your window while Mother disappeared into the vines draped at the edge of the meadow and into…well, unlike you, where ever she wished to go.

I SAID I WANNA TOUCH THE EARTH, I WANNA BREAK IT IN MY HANDS, I WANNA GROW SOMETHING WILD AND UNRULY.

Unbeknownst to you, the path to your freedom lay in the hands of a man just on the other side of the very vines Mother had just stepped through. Well…technically he was a man, but really more boy in the way he held himself. And carried conversation. And continually found himself in trouble because of his inflated ego, but a man nonetheless, holding your freedom.

Flynn Rider, a rogue, a thief, a ruffian. Just over six feet tall with sweeps of dark brown hair, skin like it held all of summer and the sun beneath it, eyes like burnt sugar and dotted in freckles and apparently much faster than he looked.

“RIDER!”

“Sorry, boys, gotta go!”

Flynn crashed through the line of shrubs he’d just hurled himself into and fell out the other side, scrambling to find his footing. He was probably going to regret the decision he’d just made, but that would be a problem for future Flynn Rider.

Patting the satchel at his side he peeked into make sure the contents were still intact and at the sound of thundering hooves picked his pace back up, sprinting through the woods.

It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in sight, rays of sun shining through canopy and dappling the forest floor with warm sunlight. It would have been even more beautiful if Flynn wasn’t being chased by the King’s guard, but he supposed it was the only option when you’d stolen the crown of the missing princess.

Chest heaving with the effort, he pushed his legs to go faster. Sprinting over fallen logs and thick brambles, wincing but not stopping as they pulled and slashed at the thin fabric of his tunic. He had to find cover before he ran out of breath or else he’d face the gallows.

Again.

It wasn’t that he was a bad guy. He wasn’t murderous or wanted for treason or anything. In fact, he wanted to be done with this life on the run and so he hoped this might be his ticket out. Hawk the lost princess’ tiara and hop a boat to somewhere far, far away.

His lungs started to burn as he sucked in air, sidestepping a particularly nasty blackberry bush and earning a scratch across his cheek. “Damn,” he hissed, wincing at the pinch of pain. He could hear the guards closing in behind him, the captain giving orders to his men to split up and Flynn knew his time grew short.

An arrow grazed past his ear as his slammed into a tree, the tip sinking into the bark just inches from his hands.

Too close.

“A promotion to which ever of you idiots catches, Rider!” the captain shouted and it pushed Flynn into another sprint.

Step over step over step, out of the thick stand of trees and into a wide field of wheat. The shhh shhh shhh of the grass against his trousers hissing as he stumbled once on a dirt clod and again on a molehill until the third time he wasn’t so lucky.

The toe of his boot caught on a rock dug into the dirt, sending him flying forward and over the edge of an embankment. Tumbling head over heels down, down, down and hitting the bottom with a heavy THUD!

“Sir! We’ve lost him!”

“What d’you mean you’ve lost him??”

“I–I’m not sure, sir. We–we’ve lost visual.”

“Bloody useless–if you lot can’t find him, then I’ll do it myself!!”

Groaning, Flynn pushed himself up from where he’d landed and blinked away the knock to the head he’d just earned for running through a damn field. Voices carried down the embankment and he could hear the King’s guard scuttling about back up the hill – they didn’t know where he was.

Scrambling back up onto his feet, Flynn quickly checked to make sure the tiara was still in place before frantically looking for an out. He had a moment’s cover while they tried to find him back up at the top, but surely they’d see the bent wheat stalks at some point. The bottom of the gully was more of the same, thick brush and brambles and trees and…vines? All drooping down just above the ground at the same angle and blowing just ever so in the breeze.

Brows knitted together he pushed a hand to them and stumbled forward a bit when his hand fell through them, not solid. So he pushed further still, watching as his arm disappeared further and further until he was completely concealed.

“Sir! We found something!”

Sucking in a gasp, Flynn pressed himself against the rock of the tunnel he’d just discovered and held his breath. The King’s guard tramped down the hill and trotted right past his hiding spot, their shadows dancing across the vines as they concealed him out of sight.

“He’s here somewhere, keep looking!”

The sound of hooves slowly disappeared and when quiet flooded back in, Flynn could hear the sound of a…river? A waterfall? Birds and a soft breeze across his skin…taking a few steps toward the bright light at the other end of the tunnel Flynn shielded his eyes in the crook of his arm and walked out into the most beautiful place he’d ever seen.

A waterfall cascaded down a cliff at the far edge of the little valley he’d wandered into, crashing into the rocks below and fanning out into a river that wound its way through the ground and past his feet. All manner of birds chirped and sang as they flew through the cloudless sky, landing peacefully in the trees. And there, just in the very center, a tower made of brick and cobblestones with a thatched roof, a chimney and windows all around but…no way up?

He knew he couldn’t stay idle, even if he was out of sight for now, surely the King’s guard would find him. Taking one quick loop around the tower, there was still no door in sight, so snatching the pair of daggers from the belt at his waist he stabbed one between the bricks high above his head and pulled to test his weight. When it held he found his footing and drove the second dagger in and arm over arm began to climb up to the largest window.

