#✞ STOP CALLING ME PASTRIES! ( queue. )

[crackedpumpkin]

Hiiii!!! How are you?? I was wondering if you could write a Hiro hamada x fem!reader who’s a kinda famous teen actress?? (Also with tadashi still alive if you don’t mind…In my brain he didn’t die in the movie 🥲)

Hello hello!! I'm doing okay, thanks for asking! Just a bit dead tired from work. I adored writing this, and that rizzed up line hit me outta nowhere i swear i might just be boyfriend material in the wrong vessel bro.

Warnings: Aged Up! Characters, lil Tadashi appearance cause mans not dead in my eyes.

|| ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ || ʜɪʀᴏ ʜᴀᴍᴀᴅᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

[ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

You enter the cafe, glancing at the display case filled with pastries and doughnuts. Your mouth waters, your stomach rumbling hungrily. You notice the small chatter around you and become self-conscious. 

In retrospect, someone wearing a broad-brimmed hat and sunglasses with a mask covering the bottom half of their face is bound to draw some looks here and there.

But today’s your day off from work, and you intend to enjoy it fully without being mobbed by the paparazzi. You had decided in the morning to wander around San Fransokyo, maybe even catch a glimpse of the superheroes everyone’s been talking about, when you decided to stop at a cafe for lunch.

You join the short queue of customers, trying to decide what to get as you scan the menu. The big breakfast looks incredibly appealing, and the photo beside its name almost makes you drool. You could really use some coffee to energize yourself as well.

You’re finally in front of the cashier, having waited patiently for the person in front to count their change before they leave. The cute boy in front of you looks to be around your age, and the way he runs a hand through his fluffy hair makes you smile. 

“What can I get you?” He pauses when he looks up at you, slightly caught off guard by your getup. You clear your throat, fighting back the embarrassed flush that blooms on your cheeks. 

“Hi, could I get a large latte and a big breakfast combo?” You request, though your voice is slightly muffled through the mask. 

“Yeah, sure. How would you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled, please.”

“Your total will be eleven dollars and thirty cents.” He tells you. Your wallet is already pulled out, but in your haste to grab the money, your sunglasses slide off your face with a clatter on the counter. 

You freeze, a twenty dollar bill in your hand as he picks it up for you. You take it back from him with a thankful nod, accidentally making eye contact before quickly sliding them back on. 

Your breath hitches in that second, scared that he had recognized you and would call the paps to spread the news that you’re here. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. He probably hadn’t gotten a good look at you, considering that your hat might’ve blocked most of his view.

“Where do I collect the food?” You ask, picking up the change.

“It’s okay. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Oh, do you do that for all the customers here?” You’re surprised, though it’s very nice of them to do so.

“Only the pretty ones.” He smirks slightly with a shrug as he waits for the small printer to spit out the receipt.

Your lips part, trying to find a response after his words render you speechless.

“And I don’t usually give discounts either.” He adds with a small smile, handing you back your receipt. You take it with a shy smile and bashful nod, scurrying to an empty seat next to the window. 

You pull out your phone, already buzzing with messages from your manager telling you to return quickly for a new reading of a script that’s been offered to you. You sigh, not opening any of them before pulling out a book and headphones. You connect the wireless headphones to your phone, slumping back in your secluded corner and pressing play on the music.

You open the book, starting off from the page that you left off. It’s your favourite book, smiling fondly at the dog-eared pages your thumb brushes against. You read for a while, removing your hat and sunglasses and placing them beside you for better lighting. 

You’re interrupted when the smell of coffee hits you, looking up to see the cute cashier that had flirted with you earlier. Your eyes immediately widen, heat blooming on your cheeks as he looks down at you with a grin, placing your coffee and plate of food on your table. 

You try to help him arrange the things on your table, your hands brushing against his when you reach for the salt shaker at the same time. He chuckles nervously, and you also spot a faint red on his cheeks when he averts his eyes with a shy smile. 

“Thanks,” You manage to say, your lips suddenly dry when your gaze meets his.

“No problem, hope you enjoy. I’d love to hear what you think of the Lucky Cat Cafe’s food.”

