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A Summary of The OFMD Meta (Part III)

Thank you for all of the likes and comments! I’ve never really had anything noticed on tumblr and it’s very cool. And scary. Thank you!

This is part three of an incomplete summary of A Meta-Discussion Of The Subtext by meratrishoslee (Mera) on AO3 (linked to, as the author requests). I’m trying to stay impartial and keep all of the important bits in.

This chunk includes chapters sixteen through eighteen, which are an analysis of the final episode of season two. The overarching thesis of the first two chapters is, as it was in the previous part, this: “Ed’s the face, head/mind and body of Blackbeard, Izzy is Blackbeard’s heart/soul -- as well as the heart of the show itself.”

I can’t recommend not commenting on this meta on AO3 enough. Replies that aren’t completely positive will just fuel more “defending myself from the haters” chapters. If you’re inspired, maybe write your own tumblr meta with these takes as a jumping-off point? That way, there’s a chance that someone who’s willing to listen to what you say will read it.

Other posts Part I Part II

Chapter 16: The Sacred Heart (Part 5)

Episode eight opens on Ed and his girlblogger nature journey, where “we get to see the real people who are having to do the real actual labor to prop up Ed’s navel gazing. Edward does an incredibly colonizery prayer at the dinner table until [Pop-Pop] sets him straight with a smack across the face. [...] The truth comes out about Ed’s lack of skills and experience, and [Pop-Pop] goes into (what I feel is) a justified rage again. But it’s not about Ed��s lies or laziness or self-absorption. It’s again about ‘we are not simple! We’re not simple!’”

We’re not that simple doesn’t make a lot of textual sense because we need to look at the subtext. “Both the skilled labor of fishing for survival and income, as well as this entire show and specifically this episode, are not nearly as clear cut as they initially appear. Perception is NOT reality, so question the logic of what you’re being told and shown.” It’s not that simple.

Pop-Pop is subtextually telling Ed that he’s not his father -- he’s a textual good father figure (a mirror of Izzy) “trying to instruct/correct Edward while reminding him: we absolutely do not have a father/child relationship.” Ed goes into another non-apology, fucks up dinner, and “gets thrashed not simply for that but *gestures expansively at the previous three minutes of broadcast*.”

(It’s telling that Ed leaves both Stede and Izzy behind and immediately seeks out a replacement for Izzy instead of Stede.)

Ed yells that ‘it’s just a fish,’ but “it’s not just a fish -- it’s dinner, it’s livelihood, it’s disrespect, it’s dealing with this bullshit after a full day of physical labor,” and this is only “our first example in this episode of Ed minimizing a loss that he should in no way be minimizing.”

The fish is also Izzy: “here we have one loss of a creature of water dumped into the fire, as mirrored to the later, greater loss of Izzy -- a creature of water and air, who belongs on or in the ocean -- inexplicably buried in the earth.” (Don’t forget: Stede and Ed are ALSO fish.)

The next scene is Ricky at the Republic of Pirates. He’s polishing his small hidden pistol -- the one that will be so deadly later in the episode. Ricky’s uniform is tailored to make him look smaller. He’s now a mirror to Izzy: “often underrated, underacknowledged, and treated as a joke by the people around him.” His outfit details mirror Izzy’s: ” the ruffled shirt cuffs, the saber on his left side, the cravat at his throat with its own gold accent -- a pearl for purity instead of an emerald for grief. Lots of white/cream/gold in contrast to Izzy's unrelieved and unornamented black.”

At Spanish Jackie’s, Ricky makes Jackie fish his nose out from the nose jar, or “reach into a grave to retrieve something he’s lost,” and “we don’t see Jackie locate the object of her search, exhume it from the grave the jar and show it to him…”

We see Zheng Yi Sao devastated by the loss of her fleet and, she thinks, Auntie. She’s not sobbing; she’s numb, shocked, unable to so much as cry. Stede’s being an insensitive idiot. “Stede’s heard of empathizing, but has no idea how it actually works -- and has also never had a failure as awful as this one. He’s mansplaining struggle and loss to a woman of color.”

The closeup on Ed’s face as he sees what has become of the Republic of Pirates mirrors the closeup at the wedding in S2E1. “I want you to drink it in: We have been here before. We are doing it all again. You don’t have to be afraid of it; the same road just looks different in the dark.” We’re also watching Ed go into shock (Mera is “feeling a few motes of compassion here”).

“Edward doesn’t actually need the Blackbeard kit to be a warrior. He just killed two soldiers with his bare hands, [...]. But in this moment of shock and grief, Edward craves the invisible mantle of something more powerful than mere knives or guns: the image he and Izzy created between the two of them, the incredible and indestructible myth that deals death and cannot itself die. An Izzy mirror [Pop-Pop] told Edward something he could construe as ‘become Blackbeard again’ – and, alone in this instant of world-shattering shock [...], he clings to the thing he trusts the most, at the instruction” of a character who mirrors Izzy.

We see Ricky descend into a basement. He tells the jailed crew that they will be hung and their stories will be lost. “I hereby re-invoke my personal prohibition against Season 3 speculation, other than the certainty that we will see the text bear up and explain what the currently available subtext so fulsomely insists: that Izzy is alive in the last frame of this episode.”

Izzy is sitting in the middle of the room, primed to make himself the best target to protect the crew, given a position of respect on what might be the only chair. Either Izzy has had a chance to rest (he was exhausted and in pain the previous day) OR “our Sacred Heart, determined to watch over and protect everyone else in the room, has not fucking slept a wink all night. That’s two nights and a day of effort, for a disabled man (who, if you believe the HIV/AIDS coding, is also in a constant battle of autoimmune illness).”

“And now: our beautiful, hurting, self-sacrificing Sacred Heart is drawn into the dance of death -- one that, because it happens almost entirely in silences of the mind, can be and is ignored by people who only see the pretty pictures flashing in front of their eyes.”

Izzy baits Ricky so thoroughly that “Ricky will put off having them all hanged just so he can get Izzy’s full and undivided attention -- as well as keep Izzy’s family as functional hostages to Izzy’s good behavior.”

Izzy and Ricky sit down to chat. “Izzy’s defense of his loved ones is like chess, and he’s his own most useful (and yet sacrificial) game piece. Izzy does change his tactics whenever he realizes something isn’t gaining him ground -- but he’s got Ricky fairly well figured out.” Izzy knows he needs to keep Ricky occupied until Ed, Stede, and Yi Sao show up. He needs to keep him interested.

Ricky is projecting when he calls Izzy the brains of the Blackbeard operation. “He’s his own ‘brain’ with no heart. We have it proven by his plan to immediately double-cross Zheng [...]; that’s devious and clever on a level Izzy (who doesn’t even carry a pistol so that all his violent power remains connected to his body so he can control every bit of it -- and you can’t redirect a bullet or change what it’ll hit once it’s in flight) would not have gone to on his own.”

Izzy stops playing with the candle flame (recall that both he and Ed toy with flames when they’re lying). This is his ‘it’s about belonging to something’ speech.

“The Sacred Heart is level, unmoving, and intense when he delivers his raison d'être into Prince Ricky’s hearing. What response does he get, upon confessing his all? The worst possible one, unfortunately. Ricky can’t resonate with Izzy’s essential truth spoken blatantly into the text: Ricky has never once done anything in his life simply for the love of another person, much less a whole group of them.”

But it’s fine, because “Izzy is subtextually confessing, via the text, to us as the Unseen Crew. The Sacred Heart put into the text the reason for everything he’s done this season, and everything he will do before the end of the episode: not for glory, gold, public acclaim, or even the satisfaction of personal desire or the pursuit of romantic love. It’s for the crew, and the crew alone. It is utterly selfless, having let go of the ego-self. It is agape love.”

Zheng Yi Sao, Stede, and Ed are all at the beach. Ed and Stede reunite and Stede gets an actual, real apology from Ed. Stede responds to Ed’s love confession with an ‘I know,’ and maybe that’s supposed to feel a bit off. (When something feels off, look at the subtext.)

Ed and Stede run off to battle with their two battlecries: ‘Die, motherfuckers!’ ‘For love!’ And guess what? “...We will get to see someone do just that: die for love.”

“Now the center of the mirror episode, held between its textual and subtextual midpoints: Archie and Fang trying to create a literal ‘narrow escape’ by twisting fabric around the bars until they bend.”

Olu finds Auntie, “who is such a capable person that she’s already decided she’s dead and went off to a quiet spot to finish dying where it wouldn’t bother anyone else,” and calls Jim over to help her.

Why Jim? “...While Buttons bit Lucius and the wound got infected and he nearly died from sepsis -- Jim’s Nana said that they once bit a priest's finger off and the priest swore that he'd die of rabies, but he didn’t. [...] Jim’s assistance also contributed to Izzy surviving an unsurvivable amputation and healing up afterward; we can go ahead and say that Jim’s hands are canonically (and magically) healing.”

To recap: “an Izzy mirror character [Auntie] thinks they’re dead and all’s lost so they ‘bury’ themselves as best they could… and then they resurrect with a beam of holy white light. It’s possible that the addition of a dove in the scene was rejected as being ‘too on the nose.’”

Back to Izzy. Ricky calls himself the ultimate pirate, but of course “Izzy's the ultimate pirate: not because he's loud and brags and destroys things, but because every other real pirate knows him and follows his orders when he gives them.”

Izzy plays RIcky and “...we see Prince Ricky absolutely stunned and captivated by Izzy’s all-encompassing conviction.” Izzy continues: ‘Our spirit will last throughout your entire fuckin’ empire because we’re good. And you are a rancid, syphilitic cunt.’ Izzy looks on Ricky with pity and “Ricky’s damn near openly weeping, because the Sacred Heart’s speaking of the unspoken truth has always and without fail been fucking devastating.”

Why does that hurt him? “Ricky’s presenting with a ‘saddle nose’ deformity/infection due to raging untreated syphilis,” and “Izzy’s just told Prince Ricky: Jackie only took what you were probably going to eventually lose anyway, and you and I both know it.” As you can see, “...these two mirrored characters are both infected with STI’s that can cause pain and dementia, prevent safe intimacy with others, and eventually result in death.”

Chapter 17: The Sacred Heart (Part 6)

We pick up with Zheng Yi Sao, Stede, and Ed arriving on the scene a bit too late. “As the soldiers begin dying all around them, the rage on Ricky’s face is turned -- not toward our sword-wielding heroes or to Jackie’s crew who have so deftly distributed their poison -- but to the Sacred Heart, who played an immaculate game that no one else spotted until it was too late.”

Speaking of poison, there’s a Bible passage about that: ‘And these signs will follow those who believe: In My name they will cast out demons [Ed and Auntie referring to demons]; they will speak with new tongues [Buttons reading the magic scroll]; they will take up serpents [Lucius roasting snake on a stick]; and if they drink anything deadly, it will by no means hurt them [Jackie’s household is poisoned trained]; they will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover [Jim healing Auntie].’

Is this too much of a reach? Nah. “For myself… I’ve never seen we queer folk portrayed as holy in mainstream western media to such a loving, complete, and human extent before. I have never seen us be both the divine and the disciples before, so textually and overtly.”

Mera continues:

Last night the Universe gave me a quote, from an unexpected source: “Hell is not what you expect it to be.” That part, I been knew. [...]

I’m pleased to confess: ‘Jesus was not what we expected him to be!’

And that feels like it’s given that ideal back to me: Jesus doesn’t have to be conventionally pretty, conventionally young. He doesn’t have to be spotless and pure and inoffensive to the point of being bland, untouchable and unsexed, in order to represent God and reunite us with the divine power of the Universe.

He can be a small, aging, angry, bitter, disabled, leather-clad, lust-filled queer man with a filthy mouth and AIDS in his arteries -- as long as he carries God’s agape love for his chosen family.

And that means any of us can be Jesus, too -- as long as we truly love.

That’s the only part that matters. [...] It makes me better understand the Christ that bad Christians have tried to make all of us forget: the one that loves the whole world, no matter what. No exceptions, because he can love them and they need to be loved, and so he does.

I can love that Christ in return, because he’s the real one.

Auntie and Zheng Yi Sao reunite. The blocking in this scene emphasizes the mirroring of Auntie and Izzy: “Auntie [is] in the center of the shot (because she��s a badass) [with] Izzy occupying the far left frame [...]. The candle’s brilliant flame is equidistant between these two mirrored characters (as if Auntie removed Ricky from the scene only to step into his place again as Izzy’s mirror); its light shines on Izzy’s family in the space on the other side of the table that they bracket. And here, too: Izzy’s one deadly, naked hand, clenched in a loose fist on the table’s surface. The cross he always bears. The living death he cannot escape.”

Auntie’s wound is on her left side.

“But moving on: Stede says we need a plan. And… we the Unseen Crew don’t get to hear the plan but from the looks of everyone who was present, it’s probably not a totally great one.”

Closeup on Stede’s face. Cut immediately to Alex Sherman’s ass. “THIS. IS. NOT. AN. ACCIDENT. So I’m not saying that Stede’s an ass. I’m saying that the show is subtextually showing you that Stede’s an ass.”

It’s time for the “Roads To Moscow” by Al Stewart montage. Every line of this is analyzed in the meta, but let’s cut right to the end: “It jumps to the last and most tragic verse of the song, that describes how a triumphant soldier returning home is instead assumed by Russian command to be a traitor, and sent to die a horrible lonely death in the gulags and never see his home again.” During this verse, “Ricky glances down to prompt the camera to glance down from the soldier’s POV, spotting Izzy’s golden hoof behind Ricky’s boots. Ricky draws his hidden gun from his left side and shoves Izzy back from him --”

“The song’s mostly about a soldier going home after a victory against a truly evil enemy: the Nazis. However, someone (mistakenly) thinks he’s a traitor and therefore he’s sent to die alone in a gulag in the freezing cold of Siberia and never see his home again. A traitor's death. Traitors die like that. Judases die like that.”

Izzy is the one holding Ricky at knifepoint. Significantly, the hand that he’s holding his dagger with -- his right -- is initially ungloved. “Izzy’s not just threatening Ricky with the tiniest knife I’ve ever seen anyone on this show use for something that wasn’t eating a meal. Izzy is threatening Ricky into compliance with his own blood.”

They turn a corner and “Izzy’s put his glove back on – but Ricky doesn’t know this. That’s why he shoves Izzy back before taking the shot. He can’t risk getting cut with a blade also contaminated with Izzy’s blood.” Ricky could have shot Izzy then if that was his intention, but…

Ed is centered in the shot, gun drawn. “Ricky wasn’t aiming for the Sacred Heart.The traitor Edward Teach, sometimes and most famously known as Blackbeard -- traitor to the British Crown and traitor to Izzy Hands -- was his intended target. Ricky was aiming for Ed, and Izzy took the bullet meant for him.”

Izzy positioned himself as he did because “...he's done the next five or six chess moves in his head already, then planted himself without comment or drama wherever it is he needs to be in order to best respond to it.” He intentionally placed himself between the threat and his family. “He's sacrificed himself to save them, and specifically the one among them he has loved the longest: Edward.”

Mera compares this to a scene to one in the 2005 adaptation of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. In this scene, the White Witch demands that Aslan give her the traitor (Edmund). Aslan protects him.

“Here’s the important part that I do recall from the story: that there is nothing the traitor can do to save themselves, or to deserve or earn the sacrifice that is given in their stead. (So it’s not that Edward deserved to be saved or somehow deserved to live more than Izzy does.) It’s something that only Aslan, the Christ-figure, can give through his divine grace and agape love.”

In The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, two sisters see the lion Aslan tortured and sacrificed. He’s completely dead, but the following morning, he is resurrected. When one of the sisters asks how this happened, Aslan says, “...when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.”

Anyway.

The crew makes their escape. Ed finally notices that something’s wrong with Izzy; he and Frenchie help him to the ship. No one else has been injured. “No one else has blood on themselves at all except Edward. Not even Frenchie, who was closest to Izzy's wounded side.” Ed is “practically washed in Izzy’s blood.”

“No one else but Edward interacts with Izzy’s bloody clothes and body. At least half the crew that was in the boat with them now knows not to touch Izzy’s flesh or blood.”

Going off of the blood on Ed’s vest, he held Izzy and they were both brought up to the ship using the barnacle-scraping swing. Ed may have even held Izzy on the ride to the Revenge, trying to minimize the amount of blood that the rest of the crew was exposed to.

Once on the ship, Roach and Stede run off. “Why? Bandages? Sure. But also: Stede’s brown leather gauntlets from S2x05. We’ve seen he has them. If he can find them and they’re not too damaged from the rope work, Roach can help bandage Izzy up.”

Izzy weakly fights Ed off and Ed pokes at the injury; he’s worried about Ed examining the wound without the protection of gloves. “Even now, he carefully keeps his hands separate from Edward’s. If I was dying in the arms of someone I loved… oh, I’d cling to them. I’d grip their hands and I’d touch their face; I’d knot my fingers in their shirt. I would cling to them as I’d cling to life itself, for their sake if not my own. Izzy does none of this. His physical love is death, and he knows it. The last of his emotional love he can demonstrate is to still try to keep Ed safe.”

Izzy apologies, and Ed says that no, he’s sorry. Izzy says no -- not in response to what Ed said, but because Ed’s drenched with his dangerous blood.

Izzy tells Ed that he fed his darkness -- that he needed Blackbeard. “It was their partnership, a closeness not shared with any other person. It was their marriage of mind and heart. Was there a supernatural element in this intimacy? I’ll wager there was and is, even though we've not seen it in the text and it's barely hinted at in the subtext. But even if there wasn’t… it was intimacy nonetheless. They never could leave each other for long. And when they couldn’t touch each other at all, they still at least had the Blackbeard union.”

Ed tells Izzy that he can’t go, he’s his only family. “Thing is? Ed’s absolutely correct, here -- and he has no one to blame but himself. He’s figuring things out with Stede, but that’s barely hours old… this time around. He hardly got to know Fang before he was brought back from the dead; he’s only spent a few hours with him. He alienated the rest of the crew and hasn’t bothered investing in them since.”

“Thing is? Before Edward lashed out as the Kraken, the crew really did like him. He was charming. He was interesting and cool. And if he really tried again, he could win their hearts again.”

Jim is standing behind them, watching, not trying to help even though “...they did fine during the amputation that Izzy otherwise shouldn’t have survived or thrived after, and they healed Auntie enough she came back from what she thought was going to be certain death.” Someone must have told Jim the rules about touching Izzy (the HIV/AIDS victim).

Jim can’t help. “But we see Jim twitch and fidget in the front line of the crew now, their eyes filled with unshed tears, shaking their head in negation. They want to try to help, no matter what. Even if the bullet from Ricky's textual gun carries Ricky's subtextual syphilis into Izzy's bloodstream, making his blood even more dangerous.”

Izzy tells Ed that the crew loves him. Remember that Izzy’s flaw is projection. “This is the last projection, and it is half-conscious, and it is entirely a gift since it is from the Sacred Heart in the last moments of his self-sacrifice: Izzy’s last gift to Edward.”

Izzy realizes unconsciously that the crew loves him. In Mera’s words:

And he’s not ready to be able to accept their love on a personal basis. His reception of it in the form of his new unicorn leg prosthetic resulted in obligation: they gave to him, and he had to give back in order to earn it, to feel himself in any way worthy of that affection and acceptance.

What would he give?

Everything he’s ever had: his entire life, all of his heart, his very last breath.

Izzy gives it now.

Something in him does know that the crew loves him… and in his last dying seconds he knows he’s going to leave a gap in their lives. They need a protector. They need someone to love them and take care of them like he did.

And if Edward decides to, he could step right into that empty place and fill it, and become a loving heart of his own to the entire crew -- beyond simply loving Stede.

If Edward had made the decision to try… the end of this episode would be very different indeed.

‘There he is,’ Izzy tells Ed. “Not Blackbeard, if Ed’s ready to let go. He could just be Ed now. His heart told him so.”

The crew stay back for two reasons: 1) AIDS; 2) “The Christ-figure reason: they are dressed as the modern Roman empire; they are garbed in the enemy’s clothing who crucified Christ and stood around and callously watched him die. They are also prevented from approaching and interacting with his dying body as Mother Mary, Mary Magdalene, and the other disciples were all prevented from doing.”

Why aren’t they crying? Now “… the much beloved new unicorn of the crew [is] dying in front of all their eyes and no one can take his hand or hold his arm or touch his face to comfort him in any way as he dies, because it will kill them. These. People. Are. All. In. Emotional. Shock. And people who are deeply in shock often don’t cry!”