His biceps were burning, his shoulders on fire. There were a few times Flynn even thought he would surely fall to his death, but slowly he made it up, up, up and when he finally fell through the window gasping for breath, he prayed to whatever gods there may be that he might find a bed at the top of the bloody tower. Stealing a crown, outsmarting two idiot thugs and then running from the King’s guard was no easy feat and he could feel exhaustion in his very bones.

Heaving himself up off the cobblestone floor he loosed a heavy sigh of relief and pushed his hair from his eyes.

“Gods, finally. Alone at last.”

And then with a very loud CLANG! everything went black.

IN THE COMFORT OF YOUR ARMS, ON A PILLOW OF BLUE BONNETS, IN A BLANKET MADE OF STARS, OH, IT SOUNDS GOOD TO ME.

There was a man.

In your tower.

In your room.

AT YOUR FEET.

How he’d made it all the way to the top of the tower without the aide of your hair was beyond you, but as you peeked out at him from behind your mannequin you couldn’t help the tiny pang of guilt in your chest. Maybe you didn’t have to hit him with your frying pan, but it was too late for that now.

You’d never seen one before, only knew what Mother told you: dark, beady eyes and sharp fangs, gnarled hands to snatch you with and kidnap you away into the night.

Stepping out from your hiding place you took a tiny step forward, the smallest step, and poked him with the handle of your pan.

“HEY!” you shouted, but he didn’t move. “Oh, gods…” Did you kill him?

Another few steps and your bare toes nearly brushed his arm. Slowly extending the pan again you turned his head with the handle and nudged his lip, but in place of scary fangs were teeth. Just like yours. Bending down carefully you lifted a hand to his face and hesitated, waiting for something to happen, but his steady breaths continued to fall and his eyes remained shut.

A cut chased across his cheek, the tiniest streak of blood along with it, and your brow furrowed with worry. Did it hurt?

You ghosted your hand over his, just as normal as ever though a bit rough and maybe a little dirty, but wide and warm. Not gnarled. Not scary. You wondered at what it would feel like to hold it, yours so small and his so big.

Slowly, gently, your fingers trailed through the sweep of brown hair covering his face and brushed it aside to reveal mole dotted skin, warm and golden like summer and he’s beautiful. The most wonderful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on and you want to see more and–

“Unghh…”

CLANG!

You instantly regretted hitting him again, but what were you supposed to do? He opened his eyes and began to stir and what if he’d jumped up to grab you?

A groan escapes your lips and you rough your hands over your face, you still have a man in your tower. What to do, what to do. As you took stock of your modest surroundings there wasn't much to work with. Your mannequin, a small stove, things for baking and sewing and painting, your bed, your closet–

Your closet!

Blowing a puff of air between your lips, you bent down and grabbed hold of his feet and pulled a little. When he didn't stir you pulled again. A little more, a little further, a little further and further and straining, struggling almost dropping him, you shoved him into the wardrobe and slammed the doors shut, propping the handles closed with a chair.

“Oh! Oh! I did it!” you squealed, sweat clinging to your brow, giving a little jump of excitement. “I did it!! I’ve got a person in my closet. I’ve got a person in my closet…I’ve got a person in my closet! Mother thinks I’m too weak to handle myself, huh? Well, we’ll just see about that!”

And as you took a victory lap around the room your eyes caught something on the floor. A bag you hadn’t seen before and as it fell open, the contents inside flickered in the light as it came through the cracks in the roof.

Picking up the satchel you pulled back the flap and found something even more beautiful than the man you’d just shoved into your closet.

Gold. Purples and pinks and turquoises and glittering in the sunlight and as you carefully picked it up, you were surprised at how heavy it was. Eyes narrowing, you hold it closer to look at the intricate way the gold pieces twist around the jewels and gems, securing them in place and creating little flowers along the sides.

A smile flickers at the corners of your lips. It looks just like the pictures from your fairytale books. The kind of thing only a princess would wear. Laughing softly you step in front of your mirror and hesitantly hold it up over your head. Just for a moment. Just to see what it would look like…

Slowly, softly you lowered it and let it settle upon your head and a flash of light strikes you. A memory, bright and sharp and vivid. A spinning sun hanging overhead. The most lovely laughter, like music, like a song. A warm embrace. A lullaby.

BANG!

Sounds from the closet and you nearly fling the crown to the ground. How foolish of you to let you guard down. How could you forget? You could hear Mother scolding you, telling you how stupid you were, how you could have been kidnapped or killed.

Heart hammering against your ribs your eyes settle back on the closet as it bangs again.

Your guest was awake.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[draco-after-dark]

Feral JD au - Brozone designs and concepts

(honestly not much changes from their cannon looks. Except for Branch but that don't happen for a while.)

Bruce's nails are all different colour because he lets his kids choose pick the paint

Shark tooth necklace

Wears his wedding ring on his arm so it don't fall off

Tattoos, right arm has a sibling themed one where the 2nd dot is circled because Bruce is the second oldest. Left arm has small heart tallies, one for each of his kids

Stills wearing the bracelet Brandy made for him when they started dating. (It's yellow and purple because those are their colours!!!)

Surfing scars on his legs from when he first started learning

Has earrings but you can't see them cause HAIR

Booty shorts

Toe claws

Fluffy arms, legs and chest

Wears wristbands because carpel tunnel is a bitch, ancle bands to match with Viva. They flex the drip together

Tongue piercing

Fangs + claws

Mane hair!!! so extra fluffy

What's a hair brush??? Bed head 24/7

Got some scars from the great escape and a chip out of his right ear

Stupid sweater romper (I hate it)

What are legs, mine left

Toe claws like Bruce

Many ear piercings

Fluffy arms + fangs

Hated the white hair at first but it grows on him

Partly shaved head, he wanted a new look

bobtail, wiggle wiggle

Gets the snazzy-est and most sentimental jacket on the planet

RIP Floyd with long tail because of the incident

Pointed pupils

Fluffy legs in winter

Hands got scared up from constructing the bunker years ago

Hair still black at the roots from being grey + colours still faded

Unironically the most like John Dory

Claws + snaggle tooth

Looks like the second oldest rather then the youngest (Big L)

Hug time bracelet from his ✨Girlfriend✨

Leafy vest, patchy pants and earrings

His pupils do the pointed thing when he gets mad

Height chart??? It goes JD, Clay, Bruce, Branch and then Floyd

Tail concepts and colour things

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the very heart of me

Dorym Week, Day Two! (we aren't talking about these early EST upload times >.>) Today's work was inspired by the song prompt: "My life was a storm since I was born, how could I fear any hurricane?" ~ Francesca - Hozier

Title is from Aragorn's speech before the black gates because I couldn't help myself XD

I’ll post all my drabbles to AO3 later, but for now enjoy them here on tumblr.

(Beware minor spoilers for Episode 95)

-----

The first thing Orym noticed as he felt the snap of teleportation magic release was the bitter, biting cold. 

He thought he was used to the cold; Zephrah’s place above the clouds meant that even the longest summer days were cool and the winters could be brutal. But Zephrah had nothing on the endless expanse of blinding white he saw when he opened his eyes, the air so cold he could feel his breath become brittle before it ever left his mouth.

Suddenly glad for the layers he had bought before leaving Zadash, Orym wrapped his arms tightly across his chest and squinted across the barren landscape. In some deeply unsettling way it reminded him of the desert surface of Ruidus, only cold and pale instead of vibrant bloody red. 

Behind him he could hear the murmurs of the rest of the Hells getting their bearings. Well… some were murmuring.

“Fuck! That’s frigid!” Ashton’s voice rose above everyone else for a moment and Orym bit back a laugh. 

“I’m not sure what you expected from a snowy wasteland,” drawled Dorian, a familiar lilt to his tone that told Orym he was also holding back humor. 

“I mean. Snow. Obviously.” snapped Ashton, though there was little bite to their words. “Shit, godsdamn it… I’m sinking. Fearne can you…”

“Well, if you wanted to climb me like a tree all you had to do was…”

Orym tuned out whatever Fearne said next as a gloved hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. He looked up into Dorian’s face and felt his heart skip at the small smile he found there. Reaching up, he patted his own mittened hand against Dorian’s. The genasi’s smile widened a fraction before his gaze flicked away to take in the desolate view. Orym watched uneasily as the smile fell into a grim stoicism that was becoming more and more common with his friend.

“When Lady Keyleth said we would be heading to the ruins of Aeor I honestly expected a more visible city,” he said after a moment.

“That is because most of the city is buried,” Essek said, gliding past them to peer into the distance. He turned his head slightly to glance over his shoulder with a small twitch of his lips. “And to avoid scattering our remains across several miles of tundra wasteland I had to teleport us well outside of the crash site. As my dear partner would say: Magic does some… funny things closer to the ruins. ”

“Well that’s good to know,” muttered Dorian under his breath, quietly enough that Orym knew no one else could hear. “It’s not like every single one of us relies on magic to survive or anything.”

Orym squeezed his hand tighter. “It’s alright, Dor. We have each other’s backs if things go wrong.”

“I know. I just…” Dorian let out an explosive sigh, breath a cloud of fog in the frigid air. “It’s strange, I think. To be venturing into the ancient ruins of a city so much like my own childhood home and yet so very alien.”

“It’s alright to be worried,” Orym said. “I think we all are, especially after the last few days.”

Dorian turned to face him fully, pulling his hand away only to kneel in the snow in front of Orym, bringing their eyes level. “I’m not afraid,” he said, taking Orym’s hands in his own. “How could I fear Aeor… how could I fear anything with you by my side?”

Orym ducked his head, breaking the eye contact that made his heart flutter in his throat. “Quite easily, I’d imagine.”

“Maybe,” Dorian’s hand cupped the side of Orym’s cheek, warm through the leather of his glove. “But it won’t be so bad if we face it together.”