“The next scene is the burial. But we’re not there yet. There’s a timeskip where we the Unseen Crew have not seen the things that would have had to happen.” They have to return to land with Izzy’s body, “which is a beloved relic now, and also a biohazard on an incredible scale.”

Ed is covered in Izzy’s blood. Did he prepare Izzy’s body for burial? That task was once considered women’s work (we had a song about that when a man was coming back to life). Ed may also clean the deck, since he’s already covered in blood.

“Then he has to bathe his own body before anyone else can touch him, probably in the ocean so as not to contaminate Stede's tub. He’ll have to scrub clean, and scrub again, and again, and again. What’s finally safe? Does he know? Can he trust, when it’s now Stede’s life at stake? [...] (Edward might not be safe to lay in Stede’s bed, in Stede’s arms, anymore. He might never be again.)”

Why was Izzy given a simple burial by the shack? “Any other supernatural speculation aside: the simplest reason is because Ed’s not ready to let Izzy go, just as Izzy wasn’t ready to let go of Ed’s body in S2x03. Where Izzy is, Edward wants and needs to be. If he put Izzy’s body into the ocean -- the simplest and most hygienic means of burial, and appropriate for a pirate, yet one that Izzy too also rebelled against for Ed… it would separate them too far.”

At the funeral, Ed’s back in the Blackbeard leathers that used to protect him.

The burial itself is “fucky” because “the creators of OFMD have, apparently rightfully so, been concerned that they didn’t give enough previous subtextual clues to the viewers that Izzy Hands will rise out of his grave (again), this time to fully conquer HIV/AIDS and his own queer grief.”

The song is too different from the other songs in the show. It’s not semi-contemporary, and information about it is hard to track down. “What if it's the right title... but not quite the right song? What if it's text that covers up or obscures the subtext? What else comes up if you search ‘that's alright lyrics’?” You get Fleetwood Mac’s That’s Alright. “...It's not quite the correct tone for a death scene, of course. But for a long-term relationship that's about to be changed or left behind between two people who do still love each other in some way…”

Izzy’s prosthetic leg is used as the gravemarker. “It’s not going to last in any sort of weather. And for another reason: imagine that it was a taupe plastic prosthetic shaped like a naked human foot and leg and perhaps that helps you visualize why IT’S WEIRD. IT’S GROSS ON A SPIRITUAL LEVEL. YOU DO NOT DO THIS THING.”

Additionally: “They’re using IZZY’S FUCKING SWORD AS THE SPIKE FOR THE MARKER. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.” Izzy was a legendary swordsman. “You’re taking his saber and, instead of laying it to rest honorably at his side, ARE STICKING IT BLADE FIRST INTO THE DIRT ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!”

“They took his cravat and ring off and laid it over the top of the makeshift driftwood/leg cross. NO. Just... no. It [...] was so important and significant to him that he has worn every moment we’ve ever seen him except removing it one time for exercise and sweaty exertion. No, just like his sword: they didn’t lay it to rest with him, leaving it on his throat so that it goes with him into his grave. They hung it out where the elements will visibly rot it eventually.”

Why?

1) “The OFMD creative crew wants you to be reminded of Pet Sematary… and of what happens in it.” In this movie, there is a pet cemetery on land where anything buried will come back. Now the ground is “sour,” and when things come back, “they Come Back Wrong: they’re strange, overly aggressive, and most tellingly? They smell bad.”

It’s also “gross and fucky” that they’re burying Izzy in a way that, at least superficially, gives ‘pet burial,’ “visually [coding] Izzy as something like Ed's pet.”

“The other reason the cravat and its mourning ring is on the grave marker? It’s the symbol for queer grief -- not only for living under the specter of HIV/AIDS but of everyone we’ve lost to it and queer/transphobic violence since the dawn of time.”

Con O’Neill said that he wanted the stone to be set in Izzy’s ring to be emerald, in honor of his recently deceased mother. He wanted a reminder of one of the “freshest and most present griefs. [...] The most queer-coded character of the show, who is also HIV/AIDS coded, has carried around his overwhelming grief constantly with him, usually tied so tight to his throat it nearly chokes him [...]. The crew part this grief from his dead body to hang it on the cross.”

In Protestant churches, you hear about “sin or grief or some other unwanted thing being ‘nailed to the cross.’ If Izzy’s grief is now visibly left behind on Izzy’s cross, he will rise again without it.”

The crew leaves without getting to “perform any of the other socially acceptable parts of the mourning rituals that help the living internalize their loss and let go of the dead. Blackbeard’s heart has been put into the ground to keep it close to where Blackbeard’s mind is determined to wait for… whatever happens next. But it couldn’t lay in state like Edward’s own body did; unlike Ed, Izzy’s body is just as dangerous dead as alive. These people are still in deep emotional shock -- and the Sacred Heart of the show lies dead in its grave, leaving everyone feeling listless and directionless.”

Ed and Stede stand alone, touching:

That’s the strained and sad expression of a man trying to figure out how to have an honest, mature conversation with the man he loves about the fact that he might now be carrying a deadly disease and so they can’t fuck anymore, and probably shouldn’t even be touching that much.

Because look at that: Ed’s hand not on Stede’s bare skin but on his shirt over his shoulder. It may look like a caress but to me it also looks like a restraining gesture; it stops Stede from getting closer. Stede’s hand on Ed’s elbow, because Stede doesn’t Get It yet.

The curse continues: the mind of Blackbeard loves what it will lose the ability to touch. (And, once the Sacred Heart of Blackbeard and the show is dead, this is the most we see these two ever touch again.)

Ed is apathetic about going after Ricky. Why? “With Blackbeard’s heart dead, Blackbeard’s mind will soon die also. It might be a matter of hours.” Alternatively, “with Edward now infected with Izzy’s ‘curse’, he may die in a decade or so… or much sooner. Average lifespan of HIV/AIS without treatment is 8-10 years but there’s many different factors involved.”

We head to the Revenge for a rushed wedding, and “during this matelotage ceremony, Edward gives Stede a Look – definitely seeming like he’s thinking about Stede in a marriage sort of way himself. But we don’t see them kiss or even touch again. We can’t even be sure they’re holding hands or touching at all during this ceremony...”

We get one final shot of the Revenge and its crew. What’s the last we see of the ship? “The damaged unicorn figurehead, still protecting its crew.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again: I believe that every time we see a shot of that unicorn sailing with the Revenge, it means Izzy’s alive and present in the universe.”

There’s a lot to analyze in the final shot of Ed and Stede:

First off: omfg, this is a horror movie “creature about to jump out at you” camera POV. Why would we get this shot during what we’re told by everything else is supposed to be a triumphant romantic ending? What the fuck would be in the house to be looking out at our two heroes? [...]

But also… that’s Stede and Edward, our two new lovebirds… standing pretty far apart for two guys supposed to be hot for each other’s bodies and totally alone with one another. (See that long leather sleeve? That was the side best armored because that’s where Izzy stood most often. That’s what’s between Edward and Stede now.)

And look at that blocking/framing; Stede’s in the center, and it looks like that left arm of his is menaced/sliced at by the broken glass. Being alone in the center of the frame means Stede is therefore the most important thing and not their romantic partnership; Edward is shoved all the way into the right third of the frame.

And subtextually? ‘Izzy’s Revenge’ has now come between Stede and Edward. It’s keeping them separate.

Ed’s smile is “fake tight tense.”

“...Stede and Edward stranded themselves on this beach with no supplies or food or tools that we can see -- and the crew of the Revenge just… fucking… let them do that, too. Without even a sammie. (Their Heart is dead and their immense grief at that fact is not even a full day old. Have you ever had anyone very close to you die suddenly? How soon was it before you were back to anything like normal on the inside, even if you still had to fake it?)”

Ed asks Stede if he’s having second thoughts. “Ed might be (is) having second thoughts and has no idea how to begin to talk or even think about them, much less the massive horrible thing he needs to share with his lover… before he shares anything ELSE with him.” (The “horrible thing,” remember, is HIV/AIDS.)

The shack is small and shitty. “This is only 384 sq ft of floor space at best.”

Stede and Ed stand far apart. This is the closest that Ed gets to a real smile. There’s a bad smell.

“(How long was the rest of the crew back aboard the Revenge for the LuPete wedding? Could say maybe two hours or so? Long enough for something dead to grope its way back toward life (because the crew's unicorn can't rest in peace if Blackbeard's mind won't be taking up the mantle of crew's protector!), crawl out of its shallow grave, drag itself up the hill toward shelter… and not quite make it up the ramp stairs to the porch to be spotted immediately?)”

Seagull Buttons lands on the cross that marks Izzy’s grave.

Mera references The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe. “Our boy… our beautiful and much beloved boy Izzy Hands… is, I believe, under the floorboards awaiting discovery. He couldn't make it up the stairs with as weak as he was, so he crawled under the house.”

We’re here in this new reeking pit (Izzy survived his first death in this season, remember? He got over it, just like Con said) and you and I both have hold of Izzy’s warm bare hands, because we have no fear and we know that he left his living death behind him in the grave, along with the queer grief nailed to hung up on his cross.

We have hold of his hands because that’s what the lovers do to call someone back into life; Stede showed us how it works in this fairy-tale realm of OFMD.

Izzy doesn’t have lovers in the text yet. But we can be that for him, because we love him just as much as the Visible Crew does. We will sit here however long it takes.

Chapter 18: Mirror, Mirror: S2x08

“Our Flag Means Death Season 2 Episode 8 is an intense internal mirror to itself, in that most of the emotional beats and plot points of the first half of the episode are repeated in reverse order for the second half. In addition to that, TWO midpoints are made visible when examining the thirds and quarters timestamps -- that hold between them a THIRD midpoint scene that is the key to understanding the stinger after the end credits... and the episode in its entirety.”

I’m not going to go into a lot of detail here because I am not serious enough in my media analysis. Here’s the chapter if you want to read!

And here’s the super-short version:

In their initial timestamp calculation, Mera finds that, “In this textual reading, Izzy's sacrifice and death are fucking ABSENT from the major beats.” The Gentlebeard reunion kiss is at the midpoint. That couldn’t be, “so I did it again, the other way, with end credits and stinger included in the overall run time... and got something WAY different.”

The quarters: face closeups of the two halves of Blackbeard, talking about or actually becoming Blackbeard. [Closeup on Ed’s face when he thinks Stede may be dead, Izzy’s face as he talks about feeding Ed’s darkness.]

The act transitions: Izzy and Ricky in a dance of death; first Ricky appears triumphant, then Izzy.

The midpoint: Oluwande, Petra to Izzy’s Jesus throughout the last half of S2, unshrouding an Izzy mirror (Auntie) in a beam of holy light; this moment leads to Auntie being [sic] restored healed by Jim’s hands. [...]

So now we’ve discovered a textual midpoint (the Gentlebeard kiss) and a subtextual midpoint (Oluwande and Jim “resurrecting” Auntie from the dead).

Season 2 Episode 8 is an internal mirror to itself, with not one but TWO midpoints -- and a THIRD midpoint centered between them that appears irrelevant on first watching, but is actually key to the episode’s message!

The center of this entire “mirror” is “Archie and Fang trying to bend the cell bars while Olu, somewhat undressed Lucius, Wee John, and Frenchie watch.” Why? “The way out is the way through! This one otherwise apparently useless scene, centerpiece of the mirror, aims us at the stinger of the episode after the credits.”

Okay, but why is that really the center? Why is the stinger Frenchie squeezing through the cell bars? “Because it’s literally a narrow escape that happened during the episode but is only explained after the credits -- achieved by Izzy’s closest mirror this season [Frenchie]. Frenchie squeezed through a very tight spot that several others thought might be impossible to get through.

“With everything else I’ve just showed you that were mirrored events/beats in this episode… it’s highly suggestive of a possibility that there’s a second narrow escape that happened during the episode that will only be explained after the credits: in Season 3.”

There are a ton of mirrored events, but here’s the most important one: “Ed has attempted a bucolic life twice; first one failed miserably. Is that second attempt looking any more well prepared, well thought-out, or in line with his textual skillsets?”

On to the next!

#ofmd #ofmd meta #but like ofmd meta summary #izzy critical #not really but it's for that crowd tbh #this is the episode analysis that almost made me lose it #the contempt for our main characters #(ed and stede)#ed is not a traitor fight me

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hashtagloveloses · 10 months

Note

hi hashtagloveloses,

I'm a new user and saw your post about reblogs. Is there anything else I should pay attention to? Could you tell me if there is a post or guide or something I can consult on how tumblr works? I'm still getting really lost here and have trouble finding anything.

there’s actually an official staff blog with a bunch of good tips called @tips everybody should know about! but off the top of my head also:

1) make sure you have a profile photo. you don’t need a cover photo you can even just turn that off in your blog settings. this is to make sure people don’t think you’re a bot

2) have a different username here than you have other places and don’t share personal information of any kind here (huge mistake i made….). despite what some people say you do not need to share anything about ur sexuality, pronouns, diagnoses, opinions, etc. frankly if i could advise my younger self, i’d say just don’t make original posts or comments at all (if u wanna make commentary in reblog tags maybe?). use a diary or a journal instead of original posts about yourself or your opinions or comments on others’ posts. even if you delete your blog or change your username, the reblogs of things you say live on here forever.

4) reblog instead of like, and tag posts with what they’re about when you post and reblog (this is something i don’t do as much as i should bc im often on mobile and don’t feel like it and only do it for original posts). at least make sure you’re tagging for common content warnings and spoilers. don’t censor words in posts or tags if you’re trying to tag, bc that breaks people’s mute/blocklists. DO censor words/tags if you’re talking about something you don’t want to clog the tag for or attract attention to or something.

5) if you personally want to keep track of original posts, asks, and queued posts, create tags you use for each of those and on mobile manually tag with them every time you do one of those posts, and on desktop you can have an extension do it. in your blog settings you can make like your original post tag one of your “featured tags” if you want easy access, or other people to be able to see, which just means when they hit the search bar on your blog it’s suggested.

6) make sure you go to your dashboard settings and turn OFF “best things first”. i keep on the other algorithmic stuff like showing stuff based on likes as well, and i flip between the various feeds, but most of what you should be doing is following blogs that post or reblog what you like, following the TAGS of things you like, and those will appear chronologically in your regular dash “following” feed.

7) freely block, unfollow, and filter/mute people and topics. do not feel like you have any obligation to anyone. curate your experience on here.

8) turn off submissions on your blog, and turn off anon asks or even asks all together if you don’t want them. you are not obligated to answer every ask or even have an open ask box. you should also take a look at your settings for private messages and replies to set them to what you’re comfortable with.

9) how i use notifications is different than a lot of ppl bc i get a LOT of them but explore how the Activity and notifications page works to your favor, but turn off push notifs and as much as you can. followers, likes, etc, do not matter that much here if you’re not trying to build a following for art or something and you shouldn’t pay attention to it other than just for fun.

10) learn what T*RF, SW*RF, and white supremacist dogwhistles are and how to spot them bc they can still be prevalent on here and you may not realize. a lot of seemingly normal posts about feminism on here can be crypto t*rf shit so you need to learn how to spot it. (those kinds of posts spread to a lot of platforms and people don’t realize….)

11) do not get into discourse on here. of any kind. even if you’re right. some idiot will drain the life out of you arguing with you and people get weird. you’re not gonna convince people online of anything in a discourse fight most of the time and you will only come out of it drained or harassed yourself (frankly this is good advice for anywhere and sometimes even i slip up). in general even on here where engagement is not encouraged as much, every platform has engagement bait and discourse either purposely seeded to piss you off, or if it’s not on purpose it’s still pushed by algorithms.

12) for things like news, etc, this is general online advice but make sure you’re practicing basic media literacy to check how real a headline or a video or something is. what’s the source? how old is it? did they provide sources? etc

13) DO NOT REPOST ART. EITHER FROM HERE OR FROM OTHER WEBSITES. unless the artist says you can repost it (and you need to do so with credit, and look and see if they need to give permission). do not REBLOG reposted art either. you may find it in tags sometimes. do not encourage that behavior.

14) to that same end, do not post AI bullshit here. chatGPT, character AI, voiceover deepfakes, AI videos, etc. don’t do or support those in general but don’t post that shit here

15) in general, and this is something i try to tell people on EVERY platform, remember that what you see people discussing online is often a small minority of what most people think or feel. it may FEEL like everyone is talking about a certain thing, or fighting about a certain thing, but it does not represent the whole. there’s so many discourses where people are like “why do x always say y” and i’m like well they don’t. the very online segment of x often say y bc it gets engagement or bc they are very loud. (this isn’t the case for everything but it happens often for very stupid topics). this isn’t to dismiss important conversations had online by a minority of people that aren’t being discussed wider enough either - bc that also does happen. but that is often for things that are more important than like, the same movie sex scene discourse i see on twitter every 2 weeks.

16) don’t feel any obligation to your “followers”. you are not an influencer you are just here having fun, and your followers follow for the things you reblog, not for you. be FREE.

17) on desktop browser, get the XKit Rewritten extension and go wild with the settings. its a really nice tool and has a lot of good features, like the quick reblog and queue features that give you those auto tags and stuff. (also if you aren’t already using Ublock Origin extension as your adblocker on desktop, get that too).

18) if you have an iphone, apple store limits what they can show you within the app, so if you want to look at more NSFW, the mobile browser version of tumblr is quite decent. but also go to your blog settings on desktop and make sure your settings of what it is showing you on your dash include sensitive content (even if you set it to have a filter over it at first), bc it sometimes autoflags random shit as “sensitive”. also play with your dashboard filters with tags for nsfw content to your comfort - it wont remove it it’ll just put a thing over it so it doesn’t pop up in public accidentally before you click to look at it.

#ask #tumblr tips

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 1 year

Text

WIP Wednesday

Saw a post celebrating leather daddies (as we SHOULD) and immediately got reminded of my little hint at NMJ and MY being into the leather scene in my 3zun extra for my 70’s AU so. Anyway I definitely 100% needed another new wip, I was running low 💀

—//—

Lan Xichen arrives home from work to his phone ringing. He contemplates not answering — there’s a big case most of the firm has been assigned to work on, and many of his colleagues Lan Xichen has not yet had the…pleasure of working with don’t seem to have much respect for personal time like his usual team does.

The ringing stops as he’s untying his shoes, and starts again just as he’s sliding his feet into his house slippers. A little spike of worry wriggles its way under his ribs. Of course it isn’t only people from the office who have his phone number, and if it’s his family calling then to do so this late (and so insistently) would mean an emergency.

He hurries into the kitchen to answer it, the cool, heavy plastic creaking a little in his grip as he lifts it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Er-ge,” Meng Yao practically purrs on the other end and every bit of nebulous anxiety abruptly fizzles out to be replaced by something much sweeter.

“A-Yao,” Xichen replies with a tender little curl of a smile. He switches to Mandarin to continue, “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Were you working late again, gege?”

“I was. You may scold me as much as you like.”

“So forward!” A-Yao laughs, catching the innuendo just as Xichen had intended. “You want to come out tonight? We could do something about that scolding if you want, though I actually had more of a special treat in mind.”

Xichen closes his eyes and doesn’t even try to stop smiling like a fool. He knows what he should say — it’s late, it’s only Wednesday and he has work in the morning.

“What’s my treat?” he asks instead, because anything but seeing his boyfriends a day earlier than anticipated seems like unnecessary torment, and he’s trying not to punish himself either intentionally or not anymore, as per said boyfriends’ request.

“The bar’s understaffed tonight, literally no one available to cover the first shift, so Da-ge has caved to the inevitable and agreed to do it. He’s a sight to see, I promise it’ll be worth the trip.”

“You and Mingjue-ge are always worth the trip,” Xichen argues. He smiles wider to hear A-Yao laugh and turn his head to call out what he’d said to Mingjue, barely muffled by, Xichen assumes, his hand over the receiver.

There’s a bit of a scuffle and a waspish, “Go pick it up in our room, you animal!” that Xichen stifles a laugh at, easily imagining Mingjue using his bulk and much longer reach to manhandle the phone away from A-Yao.

“You suck-up,” Mingjue grumbles in his ear, the words clumsy but tinged with his amusement. (His Mandarin isn’t quite as fluid as A-Yao’s, but they all agreed it was the best way to keep Xichen’s lily-white neighbors from overhearing something dangerous should they pick up and catch them saying something private on the neighborhood party line.)

“I only speak the truth! You’re always worth seeing, gege.”