“Maybe not,” Orym agreed quietly, letting Dorian lift his face back into eye contact. “We’ve weathered other storms before, how is this any different?”

Eiselcross’s chill might be biting and bitter, but Dorian’s gentle smile warms Orym all the way to his toes. “Because this time I’m not leaving your side.”

[destiny-in-the-universe]

and we are back on the hyperfixation train-

seriously i cannot stop with the never-ending brainrot when it comes to randy cunningham so, if anyone is genuinely interested in seeing more rambles about this show because honestly the gears are turning lol, both due to my incoming crossover and just- things in general?

it’s late, the ideas aren’t flowing as well as i’d like right now, so in the meantime have a series of random headcanons

RC9GN Headcanons

~ Since magic is a thing in the universe, I’ve always envisioned that creatures from Japanese folklore/legends/etc coexist with humans- however they mostly appear in other plane of existence and don’t interact with mortals at all- i know this doesn’t make sense yet but it will,, when it’s not past midnight lol

~ I’m firmly convinced Plop Plop and Howard could be part of the same bloodline (Howard is 100% a descendant of Plop Plop, this is just canon lol i was there i was uhhh, howard’s shirt /lh)

~ this is practically canon but Plop Plop is?? practically immortal?? Could the same apply to the First Ninja? (because he’s now just sort of in the nomicon- like is he technically immortal bc his soul’s trapped in it so to speak)

~ ADHD Randy. Like how could he be anything but? I mean look at him

~ Julian is 100% some breed of ND, as is Howard. I make the rules this is canon now

~ Can I please just have the idea that Randy continues the mantle of being the Ninja post-grad? Like, don’t mind wipe him i’m begging- but also, consider he does forget and then something happens where it triggers his memories back- could make an au out of this but not right now,

~ There’s no way half the characters are straight lmao

~ I just watched the reveal episode and I like to think Viceroy sabotaging the robot because, well, Randy’s 14-

~ absentee parents for Randy- like. how does he get away with half the things he does? where even are his parents

~ Howard clearly has abandonment issues. I seriously need this being a thing more often-

~ caretaker Howard- to what level would the suit protect Randy?? I genuinely think Howard patches Randy up whenever he gets injured bc of literal ROBOTS

~ Randy 100% has self esteem issues?? (living in shooblivion was a perfect example of this-)

~ Heidi also has ADHD

~ Adoptive Parent First Ninja. I will not accept anything less-

~ Randy is a summer child. Howard was born in winter-

~ Game Developer Howard? I need this

~ Randy is a bit of an artist. He can already play instruments- so I say let him know how to dance, maybe not an expert but he knows his moves; also, he can sing- he does vocals in his and Howard’s band

~ not really an hc but if i don’t get more lore for the tengu i might actually go insane lol (what is the connection between the ninja and the demon bird-)

~ so. Randy, this kid- istg if this wasn’t an episodic, lighthearted kids show, he would be so traumatized. ptsd for Randy

~ Asian Randy- I’m not sure which one just yet

~ another Randy hc- I need Randy being a descendant of the Norisu 9-

~ Theresa your crush on Randy is so freaking obvious-

~ SIR, hello?? Not exactly a headcanon but I swear to everything- Randy and Debbie are a disaster waiting to happen. The identity reveal has me screaming, and honestly I wanted more; aka I need a more angsty version of the same episode istg

~ am I the only seeing Mort pseudo-adopting Randy??

~ there will be more to come but not right now- this pup is taking a slumber,, they are eepy

[forever-once-gone]

Day 3: Yoongi - You Meet Your Fated at a Coffee Shop <3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February! (lol)

Word count: 3.7k (can't keep them short for the life of me)

Content and Warnings: soulmate au, coffee shop au, gn!reader, sharing preferences, arguing, frustration, they're both a bit dense lol, but other than that nothing too terrible in this, just sweet honestly, almost throwing up, coffee snob!Yoongi, barista!Yoongi, mocha slander, terms of endearment: baby, dear, Y/n is ready to FIGHT

Author's Note: Hey! So like I know it is well past Feb, but tbh it was crazy of me to even think id have time to publish these things during midterms season. Even though I had reading week, it was just not going to happen. Even though I did manage to write some of the days, I obviously couldn't every day. And posting? Forget about it. Anyway, even if it's past Feb, would you want me to post the ones I did write? It won't be instantaneous, but I would like to share what I did write, and maybe even finish all the other days as I had already planned out what I wanted to write each day. Let me know if you're interested! Anyways, as always, enjoy! <3

Another mocha, just another mocha to fill up in the takeaway cup for another person who is trying to get through the February cold. Yoongi gets a lot of mocha requests before the winter holidays season. When so many are hyped up with Christmas cheer. Even people who do not celebrate Christmas tend to indulge in peppermint mochas when the snow hits the ground. And the trend trickled into the post holiday months every winter season. To the point when people ordered mochas even into early spring.

Yoongi, ever the coffee enthusiast, hated having to make so many mochas.