Mingjue grumbles some more under his breath, some mixture of English and the dialect that Xichen has only ever heard Mingjue and his brother use (and barely understands even when spoken clearly), before he sighs and says, “Come to the bar, A-Huan. You’ll have fun, we want to see you.”

“Alright, you’ve twisted my arm,” Xichen laughs. “I’ll be there, ge, don’t worry.”

“Good.”

Xichen’s heart stutters in his chest at the sound of a click, someone new connecting in.

“It’s just me, I picked up the other line,” A-Yao soothes, anticipating his fear with his usual ease. “So you’re coming, yes?”

Xichen exhales the fresh tension with a hum. “Mn, I’d love to. I’ll have to leave early in the morning though.”

A-Yao tuts softly, the sort of gentle disapproval that can send both Xichen and Mingjue to their knees to apologize in a heartbeat. “That still leaves us plenty of time tonight. Just get here soon.”

“Quick as I can,” Xichen promises them both, painfully earnest in a way he knows they know to expect from him now.

#the untamed fanfic #WIP Wednesday #3zun #1970’s AU #still tooting my ‘let 3zun be playful and happy together’ horn at full volume #also the bit about the party line - it’s mad #my grandma apparently used to do that - just sit on the neighborhood party phone like (one like for a cluster of houses) to catch gossip #ugh ‘line’ not like I’m not gonna retype that

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fanficapologist · 2 months

Note

Hi Blue! I read this earlier this morning but couldn’t type out a proper reply as I was at work :(( But anyway, things are now moving in Aemond’s POV! I was about to protest when he said he secured a marriage pact with the Baratheon girls then I remembered, “oh yeah, that didn’t go through”.

I liked that you included his conflicting emotions when Lucerys died. I think it’s natural for him to feel both satisfaction and dare I say slight vindication and guilt - the former because, really, Luke just got away with slashing his eye and while I don’t think taking out his eye is appropriate, I don’t think he was made to actually ruminate on his actions. Hence the smirking at the pig, just no accountability and doesn’t even feel the slightest guilt. But then again, for him to meet his end at Vhagar’s hands when he was actively retreating, not to mention Aemond’s obvious advantage in terms of his physicality and dragon, well it’s a bit cruel.

That said, I see it as human nature and it’s not always easy to paint it black or white. Which is what I love about people in general.

So we finally got to see him arrive at Harrenhal. I’m reading while cross-checking his explanation to Maera to see if he filtered anything during his time with Alys. And so far, his story checks out. So far. I mean, he was right when he said her head was on the chopping block but she mentioned “the Lady Maera” I also like to think that Aemond’s longing was so great that even if he wasn’t actively thinking about Maera, Alys was able to sense it, thus use it to her advantage. It also struck me as, Aemond misses Maera but refuses to reconnect, and so instead of talking with her even through letters, he does the less confrontational thing and keeps tabs on her. I mean, I would have done the same too, to be honest. I’m not one for confrontation 😬

So far, all I’m getting is Aemond’s not in hot water, yet. I suppose we’ll find out how Alys got him to lie with her. I also want to know how Aemond felt during that time, like did he think it was a necessary evil? Or is he the type to think “might as well enjoy it” because I remember Aegon taunting Aemond at the Council when he said he thought Aemond might have missed going back to Harrenhal. This implies that his uh, one-time affair with Alys was of so significant news that Aegon was under the impression Aemond took her as a mistress. We’ll see hahaha

Oh, question! Will the next chapter be Aemond’s POV? Or Maera’s?

Hope you enjoy the rest of the week!! ☺️

Hello doll! 🖤

Tell me about it 🤣 I’m having to go back and remember shit that I wrote months ago!

Yeah I wanted to mention about Lucerys. The way Ewan Mitchell portrayed his reaction was just *chefs kiss* as I know in post they were not sure to go with a remorseful shocked Aemond or a ruthless book!Aemond. Either way, Ewan nailed both! And I’ve said in a previous anon answer, that’s what a love about this series, it’s not as simple as good and evil, they’re all very complicated characters.

Alys be a shifty bitch 😏 and Aemond was so stubborn he didn’t even write to Maera 🤣 he was just like “yeah fuck you, I hate you now, you’re dead to me” but was still eager to hear updates from Helaena like boy what???? That is not hate, my guy!

So it’s about two more chapters till we see Alys and Aemond lying together and it’ll be…interesting to say the least 👀

In terms of chapter upload, it’s whatever one I finish first because I’m writing both at the same time (madness I know, but I’m currently hyperfixating so I’m rolling with it 🤣)

Thank you for your support as always 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine

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mymelody-sapphic · 3 months

Note

saw your response to the one anon the other day and it really rubbed me the wrong way, so i’m telling you this as a butch lesbian & hoping that you actually care since you always claim to care about butches.

first and foremost, it’s weird as hell that you’re white and you’re trying to say that butch/femme labels are usamerican or whatever because they’re not. butchfemme culture is everywhere, especially in the global south since it’s a source of safety for hyper-marginalized lesbians.

using the term as a non-lesbian literally puts butches in danger because non-lesbians have no idea how to treat butches. and if you think you do, i’m telling you you don’t and i know that based on your response the other day. additionally, i saw a post of yours where you were talking about how you support les4les (another source of safety for lesbians) so i ask you this…how are butches supposed to find other lesbians to date if so many people who aren’t lesbians call themselves femmes now? after the absolute living hell that butches have gone through both historically and currently? you’re actively making it more difficult for us to find community by co-opting our terms. it’s disingenuous to claim otherwise at best and downright lesbophobic at worst.

as i've said before i'm always willing to listen and learn and since you took the time to write your views on these i'd like to reply to everything the best way i can. just to be clear this is just for the sake of dialogue bc what i'm about to say it's not to justify or excuse myself. i also want to be honest and tell you that me being interest in learning and correcting myself when i'm wrong doesn't mean i'll just accept everything anyone that comes to my inbox or dms have to say when it comes to this type of topics where there are a thousand ways to understand and approach the subject. but since you're the second person that has expressed their discomfort with me (a bisexual white woman) referring to myself as femme i think i should actually reflect and perhaps read even more about the issue, that will be when i come to my own conclusions and decisions (which obviously may or may not be correct).

for context this anon is referring to these posts

about using butch/femme terms about les4les relationships

about the first thing you say, i think you should just re-read what I actually wrote because i talk about the terms at all times, in fact at the end i say that other languages/countries have their own words to for femme and butch.

on the other response you talk about, i don't know what exact post made you think that i don't know how to treat butches, so i don't really know what gave you this idea but i don't doubt that at all since a bisexual i can't relate completely with lesbians whether they're butches, femmes, mascs, stud or none of that in the same way that i'm unable to relate to straight women. but honestly i don't get what part of me calling out lesbophobic attitudes that bi women have and understanding and supporting les4les can possibly make that less safe for them since i'm literally out of that and it was something aimed at those bisexual and not to lesbians.

now, answering your question: i don't now. speaking from myself i always (here and irl) make clear i'm not a lesbian and use sapphic instead when i don't use bi. i say I'm femme bc i don't know another way to identify myself and express who i am and how i feel but i don't want to make anyone feel like i'm fooling them or tricking them or make taking away safety from them and I really hope none has ever felt like that because of me. again, being butch/femme/masc/etc is not just for dating scenarios is also about self-identity i understand what you mean and where you're coming from and I guess i might be overstepping bc as a bisexual we're always in middle grounds when it comes to these things and what we can also claim. we're queer but we can also get the straight experience depending on who we are dating and the circles we are in the same way some lgbt people reject their community and adjust to a more normative life style. i'm mostly surrounded by queer people, to be more specific lesbians and is where i feel the safest and since they don't feel safe/comfortable with me saying i'm femme i thought i wasn't doing something that my be wrong but they don't speak for the whole community so I would like to hear other lesbians, other butches and others femmes about this.

lastly , i would like to say that although you may be right in some of the things you've said, i don't think it's fair some of the assumptions you've made based on literally the only 4 posts i've made that aren't about how i want to get railed bc it's not just that you have no idea who i am, my context, my relationship with the queer community or my relationships in general, it's that this is not even an account where i talk about this stuff making statements, i have simply reacted to post that have reminded me my own experiences or to very specific messages that people have sent me. but I also think you have the option to unfollow me or block me bc if you don't agree and everything I say doesn't sit right with you, even though i appreciate you taking your time to explain your views on everything.

#𐙚 𝆬 lia answers #no more discourse for me i guess #i literally don't know if anything i've said makes sense #again i'm doing my best talking about topics in a second language that i don't usually use to talk about complex stuff

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ironwoodprotectionsquad · 2 years

Text

I have....thoughts and questions about this post. First question is, how is the statement “Eh it’s not a black and white situation.” hateful in any way? Given the reply above this person definitely had the right to give a longer response and rebut some of the nonsense in it but this person just politely disagrees and leaves it at that. But somehow that is “harassment” and “hate” and it’s misogynist to simply disagree and think a situation is far more complicated then presented. And the issue is, the situation is very complicated and not so black and white. You’re the one insisting its misogyny to not like a female character rather then accept the MALE writers of the show can’t write female characters well.

Their is also just so much wrong in the reply from Reddit I don’t even know where to begin. First off how do they come to the conclusion that Robyn only started STEALING from James after the election? Nevermind the fact that they tried to pretend it wasn’t as bad as it was by using the word relieved instead of stealing, why else would Ruby, Penny, Clover and Qrow be on the trucks unless people where stealing the supplies. ALSO Robyn’s people where trying to sneak behind the truck while Robyn distracted everyone to STEAL THE SUPPLIES they only stop because Penny catches them and orders them to stop. She no, Robyn wasn’t just trying to figure out what was happening to the supplies, she was going to steal them BEFORE the election. And I hope they realize Robyn losing what for all intents and purposes appeared to be a fair election and deciding the proper response is to steal from the government isn’t good either right? Robyn also doesn’t just steal supplies, she steals them and then also gets supplies to stop even selling James anything to make up for the stolen goods which becomes all the more ridiculous because she says they have to stop selling to James until he repairs the city....how exactly does anyone expect him to repair anything if they cannot purchase any supplies to do so? Had things not happened the way they did a few weeks later Robyn would be screeching about how James is still refusing to repair the city despite her purposefully blocking him from getting any supplies.

Also gotta love how this user decided that exploding the mine was the game plan to launch the mines all along ignoring the fact that Amity wasn’t finished yet. And actually yes, a few truckloads COULD prevent the tower from being completed because the trucks are GOING to Amity because they are NEEDED to actually complete the damn thing. They wouldn’t bother sending it to the tower if it wasn’t needed for some reason. Even ONE truckload of stolen goods could delay the project for however long it took to replace said supplies depending on what is going on and by after election when no one is willing to sell anything anymore? She did stall the tower and cause it to be delayed in being complete. That is ENTIRELY Robyn’s fault for stealing supplies and then causing everyone to refuse to sell James anything further.

Talking about how poorly Robyn was written and how she was actively harming Atlas and Mantel with her actions is not Misogyny. It is not Misogyny in fact for a female to screw up. Robyn screwing up and causing harm because she didn’t know she was causing harm is an interesting scenario to explore. It could have been used to further the theme of trust and how important it is and could have been how RWBY realizes that James is making the mistakes he is because he just doesn’t know what he is doing is a bad idea. Instead of the cringe line about James “FiNaLlY” telling the truth being how he “Earned” the right to know the truth, despite them throwing the mother of all fits when they found out Ozpin lied by omission, have them realize how even though trust is hard and scary they need to trust so they can build a plan on how to defeat Salem together and united. Instead we get a cringy “Moral” that falls flate because of the mains former actions. James wasn’t “finally” telling the truth, he had been all along to the people he felt he safely could tell until Atlas was in a state that could handle the inevitable floor of grimm and fear that came along with the news.

The original comment was not hatefull or misogynist, it was an opinion from someone with critical thinking skills who watched the show and formed their own opinion. People can dislike female characters, they can think female characters are terrible people, or are assholes, or should not have been in the story. They can loath a female character with every fiber of their being and not by a misogynist because we are all human beings with emotions and thoughts and feelings and no person can be liked by every single person because people are different and that is okay. This poster wants woman to be help up on a pedestal which is actually extremely harmful.

#RWDE #Anti Robyn Hill #Robyn Hill Critical #Pro Ironwood #Pro James Ironwood #James Ironwood #General Ironwood #General Dadmiral #Dadmiral Ironwood

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70eeznutz · 2 years

Text

i’m gonna make a better intro/pinned post bc fuck it

i interact from @evervirescent, i also run a dragonvale blog @the-obsidian-equinox

about me

pronoun page

you can call me Virescent or Hades

neither are my legal name, Hades is a nickname someone gave me a long time ago bc it sounds similar to my legal name and i realized it works well online

genderfluid she/he/they

(i often get confused if someone switches between different pronouns really fast when referring to the same person if multiple people are being mentioned. also i’m afab so i’m most used to she/her but i really have no preference. i don’t mind if you only use one pronoun for me, especially if that makes it easier for you)

adult (born in 2004)

pacific time zone (california)

white & grew up upper middle class with good parents, so please educate me if there’s something i wouldn’t understand!

autistic

mentally ill, but no personality or psychotic disorders

i do have a few triggers but they’re very specific

as an attempt survivor, i have no tolerance for telling someone to take their own life. it doesn’t matter how universally hated that person might be. if i see someone do this, i will block and report them, unless i can clearly tell it’s a joke. i would also prefer if people don’t make those jokes around me unless i’ve given the okay.

blog content

in theory i can write and draw but i almost never make fan content for anxiety reasons IM DOING IT GUYS!! IM GODDAMN DOING IT!!

i usually just post memes or talk about xfohv and algebralians a normal amount

i might talk or reblog about other object shows too. occasionally.

i try to tag things that may be uncomfortable or triggering but i do not do a perfect job. if you need me to tag something please leave a reply to the post in question

sometimes I misspell words or use slang and abbreviations that likely won’t work in a translator, so if you would like me to write something in a way that’s easier to translate, just let me know!

i don’t kin or simp for any characters but i can project onto them really really hard

my favorite posts will be tagged with #pinned to the fridge

my favorite ships are sevensix, 4X, nineflop, and three x five

i also love queerplatonic eight x ten

if you want to know the exact details of everything i ship and in what ways you can go to #xfohv ship chart but be warned as i use homestuck concepts

you can repost my memes just don’t claim they’re yours (i actually get excited when i see smth i made somewhere else)

on the topic of discourse/etc (don’t worry!)

i try my best to keep an open mind and see from the perspective of all sides of various topics

i will not disclose my stance on any topics because i want to keep my blog discourse free, and i also want to interact with people of different opinions so i can privately learn and understand everyone better. this does still mean i have sides i agree and disagree with, but these aren’t set in stone and aren’t relevant right now.

i believe no one actually wants to be the bad guy and most people are only trying to help, so we should all work together to find out how to help as many people as we can. we should discuss instead of argue, and mutually work toward fully understanding these topics

i will still block people who go out of their way to harass or attack others ESPECIALLY if they encourage harm on anyone

needless to say, i have no DNI, but you still might not want to follow me if you’re not comfortable with the above information. i don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable here.

this post may be updated in the future if i think of something i want to add but for now that’s it

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andrewmoocow · 2 years

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Little Homeworld Life chapter 13: Snowfall Feast (originally posted on November 7, 2022)

AN: And now, for our big finish to the season! It may not be Christmastime yet, but that doesn't stop stores everywhere from blasting Mariah Carey once Halloween ends. Anyways, what better way to celebrate the season with giving than to give a parody of How The Grinch Stole Christmas to quite possibly the sourest character in all of Little Homeworld? Yeah, much like Halloween, or Samhain Night, Black Rutile doesn't see the point of my stand-in for Christmas, but in this case, since her time in Little Homeworld has been so miserable, why not make everyone else miserable for once? Yeah, she's officially devolved into cartoon supervillainy at this point, but she's desperate to get a victory in, okay? And as for the Crystal Gems, we once again have some family drama to sort out, but it's not related to Steven this time. No, this time it's about Greg and his parents from "Mister Universe!" How can they work things out in time for the holidays? Tune in and find out!

Synopsis: On the most merry holiday of the year, Black Rutile tries to spoil the festivities for everyone. Meanwhile, Greg reunites with his estranged family.

Cast:

Noël Wells as Black Rutile

Tom Scharpling as Greg

Zach Callison as Steven

Lauren Ash as White Topaz

Kimberly Brooks as Jasper, Shy Rose

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst, Tiger's Eye

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl, Volleyball

Shelby Rabara as Peridot

Jennifer Paz as Lapis

Uzo Aduba as Bismuth

David Willis as Andy

Maurice LaMarche as Thomas DeMayo

Laura Post as Gloria DeMayo

Kristin Chenoweth as Sheena Synstylae

Della Saba as Aquamarine

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

Charlyne Yi as Eyeball, Ruby

Erica Luttrell as Sapphire

Casey Lee Williams as Cat's Eye

Amy Sedaris as Teal Zircon

Dee Bradley Baker as Lion

Featuring Bill Farmer as Santa Claus

And Matthew Rhys as The Narrator/Dr. James Brenner

Ah, Snowfall Feast. It's the most wonderful, merriest time of the year. Fun for all that everyone, human and Gem alike, calls their favorite holiday. Yes, everyone loved Snowfall Feast a lot. However, the ever-unabashedly unpleasant Black Rutile did not. She just hated Snowfall Feast, the whole holiday season. But why do you ask is her reason?

"I just don't see the point of it all!" Black Rutile complained. "It's absolutely abhorrent! Why should everyone be merry when my time here has been nothing but pain?!" Throwing on a white scarf, Black Rutile stormed outside her house to continue fuming, as she watched all the Gems decorate their homes with typically festive decorations. "Like, I have suffered nothing but setback after setback, failure after failure! And instead of just shattering me on the spot, they subject me to a fate worse than harvesting!"

"Hey, Black Rutile, happy Snowfall Feast!" Tiger's Eye exclaimed while giving her a Santa hat to wear. "You like it? I made it myself!"

"Thank you; I am very touched." Black Rutile growled as she marched away from Tiger's Eye. "Like, why do the denizens of this disgusting planet choose now of all times to actually play nice with each other when they just go back to bullying each other for the rest of the year?"

"Something troubling you, my Rutile?" Aquamarine asked as she flew down to perch on Black Rutile's shoulder. "You don't seem to be in a merry mood."

"Gee, I wonder what tipped you off?" Black Rutile dryly replied as she sat down on a snow-covered bench. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Just helping with the decorations." Aquamarine responded. "How about you?"

"Too busy working on the Vortexxer to get into this silly spirit." Black Rutile proclaimed. "Like I said, why do people choose now of all times to be nice to each other when no one here has been nice to me?"

"Maybe it's because you're so unbelievably selfish and think the universe has to bend to your whims, that you think everyone has to act as you say?" Aquamarine responded under her breath, catching her master's attention. "I mean, yeah, why does nothing ever go your way?!"

"I heard what you said, and yes, I totally don't take offense to being called selfish because I know a certain someone who's no better." Black Rutile added. "That reminds me, what are the Crystal Gems doing for the holiday?"

Meanwhile, the townies were also getting into the holiday spirit in Beach City. Families and friends had reunited for the season, and the Crystal Gems were no different. However, one family, in particular, wasn't as together as one member wanted it to be. As the Gems baked cookies, wrapped presents, and decorated the beach house, Greg solemnly gazed out the window while drinking some hot cocoa and sighing.

"Problems, Greg?" Pearl's paramour Sheena Synstylae asked the rock star-turned-father as she sat down next to him by the window.

"Oh, hey, Sheena." Greg casually greeted Sheena. "Just thinking about my family right now. I mean, I already got a great one with Steven and the Gems and all his friends, but I can't help but think of my parents now. Aside from Andy, my fam hasn't been together in years, as far as I know. And after hearing about how Steven made amends with Rose, it made me think about my folks and how they're doing after I moved out."

"I can relate." Sheena concurred. "Never had the best relationship with my stepmom myself. Oy gevalt, the stories I could tell you about her! Like, this one time she accidentally took my makeup, and I think I nearly got gray hairs trying to get it back!"

"Hehe, nice." Greg laughed softly before taking a sip of hot chocolate. "Did you two manage to patch things up?"

"Eh, it was half and half." Sheena replied. "We're on better terms now, but we still get on each other's nerves from time to time. Take the good with the bad, as they say."

"Oh, Sheena honey, there you are!" Pearl exclaimed as she walked over to her pink-haired lover and kissed her on the cheek. "And what a coincidence I found you talking with Greg because I was about to give him some great news!"