Frankly, he considered mochas just snobby chocolate milk with the smallest hint of caffeine. Like do mochas even deserve to be considered coffee-based beverages? He thought not. You could barely even taste the coffee in between the thick, tongue-coating taste of chocolate and the heaviness of way too much milk.

Everytime he had to make mochas, every single time, he’d be cursing in his head about how he would rather just be able to make his espressos, black coffees, and iced americanos. Iced americanos are the most he’d be willing to go when it comes to diffusing the taste of coffee.

Adding milk? Forget it.

Adding sugar? He’d rather just pour it down the drain than drink it.

Alas, when it comes to his job, he has to fulfill the customer’s wishes. No matter how much he hated the sugary, barely-even-coffee, more-like-milkshakes drinks, he would make the drink for them. A waste of good coffee in his books, but he needed the money that came from his overpriced caffeinated chocolate milk 

So, when it came to a coffee-novice coming into his coffee shop asking for a mocha, he would grit his teeth but make the drink nonetheless, the underline he requires to be able to pay his shop’s mortgage and keep all of his employees.

It was another one of these spring days when he’d unlocked the front doors of the café only to see someone new. Normally, only a few select people would come to his café so early in the morning, after all, most people started work at 9 or later. Only a few people would come at 5:30 when he opened. But today, there was someone new.

There was you, a person he’d never seen before standing behind his regulars. A cheery looking person, giving him a smile when he unlocked the door and opened it for the small group of people to trickle in.

He made his way behind the counter as he began his small routine with his regulars, smiling at each one of them as they gave him their orders, even though there really was no need as he had gotten each one of them memorized ages ago.

He took and prepared each order with practiced ease, until he got to the last person in line. The one who had spent the last ten minutes scanning the chalkboard menu with an analytical look.

You.

“Good morning,” you said to him with a kind smile.

“Good morning,” he replied. “What can I get started for you today?”

You wrung your hands, scanning the menu again, before looking back at him. “Can I get a large mocha?”

He scoffed. Seriously, chocolate this early in the morning? Typical from a cheery-looking person like yourself.

“What?” you asked, wondering if you’d broken some unspoken social cue. You’d seen the way he’d kindly spoken to the customers before you, making small talk, so what happened when it came to you?

“Nothing, nothing,” he waved you off, before pressing some buttons on his cash register’s screen. “That’ll be 5000 won.”

“No, no. That definitely was something. Did I say anything wrong?” You insisted, brows furrowed together in a mix of worry and a bit of indignation.

“No, not at all. It’ll be 5000 won.” He tried to force a smile, but your eyes were squinted together just as you did before when you were scanning the menu, but this time your object of interest was him.

“What? You just don’t like me or something?” You felt a bit uncomfortable, out of place in this cafe with a barista who seemed to hold a certain disdain for you from the moment you opened your mouth. But that didn’t mean you were going to back down from this entitled man. You eyed him up and down, letting him know the contempt was mutual.

He let out a small scoff, before seeming to recompose himself with customer service professionalism. “Of course not. I’m sorry if it seemed that way. Your total is 5000 won.”

You could see through his poorly reconstructed composure, but nonetheless gave him the requested money. You were already running late to your job interview, and you needed this job if you hoped to actually be able to rent a place in this city. You had already spent three weeks staying with your friend after moving here from your old city. You couldn’t stay with her forever, even if she was willing to keep you for forever if you needed it.

You stepped away from the register after he had given you your change and moved away to make your drink. You took the time to continue admiring the interior of the cafe as the barista flew around his counter space. You took in the worn furniture resembling something half between industrial and contemporary. The hanging lights and the various maps lining the walls of the place. Very hipster. Fitting for a coffee shop.

The call of: “One large mocha?” brought you back from your inspection. With a hum, you took your drink from him, feeling the drink warm your gloved hands.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, have a nice day.” And with that he was moving back to his dishes to clean up the dishes he’d used before the next customers wandered in.

You turned away from him, moving towards the door. Before you pushed open the door to brave into the cold, you flipped open the flap on the top of the to-go cup. You took a quick sip, ready for the delicious drink to coat your tongue, but instead your tastebuds were assaulted with a heinous amount of sugar. It tasted like you’d boiled a pool full of chocolate and dumped a truck full of sugar and then reduced the entire pool full over a roaring fire until only a cup of the concentrated mixture remained full of pure chocolate and sugar.

You immediately turned back on your heel. Pressing your tongue against the tip of your mouth, trying to rid it of the sweet assault. “You messed up,” you slammed the cup on the counter, seeing the barista’s shoulders jump at the loud thump.

“What’s the issue?” he asked, as he wiped off his hands on a hand towel before flipping it onto his shoulder. He leaned onto the counter with the palms of his hands, not even trying to hide his annoyance with you anymore considering the frown he sent your way.

“This is way too sweet. Like what, did you dump a whole bag of sugar into this thing?” You nudged the cup towards him. “If you didn’t like me, you could have just refused to take my order, you didn’t have to do all this!” You gestured to the cup.

“Please, I need you to calm down. I didn’t do anything to your drink. It’s just a regular mocha. Mochas are sweet, you should have known that before you ordered it for the first time.” He rolled his eyes slightly.