"What kind of news, Pearl?" Greg asked Pearl.

"Well, I overheard you talking about your parents just now, which reminded me that I arranged for them to come over for Snowfall Feast!" Pearl exclaimed. "Isn't that delightful? I can't wait for Steven to meet your folks once he comes over!"

"Wait, they're coming, here, now?!" Greg yelped in shock at the news. "But, you, I, parents, Rose, dead, Steven, alien-"

"Yo, something wrong here?" Amethyst asked while eating some leftover cookie dough out of the container. "What's this about Greg's parents coming over?"

"Well, that's the thing." Greg responded. "How can my parents possibly respond to the big pink elephant in the room?"

"Pink elephant? What could you possibly mean?" Pearl wondered, only to immediately realize what Greg was talking about. "Oh right, Rose."

"Yeah, gonna be pretty hard to tell everyone that your wife was an alien warrior who died in childbirth, even if everyone knows who the Gems are now." Sheena said. "Hey, Pearl fell for me because I was a near-dead ringer for her. Why don't I fill in?"

"I have an even better idea!" Amethyst declared before she began shapeshifting into Rose. However, Greg quickly stopped her mid-transformation.

"No, no, no, let's not do that all over again!" Greg yelled frightfully, not wanting to be reminded of the last time Amethyst did something like that. "I think maybe we try to be as honest with them as possible." Suddenly, he got a different idea. "Or maybe….." He then suddenly grabbed Pearl by the wrist and dragged her along to the Warp Pad so she could be used to activate it and send them away.

"What's up with Greg?" Bismuth wondered quizzically, stopping her decorating of the tree to watch Greg make off with her and Sheena's mutual girlfriend.

"Daddy issues." Garnet flatly responded. "I don't think I want to know what harebrained schemes can come out of this."

"You know what this reminds me of?" Amethyst asked. "That one Lil Butler Christmas special where the butler disguised as the neighbor's grandpa!"

"Oh please, it can't be that bad!" Peridot remarked while she and Lapis wrapped presents together. "I mean, what's the worse that can happen?" As if the universe wanted to answer Peridot, Greg and Pearl finally returned from their sojourn with a Rose Quartz that looked almost exactly like the one who formerly led the Crystal Gems following them.

"Um, pardon me for being rude," Lapis said. "but what's this Rose clone doing here?"

"Phew, you had no idea how long this took us!" Greg panted in exhaustion. "I had to go to another galaxy just to find a suitable replacement!"

"Uh, hi Crystal Gems, nice to see you again." The shy Rose nervously greeted. "Happy Snowfall Feast, I guess."

"Hey, isn't she one of those Rose Quartzes from the zoo?" Amethyst asked. "How are they possibly going to believe this?"

"I got a plan, everyone." Greg stated. "We're going to act all nice and normal, so that means no weird powers, no fusing, and no shapeshifting in front of my folks. If any of you slip up, we'll say we live an alternative lifestyle. And whatever you do, don't mention the war."

"Yep, totally a harebrained scheme." Garnet nodded just as the front door opened, and in walked Steven Universe, having decided to take a break from his road trip to return home for the holidays. "Steven!"

"Hi, everyone, happy Snowfall Feast!" Steven greeted everyone in the beach house before locking eyes with the lookalike of his mother standing next to Greg. Even if he amicably parted ways with the trio of Rose Quartzes, he never guessed he'd see any of them again, especially this one. "Uh, what did I miss?"

"Closer, closer!" Black Rutile muttered to herself as she started running some tests on the nearly completed Vortexxer. "Just a little more!" As the portal began showing some signs of life, Black Rutile's front door suddenly opened, and in walked White Topaz and Jasper, both dressed for the weather and bringing cookies inside.

"Happy Snowfall Feast, Black Rutile!" White Topaz yelled happily, causing her former boss to lose concentration and the Vortexxer to fizzle out, much to her disappointment.

"No!" Black Rutile yelled angrily before turning to glare at the pair. "Look what you made me do, you dolts!"

"Geez, we were just trying to help you get into the spirit." Jasper responded before presenting a cookie. "You want some Snowfall Feast cookies? White Topaz made them herself."

"No, thank you, you should know Gems don't need sustenance." Black Rutile replied as she got back to work. "I just don't get this holiday at all! What's the meaning of all this blasted happiness and cheer anyways?!"

"Oh, I know where this is going." White Topaz realized cheerfully. "You're just a total Grinch or a Scrooge who's too moody to understand the true meaning of Snowfall Feast. It's not just about being happy and merry; Snowfall Feast is about the celebration of giving and the bonds that bring us all together. Plus, all the cool gifts in exchange for cool gifts you give to the ones you love too!"

"Like I buy that sappy garbage." Black Rutile grimaced, not taking her eyes off her experiments one bit. "As that old codger from that silly story would say, bah humbug!"

"Well, if you feel like coming out and celebrating, our door is always open." Jasper said as she and her girlfriend began leaving the house. "Happy Snowfall Feast, I guess."

"Get bent!" Black Rutile yelled back before the door closed, just as Holly Blue, Eyeball, and Cat's Eye entered the room.

"How is progress going on the Vortexxer, my Rutile?" Holly asked her rebel leader.

"I was just about to make a breakthrough when Jasper and White Topaz broke in to assimilate me into their holiday cheer." Black Rutile answered. "I don't understand it at all! Why is everyone but me so freaking happy all the time?!"

"Probably because we've encountered nothing but setback after setback in our plans." Cat's Eye said, which gave Black Rutile an idea. "I mean, what point do they have in making us happy when we have no plans to?"

"Wait, I got it!" Black Rutile beamed creepily as she got a positively wonderful, awful idea. "If they want to force us to be all happy and peaceful, then I think we should make them realize how miserable I am here, and maybe they'll be just as miserable too!"

"I like the way you think, my Rutile!" Eyeball exclaimed as she snacked on the cookies left behind by White Topaz. "But what are we going to do?"

"I'm shocked you didn't get the implication." Black Rutile said as she tied a piece of scrap metal to Eyeball's head to act as a reindeer's antler. "Ruby, with your gem so bright, won't you help us steal Snowfall Feast tonight?"

"Wait, really?" Eyeball gasped as her eye lit up in amazement. "But what will the other Rubies think?!"

"Oh, come on, you've already bullied them into becoming your subordinates. What say we put them to good use?" Black Rutile suggested smartly. "Now, let's start plans for tonight; everyone should be asleep by then."

Later that day, more members of Greg's family were invited to Beach City to celebrate Snowfall Feast with the Crystal Gems. Andy showed up first after landing his plane on the snow-covered beach and walking up to the front of the beach house before greeting them as he opened the door. "Hey Greg, happy Snowfall Feast."

"Hi Andy, glad you could make it!" Greg greeted Andy as he let his cousin into the house. "You arrived just in time, because we got some special guests coming!"

"Yeah, Pearl invited Greg's parents for dinner!" Steven added eagerly, though Andy was less than enthused about the news.

"Hey, I'm all for a little family reunion, but how do you suppose they're gonna react to, y'know?" Andy asked while gesturing to each of the Gems. "I mean, it took a while for me to get used to them. I wouldn't be surprised if the same applied to them."

"Ah, don't you worry, Andy-man, we got everything under control!" Greg said proudly with a laugh that quickly turned into anxious stuttering. "Oh geez, this is gonna get so awkward!"

"And who's this supposed to be?" Andy asked as he turned to the shy Rose Quartz, now dressed as Steven's late mother. "Isn't your wife supposed to be dead or something?"

"Hello." The shy Rose politely greeted Andy.

"That's actually a really long and complex story." Steven answered. "I think you're going to need to sit down for this one. You see-"There was a knock at the door. "We can talk later; I think they're here!"

"AGH, THEY'RE HERE!" Greg screamed, his anxiety over seeing his parents again kicking into overdrive. "LET'S HIDE AND BURN THE HOUSE DOWN!"

"Calm down, everyone. We can make it through this. Just don't mention the war." Garnet eased everyone's nerves before she opened the door for Thomas and Gloria DeMayo. "Hello there."

"Excuse me, madam, but is this the right address?" Thomas asked the fusion. "I'm told this is where Gregory lives now."

"Yes, welcome to Greg's house. It's very nice to meet you, Mr. DeMayo." Garnet greeted and shook the DeMayo father's hand. "Would you like to come in?"

"Gladly." Thomas answered as he and his wife entered the house, where he immediately met his son for the first time in decades. "Son."

"Hey, pops, long time no see." Greg awkwardly chuckled and gave his dad an equally awkward hug. "Pat pat."

"Oh Greg, you've gotten so big!" Gloria exclaimed as she got a hug from her son as well. "And I've been told you're a millionaire now? How lucky you must be!"

"Yeah, an old business partner of mine used one of my songs for a burger commercial." Greg responded. "He's dead to me otherwise."

"And I suppose you must be Greg's son." Thomas said while looking down at Steven. "Stephen, I suppose?"

"Steven, actually." Steven corrected his grandfather. "Nice to meet you, Grandpa."

"So, who's the lucky woman you got together with to make such a handsome young man?" Gloria asked with a tousle of Steven's hair before looking around at the Gems in the room with them. "Is it the one with the long nose?"

"What, me?!" Pearl blushed in embarrassment, causing Sheena and Bismuth to laugh. "Oh no, you got it all wrong, Mrs. DeMayo; I'm only Steven's mother in spirit, though I did possess feelings for her once upon a time."

"Hm, is it normal for humans to become this elderly?" Peridot quizzed the DeMayos while examining their aged forms. "I must conduct further research on this."

"Hi." Lapis greeted Greg's parents while sticking a candy cane in her mouth.

"My my, your friends are certainly unique." Thomas remarked dryly. "In fact, I think I remember-"

"Oh, it's nothing much, really!" Greg interrupted his father before introducing him to the rest of the Gems. "I'd like you to meet my wife Rose, her old college roommates Estelle, Amy, and Pearl, her sister Biddie, and Steven's sisters Lana and Dot!"

"Wait, sisters?!" Peridot squawked in offense. "I'll have you know Lapis and I are actually-"

"Quit yacking, you wacko!" Lapis whispered as she slapped Peridot's mouth shut and dragged her away.

"Well, this is certainly a colorful family you have here." Gloria punned softly.

"Good one, Mrs. D!" Sheena exclaimed while standing under the mistletoe with Pearl & Bismuth and getting kisses from them both. "Oh, I guess he forgot, but name's Sheena. I'm Pearl's girlfriend."

"I see; you're one of those queer found families." Thomas stated while adjusting his tie and turning to meet the Rose posing as Greg's wife. "You must be my son's lovely wife, yes?" he asked while kissing the shy Rose on her hand. "Charmed."

"Oh, why thank you." Rose blushed at the older man's politeness. "Though, I've only known him-"

"Since I toured Beach City when I was young!" Greg interrupted his fake wife. "Hey, you two must be tired after the long trip. Why don't we sit down to some hot chocolate and chat for a bit?"

"Oh, we'd be much obliged." Gloria said as she sat down on the couch. However, she didn't know that the sofa was already occupied by Lion, whose mane was decorated with ornaments and Christmas lights. "Oh my! Is that a-"

"Lion!" Steven exclaimed as Lion looked at his young master and pounced on him. "Oh, I missed you too, big guy! How's Connie doing these days?"

"Uh, is that an actual lion?" Gloria whimpered at the sight of a predatorial animal in the house. "How did you manage to get one?"

"Oh, Lion." Garnet replied. "He's just a huge cat we got from the shelter a few years ago. Please don't ask why he's pink. Not even the shelter workers know why."

"Nice kitty." Thomas said nervously as Lion got off Steven and slid towards the DeMayos to inspect them. "Be a good boy, and don't chomp my arm off."

"Hey, who wants cookies?!" Bismuth yelled as she presented some Snowfall Feast cookies on a baking sheet she turned her left hand into. "Oh shoot, my hand!"

"Cut it, cut it!" Greg whispered to Bismuth, who quickly exchanged her hand for a regular baking sheet. "Don't mind Biddie here. Sometimes she's not very good with her hands."

"I see." Thomas said while sipping his hot chocolate and turning to watch Lapis make shapes with her cocoa in the air, to Gloria's delight. "And what's she up to?"

"Psychic powers!" Lapis got in on the fibbing. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Oh yes, my dear sister Lana is quite the telepath." Peridot declared. "You should've seen what she did to the gardens last week! Positively spellbinding!"

"Fascinating. I want to give that a look later." Thomas replied dryly when he heard a strange humming nearby. Suddenly, two little girls were standing beneath a mistletoe dangling from one of the support beams. "Good lord, what is happening over there?!"

"Look, Ruby, mistletoe." Sapphire chuckled lovingly.

"Oh, come here you!" Ruby exclaimed as the happy couple made out under the mistletoe, much to Thomas's alarm. "Uh, hi there. I'm Ruby. Nice to meet you, sir."

"Wha, how, I-"Thomas stuttered in alarm.

"Now, Thomas, no need to be so close-minded," Gloria said to her husband.

"No, it's not like that; I just want to know where they came from!" Thomas yelled.

"We have made a huge mistake." Sapphire realized. "Look over there, the aurora borealis!"

"Where?!" Thomas yelled as he looked away, giving the two small Gems enough time to fuse back into Garnet, arousing more suspicion from him. "Wait, where did they go?!"

"I don't know who went where." Garnet said cheekily.

"Those girls, they were right there!" Thomas roared in shock, but his expression changed from shock to anger as he turned to Greg. "Gregory, you have some explaining to do!"

"Uh, Grandpa, can I talk with Dad for just a moment?" Steven tried to calm everyone down and took Greg to the bathroom behind their families. "Look, Dad, I know you're uncomfortable about talking to your parents about what you've been up to and especially about Mom, but I think this is all a lost cause. I mean, they probably know who the Gems are because they were already over the news. Why don't we just cut our losses and confess to them already?"

"Aw, come on, Schtu-ball, just give me a chance here." Greg responded softly. "Listen, this plan may not make much sense, but I suggest we just ease them into our situation here, and then we can tell them everything."

"Okay, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but I'm warning you," Steven urged Greg. "This will end badly."

"Sheesh, no need to be such a pessimist." Greg awkwardly answered as the father and son left the bathroom to rejoin the gathering.

As night began to fall on Little Homeworld, Black Rutile began putting her plan into action. All through the town, not a creature was stirring, not even a Flower Buddy, a gourd pup, or a mouse. The stockings were hung all around with care, in the hopes that the big man in red would be there. The Gems were nestled, all snug in their bed, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads. With Black Rutile in a Santa costume and her cronies in elf caps, they made sure their plan was under wraps.

"Ho ho ho, this is perfect!" Black Rutile laughed as she drove her makeshift sleigh around Little Homeworld, pulled by Aquamarine and the Rubies with Holly Blue and Cat's Eye in the back. "I just can't wait to see the looks on their faces when they realize everything's gone!"

"Yeah, this might be a good reason to kill time before the Vortexxer is finished." Holly Blue agreed. "So, which house are we robbing first?"

"Where else?" Black Rutile answered as the sleigh pulled up to Jasper and White Topaz's house, and she got off the sleigh to sneak in through the door. As she, Holly, and Cat began pilfering every Snowfall Feast decoration and present they could find, Black Rutile was suddenly reminded of a song. "You're a mean one, Black Rutile; you're proud of being vile!" she started singing. "You're as warm as a volcano; you're as sweet as stomach bile, Black Rutile! You're as disgusting as a hideous pile!"

"Oh my, you write that yourself?" Cat asked as the trio went outside with their loot to pack into the sleigh.

"No, ripping off some old Snowfall special." Black Rutile answered before commanding the Rubies to pull the sleigh again, and she continued to sing. "You're an animal, Black Rutile, you literally have no heart! Your gem is covered in cracks; you've got razor blades for a soul, Black Rutile! I'd rather die than touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole!"

Next up on her list of treasonous former minions for Black Rutile to rob were Demantoid & Pyrope, followed by Emerald, and then the Lapis twins. Presents aplenty were snatched from homes all around, clothing and tools and such all ripped from the ground. Anyone else wouldn't dream of causing such despair, but that naughty Black Rutile didn't care.

"You're disgusting, Black Rutile. You'd make the evilest souls retch!" Black Rutile kept singing as she next chopped down the big tree at the center of town with her sword and tied its trunk to the back of the sleigh. "You have the heartlessness of a man with lots of sketch, Black Rutile! If you had to choose between him and me, you'd choose the man with lots of sketch!"

Despite Black Rutile's attempts at catlike stealth in her theft of Snowfall Feast, the tree dragged loudly against the ground, rousing at least one Gem from their slumber. But she was too busy singing to notice as she began reaching the front gates of Little Homeworld. "You're morally bankrupt, Black Rutile. You're a real piece of junk! You've got the mind of a madman and the attitude of a punk, Black Rutile! If I had to pick three words to describe myself, they would be as followed: stink, stank, stunk!"

"The talent agent asked what the name of their act was." Amethyst finished telling a story at the dinner table to the Universe and DeMayo families. "And you know what their answer was? The Aristocrats!" Everyone began laughing uproariously at the punchline, but Pearl was a little turned off by the joke.

"That was quite possibly the most disgusting story you've ever told, Amethyst." Pearl declared as she tried not to barf. "And that's saying something considering the booger story from last month."

"Pardon me, but what is this booger story you speak of?" Thomas asked.

"Oh man, you should've been there!" Amethyst exclaimed, grossing Pearl out even further. "It was the greenest, the biggest, the juiciest-"

"Could someone please pass the potatoes before I lose my appetite?" Gloria nervously asked, and Rose did just that. "Oh, thank you, Rose, you're such a dear! I can see why Greg fell for you."

"Thank you." Rose began blushing.

"Oh dear, none of you have eaten!" Gloria realized as she discovered the Gems hadn't touched your dinner. "You're going to let such wonderful cooking go to waste?"

"We actually don't need to eat." Pearl responded.

"I do!" Amethyst added. "More for me, then!" She quickly scooped up Garnet, Pearl, Peridot, Lapis, and Bismuth's dinners and hoarded them all in her mouth. To Thomas's shock, Amethyst did not gain additional weight from that much food.

"You young people and your alternative lifestyles." Thomas frowned.

"Actually, we're way older than you. Like, thousands even." Lapis accidentally slipped up, and she covered her mouth in horror of what she had just said. "Uh oh."

"Thousands of years older, huh?" Thomas said as he ominously turned to Greg. "Is there something you need to tell us?"

"Aw geez." Andy groaned as he smacked his face in disappointment.

"I knew it." Steven muttered, just as disappointed, while Greg slumped in his seat.

"Okay, you got me." Greg sighed in acceptance. "I'm not part of a normal family. I was actually married to an alien warrior who died in childbirth to give birth to Steven."

"I knew it!" Thomas yelled while smacking the table, briefly spooking Gloria and Pearl. "You were lying to us this whole time! What's next? Are you going to tell us that you replaced your wife with an imposter too?!"

"Actually, that's exactly what we did." Pearl pointed out brightly, quickly realizing she wasn't helping, and kept quiet.

"I'm sorry if I made you mad, Greg's dad." Rose shyly apologized, followed by Gloria putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Now, Gregory, what do you have to say for yourself?" Thomas coldly admonished his ashamed son.

"Look, Dad, I'm sorry for lying about all this." Greg apologized to his father. "It's just; I only wanted to ease you all into what I've been up to since I moved out. But now, I guess I have no choice but to tell. So which story do you want to hear, mine or Rose's?"

"Either one of them will do, dear." Gloria replied calmly. "Go on. We won't judge."

"Okay, it's a long and complicated story." Greg sighed as he started telling everyone about Pink Diamond. "Got any gum?"

"So what do you suppose we'll do with all our loot?" Aquamarine asked as the Rutile Rebels parked their sleigh outside of Little Homeworld. "Maybe burn it all or toss it off a cliff?"

"We can sort things out later; I just feel like gloating right now!" Black Rutile answered. "I can't believe it; this might be my first big triumph in ages! I've not just ruined Snowfall Feast for all the Gems in the present, but I'm sure to ruin all Snowfall Feasts yet to come too!" As Black Rutile let out a wicked cackle, suddenly, another Gem began making crunchy footsteps in the snow, causing the Snowfall thief to turn to discover who it was. "You again? Why do you keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, like everywhere?!"

"Santa Claus, why?" Teal Zircon asked innocently as she discovered that Black Rutile was making off with all the presents and decorations in her sleigh. "Why are you taking our Snowfall Feast? Why?"