“First time? Oh, honey, no—I know what mochas are meant to taste like and this is not it. It’s practically the only thing I ever get!”

He scoffed yet again. Typical, he thought to himself. Never would've guessed. “Just take your drink and go, I don’t have time for this.”

“You don’t believe me do you?” You said in disbelief. You never would dare fight with someone like this, but for some reason, this one guy was just getting on your nerves. Typically, even if your order had gotten mixed up you would just swallow your disappointment and try to enjoy the drink anyway. Even if it was something bitter and boring like a plain black coffee. But the way this man had been acting from the moment you ordered has been rude and completely ruined your confidence. Not what you needed at all before trying to get this job. And for some reason, it felt like all your senses and emotions had been turned up to 100, so controlling your anger was a lot harder.

“Drink it,” you told him, holding his eye contact. “Yeah, drink it. If you can drink even one gulp without making a face, I’ll admit I was wrong and leave.”

The barista tongued his cheek for a moment, contemplating what you said. “I don’t want to. I don’t like mochas, besides, I can’t drink a customer’s drink anyway.”

“I’m just gonna take your refusal as you admitting that you fucked with my drink.”

By this point the two people left in the shop were watching the two of you fighting at the counter. A middle aged man walked up to the counter, stepping in to try and defuse the situation. “Why don't you just take a sip of it, Yoongi? Just to prove them wrong?”

“I refuse,” the barista, Yoongi, said to the man. “It’s a matter of principle at this point. I’m not drinking it. I know my abilities, and I know that that mocha would be as good as mochas get. I’m not gonna take a sip of a nasty ass mocha just cause this person wants to throw a fuss at five in the morning.”

“So you admit you fucked with it?! You admitted it’s nasty!”

“No,” he rolled his eyes at you for the umpteenth time this morning. “I just hate mochas, they taste like shit. But anyone who likes those chocolatey messes will admit mine are as good as they get. I might not like them, but I still put all my effort into making sure they taste good.”

“Just fucking drink it then! I’m not joking, this tastes like shit. Maybe something is wrong with your milk steaming machine or something—this just isn’t right!”

The middle-aged man decided to try and put the fight to an end. “Why don’t I just give it a try, huh?”

“No!” But Yoongi and you said at the same time, before turning back to each other again.

“He refuses to admit it, and he has to be the one to try it!” You crossed your arms.

“And they’re the one who is making a big situation over nothing, you should never give in to people like them.” He glared at you. Now that his patrons were getting involved, he wanted to get you out as soon as possible.

“Just try it! I swear it’s unbelievable. Just give it one sip!” You threw up your arms in frustration. “Come on, I’m not even asking for a refund or anything, I just want you to admit that you took your anger out on me for no reason. That’s all, I don’t even want an apology!”

“I don’t need to apologize! I didn’t do anything wrong! That mocha is PERFECT! I’d bet my life on it.” Yoongi was fuming now, chest heaving with frustration and annoyance. He was this close to calling the cops on you and calling it a day.

“Oh shut up with the ‘perfect’ nonsense! It’s not perfect! Just try it! This whole thing would have been over ages ago if you just gave it a try!” You pulled the cap off of the cup. “If you’re afraid it’s poisoned, I’ll take a sip of it before you drink it. See look.” 

You took a swig of the drink, nearly choking on the sugary beverage as you tried to keep the concoction from coming right back up. You gagged for a second or two, before finally straightening back up, wiping your mouth with the back of your gloved hand.

The two men around you exchanged expressions, their anger turning more to disbelief. Either you were a great actor or that drink really, really sucked.

“There, see. I didn’t tamper with it. Now, please, please just try it. Please. Don’t make me look insane. Just try it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Fine. Fucking fine. I’ll try it. But if it tastes fine, you need to leave my shop and never come back, you hear me?”

“I swear. I won’t come back, don’t plan to anyway.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at that, before grabbing the lidless cup from the counter. He held it up, hesitated, and then said, “I really don’t like mochas,” with a scrunch of his nose. He took a breath and then took the smallest sip you’ve ever seen a human being take before slamming the cup down. His hand immediately came up to cover his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed.

You couldn’t bear to hide your smug look. How was he gonna hide how terrible the drink was now? He looked like he was going to throw up. Ha! That will show him!

But then he did the weirdest thing. He took another sip. A long sip this time. Other than his furrowed brows, he didn’t choke, gag, or even dry heave for a millisecond. Just watching him drink was making you nauseous.

“Oh my god!” you yelled, snatching the cup from his hands before he could take another sip, holding it up behind you, away from him. “You’re going to give yourself diabetes if you drink that whole thing!”

Immediately he tried to reach across the counter and get it back from you. “Hey! Give that back! This makes no sense!”

“Yoongi, calm down!” The man said, pushing the barista back off of the counter that he was practically leaning his whole body onto at this point.

“Why does it taste good?!” The distress that the barista was under put even you on pause. You watched the barista scramble around, rubbing at his head as if it was aching him. Was this the effect of all the sugar?

“Hey, man, you doing alright?” You placed the cup back down on the counter, holding a hand out to him to show you meant no harm.

He just shook his head, picking up a half empty mug from behind the counter that you had seen him periodically sipping from between the preparation of yours and the others’ drinks. He took a large gulp only to immediately run to the sink, spitting the drink right into the drain.

“Why does my coffee taste so heinous?! Why does it taste like fucking bitter gasoline? Why does the mocha taste so fucking good?!” He was still hunched over the sink, the only thing you could see of him was his back a bit of his lowered head. His arm reached to grab the hand towel on his shoulder to throw it to the side.

You had no answer for him. This was all so bizarre.

“This—” the middle aged man brought both your and Yoongi’s attention to him, as he brought the cup back to his lips for another sip. When had he taken your mocha from you? Was it when Yoongi was losing his mind? 

“This tastes…” He took another sip. His brows furrowed in concentration. 

“This tastes like a regular mocha.” He put the cup back down. “I think you guys need to calm down for a moment and think about what this means.”

“What do you mean?” you asked him.

“I think you know what I mean, dear.” The man had a kind-hearted look on his face as his eyes flitted between both you and Yoongi.

“OH MY GOD.” Yoongi grabbed the edge of the counter, seeming to understand the man’s insinuation. “There is no way.”

“What? What am I missing?” The man only shook his head as Yoongi raised his head to meet your gaze. He just pushed his half empty mug to you. Inside was black coffee.

“Try it. I need to see if it’s true.”

“Um, no. I don’t like black coffee. Yuck.” You nudged the mug right back to him only for him to stop the movement halfway. 

“That’s exactly why you have to try this,” Yoongi said as calmly as he could, though you could swear he looked almost like he could faint right then and there.

“Fine,” you took the mug from him. “Just cause you did drink the mocha.”

You swirled the dark liquid in the mug, debating whether it was worth it to drink the bitter liquid. But when you looked up to see that both the man and Yoongi were watching you like scientists inspecting their latest mutant rats for their observational notes, you just took a sip only to get them to stop staring at you.

Instantly your throat was soothed as the smooth taste of the perfectly roasted coffee made its way through your mouth. You’d never drunk anything so refreshing, so calming as it warmed you up from the inside out. Even though there was no sugar or cream, you surprisingly didn’t mind it as it allowed the rich flavour of the black coffee to shine through strongly. It tasted so good.

You didn’t put down the mug until you’d finished the whole thing.

The middle aged man had a small smile on his face, while Yoongi seemed to be still in his inspector mode.

“So,” the man began. “How was it?”

You thought about it for a second. “Good. Like really good. Like surprisingly good.”

The man clapped his hands. “Well there you have it. Congrats you two.”

You shook your head for a second, scrunching your face in annoyance. “What are you talking about?”

Yoongi came around the counter, finally coming to stand beside you without anything between you two. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Easy, Yoongi. Don’t want to scare them off now do you?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the man but then nodded his head in understanding. “You don’t like black coffee right? Too bitter or something?”

You nodded. “Yeah, too bitter. I need more sugar or else I just can’t get it down.”

“And I hate mochas. They’re too sweet and you can’t even tell there is coffee in it since it's so overpowered by the sugar, chocolate, and milk.”

“Okay… What does that have to do with me though?”

“But I just liked the mocha. Not just liked, I loved the mocha. And you loved the black coffee.”

“Yeah…” You waited for him to clarify further.

He waved his arm as if urging you to think further, but when you just cocked your head to the side in confusion, he dropped his arm back down to his side. “Seriously?” he asked, exasperated. “I hated my usual coffee and loved your mocha. And you hated your usual mocha and loved my coffee.”

You nodded your head, trying to understand what he was trying to get at. Until it just clicked, your eyes widening instantly, reaching to grab his elbows. “OH MY GOD! We’re soulmates! Oh my god! We switched preferences! We’re soulmates!” You threw your arms around him, pulling him as close to you as you could through your thick winter jacket.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, his arms reciprocating your grasp.

“Oh my god! I knew I was meant to move here! I have to tell my roommate! But wait—” you pushed him out of your hold.

Yoongi let out a light groan, as he caught himself from stumbling.

You pointed a finger at him accusingly. “You hate mochas, you black coffee supremacist!”

“Seriously?” Yoongi asked you. “That’s your biggest concern now?”

“Well yeah! I mean, I don’t know if my preferences will change back, but if they do, I can’t stay with a soulmate that thinks he’s superior to me because of his coffee preferences!”

Yoongi let out a small laugh, his lips tugging into a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I will never be able to hate mochas after today.”

Even with your finger still pointed at him, you felt your lips pull into a wide smile at the hidden meaning behind his words.

You both jumped at the clearing of a throat behind the two of you. The man had made his way to the front door of the coffee shop with his order in his hand. “Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to let you know that my wife, Maria, had been recording the entire thing in case you needed to call the police.” He nodded towards the other patron who had been at the shop when you and Yoongi had started fighting who was now standing holding the door open as she waited for her husband. “Let me know if you want the video of your first meeting, I’m sure your friends and family would love to see it,” he said between kind-hearted soft laughs, before leaving hand-in-hand with Maria.