"You really don't get it, do you? Figures for such a complete idiot." Black Rutile sneered before shedding her disguise. "Nay Teal Zircon, it is I, Black Rutile! Besides, there's no Santa Claus, just like there's no Easter Bunny or queen of England! He was just some fat idiot made up by morally bankrupt toy companies to make more money!"

"Of course, it was you, Black Rutile." Teal responded. "Still, why did you go all this way to steal everything Snowfall Feast-related from Little Homeworld? Is it because you have some kind of bah humbug grudge against the holiday?"

"No, it's because I don't get it at all!" Black Rutile snapped at the childish Zircon. "I'm expected to be all happy and smiley during this time of year, but I have no reason to because I'm constantly miserable here!"

"Well, if you don't want to be happy, I guess I'll have to make you myself, my bromide." Teal said as she took a krav maga stance and fiercely tackled Black Rutile, causing her bag of presents and décor to topple over as the two Gems fought. Among them was a gift box labeled "To Lapis and Peridot, from Jasper" containing a small, orange Pomeranian puppy that peeked out of the box.

"Come on, Black Rutile, can't you let your heart grow three sizes for just one day?!" Teal yelled as she trapped the rebel in a headlock.

"Never!" Black Rutile yelled. "Plus, having your heart grow any size larger would probably be deadly! To me, my Rutile Rebels!"

"Hands off, you annoying advertiser!" Holly Blue yelled, drawing her whip and cracking it at them both, shocking the Gems and freeing Black Rutile from Teal Zircon's grasp.

"You don't understand, I am so close for once!" Black Rutile exclaimed. "Can't I get a little victory as a Snowfall Feast gift?!" Just then, she heard an assortment of indistinct voices echo from Little Homeworld as they slowly approached the front gates. "Oh no!"

"What's going on here?" Volleyball wondered as the Gems discovered the Rutile Rebels with their sleigh full of stolen goods, along with Black Rutile face down in the snow and Teal desperately trying to save Snowfall Feast. "Teal, what's the meaning of this?!"

"It's Black Rutile!" Teal yelled while poking her head out of the sack. "She's trying to make you all as miserable as she is by stealing Snowfall Feast!"

"Somehow, I figured something like this would happen." Jasper rolled her eyes with dismay.

"Yeah, I think this might be the time for a lesson here, Black Rutile." White Topaz added. "Sometimes, Snowfall Feast isn't about what comes from a store. Maybe it means just a little bit more."

"That's it? That's the message you want to give me?!" Black Rutile yelled in disgust. "You know what, forget this dumb plan, and you can have your dumb stuff back! I'm out of here!" With an overdramatic huff, Black Rutile turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving everyone to take back their stolen belongings.

"Once again, Black Rutile refuses to budge. Not surprised." Jasper huffed back before she looked down at the Pomeranian pawing at her ankle. "Hey, little Earth creature." She said while picking up the puppy. "Let's get you to your new owners."

"So, there you have it." Greg proclaimed as he had finished telling his parents the story of his relationship with Rose and everything afterward. "The long and complicated history of me, Rose, and the Crystal Gems. So, what did you think?"

"My, you…. certainly had an eventful time as a father." Thomas said plainly in response to the story. "I was just so blind to how much you've been through. Plus, I did not expect to hear that you technically killed your wife through, y'know."

"Oh, you poor dear." Gloria said as she brought Greg in for a hug. "You've been through so much but never let go of what mattered most. At least you still found happiness after leaving us."

"Thanks, Mom." Greg replied and returned the hug. "You too, pops."

"Okay, you asked for it." Thomas smirked as he stepped up and hugged Greg even tighter than his wife. "Please forgive me for driving you away."

"Eh, maybe that could take a while." Greg said just as the door opened, Jasper and White Topaz walked in. "Oh hey girls, you missed a real crazy night!"

"Hi, Mr. Universe, happy Snowfall Feast, everyone!" White Topaz exclaimed. "Hey, we just wanted to stop by because we got a little gift for a pair of special someones."

"Really, who's getting what?" Peridot asked, causing Jasper to unfurl her hands and reveal the Pomeranian inside them. "Oh my stars, it's so precious!" she exclaimed with stars in her eyes. "What made you want to get it?!"

"Well, we knew how much you missed Pumpkin, so maybe this could be a good replacement." Jasper said sheepishly, not being used to being so giving to her former enemies. To her surprise, the two Gems hugged her in response. "Thanks."

"Merry Snowfall Feast to all!" Steven declared happily.

"And to all, a good night!" Rose added.

Unfortunately, not everyone was so merry on Snowfall Feast. Black Rutile sat down on the whirly-bird tower, gazing up at the night sky all by her lonesome as she began contemplating her actions. "Is it really worth it to keep doing all this when failure is basically the only option?" she pondered to herself. "Why even bother trying to make everyone miserable when I'm the only one who's left miserable myself?"

"Something the matter, kiddo?" a jolly voice said, making Black Rutile turn around to see a large man with a white beard, a red suit, and a warm smile sitting next to her. There was no mistaking it; Black Rutile had come face to face with Santa Claus himself. "What's gotten you so sad on Snowfall Feast?"

"What's gotten me so sad?! Oh, you have no idea what I've suffered, old man!" Black Rutile exclaimed. "I am only doing what's best for everyone and trying to be a good leader, but the universe seems to be doing everything in its power to ruin everything for me! I've lost all my power, I barely have any allies, I'm treated as a joke by my former superior, and now my plan to steal Snowfall Feast and make everyone just as sad as I am has been ruined!"

"Well, you're certainly not the first person to try stealing this time of year." Santa commented cheekily. "But I don't think you get it. Snowfall Feast isn't completely about getting things from other people, though that is a very good reason to celebrate it. No, Snowfall Feast is about spending time with the ones you love the most, giving to your fellow man, and just celebrating what it means to have peace on Earth. You get that, right?"

"Why yes, I do." Black Rutile answered. "That was basically the exact same answer White Topaz gave me! I don't know why you bothered visiting me!"

"Okay, geez, I was just trying to be nice, you naughty little Gem!" Santa yelled as Black Rutile stormed off once again. "Uh, merry Snowfall Feast, Black Rutile!"

"Get bent!" Black Rutile responded to Old Saint Nick.

"And so ends this heartwarming Snowfall fable." Dr. James Brenner proclaimed while sitting by a fireplace and closing a book. "Please come again, if you are able. We'll take a break for some holiday fun, but when we meet next time, this shall be a good one!"

Well said, Brenner. I hope this could become an annual holiday tradition for fanfiction readers, but when we meet again in 2023, shit will surely hit the fan as Black Rutile's next big plan comes to fruition. See you next year everybody, and happy holidays!

#steven universe #steven universe future #fanfiction #steven universe alternate future #little homeworld life #black rutile #greg universe #steven quartz universe #garnet #amethyst #pearl #lapis lazuli #peridot #bismuth #aquamarine #holly blue agate #cat's eye #eyeball ruby

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taintedpearls · 4 months

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𓇼𓏲*ੈ‧₊˚ sidelines (prologue)

chapter one | series masterlist

daily click — don't buy tlou

pairing: childhood bsfs!ellabs x fem!reader

cw: you've been going to saltwitch beach every summer for as long as you can remember, it's home to you. and you wouldn't change that for the world...

a/n: this is me and izzie's second collab. we brainstormed this idea while on call a couple days ago and are so excited to post what we whipped up this afternoon!

wc: 1.1k

ʚїɞ summer ‘21 - two years ago.

summer was finally here and you were ecstatic! summer meant saltwitch, and saltwitch meant you got to see ellie and abby again.

you’ve known abby and ellie for as long as you could remember, they’ve always been the one constant in your life, the only people you know can always fall back on them and know they’ll always be there for you.

the ride up to saltwitch was slow, as always.

maybe if your dad would finally cave and let you bring your own phone to saltwitch and not insist on you staring at your phone all day (even though you never stare it at for that long anyway) from your constant begging and get you a phone just like your brother you would actually have some entertainment.

a sense of excitement coursed through your veins as the many blue and white summer houses started to come into your line of sight, but ultimately is replaced with a sense of confusion when only abby’s car is to be seen outside the summer house.

jerry waved your father over almost immediately, rushing out of the house to catch up to abby who was already outside waiting for the both of you. You’re quick, however, to realize ellie is nowhere to be seen.

“hey, what’s up abby!” your brother says as he walks over to her with a huge smile on his face. she doesn’t hesitate to wrap your sibling into a breathtaking hug, ten months was a long time without seeing the people you grew up with, after all.

she pulls away from your brother and looks down at you, “hey, kid” instead of a hug you’re met with a smile and her hand meeting you head, ruffling your already fairly messy hair. god you hated that.

“when will you stop that?” you ask, rhetorically. “and, where’s ellie?” you look up at the pair. abby and your brother exchange a look, partnered with a sigh from the blonde.

“i’m afraid there’s no ellie this summer.” she delivers the news with a really real looking frown on her face. you almost believed her.

“yeah right! ellie wouldn’t miss summer here for anything.” you laugh awkwardly, subtly prying for more information on her whereabouts.

“i’m serious, kid. something happened back home.” the look on her face now tells you she really wasn’t kidding, you can see now that the frown was not sarcastic.

“oh shit. i’m so sorry.” you sheepishly reply, your face feeling hot from embarrassment. “that’s so… unlike her.”

“all good.” she responds, before grabbing your brother and running off to the pool, they didn’t even unpack, leaving you with his and your own bags while your parents caught up on the last couple months.

ellie didn’t show face at all that summer, no facetimes, no texts, nothing. she became a ghost. you had tried to convince abby to give you more information on what the hell happened that made her skip summer in saltwitch and stay in boring old jackson, but she wouldn’t budge.

eventually, you forced yourself to give up, you had accepted the fact that ellie wasn’t coming this time and you couldn’t change that.

that summer went by slow. no ellie meant no fun in your eyes, often times you thought of her when the group would do something fun like play mario kart, or sneak out to the beach at night when your dad’s were dead asleep. without her, you were there for nothing.

soon enough, the summer of 2021 was officially over, and it was time to go back to the real world. that world consisted of homework, set bedtimes, and neither ellie or abby.

you waved goodbye out the back seat of your dads red minivan, brother beside you. sighing as abby and her father faded into the distance and you’re forced to look out the side window, maybe next summer would be different.

ʚїɞ summer ‘22 - one year ago.

another summer without ellie and at this point you weren’t even sure when you would see her next. abby and your brother still refused to give up any information about how she was doing, where she was and what made her skip not one, but two summers in a row!

you also learnt to stop forcing yourself into your brothers group alongside abby. They only saw you as some annoying kid, and you got tired of it. branching out was good for you. that’s how you met dina and her boyfriend, jesse. one moment you were relaxing on the beach, and the next you were shoved into a volleyball game with the couple and their friend insisting they needed one more player.

this summer flew by, it felt good to meet new people instead of being stuck at home with your brother and his two friends playing mario kart.

you waved goodbye out the back seat of your dads car, once again. sighing as dina, jesse and cat faded out into the distance. texting them the entire ride home, without ellie crossing your mind once.

ʚїɞ summer ‘23 - present day.

a lot had changed since the last time you saw ellie. 16 to 18 tends to change a person more than you would think. you had managed to make friends last summer, you grew out of your awkward pre-teen habits and eventually became a version of yourself that you liked waking up as.

you also took notice to the amount of boys who would look your way after you had (in your mothers words) blossomed. however, you never paid them any mind, friends of yours would sometimes ask you if you even liked boys and to that you would stay silent before changing the subject.

your childish crush on ellie never truly went away, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself that it had run its course. usually, it lingered well into the school year and before you could fully get over it, you were back at the summer house, with ellie.

the ride there wasn’t so bad this year, considering you just tuned your family out the second you sat down, your “summer ‘23” playlist on blast the entire drive up.

when you finally arrive, the first thing you notice jerry and joel’s vehicles, the sense of dread you felt those past two summers returned, but not because she wasn’t here, but because she was here.

stepping out of the car you noticed right away that they both looked different. the once awkward, dinosaur obsessed ellie pressing a yellow vape to her lips before passing it to abby, who went from lanky and tiny to buff and strong. she looked really good.

when the girls finally turn heads and make eye contact with you, you can see them both look you up and down then look at each-other.

you all had done a bit of growing up those two years.

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blackstarising · 3 years

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ok i promised myself up and down i wouldn’t make posts like this anymore for my own mental health but i’ve been seeing a lot of, uh, takes in regards to the potential of sarah and bucky dating and a lot of confusion to why these takes are racist, insulting and hurtful, especially to black people. and for me? well, i won't lie, it's personal.

what non-black people need to understand is that positive portrayals of interracial romantic relationships between dark-skinned black women (yes, dark skinned) and non-black men are extremely uncommon in media. for example, can you think about any recent fictional portrayals of relationships of this kind? maybe rick and michonne from the walking dead? or abbie and ichabod from sleepy hollow? great, because those are the only two that i can think of off the top of my head.

okay, now how many of those relationships ended happily?

right.

as a next point, why do i highlight ‘dark-skinned’? because of colorism. you’ve probably seen that word thrown around a lot more in the past year. colorism is the discrimination within ethnic groups between those with lighter colored skin (and more eurocentric features and hair texture, i’m folding in featurism and texturism for ease) and those with darker skin.

the way this plays out in visual media is that it’s much more common to see lighter skinned black women in roles than darker skinned black women. when i was growing up, this was evident in both white-produced AND black-produced media. that’s so raven. sister sister. my wife and kids. the proud family, even. and to make it worse, it wasn’t uncommon for dark skinned black women in shows like these to be portrayed as unattractive, uncultured, or straight up bullies.

this isn’t me saying that we shouldn’t see light skinned or biracial black women in media. i want to emphasize that their life experiences and the pressures they have are different from mine. but i know that, because of colorism, i grew up thinking that the absence of Eurocentric features and a non Eurocentric body meant i was not beautiful and not worthy to be seen. and these truths can coexist. this is not an uncommon wound of colorism.

i say all this to say that for bucky barnes, a white man, to flirt with sarah wilson, a dark skinned black woman, is not the same as ‘just another het ship’. it is positive representation in its own right.

now, i’ve been in fandom for years. i’ve encountered this before. and i’ve encountered this enough to know that truthfully, these kind of ships make people truly uncomfortable and sometimes these people do a bad job of hiding it. what reason, i can’t say. if you ask me, i suspect part of the discomfort comes non-black people realizing they can’t project onto the black person in the ship in the same way they’re used to. i could be wrong. but i’ve been around enough to see a lot of pretzeling and back bending to discredit these sorts of relationships that don’t seem to come up for similar pairings if that same black woman was now white. and i’m seeing it again here, so i wanted to break down the most common takes i’ve either seen or i suspect i’ll see soon and break them down to explain why exactly you’ve been getting irritated replies and why they’re hurtful.

“bucky’s flirting with sarah to make sam jealous.” without thinking about it, this is actually a funny trope. sibling rivalry and all that. and you’re right, bucky doesn’t have to be attracted to sarah, and maybe you ship sambucky instead. but what if he can still find her attractive? this take subtly discredits the idea that bucky could find sarah attractive in her own right - there has to be some ulterior motive in order to explain it, yeah?

“bucky repeated sarah’s name like that because sarah was steve’s mom’s name.” we do know bucky knows steve’s mom’s name! but again, this feels like a lot of reaching to again, rework bucky’s potential attraction to sarah in a different context so it’s not actually genuine. in this case, he doesn’t like her, she just makes him think of his dead best friend’s mom, right?

“sarah’s so strong and badass, she doesn’t need a man! she deserves better.” okay. what does ‘deserving better’ actually mean? why can’t a potentially fulfilling relationship for sarah, a hardworking widow with two children, be deserving better? this also plays into the Strong Black Woman myth, in which black women are just So Strong and Self Sufficient and Powerful they don’t need anything! not even social aid! or protection! or love! or mental health support! let me be clear, this trope is not fun for us, it’s not a positive, it’s a burden that allows society to justify not protecting black women.

“this seems kind of forced/crowbarred in to me.” maybe, but also, in the episode, they really just said 'hi' to one another. now if sam had caught them making out on the boat two seconds after they met, that would have raised my eyebrows, but they just said 'hi'. some people are interpreting that as flirtatious - i'm one of them. but again, using words like 'crowbar' and 'force' or 'shove' make it seem like bucky's attraction to sarah is irrational.

now, here’s what i’m not saying. i’m not threatening you to ship bucky and sarah Or Else. you don't have to. i do. i think it’s fun! but that’s my choice. you don’t have to make that choice. you could be shipping someone else with either sarah or bucky and you don't want something to get in the way of that, i get it. i'm also not saying that sarah needs bucky's validation to be considered beautiful, far from it. what i’m saying is it’s worth it to evaluate the ways that implicit racism is affecting and influencing your responses to interracial relationships with black people, and especially black women in the media. because even if you might not see it, there are those of us who can. why can't the prospect of a white man flirting with a dark skinned black women be taken at face value? maybe sit with that.

sources for further reading the roots of colorism, or skin tone discrimination the walking dead's new power couple: 'richonne' and fandom racism fanlore breakdown of 'what shipping richonne taught me about racism' black women and the thin line between strong and angry post on black womanhood and feminism what is featurism? black hair and mental health: a tale of texturism fandom and the intersection of feminism and race "weak black women" by robin thede (for giggles) the take's 'the strong black woman, explained' (yet to watch but the take hasn't failed me yet)

#sarah wilson #bucky barnes #bucky x sarah #sarah x bucky #buckysarah #sarahbucky #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #fandom racism #ok to rb #otp: buckysarah

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snackhobi · 3 years

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

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

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

“I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

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

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

“Was that the weekly special?”

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

“Would you recommend it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.

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

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

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

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

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

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

You are the worst.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, oh why, oh why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s dyed his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

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

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

And then Yoongi laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Your heart aches.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Duly noted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he spots you standing there.

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

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

Yoongi stares at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still want to take me on a date?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I won’t,” you say.

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

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

taglist: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove

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

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v-hope · 3 years

Text

Sweet Night

Pairing: Artist!Taehyung x Heiress!Reader, Heir!OC x Reader

Genre: Fluff (yes, only fluff today, enjoy), Ex Roommates AU, Enemies to Lovers AU, Arranged Marriage (Heir!OC x Reader)

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Neither you nor Taehyung were expecting you to show up to his art exhibition, let alone when everyone was already gone, for the two of you were well aware that you didn’t have much of a choice when it came to attending your possible future husband’s charity event instead. Then again, neither of you were counting on your brother and sister in law to take your side and drive you all the way over to him so you could surprise him before the day was over.

A/N: Helloo! This is part 24 of my Social Media AU “Belong”, but you can read it as a stand-alone one shot if you want! I would like to make a shout out to my 🇫🇮 anon for giving me the Jimin idea (you know which one, I changed it a bit to make it fit the story better, but still). I hope you guys enjoy!

Looking away from the backseat’s window, your eyes focused on your trembling hands instead — the city lights as you passed them by being the only source of light as your brother drove through the streets of Seoul, which for some reason seemed to be extremely long that particular night.

The light music Miyoung had taken upon playing on the radio from the passenger seat, in an attempt to create a somewhat calm atmosphere for you and the nervousness she was sure you were feeling, had yet to make you actually calm down. If anything, you could feel your shaky hands become sweatier by the second as you felt a tingle of anticipation in your chest.

Although you wanted with everything in you to attend Taehyung’s art exhibition, you had got out of bed that morning being mentally prepared to spend the entire day at the Lee’s charity event.

You had been ready to spend most of the day with your parents pretending that everything in your relationship was alright, perfect even. You had been smiling for the cameras all day, greeting people you were sure were just pretending to have the perfect life as well, and being forced to make small talk with the ones who used to be your friends yet had turned their back on you as soon as they had found out you were choosing a more modest life over the luxurious one — the same so called friends of yours that had to keep quiet about your little secret if they didn’t want your parents to destroy their family’s business. After all, your family was with no doubt the most powerful one in Korea. And honestly? You couldn’t help but see it now as a curse, after having spent a lifetime believing it was a gift.

Not only that, but you had also spent most of the day next to Sungjin, lovingly posing for the cameras and holding hands, making you wish every single second it was Taehyung instead. You were sure that way it would’ve been more bearable. What you hated the most was the fact that you knew said pictures were being posted right away, meaning Taehyung would see them, and you hated the utter thought of having the man you had feelings for see you acting like a happy couple with someone else — even more after you had to cancel on him to attend an event with the one guy he had asked you not to bring with you to his art exhibition to begin with.

And yet, after having to endure all of that, here you were — a little over an hour after Taehyung’s exhibit was done, being driven over there by your brother and sister in law, while Jimin held him back at the gallery, and you not even knowing what you were supposed to say at all once you saw him. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this whole impromptu apparition of yours was a good idea at all. It had been a long day for him, you knew that for sure, and although he had told you earlier that day that he would’ve loved to have you there, maybe by this point he just wanted to go home and get some rest.

You didn’t have much more time to think about that, though, for just as you remained deep in your thoughts, Seokjin pulled up right in front of the address you had given him before. Looking up from your fidgeting hands, you were met by two pairs of eyes already focused on you.

“Do you want us to go with you?” Seokjin asked, hand on his keys, ready to pull them out at your command.

“Um…” you hesitated, leaning closer to the window as your eyes travelled around the rather isolated street in search of any paparazzis, finding yourself to be quite relieved when you saw none of them around. “Maybe just until I find Tae”.

They nodded, exchanging one last look before they made their way out of the car right as you did. Feeling the cold breeze of the night as soon as you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but hug yourself, sticking close to Jin and Miyoung as if you were a kid heading to school with her parents after being called by the principal.

Right as you were about to reach the entrance, however, Yoongi made his way out of the building, looking the other way before his eyes fell on all three of you.

“Hey,” he greeted, politely bowing his head, which you didn’t wait to reciprocate. “I came to see if you were anywhere near, Jimin is going crazy trying to come up with more excuses for Taehyung not to leave”.

You chuckled at his comment, imagining just how troubled your friend must have been. After all, and to be fair, you had taken a good while to get there. “Well, I’m here now”.

“That I can see” he sarcastically replied, eyes travelling from you to Seokjin, and then focusing on Miyoung. “Are you all coming in?” his eyes went back to you.

“Is it just the three of you inside?” your brother spoke up before you could nod. As far as he had understood, it should have been only Jimin and Taehyung inside.

“Oh, no” Yoongi denied. “Namjoon-ie is with us, too”.

“Namjoon?” Miyoung wondered, puzzled eyes going up to your brother. Given her reaction, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she knew what the rest of you didn’t when it came to those two.

Seokjin bit the inside of his cheek, giving her a knowing look before his eyes went back to Yoongi. “Actually, I, um… I just remembered Miyoung-ie and I have things to do, so…”

Although your sister in law looked troubled for a split second there, she wasted no time in nodding her head. Looking at Yoongi, she struggled to get the words out of her mouth. “W-We do! So, um…” her eyes focused on you. “We should probably leave. Is it okay?”

“Sure…”

“You’ll be okay?” she pushed it, earning a small laugh from you over his motherly ways.

“She’s in good hands” Yoongi reassured her, receiving a genuine smile from her that only caused his lips to part into one of his own as well.

“Okay” she sweetly replied, giving him a small nod as a sign of gratitude.

Seokjin playfully nudged her, grabbing her hand so the whole marriage thing could at least be a little bit more believable. “Shall we go then?”

“Mhm…” she replied.

“Call me when you’re done here” your brother demanded.

“Oh, I’m sure Taehyung will drive her home” Yoongi’s words got chills running up your spine.

“Okay,” Jin’s eyes travelled from Yoongi to you. “Call me when you’re home then”.

“I will” you obediently complied.

With that said, your brother and sister in law turned around, leaving you alone with Yoongi, who didn’t wait to motion towards the door for you to go inside.

“After you” he politely said.

You smiled, taking in a shaky breath before you took a step in. Suddenly all the nervousness you had felt on your way here came right back to hit you in the face, not knowing at all what to do once you were in front of the guy you had ditched the Lee’s event for — not even knowing how he would react at all, yet hoping he would be happy to have you there.

You didn’t get too much time to mentally prepare, for as soon as you entered the place being followed by Yoongi, you caught a glimpse of the backs of the other three men inside as they faced one of the many paintings that brought some life to the neutral white covering every single wall of the gallery. And it was a matter of you taking a few steps towards them for three pairs of eyes to be set on you. However, yours were only focused on one particular pair of them — those chocolate ones that displayed a mixture of surprise and pure happiness in them.

“You’re here?” Taehyung asked the obvious once you reached their side, causing his friends to chuckle in amusement.

“Seems like it…” you nervously managed to get out.

Silence took over as big smiles were plastered all over your faces — on yours and Taehyung’s, as the two of you were happy as hell to see each other, and on his friends, for they were having a blast watching the two of you awkwardly stand in front of one another with those dumb smiles of yours, not knowing what to do next.

“Come on,” Jimin chimed in, placing his hand behind your back and lightly pushing you towards Tae. “Your girl fooled her parents into coming here, the least she deserves is a hug”.

With a giggle escaping Tae’s mouth, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you when your body was about to collide with his. Feeling your heart going wild at the warmness of his touch, you wrapped your arms around his waist as well, resting your face on his chest and taking in his scent right as he lowered his head just enough to bury it in your neck.

“Thank you for coming” he mumbled.

A light chuckle abandoned your mouth, deciding to say nothing and instead just nod your head and wrap your arms tighter around his figure.

“Okay, I think this is our cue to go” Namjoon’s voice broke the comfortable silence you had fallen into.

“Yup” Yoongi agreed, patting Jimin’s back to catch his attention, as he was shamelessly taking pictures of the two of you to remember the moment his friends somewhat got together. “Let’s give the love birds some privacy”.

Nodding his head, Jimin shoved his phone back into his pocket — neither of them bothering to say goodbye not to kill the moment the two of you were sharing, and just quietly leaving the gallery instead.

Once you heard the front doors being closed, Taehyung pulled away, cupping your face in his warm hands and smiling at the sight of you. “I never thought seeing you would make me this happy”.

“Yah, Kim Taehyung” you called him out. “I’m sure you can be sweeter than that”.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at how spoiled you had become when it came to him and his show of affection. “I’m happy you’re here, princess”.

You smiled, resting your hands over his and drawing small circles with your thumbs on his skin. “I’m happy I’m here”.

His smile turned sweeter somehow, lightly pressing his forehead on yours before a chuckle escaped his mouth and he amusedly shook his head.

“What is it?” you wondered.

“Nothing,” he laughed, pulling away and letting go of your face. “It just makes sense now why the guys were trying so hard to keep me here. Specially Jimin”.

“Was he losing it?” you laughed.

“Totally” he nodded. “He made me go over the whole exhibition again and explain each one of my paintings at least twice to him” his eyes travelled to one particular spot on the wall right next to the painting they had been admiring when you walked in. “When he ran out of pieces to ask me about he pointed at this small crack on the wall and asked me how I had come up with such a deep concept”.

This time, you couldn’t help but tilt your head back as a throaty laugh escaped your mouth — one that had Taehyung giggling, absolutely loving the sound of your laugh.

“He’s an idiot” you stated. “But he kept you here for me, so…”

“That he did” he smiled, biting his bottom lip as his eyes unconsciously travelled down your body — that pink dress of yours sure did look even better in person. “Aren’t you cold?”

Your eyes instinctively went down to your uncovered legs and then to your uncovered arms, remembering how you had hugged yourself outside minutes ago because of the cold air of the night. “It’s alright in here”.

He nodded his head. “My coat is by the entrance, in case you get too cold”.

You smiled sweetly, yet it didn’t wait to turn into what seemed more like a teasing smirk. “So you told me earlier today that you wished you had got to see me in this dress and now you want to cover it up?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, princess. I already told you I think you look beautiful and am most definitely enjoying the view right now” his bold words brought heat to your face. “I’m just looking after you”.

“How sweet of you” your sarcastic tone didn’t really match your flustered expression. “I’m okay for now. Will let you enjoy the view for a little longer”.

“How considerate of you” he was quick to follow your sarcastic antics, silently enjoying that particular choice of yours.

“I know, no need to say it” you playfully squinted your eyes at him, later taking a look at the whole gallery. “You think you could show me around?”

He nodded, a bright smile already taking over his face. “It will be my pleasure” his dramatism got a playful roll of eyes from you. “Where would you like to start?”

“This one is alright” you pointed out, moving closer to the painting you already had in front. “So,” you began, eyes tauntingly going to the crack next to his painting. “Tell me about how you came up with such a deep concept”.

“Shut up” he amusedly rolled his eyes.

“No, but seriously now” you smiled, this time staring at the piece of art in front of you. “Tell me about this one”.

Taehyung’s art, you had found out quite a while ago, tended to be on the abstract side. Therefore, it was even harder for you —or anyone for that matter— to interpret.

This one piece, just like the tag placed above it on the wall let you know, was called ‘Winter Bear’. You could clearly see the winter, the palette of colours he had used just screamed cold days and melancholy. Nevertheless, the bear mentioned in the title was nowhere to be found in the painting — instead, you managed to tell apart what you thought was a little boy, somewhat hidden in between all the colourful strokes surrounding his figure.

“That’s me” he pointed out when he could no longer deal with the confusion in your face, managing to draw your attention back to him.

“What?” your bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “What is the word ‘bear’ doing in the title then?”

He chuckled. “It’s art, you dork. You can name it anything you want”.

“I think it must mean something, though…”

Taehyung bit his bottom lip. Of course you would know better.

“That’s what my grandparents used to call me” he confessed.

You nodded quietly, understandingly — not really knowing what to say yet not wanting to stay silent. “You must miss them so much…”

“Sometimes,” he nodded. “I mean, not a day goes by in which I don’t miss them, it’s just that… it’s been years so… you kinda grow used to it” his shoulders moved up and down, in a shrug that tried not to make it seem like a big deal. “The whole exhibit was related to winter, so it naturally reminded me of them and how they used to call me, and… I guess I got too personal with this exhibition”.

You gave him a sweet smile of reassurance, reaching for his hand and holding it in yours. “It’s your art. It’s supposed to be personal”.

The boxy smile that he gave you right then was all it took for your heart to skip a beat, later taking in a shaky breath when he intertwined his long fingers with yours and his thumb drew small circles on the back of your hand.

Your eyes went back to the painting in front, trying your best not to let him know what his touch did to you. “I love it” you stated, much to his pleasure. “Love the way it seems to make no sense when you only read the title, yet it makes complete sense after you explain it”.

He smiled wholeheartedly. “I think it just makes no sense” his words had you furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “Not everyone is lucky enough to know the true meaning behind it”.

You giggled. “Lucky me then”.

“Lucky you” he agreed.

Tugging at his hand, you moved on to the next painting, and then the next one, and so on. Not a second had gone by in which you had let go of each other’s hand as you commented on the different paintings and the meanings behind each of them — the two of you finding yourselves having the time of your lives as you gave him your take on them and he confirmed whether or not it was what he had tried to portray.

That was what each of you liked about art so much, the fact that there was no wrong answer and you could discuss it so freely. Sure, he had something in mind the moment he painted each one of his pieces, but it was always fun to see what the rest of the people would feel when they looked at them.

And, for some reason, it was particularly enjoyable to him when it came to discussing art with you. So he had found out back when he invited you to one of his friend’s exhibits. It was different than talking about it with his friends, and he didn’t know if it was the fact that, unlike them, you actually knew about art, or just the fact that it was you.

Maybe both.

Tightening your hold on his hand when there were only four more artworks left, you moved on to the next one, having your jaw drop at the sight of it.

“Hey, this is the one I fixed” you blurted out in both surprise and excitement, unconsciously moving closer to it and dragging Taehyung with you so you could appreciate it better.

Although you were excited to see it there, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up at the memories it brought back — the fact that you had collided with it and spilled coffee on it, still being both upsetting and embarrassing as hell.

You remembered quite well the way you had ran out in search of an art shop to find the necessary supplies to fix it before Taehyung could get home. Maybe you should have been faster. Not like that would’ve been of too much help, though, for whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not, you knew very well he would’ve noticed something was off with his newest creation right away.

Looking at the different shades of blue and touches of yellow right then brought you back to that night you pulled an all-nighter, meticulously trying to recreate his painting — the hardest part being that you had only got to see it for a split second before the coffee that used to be on your —by then— broken mug had ruined it. You could only be thankful that it had been just a particular part of the painting and not all of it.

Staring into the picture, you had to stop yourself from reaching your hand out to it and trace your fingers over the pair of eyes you could tell apart in yet another one of his abstract works. You had not truly paid attention to them that one night you spent in Taehyung’s living room fixing his painting, for you had been way too invested in the details you had ruined. And you couldn’t help but feel relieved over the fact that the hot liquid had not touched the eyes he had so perfectly portrayed, for although they looked quite familiar somehow, you weren’t sure you would have been able to do any justice to them.

“I didn’t think you were actually displaying it” you mumbled after a few seconds, eyes still fixed on the painting.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he cocked one of his eyebrows. “Not to be that guy, but it’s quite good”.

“Yes,” you agreed in a heartbeat. “But you can tell one part of it is quite different to the rest of it”.

“You did a good job fixing it, princess” he recognized. “No one could really tell the difference”.

“I can tell” you mumbled.

Taehyung laughed under his breath. “Will you just look up to its title?”

Doing as told out of curiosity, your eyes darted up in a heartbeat — feeling them well up with tears when you read what the label above the artwork said.

“Sweet Night”, ft. Ariel.

Looking up to hold back the tears you felt so dumb for even having in the first place, you shook your head as the corners of your lips curved slightly up. “You did not just credit me after being the one to ruin it to begin with”.

“Hey, I wasn’t taking full credit over something I didn’t completely paint” he stated. “Plus, it’s smart, don’t you think? No one will ever know this Ariel person is no other than the infamous Kim Y/N”.

“You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to” he stated.

You bit your bottom lip, no longer being able to hold back your smile and letting it part your lips like it had been threatening to. Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh under his breath over how adorable he thought you were, not even dreaming of stopping himself when he let go of your hand and placed his arm over your shoulders instead, pulling you closer to him as the two of you stared into the artwork in front.

“Why ‘Sweet Night’?” you wondered, leaning your head on his body.

He shrugged. “It’s silly”.

“Come onnn,” you pouted, pulling slightly away so you could look at him. “Out of all the paintings here, you can’t leave out the explanation to this particular one”.

Taehyung sighed, knowing well enough that, one, you were right, and, two, you were not letting this go until he told you.

“It was inspired by that one night I came home to you and Sungjin” he said rather bitterly, remembering pretty well how he had not been fazed at all by the fact that you and said guy had obviously been making out right before, yet feeling his blood boil at the mere thought of it now. “We stayed up late eating lots and lots of sweet popcorn because I had way too many of them and you became addicted to them and how well they went with wine” a small laugh escaped his mouth at the memory. “So I just went with that. Plus, you were being really sweet that night and it was the first time I got to see that side of you, so…”

“That is really sweet” you mumbled, feeling the heat reach your cheeks.

“Don’t” he pleaded.

You laughed. “It truly is sweet, Vante” the way your eyes had softened at the sight of him, had his heart skipping a beat. “What do the eyes mean, though?”

“You just want to torture me by now” he called you out.

“I’m just asking!” you defended yourself with a giggle.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, feeling the heat reach his face as he intently focused on the painting, evading your eyes as he spoke.

“I’ve never been a fan of people having their full attention on me, I don’t like being the center of attention… I mean, I told you today how I was not looking forward to the moment I would have to give a speech in front of all my guests” you nodded, remembering how you had tried to cheer him up when it came to that. “So I don’t really talk about my art… or about art in general, to anyone. I just show it to them and let them interpret it, that’s what art is about, after all. But that one night you asked me a lot about my art and I actually felt like talking about it with you, and I remember the way your eyes were fixed on me almost as if you were scared you would miss some kind of important detail,” he laughed lightly. “And for the first time I liked the attention. I guess that inspired me enough to paint this”.

“So those are my eyes?” you asked.

He shrugged. “It’s up for interpretation”.

You shook your head in amusement, staring down as you felt your face burning. “You’re the worst”.

Taehyung chuckled, pulling you closer to him with the arm that was still around your shoulders, and using his free hand to place two fingers under your chin and make you look up at him. “Am I now?”

You felt your breathing become heavier the second his nose faintly bumped on yours — his lips only centimeters away from your anticipating ones. Too intimidated by him right then, knowing well enough he had you wrapped around his finger, you managed to shake your head no to answer his question, without taking your eyes away from his for even a second. Or well, that until his chocolate ones travelled down to your mouth.

Staring down into his tempting lips as they slowly came closer to yours, you looked up to his eyes for a split second, just enough to catch a glimpse of the way his remained fixed on your mouth. And then, you saw nothing — eyes instinctively closing when his lips softly trapped your bottom one.

Just one touch of his lips made you wonder how you had managed to go on all these weeks without getting a taste of them again.

“I thought you didn’t do this whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing?” you whispered against his lips, opening your eyes to find his dark ones already fixed on you.

A small, breathy laugh escaped his mouth, leaning in so it would faintly brush against yours. “I’m not kissing you as a friend”.

Your lips parted into a smile, not letting another second go by before you pressed your lips to his, making him smile and cup your face in his hands just like he had done weeks ago with the intention of deepening the kiss.

With your arms wrapping around his neck, you pulled him closer to your body, letting go of the kiss for a second to catch your breath and having him take advantage of your slightly open mouth to trap your bottom lip in his eager ones again, this time tracing his tongue over it and slipping it inside your still open mouth — meeting your awaiting one in the middle just the way he wanted.

Letting go of your face, one of his hands travelled down to your lower back so he could feel you even closer, fingers tracing their way down your bare arms as he did so, and feeling goosebumps form on your skin.

“You’re cold?” he asked, taking one second to catch his breath before his wet lips were back on yours.

You shook your head no, a small, shy laugh escaping your mouth. “I didn’t get chills because I’m cold”.

Taehyung bit his lip, feeling the corners of his mouth curving up and pressing one last kiss to your lips before finally pulling away from you as his eyes were intently fixed on yours.

“I will keep my coat to myself then” he teased you.

“Nope,” you were quick to deny. “I am taking you up on the coat offer when we leave”.

“Okay” he laughed lightly, the hand that was still on your face travelling down your arm to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Shall we go?”

You shook your head no quite effusively. “We’re not done with the exhibit yet!”

“I’m hungry, let’s go eat something” Taehyung whined. “We can come back some other day”.

“Yah,” you called him out. “I came all the way here just to see your artworks”.

Your words earned a somewhat bitter pout from him. “Thought you had come all the way over here to see me”.

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that, tugging on his hand to pull him closer, and then making him replace said pout with a smile when you pressed two chaste kisses to his mouth. “It was implicit” your teasing words had him rolling his eyes. “We only have three more to go and then I’m all yours”.

He smirked, pulling you with him to the next piece. “I like the sound of that”.

“I meant it as in, then we can go get some food” you mumbled, feeling your face burning for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“I know” he pecked your lips. “Doesn’t change that I enjoy the sound of that”.

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

— falling out of love with gojo satoru

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual content, cursing

masterlist !

when you fell in love with gojo satoru, your heart exploded like a firework.

you still remember that moment very vividly at the back of your head. it was new year’s, and you two were drunk on both liquor and the feeling of having the other by your side. it was a tough year – as the norm was for jujutsu sorcerers – but you both made it out alive.

alive couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt that day.

satoru has always been the person who stuck by your side through thick and thin like how you were the one who always went against the higher-ups when they tried to limit his capabilities. you should’ve known then, that the higher ups were just the beginning. that when once you thought their oppression for satoru’s plans were nothing but microscopical compared to the barrier his family had placed between the both of you.

they didn’t like you.

he was a gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you were...well, you.

you weren’t really anyone special or better than anyone. your technique was decent and had a lot more drawbacks than advantages that you had to improve your physical abilities instead to not be deemed a total useless tool.

satoru never saw you that way. to him, he admired you almost as equally as he cherished his best friend, suguru, so much so that the three of you become the best of friends in the blink of an eye. the more time you spent together, whether alone or with others, it felt like your world just hyper focused or snapped into tunnel vision, zeroing on no one else but the white-haired man whose smile was brighter than any other in the sky.

when he told you he loved you, you couldn’t distinguish which ones were the exploding new year fireworks or the drumming of your heart. you stared up at him then, lips falling open as you released a tiny breath of air, and satoru laughed. he actually laughed.

you wanted to tease him, to punch him even though you couldn’t really ever touch him just to get over the fact he had you losing your composure with eyes glossing over. “well,” he taunted then, one shoulder lifting up lazily. “aren’t you gonna say anything? if you feel the same way, now’s the best time to tell me. we can end the year as friends and start another one as-”

satoru never got to finish his sentence. you had jumped into his arms faster than the speed of light, hands yanking down his yukata to pull him towards you, your lips slamming on his almost greedily.

he didn’t mind. he never did.

for once, it felt as if his infinity never existed. you had both spent the night tangled under the sheets, your name rasped from his lips like a prayer. the way you kneeled for him just moments later with your eyes fervently closed made him feel like he’s the one being worshipped instead, and in a way, it was. you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt the day after when he never gave you a break and kept you pulled closer to him.

you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt if ever the time came that you no longer felt the same.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly. your shared apartment would still be filled with his annoying mannerism of dragging his feet over the floor as he walked, always groaning and complaining that he was hungry but never really bothered to cook anything for himself.

it felt a lot like living with a child where you were his mother, but in that sense, satoru hated it whenever you worried for him.