“Maybe even our future grandkids,” you teased him happily, taking a step back towards him.

Yoongi just smiled in reply, showing off his perfect teeth to you.

You felt your heart swell.

He took another step towards you, grabbing a hold of your hands by your side. “I would like that.”

You heard the door chime as a customer walked into the coffee shop before their steps halted somewhere behind you.

“Uh, is this a bad time?” The customer asked from behind you.

“Give me a second,” Yoongi replied.

“Alright,” the person cleared their throat. “Just don’t want to be late for work.”

That seemed to jolt you out of your Yoongi admiring stupor. “Shit! I have an interview!” You tightened your hold on his hands before letting go.

By the time Yoongi realized what was going on, you were already halfway out the door.

“I’m going to be so late! I’ll be back later, okay, baby?” You had pushed the door open taking a step out before turning back to him. “I am allowed to come back right? Or am I still exiled from your shop?” You asked with a smile.

“Seriously?” He laughed, shaking his head as he made his way back behind the service counter. “Maybe you’ll just have to try your luck.”

“You’re impossible.” You laughed into your hand, waving your hand at him. “When I come back, if you don’t let me in, I’ll tell all your customers that I almost threw up after drinking your mocha.” You stuck out your tongue at him as he fake gasped, before finally actually leaving the shop.

Well, there's that.

So if you didn't get it, in this case, soulmates have different ways of finding out if they're meant to be in this universe. For Yoongi and Y/n, they met and ended up switching coffee preferences (or maybe even more preferences but the only thing they noticed so far is the coffee). Even though their reactions may seem extra, when you meet your soulmate all your emotions/feelings/everything is meant to be heightened. So they had each other's preferences, but n times stronger. So that's why they loved the other's preference like it was ambrosia, but their own preferences tasted like so bad to them. Y/n found the mocha wayyyy to sweet like Yoongi would usually, and Yoongi found the black coffee wayyyyy too bitter cause Y/n likes her coffee well sweetened and with a lot of stuff to mellow the coffee flavour.

But anyway, yes they're in love.

So yeah, do let me know if you want me to post the rest of these. It will be a slow process, but I would like to do so.

Take care!!

[sunflowerjune]

❄

[nemmet]

question: how did you discover/get into scooby doo?

this is something i'm always so interested to hear, being that there are few people who don't have at least some small tie to the franchise. whether you would consider it one of your biggest current interests or it's just something nostalgic from your childhood, i'd love to know how you found scooby and what it means to you!

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

"Do you not realize it? Do you... truly not see what this means?"

The next Destiny Bond update is in progress! ❄️✨ –> Check out the latest part here 🔷 –> New to the series? Follow from the start! 💜

[timeisacephalopod]

Remember back in the day where a lot of Tumblr youths said they wanted alcohol free LGBT+ spaces like coffee shops or something to meet with other people but not be barred from entry based on age or alcohol being present? Then ace people said the same thing but with ace coffee shops and now if you say you want an alcohol free LGBT+ space on Tumblr your fuckin clowned to Christian hell and back because people are so aphobic they deadass threw out ideas THEY came up with because asexual people also liked that idea lmao. Now every time I see someone mention alcohol free LGBT+ spaces or stuff other than gay bars I ALWAYS know somewhere on that post the idea queer people may want to hang out without alcohol around or hang out not in a fucking club is some sort of Extremely Cringe Horrible Sexless (oh, a callback to the aphobia that started it all because obviously the worst thing you can be is celibate the church called they want their number back) Behavior that's Mocked and Ridiculed so we all know how Hilarious and Stupid it is to want spaces that aren't bars to hang out in. Like really, the idea that even adults might not ONLY want bars to hang out in is actually ridiculous to you? Really?

[filet-o-feelings]

I forgot getting into this bed at my parents' house is basically an Olympic sport for someone of my height.

My parents got an alarm so I'm now locked in and can't even open a window. It's hot in here and nice outside and I just want to open a window 😭

[magentagalaxies]

touched grass today!! was very delightful 10/10 recommend

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

i wish i hadn't made it into this year's play tbh

[waterbearable]

like. i don’t even think it’s better necessarily, but if the only person with actual buy-in on the hunt aside from lottie was van (i don’t really buy tai as having committed here, she’s just going along w van which i think does repeat old patterns), then why not just to subdue lottie from the start? like i GUESS it’s some attempt to suggest groupthink but as soon as lottie starts trying to pursue shauna why would you make it seem like you’re also trying to get her? like i could see at least a couple of them trying to subdue lottie, lottie+van trying to fight them off, chaos/giving into the violence ensues. idk it just does not work for me and the outcome...ehhh

(more in the tags srry but for my non-yj folks cw for mentions of ideation, overdose, addiction)

[ragazza-paradiso]

i’m so pale that you literally can’t see my stretch marks unless u shine a torch on them but u can see my veins through my chest #luminescent

[bbugyu]

😷

[hobisexually]

x