“you’re not my mother, stop telling me what to do!”

“stop being so arrogant, satoru!” you pointed to the barely conscious child in his arms, the first year student still barely breathing because satoru had gone out of his way again and brought yuuji while he fought a special grade curse. “you may be strong, but not everyone around you is capable of handling what you can! stop dragging people into your mess and start using your goddamn brain for once!”

“you don’t know anything, so shut the hell up.”

you scoffed, hands placed on your hip while you blinked back the angry tears that threatened to fell. you worried for yuuji, you really did, but in reality, you just couldn’t handle seeing gojo pushing himself to his limits and coming back home more wounded than the night before.

“i’m just worried for you, satoru. i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m the strongest,” was all he said – was what he always kept saying. “i’m not going to get hurt.”

“you may not,” you reply stiffly, “but what about me? don’t you think about me? don’t you think about how much it hurts me to see you this way?”

you told yourself you hated him. you hated how arrogant he got. it was good he was confident of his abilities and prided himself of such an honourable title, but satoru was human. he was bound to fall at some point.

eventually, you got too tired.

it was too tiring to keep waiting for him to come home unscathed. you were assigned different missions all the time. satoru would always be working overseas while you mostly helped train the kids and exorcised curses from time to time; no missions that were as dangerous as his.

in the dead of the night, when you were turned away from him in your bed that had already gotten so cold from his usual absence, satoru would slip beside you as silently as he could. the morning afterwards would always be the same: good morning, did you sleep well? he knew the answer. he knew you never slept well without him, but he’d ask just to be nice, and it wouldn’t take too long before you’re both late to work because he missed you too much from being away all the time that he wanted to feel you clamp around him one more time.

it was tiring. too tiring.

that heavy weight never left your shoulders. you cried yourself to sleep far too much that you’d lost count – until you reached a point you just felt nothing. the bed no longer felt cold – just empty. his side always remained untouched, his chair in the dining table barely used, and you’ve gotten so used of washing only your plate and utensils that you wondered if satoru had ever been there.

you wondered if it was a coping mechanism; that maybe you could just no longer handle the pain of having to worry about him every damn night and he’d never care enough to at least be a little more careful, and this was why you just stopped missing him, which was why you just started enjoying the silence in your apartment a little bit more than you should.

but if it was a coping mechanism...why did you feel a lot freer and happier in his absence? instead of it feeling like you were supposed to be distracted, you felt awakened. alive.

alive in the same way he told you he loved you while the skies painted different hues of red, blue, green, and yellow in the darkness that bore witness to your souls connecting that night – the same sky that was now patiently watching as your souls split in half and formed itself whole all over again.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly.

there was no longer someone singing made up songs in the shower. there would no longer be that sound of an annoying loud kiss down the bride of your neck or the smacking of his palm on your ass when he wanted to piss you off.

you fell out of love him so silently that when he crawled next to you that night, you didn’t even hear him. and for the first time in a long time, you slept well the moment he left before the sun stretched its wings across the horizon. when you were greeted by nothing but your own pair of slippers outside your bedroom and not even a post it note to tell you he’d already left for work, a smile tugged on your face.

you made your breakfast in peace. satoru no longer dared to come back home if he was injured because he knew you wouldn’t care enough to fix him up.

although of course you would, but nothing ever beats in your heart for him anymore when you dab the disinfectant across his cut lips. satoru would catch your wrist then to tug you to him slowly, empty eyes staring back at his sky blue ones.

“thank you. for patching me up.”

“you’re welcome,” you’d smile, climbing off his lap while closing the first aid-kit. “go get changed. i’ll cook something up for you.”

it was a silent, empty routine. satoru would thank you for fixing him up because he was never every sorry for worrying you. he’d keep being reckless again and again until he reached a point you no longer cared for him enough to say goodbye to him with a kiss and the slow, tender promise of be safe – i’ll wait for you to come home.

you still kiss him – more out of habit than anything – but you’ve changed.

i’ll see you tonight.

it was empty, silent, completely different from the fireworks he’d ignited within you when he told you he loved you. satoru wasn’t dumb, and he didn’t need his six eyes to see that you’ve grown too comfortable over the large space between you and him between the sofa, almost as if him being away was what felt home for you.

he was never a confrontational man; he hated each waking moment that lead to this, but he had to do it. he needed to do it – to set you both free.

when the commercials started playing, satoru lowered the volume down, voice low and serious as he turned to you. you easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room – the first thing you’ve felt ever since you’ve fallen out of love with him – yet nothing changed. when satoru sighed, your heart didn’t ache.

“well,” he chuckled nervously as he leant back to his side, “things have changed, don’t you think?”

“yes.” there was no point denying it. you knew it – he felt it.

“what do we do now?”

you had no answer to his question. despite the fact you no longer looked at him the same way, not once had it crossed your mind to leave your apartment. not because you wanted to hold on as much as possible to whatever memories you shared under this roof, but simply because you didn’t know where else to go.

it wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. satoru barely came home, and when he did, he made his presence as scarce as possible that you could no longer tell what difference it would make if he was here or not.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, knees hugged to your chest. “what do you want to do?”

his answer came in the form of opened doors. you leant against the doorframe, watching as nanami and even yuuji came to help satoru move his stuff out of the apartment. he found a better place somewhere in the upstate, somewhere much closer to bars and clubs – which you know he thoroughly enjoyed it prior to meeting you – and your mind immediately went back to the time you and satoru first moved in.

it proved to be a difficult task. you both wanted to move in and finish unpacking as soon as possible, but satoru was too eager to christen each part and corner of the house that you both ended up making more mess.

nights spent tucked into each other because the heater was broken and you were both too tired to sleep anywhere except the uncomfortable mattress played like a broken record in your mind. satoru’s laughter echoed when nanami complained that he should stop spending money on souvenirs so he could’ve hired professionals to help him move out instead, your head snapping up at the source of that carefree, sweet laugher that always had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

as if feeling your gaze on him, satoru’s eyes flitted to where you stood. when he smiled, you could tell each genuine apology rang behind it – all the words he never got to say staying like a broken glass that kept cutting him over and over again.

he loved you. he still loves you.

and maybe, tucked away in the deepest parts of your heart that no longer felt fond of him the same way it did before, still held a little compassion enough for this man you once wanted to spend your life with.

you weren’t unkind. you didn’t need to love someone to know when to forgive them, but just for this moment, just for him, you could pretend to for one last time.

smiling up at him with your eyes crinkled and the last bits of adoration for everything about him gleamed through your lashes just before it slipped away into nothingness. it was enough. it was enough for satoru to know he’d been forgiven, and it was enough for him to finally set you free.

the next time you saw him at school, there were no longer fireworks.

your heart was at peace.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader smut #gojo-satoru-x-reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo x reader imagines #gojo x reader drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru

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httpdabi · 3 years

Text

AmongUs

Summary: You decided to play AmongUs with your best friend and troll some randoms in there, what you didn’t really expect was to meet an extremely handsome stranger that has to offer you things your ex boyfriends never did.

Genre: smut, romance, No quirks looool

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: 18+ (minors fuck off kindly), creampie, multiple orgasms, fingering, forced orgasm, daddy kink, dom!Dabi, orgasm denial, praising!

I had lots of fun writing this! Hope you enjoy it <3

,, Girl, you promised that you’ll come over tonight’’ you whined loudly over the phone, as your best friend Nejire told you that she won’t be able to make it, breaking your plans into tiny little pieces. Damn her childhood friend and his whole family deciding to come exactly today over, ruining your perfect evening with your best friend.

,, Yeah, but we can drink and play, doesn’t matter if we ain’t together, I’m sure he’ll like to play with us ‘’ you could almost feel her smile on the other line, and with only that you couldn’t even think about being mad at her, knowing very well how much she loves that guy. Probably in a way that no friends love each other.

,, Yeah, yeah. But girl, if you dich me tonight and let me troll people on my own, I’ll never forgive you’’ you smiled, knowing very well that she won’t do that. The two of you spend too much time playing stupid games together, drinking till you are comfortable enough to argue with strangers online, and troll the shit out of them.

Since it was weekend, and you were spending time on your own, you decided to start drinking a bit earlier. Turning on a movie, you started sipping on your wine, exchanging some texts with your best friend every now and then.

Your first glass was done way too fast, and you were already sitting in front of your computer with your forth glass beside the keyboard, and a cigarette in your right hand, texting a code to Nejire as you puffed on your cigarette.

The moment you saw one familiar and one not so familiar usernames getting into the private lobby , you smiled widely once Nejire started laughing loudly.

,, HAHAHA BITCH WHAT KIND OF NAME IS THAT’’ she screamed, as her lover boy giggled quietly beside her, probably too shy to say anything.

,, What is wrong with Kentuckycriedfricken?’’ you asked, as you slowly tapped with your fingers over the table. Well, you weren’t so creative tonight, but you could only blame alcohol on that.

,, Why the fuck are you called TURKEY_SANDWICH’’ you added another question, not giving her a chance to answer to your first one.

,,BECAUSE I’M CARVING ONE’’Nejire screamed, and in that moment you knew very well that she drank as much as you did, if not even more. You giggled to yourself, as you watched the room getting full, some people talking, some texting in the chat and some simply waiting.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, once you saw all the people commenting START In the small chat box. There was something about it that was pissing you off, making you kick or ban anyone who writes it. This time, you were too busy laughing with your friend, and instead doing any of it, you simply started the game.

CREWMATE

You sighed in relief, taking a sip of your wine, as Nejire ran around you with her friend, singing loudly. Ignoring the two of them, you made your way to the Admin room, to swipe the card, not so surprised once you saw a crew of other players doing the same thing.

,,KENTUCKYCRIEDFRICKEN WHERE ARE YOU’’ you heard Nejire once she entered the room. Once she noticed the cyan color hiding in the crowd she hurried with her Pink character toward you.

,,Wanna watch me scan?’’ she asked, making you giggle as she just gave you the secret code, making sure you know that she’s the Impostor.

,,Nah, Imma pass’’ you said, getting out of the room. You were pretty sure she’ll win the game, since she had you and her friend on her damn side, but you did wish you could know who the other Impostor is. Ignoring her, you made your way toward the Weapons, to clear the damn Asteroids and just look for someone to play around with. These people were way too quiet for your taste.

,,Heyyyy what’s up man?’’ you almost screamed excitedly when you saw a dark blue character, hopefully a crewmate, standing there and clearing Asteroids, or you thought so. You forced your voice a pitch higher, giggling to yourself, knowing how stupid you sound.

,,Oh my god, how old are you?’’ the stranger asked. The moment you spoke, all the giggles were gone. That guys voice was so damn deep, you literally had to lit a cigarette before you decided to speak up again.

,,Old enough’’ you laughed, refusing to tell him your real age just now.

,,Older than 18?’’ he asked, as you were shooting those Asteroids, not that focused.

,, Of course’’ you gasped, rolling your eyes, like he might see you.

,, Thanks God.. Do you play Amongus often ?’’ he asked, not even knowing that his fucking voice was doing things to you.

,, Amongus is my favoire game’’ you said, finishing your task. The way he talked to you, you were almost sure that he was trying to troll you a bit there, probably thinking you are one of those uwu pick me girls.

,,Mhmm.. you’re up pretty late.. what’s your bed time?’’ he asked, and with that question you were more than sure that he was messing around.

,, Daddy beats me if I don’t go to bed at 9’’ you tried to hold your laugh, and you could almost hear the stranger doing the same thing you do.

,, Ohh, I could be your daddy and I would never do that to you ‘’ he said. In that moment, if it wasn’t for his voice, you would probably just laugh loudly and just go away. But damn, the way he said that.

,,HAHHAHA YOU CRAZY FUCK’’ You choked out, once you got out of your little dream, liking how he played along.

,, So that’s your real voice’’ he mumbled, small muffed laugh following the sentence, as you ran away from him. You didn’t hear a voice like that for a long time, and you really hoped that the dude will follow you around for the rest of the game.

Which at your surprise happened.

You were about to ask him some stupid question, but in that very moment someone found a fucking body.

,,Pink killed white and just jumped into the vent in front of me’’ some dude accused Nejire, and that’s when you knew that you have to jump in.

,, I saw Pink scan tho, so that makes you pretty sus dude’’ you lied without thinking twice. Yeah, you knew that it’s more fun if you play by the rules, and don’t team up.. but Nejire is rarely the Impostor and she’s always so damn excited when she wins.

,, Yeah, that’s Pretty sus… ‘’ your new friend said, probably believing you, since you two spent some short time together.

At the end of the short meeting, White was voted out.

You made your way to Reactor to do your task, and Nejire and her friend followed you, probably to look a bit clear to others. You hated the task you had to do, so you took your time, ignoring the loud laughs coming from your friend.

Shortly, the voice of Nejire was changed with the deep one.

,, So, what do you do usually?’’ he asked, as you tried to start the reactor. You had trouble with that task without being tipsy, so alcohol wasn’t really helping in your current situation.

,, I’m streets salesman of burgers’’ you joked, making him laugh a bit. Only to end up telling him that you are actually a student, having a mini job at the café near where you live. You weren’t even sure if his voice was making you speak up or the alcohol, but you almost found yourself telling him the story of your life.

,, Where are you going?’’ he asked you, as you made your way toward Electrical, stopping once the lights got off. You didn’t want to look sus to him, but you didn’t want to go there, since everyone knows that the first person that enters the room will end up dead.

,,Well, I wanted to go to electrical, to do my task, but not so sure about it anymore’’ you said honestly, running around him.

,, Come on, I’ll keep you safe’’ he laughed, and you followed him. The moment you were about to do your task, the game finished, showing how the Impostors won.

You heart almost skipped a beat when you saw In the chat box how your dark blue feiend was the second Impostor. You found it extremely cute that he had way too many chances to kill you and he never did. Instead of killing you, he was simply chatting with you.

CREWMATE

Usually you were the one to hate playing as impostor, always feeling the pressure and thinking that you’ll ruin the game for the other impostor, but tipsy like that, you wished you could be one now, and kill some crewmates around.

,, Doll, teaming ain’t nice’’ deep voice told you as you were downloading the data in the Cafeteria.

,, Awh, come on, she needs a bit of support’’ you said, focused on his voice more than on your task. ,,After all you just used me to clear yourself and look less sus’’ you added and he sighed loudly, acting shocked that you could even think of him like that.

You thought that the little play with the stranger will be just one time ‘’experience’’, but at your surprise he asked you for your instagram at the end. Usually you aren’t the one to share your personal information’s with others, and you also weren’t sure what you’re getting into, yet you found yourself giving him your username before you turned the computer off and drifted into a deep sleep.

Once you woke up, your phone was blown up with notifications, every single one from instagram. One text message and the rest of it were likes.

[Touyaf]:

,,Well, didn’t expect you to be this pretty.. super glad I met you there ’’

You smiled to yourself as you read the little message, with one of your post attached to it. Tapping on his username, your eyes almost widened in shock once you realized that not only his fucking voice was attractive. The dude was a motherfucking snack, and you had a pretty big luck that you found him in that silly lobby.

To Touyaf:

,, Heyy, you ain’t looking bad either lol same, let’s play together again ‘’

You replied, before you returned to his profile to like some photos he posted. Being honest, you didn’t know what to expect, but what you didn’t expect was a black haired guy, with piercings and tattoos covering his body. He definitely didn’t look like someone who spends his time on computer playing fucking Among us.

Hopping out of your bed, you made your way to get ready for the day. There were many things you planned to do, so you didn’t really want to waste your time. The faster you’re done, the more time you’ll have at the end.

After you packed all the post you had to send for your work, you headed to the bus station, hoping you’ll be able to catch the next bus. At your surprise Dabi was replying to your messages way too fast, making it one of the conversations where your eyes simply have to stay glued to your phone.

You found it almost funny how you ended up checking up your phone more often than usual, for someone you didn’t even meet yet. Sure, his profile looks legit, but the possibility that some attention thirsty freak is hiding behind that profile will be there till you meet him personally.

Once you finished everything up, you made your way toward the little Game shop, the one you were a well known costumer in. The now not so new Crash Bandicoot game that got out months ago was finally on the sale. You wanted to buy it the same day it got out, but $75 was too much, and it’s not like you’re shitting money.

The moment you bought the game, you wished you could fucking teleport yourself home, but sadly, you still had stuff to do and the game had to wait.

Your steps felt heavy, as you pushed yourself in the crowd, trying to keep your balance. Someone’s shoulder almost knocked you out, making your blood boil in just a damn second. Turning your head to the side, more than ready to fight, a smile crept on your face once you realized who you’re facing.

,, OH MY fucking god ‘’ you gasped, pointing every word out.

,, Woww, you’re alive’’ your cousin laughed, once she realized that you were ready to throw some hands. You really wanted to go home, but since ALL OF SUDDEN, both you and your cousin had some time, she forced you to go grab a coffee with her.

The two of you wanted to meet for a long time, but yet none of you could manage to get some free time and meet.

,, Yeah, Kai went to that Music program. The whole town was voting for him, didn’t you know that?’’ she said, talking about your childhood friend that always wanted to become famous.

,, Wow, strong community ‘’ you joked, acting surprised. Even tho he was your friend, you had to be honest. He couldn’t sing for shit.

The two of you ended up spending much more time than you planned to, and you ended up not minding it at all. You actually enjoyed talking about random shit form the last with her.

,, Wow, I didn’t think Bonnie is still alive. That dog could sense us from far away, so weird’’ your cousin said, sipping on her now cold coffee. ,, You think she would still smell or sense me if I would be on my way to your parents house ?’’ she added, eyes almost twinkling excitedly.

,, She can definitely smell your stinky ass’’ you joked, playing with the metal straw in your drink.

,, Oh eat shit, I’m sweating so much that I’m showering two times a day’’ she protested, slapping your arm playfully.

,,And even that ain’t helping’’ you laughed loudly once you saw her disgusted face.

The two of you finally parted ways, once you told her that you have some other important plans, deciding its better not to tell her that you’re dying to go home and play the game you bought.

You almost teared up once you were finally in your pajamas, laying comfortably on your couch and playing the game. You almost teared up, when you chose the retro function of the game, where you can get and loose life, thinking you’re the old school gamer. Oh, how fast you changed it once you realized how hard the game is.

After playing the game for two hours, you realized that you definitely won’t be able to finish it in one night. You were glad that the production was aiming for the old public, but you didn’t expect it to be that hard.

[Touyaf]:

,,The game is dope as fuckkkk, but too easy imo’’

You smiled when you saw that he replied to the picture you posted on the story.

To Touyaf:

,, Are you insane ? I’m on the same level thirty fucking minutes now :( ‘’

You replied, as you continued with the game, only to pause it after one minute of gameplay just to check your phone when you saw the instagram notification.

[Touyaf]:

,, Want me to help you?’’

To Toyuaf:

,, How ?’’

[Touyaf]:

,, Send me your address ‘’

Your eyes widened when you saw what he wrote, too scared to open the message he sent you. Of course you wanted to meet him, but so fast ? And at this time ?

Was that really smart ?

Well, it doesn’t matter if it’s smart or not, you ended up sending him your address, last name and running around in the middle of the night and cleaning your apartment anyway. You found yourself smiling the whole time while hysterically cleaning around. You didn’t know if he is living near or far, yet there was so much to do. It was very visible that you weren’t expecting any guests.

Luckily for you, it took him some time to arrive, giving you a chance to clear everything nicely and throw your clothes that were laying around into the closet.

The moment you heard the doorbell you got nervous like a little teenage girl that was about to go on her first date and the moment you opened the door, you were more than sure that you made the right decision when you sent him your address.

Was is possible that someone could be that handsome ? At one point you thought that he was just photogenic when you scrolled his Insta feed, you thought maybe he knew his angles. But damn, the dude standing in front of you was someone you would spread your legs for without thinking twice.

,,Hey, nice to finally meet you’’ he said, giving you a small hug which you definitely didn’t expect. ,, You look even prettier than on photos’’ he added, smiling at you.

,, You think? Thank you. You too’’ you said awkwardly. Usually you are much more confident, and you don’t have problem with communication, but the fact that this handsome dude you barely know, is in your apartment, made your legs shake.

,, I mean, you are really handsome’’ you added fast, trying to break that creepiness in your voice, giving yourself a mental facepalm once you realized that he was holding back his laugh. You almost looked like fucking Bella from Twilight. Was that necessary ?

,, What do you want to drink? Tea ? Coffee? Orange juice ? Wine ?’’ you asked, preparing the glass. He probably noticed how nervous you are and that made you even more nervous. Everything that could go wrong, is going wrong right now.

,, Well, I’m really up for some wine’’ Touya said as he sat comfortably on your couch.

THANKS GOD. You weren’t sure if you would be able to survive being in the same room with him while drinking a fucking chamomile tea.

,, You can’t beat this level? This one ?You can’t be for real’’ he laughed, as you placed two glasses and one bottle of wine on the table.

,, Are you dissing my gaming skills ?’’ you laughed, pouring the wine in the glass while he was playing the game like it was nothing.

,, Ah please, how many times did you paly it ?’’ you whined loudly, as he played almost perfectly.

,, Oh thanks God, you are a smoker, I was already stressing myself out if I’ll have to go out for every cigarette’’ Touya said once he saw you lit a cigarette.

After your second glass of wine, all the nervousness was gone. The two of you were having pretty much a fun time playing the game and drinking together.

,, What are you doing ???’’ he asked, almost screaming once you died in the game, without getting to the checkpoint.

,, MY BEST, I’M DOING MY BEST’’ You screamed back, throwing the controller to his direction, one again feeling defeated.

After that night, Touya started visiting you more often, and every night he would visit you, the two of you would drown a bottle of wine. You didn’t expect him to be such a cool person actually. In your opinion he did look like someone who’s full of himself.

Also, when you told Nejire that you met the dude from Among us, she immediately started lecturing you about how he could have killed you, totally ignoring the fact that you were standing in front of her alive and more healthy than you ever were.

,, Anyway, they have one appointment free today ‘’ Nejire said, as the two of you walked down the street, going to your usual café.

,, What are you talking about ?’’ you asked confused.

,, About escape room you stupid bitch’’ she said, hitting your arm lightly like she was talking about it clearly before.

,, Nejire, if the two of us go, one hour won’t be enough for us to get out of it’’ you pointed, knowing very well that neither of you is capable of figuring anything out on your own, especially not some scary ass escape room.

,, Ye, but I can ask Mirio to come, and you can ask the Dabi dude’’ she said, rising her eyebrows at you. Well that wasn’t a really bad idea actually.

Both Mirio and Dabi agreed, and while sipping on your coffee the two of you reserved the room. It was pretty much unplanned, and you had around 2 hours until your appointment, but you were really glad it worked out.

,, Girl, you should see my little sister today, girlie is only 3 years old, and she already flirts better than you and me together’’ Nejire giggled, as you gave her one questioning look.

,, She met some boy at playground today. You should see the looks they were giving each other. They even started talking in their baby language, discussing something’’ she said, making you laugh as you imagined her baby sister hitting on some other kid. You were never a person that could deal with kids, but her sister was really special.

Once the Mirio arrived, Nejire got all quiet, which almost made you laugh out loud, since she’s nothing like that usually. She did tell you before, that the two of them hooked up after one of the birthday parties you attended, but you almost forget about that.

,, What can I get you?’’ the waiter asked Mirio, as you and Nejire talked excitedly about escaperoom.

,, One Matte Lacchiato’’ Mirio said, trying to follow what you were talking about, while the waiter was looking at him confused, not sure if he’s joking or not.

,, You mean Latte macchiato ??’’ Nejire asked, trying to hold her laugh. The moment the waiter left, none of you had to hold it back anymore.

,, Dude, Matte Lacchiato ? Really?’’ you laughed loudly.

,, Fuck off, I’m not a coffee person’’ Mirio snapped, his face all red from embarrassment.

,, One Paccuccino please’’ you joked, making Mirio roll his eyes.

,, One Sepresso please’’ Nejire laughed loudly , while Mirio was mumbling something under his breath, hating the both of you in the moment.

,,By the way, I don’t like this thing, tastes like nothing’’ he said, as giving it to Nejire to try it out.

,, Out of 1 to 10, how many points would you give to this Matte Lacchiato?’’ Nejire asked, giggling, giving him a sign that she’ll never forget the silly mistake he said.

,,2 points. One for having balls to sell it, and another one because I’m such a good hearted person’’ he said, pushing the drink to the side.

The moment you saw Touya enter the café, you started waving around with your hands, helping him find you.

,, What took you so long ?’’ you asked, as he took a seat next to you. He looked good as usual, wearing oversized purple shirt, and black pants with nike airforce.

,, I was in the middle of a jog when you texted me’’ he said putting his both hands in the air, feeling attakced.

,, Oh that sounds fun’’ you joked, as you rolled your cigarette.

,, Yeah? I’ll call you next time to come with’’ he said, also rolling a cigarette, while giving you a side look.

,, Not that fun’’ you laughed.

,, dude, the last time we jogged together, she had to call a taxi to bring her back home’’ Mirio said, making Touya laugh.

,, Trueeee, I had to pour water all over her face when we were jogging together’’ Nejire added, remembering the accident that happened back in the days.

,,Oh shut up, I had to put your fucking legs up hoping you wont collapse’’ you laughed. Sure, both Mirio and Touya were in better shape than you, but Nejire ? Girl was on the same level.

,, And stop it, stop dissing me! I’m a victim of a hate crime right now” you whined loudly, as all of them laughed.

When the time came, all of you made your way to the escaperoom. After you checked in and paid, you and Touya went out to smoke one more cigarette since you had some time before the game starts.

,, So, what will you do after this ?’’ Touya asked, placing his arm around you as you puffed on your cigarette.

,, I don’t have any plans yet, why ? Wanna come over ?’’ you asked, mentally holding your shit together once he said that he’ll gladly come.

He was too close, wayyyy too close. You could even smell his fucking perfume.

Once the game started all of you were more than lost, having hard time finding the clues. You were in some basement looking room with tons of books. Touya and you found the first clue, some numbers written on the small closet as a code for opening the box that Mirio found.

Mirio found the second code, that led you to the box with the key that was opening the door.

,, Oh my god guys, there are number on the closet’’ Nejire screamed loudly, making all of you laugh.

,, Sweetie we passed that part long time ago.’’ Mirio said pinching her cheek. You were pretty sure that she was a bit lost, because Mirio was giving her way too much attention.

The next room was even darker than the first one, full of some weird family photos, crosses and blood. All of you were trying to work together, you agreed to use the Woky toky only when needed, yet the person who held it didn’t really give a shit about your agreement.

,, We need help’’ Mirio said, while the rest of you whined loudly since it was probably the third time he’s using it by now.

,, Dude, do you like the worker here ?’’ you asked him, as you took the photo of the wall.

,, No, why?’’ he asked you back, almost confused.

,, Because you are constantly talking to him. I swear you didn’t even talk to your ex that much ‘’ you said, making Touya laugh a bit.

The game continued with all of you in a rush to figure things out. One clue led to another one, and you opened some small room, where someone had to go inside to pull some weird looking rope.

Luckily for all of you, Mirio volunteered. The moment he pulled the rope down, some weird as cockroaches fall down on him, making him get out of the small room faster then he got in there.

,, Fucking shit, I didn’t sign for this’’ he whined, sighing in relief once he realized that those cockroaches are plastic one.

,, I swear, if that shit fell onto me, I would smash the red button without thinking twice’’ Nejire said in disgust.

,, This game is hard as fuck’’ you sighed, as you held some weird box with some knifes in your hand.

,, Wanna know what else is hard ?’’ Touya said quietly, making your eyes widen in shock.

,, Excuse me?’’ you couldn’t believe what he was asking you, here in front of your friends.

,, This cross. Oh my god, didn’t expect you to be that dirty minded doll’’ Touya laughed loudly, making you blush. In your Defense, he sounded like he was talking about his dick. He definitely didSl.

At the end, the 4 of you made it out of the room few minutes before the game ended. The moment you opened the door, you found the worker that explained the game and led you to the room standing in front of the very same door. Probably ready to get you all out.

,, This was so embarrassing ‘’ Nejire laughed as all of you got out of the building.

,, Yeah, imagine if we didn’t figure it out, what would he tell us ? Sorry but yall have to die now’’ Mirio said.

,, Well, maybe if you used the time we had for figuring everything out, instead of talking with the dude over the Wokytoky, MAYBE we would do better’’ you laughed, as Mirio told you to fuck off.

After Mirio and Nejire left, you and Touya made your way to your apartment, still talking and laughing about the whole game.

The two of you played among us, teaming up against some randoms on a whole new level. He was sitting way too close to you, like there was no place on the couch at all. Of course, you didn’t mind that, but you would lie if you said that you could focus on the game fully.

,, You are so cute’’ Touya pointed when you killed someone in front of him, not even hiding the fact that you are teaming.

He was complimenting you and being touchy with you more then usual.

,, So, are you really into daddy kink?’’ you asked, as you remembered the first time you played together.

,,Maybe ‘’ Touya smirked, focused on the game.

,, Naughty naughtyyy’’ you laughed, killing some other crewmate.

Once you had enough of the game, the two of you ended up just chit chatting about some stupid things, still in the same position as you were in before. The only difference was that Touya was slowly caressing your skin.

,, You wanna sleep over ?’’ you asked, once you realized that it was getting really late.

,, Well, definitely not if I have to crash on this couch’’ he said, making you giggle quietly.

,, Ah, you know I wouldn’t let you sleep here.’’ You mumbled quietly, avoiding eye contact with him.

,, Awhh, is my little doll implying that I can share her bed with her ?’’ Dabi teased. His arm was wrapped around you, rubbing small circles on your right hip gently.

,, Maybe ?’’ you said, trying to focus on anything else than his hand playing around.

,, Anyway, doll, I want to ask you something’’ he muttered, stopping his movements suddenly. You changing your position to have a better look of him, was your answer to go on.

,, Do play a lot with other people online?’’ he asked. You blinked slowly, not sure if that’s really a question he wanted to spit out. It seemed like it would be something more important.

,, Uh, I’m usually playing with Nejire. Why ?’’ you replied, confusion written all over your face. At your surprise, Dabi wrapped his arms around you, forcing you onto his lap like you were a small and weightless playtoy.

,, You know, I don’t like sharing what’s mine. ‘’ he expressed, placing his both hands on your tights, moving them up and down slowly.

,, Yours ?’’ you weren’t sure what was going on, and you definitely didn’t expect that silly question to go this way.

,, Doll, you’ve been mine the moment you sent me your address. What I meant was, you’ve met me so easily, I sure hope you ain’t like that with everyone on the internet.’’ His voice was somehow even more deeper than usual, and maybe it’s weird, but the position you were in was lowkey turning you on.

Maybe the fact that his behavior changed so fast, maybe the fact that he wanted you all for himself .

,, Honesty, I never share my personal information online, since you never know who’s hiding on the other side, but there was something about you. I just wanted to stay in contact with you’’ you responded, playing with your fingers like a lost child.

Instead of replying, he placed his hands on your cheek, pulling you slowly into a kiss, which you accepted gladly. It was the first time you felt such huge attraction for someone, and you were more than happy to give him anything he wants.

Maybe it’s weird to feel such a thing for someone you didn’t know that well, but everyone starts somewhere, right ?

His hands were going up and down your waist, lips never leaving your own. The moment you put your arms up, helping him remove the shirt you were wearing, you felt him smirk into the kiss. Once your shirt was off, he leaned back into the couch, having a better view of you, half naked sitting in his lap.

His right hand was playing with the strap of your bra, and the other one was holding you on his lap firmly. To him, you were the most beautiful little thing that he placed his eyes on, and he was more than grateful that you didn’t freak out because of his small confession.

You couldn’t wait anymore. Bending over, you connected your lips with his own again. His hands moved to your ass, giving it one good squeeze, before he got a firmer grip of you, pushing you up with himself and making his way to your bedroom.

Once he placed you on your bed, he took his shirt of, throwing it somewhere on the floor, as he climbed on top of you. All you could do was close your eyes and moan quietly once you felt his lips on your neck, sucking and biting it gently.

His lips were moving down, from your neck to your chest. From your chest to your stomach, leaving wet love bites on his way down.

Once he got so low, that he was almost between your legs, he unbuttoned your pants slowly, pulling your panties just a little bit down to leave kisses down there.

After few kisses, he gave you a sign to push your hips up a bit, and you did so. The moment you did it, Touya pulled your pants, together with your underwear down, leaving you in nothing else than your bra.

,, Take of your bra’’ he commanded, as he got lost between your legs. You wanted to do it, you really did, but once you felt his tongue on your pussy, you weren’t capable to even think straight, yet to remove your bra.

He was sucking and biting your clit, like no one ever before, making you throw your head back into your pillow as you enjoyed what he was giving you. You cradled your hands into his hair, as you felt thousand things at the same time. You’ve never desired someone so much, and the fact that the person you desired like no one else in your whole life was between your legs eating you out, was driving you crazy on a whole new level.

Dabi felt the same, it was the very first time he felt pleasure while he ate someone out, he was craving you like a mad man.

His tongue was doing wonders to you, and the moment you felt his finger slowly enter you, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get control over yourself.

,, Gotta loosen up my doll a little bit’’ he mumbled, savoring your pussy. The way he ate you out was getting sloppier and sloppier. Once he added another finger, your grip on is hair got stronger, giving him a sign that it hurts a bit.

,, Baby, how will you take my dick if you ain’t capable of taking ony two fingers ?’’ he looked up, smirking at you. Once you gave him a weak nod, he started moving his fingers in and out of you, slowly, giving you time to adjust.

Once he heard you moan, he started moving his fingers a little faster, as he started to rub your clit with his other hand.

,,Oh god’’ you moaned loudly, as pleasure took all over your body. Your orgasm hit you pretty unexpectedly, making you hide your face with your hands in embarrassment. You never came so quickly.

He definitely knows what’s he doing. None of your ex boyfriends made you cum so fast. All they did was simply missionary sex, with no talk at all. Few humps and done.

,, Open your mouth’’ Touya commanded, not giving you a chance to understand what was going on and why he wanted you to open your mouth for him. You felt two wet and sticky fingers rub your lips. You couldn’t even open your mouth fully, as he already shoved his two fingers in it.

,, Suck’’ grabbing your hands with his own and pushing them down, he had to see you, even tho he knew very well how embarrassed you felt in that moment.

Of course you did as he told you, as he held your chin, forcing you to look right at him as you cleaned his fingers that just pleasured you.

,, Such a good girl’’ Touya said, caressing your cheek gently, before he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, trying to free his throbbing dick out of the pants.

,, Didn’t I tell you to take your bra off ?’’ he asked, smirk forming on his lips. ,, Oh, so you don’t like to follow daddys orders ?’’ he added, climbing on top of you.

,, I ..’’ you didn’t even know what you wanted to say, you honestly forgot that you even had your bra on. Instead of saying anything, Touya only laughed, flipping you on your stomach, as he unclipped your bra in one movement.

,, I really wanted to be gentle with you, but if you are not capable in following small orders what will happen later with the big ones?’’ he asked, kissing the back of your neck slowly. You weren’t sure what to say, for you, that wasn’t a big deal, and honestly you didn’t know much about daddy kink.

,, Sorry daddy’’ you said, closing your eyes. It felt weird to call him daddy, but now that you knew that he likes it, you did it anyway.

,, Sorry doesn’t help doll. Daddy has to fuck you into obedience’’ he said, pulling the lower part of your body up. He took a good look of you, before he started rubbing the tip of his dick around your core. The view of you, with your ass up made his dick twitch, and he couldn’t wait anymore.

He shoved his dick into you with one move, forcing your body to move away from him out of the reflex. But Touya wasn’t buying that, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back.

,, You good?’’ He asked. You could hear concern in his voice, and you found it really cute how he suddenly changed.

,, Yes, that was hot ‘’ you said embarrassed, glad he was not facing you.

,, Good, because I ain’t stopping’’ with that, he started rocking his hips into you, as he pulled your head back, hand still holding your hair keeping you in the place he wanted you to be in.

So much about the concern.

,, So fucking tight’’ he groaned, as he fucked fast and hard into you, making your bed crack with every move. You found yourself moaning louder then before, it felt like he was forcing every moan out of you with every snap of his hips against your own.

The moment you felt his fingers on your clit, your walls squeezed around him. Once again embarrassed that you are so close, so fast.

,, Oh nah, you ain’t gonna cum yet’’ he whispered in your ear, leaving your clit and grabbing your hips with his both hands.

,, Ehhh pleaseeee, please daddy’’ you moaned, pushing the embarrassment away.

,, Baby, If you cum now, I’ll make sure you cum at least two more times before I finish you want it or not’’ he said, stopping his movements. Usually, when you had sex you were lucky if you could orgasm even once, since the guys only thought about themselves. You weren’t really sure if you could do it for him. You weren’t sure if you were capable to do it at all.

,, I’ll take that as yes’’ Touya laughed, moving his hips suddenly, his hand back on your clit and rubbing it so fast that he literally forced the orgasm he stopped few moments ago.

You moaned loudly, losing the power in your body. If Touya wasn’t holding you, you would definitely just fall down. He moved his hips slowly, making sure your orgasm lasts long enough for you to see the stars.

Once he was sure you are done, he flipped you over onto your back, spreading your legs with his hands, as he gave you one passionate kiss. You were too focused on the kiss, not realizing that he entered you again, only to realized it once he started moving again.

He was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, not breaking the kiss at all. You could feel his dick hitting your cervix with every move. You found yourself wrapping your arms around him, trying to find some comfort while he fucked the light out of you.

,, Come on baby, cum for your daddy’’ he groaned, enjoying how tightly your walls were squeezing him in that moment.

,, I can’t, oh my god, I really can’t ‘’ you whined, digging your nails into his skin, as he once again started playing with your clit. You felt both pain and pleasure while played with it, forcing the third orgasm out of you.

,, Of course you can, look at you, such a good girl’’ This time he didn’t slow down, letting you enjoy it, instead he was fucking you even harder and faster then before, making the orgasm that hit you almost painful, but yet still good and pleasurable.

With every move he did, you dag your nails deeper into the flesh of his back, moaning loudly not giving a single fuck if your neighbors could hear you or not.

,, One more baby’’ Touya groaned, hitting your g spot all over again. ,, Only one more baby, you can do it ‘’ he added as he rocked his hips against yours. You were so fucking sensitive, that you literally felt every vein of his dick rubbing against your walls. Maybe you were imagining, but it felt like you could literally feel the shape of his whole dick inside you, every inch of it.

He was fucking you in a reckless pace, once again rubbing your clit, while telling you how you’re such a good girl for him and how you’re gonna milk his cock so nicely. Once Touya felt that he was close, once he realized that he won’t last much longer, he started rubbing your clit with more pressure, forcing himself even more into you then before.

,, Come on baby, cum all over my cock’’ he groaned, as you moaned loudly. The moment he forced your last orgasm out of you, he groaned loudly as he was chasing his own high, painting your walls white with his seed.

The moment he came, he slowed down, still not stopping his movements completely. Fucking his seed deep into you. Because of the fact that you came fucking four times, and that he shoot loads and loads of his own seed into you, you were almost sure that you were already leaking on your bed.

,, Are you okay?’’ Touya asked, placing soft kissed on your neck, while his dick was still inside of you. ,, Did I go too far ?’’ he added, once he realized that you aren’t answering.

,, Oh god no, this was amazing’’ you whispered, tilting your head to the side. Touya kissed you, not being able to hold his smile at all. After the kiss, he wore his boxers and made his way to your bedroom, only to come back moments later with a warm towel.

After he cleaned you up, he helped you wear your panties, giving you his shirt instead of your own, before the two of you fall asleep in each others arms.

In that moment, you felt grateful for existence of that silly game where you met this handsome stranger. Who would have thought that Amongus can be a better match maker than Tinder.

You sure didn’t.

#smut #dabi fanfic #dabi headcanons #dabi smut #dabi todoroki #dabi x oc #romance #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #touya smut #dabi x reader #yandere dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #bnha dabi #touya x y/n #touya fanfic #dabi imagine

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