You nod, filing away the name for any future visits. He leaves with another quick glance over his shoulder, and you tear your eyes away from his retreating figure. You start to eat, glancing up every now and then to see him interacting with other customers. 

When a group of people enter the shop, he greets them with a warm smile, making your stomach flip as you clear your throat, looking away. Your eyes unintentionally settle on his figure again, only to inhale sharply when you notice he’s also looking at you.

Your gaze drops down to your food, feeling hot as the blush creeps up your neck to your cheeks. You’re an actress, for goodness sake, you scold yourself, so act!

You focus on your food, but hushed whispers attract your attention. You look back up, noticing that his group of friends are watching you with wide eyes as recognition fills their eyes. You stiffen, trying to finish your food more quickly. 

You hear the whispers die down, glancing up again curiously to see him frowning and saying a few words to his friends with his hand on his hip, and they glance back apologetically with bashful nods. You quickly nod back with a flustered wave when he smiles at you again.

Once you finish your food, you leisurely sip your coffee, watching the cute guy occasionally. He seems to do the same, sneaking small glances here and there. He’d be talking to a customer, only for his eyes to wander over to where you’re sitting.

You’d know; you caught him doing it a few times.

He finally settles one more customer before walking over and taking your empty plate. “So? How’s the food?” He asks, his friends having wandered upstairs to hang out with someone that looks like his brother, the older one giving him a noogie you chuckled at.

“It’s delicious. And,” You hesitate, “Thank you.” 

It’s genuine, and you’re sure he can sense what you’re referring to when his eyes flicker over to you with a hint of surprise before his lips curve upwards into an attractive grin.

“Anything for a cute girl like yourself.”

[axelsagewrites]

Hello. Could I request a fic with f reader working at Richmond and Jan Maas faling in love with reader. Just fluff. ❤️

Jan Maas*Sweet As You

Pairing: Jan Maas x f!reader

Word count: 1134

Warnings: pure fluff

Masterlist here

There were definite perks and draw backs of working at Richmond. On one hand as a receptionist, you got paid to do honestly not very much. However, on the other hand you had to deal with a weird amount of prank calls from football fans.

One recently developing perk was the free coffee you received every morning. No, it wasn't a company thing or from your boss or other colleagues. Every morning this week Jan Maas walked in with a black coffee in one hand and an iced caramel mocha latte with an extra shot of expresso in the other.

It all started when you happened to walk into work at the same time and he noticed the Starbucks cup in your hand. "Is that even coffee at this point?" He half teased half seriously wondered.

"It is coffee," you said, drawing out the words as you defended yourself as Jan opened the front door for you, "caffeine not enough for me. I need that sugar high to deal with you lot,"

Jan chuckled at you, walking you over to the desk where your coworker pretended not to be listening in. "Funny. I thought you were sweet enough. See you later," he said, walking away to leave you a blushing mess.

However as soon as he got out of sight Jan became equally as flustered as he realised what he'd said. What was worse was Sam hearing him muttering under his breath about it resulting in Sam telling all the guys who then set up a plan to teach Jan how to flirt.

The issue was he wasn't very good at it. Instead, every morning without fail he got your coffee for you. "Hey Jan," you called, rolling down your car window as you slowed down. It was 7am and he was walking to Richmond with two coffees in hand, "need a lift?"

Jan preferred to walk. He'd never really seen the big deal around cars. However, he was quick to accept your offer. "My coffees will bankrupt you," you joked as you accepted the drink before resuming your drive.

"Don’t worry about it," he laughed, "your worth the money,"

"Think you can buy my affection? “you teased as you were pulling into Richmond.

"Maybe," he said it quietly, his eyes darting away before back to yours. "Is it working?" He asked.

You turned the car off, taking a long sip out your coffee while pretending to think about it, "I think it might be," you finally said, a smile on your lips and a large grin on his. "Throw in a pastry next time and I'm yours,"

When people saw you get out the same car there were some rumours to say the least. Another drawback of the job. However, another perk was walking in right now with a coffee and a suspiciously sweet-smelling brown bag.

"I wasn't sure which to get so I picked whichever looked the sweetest," he said as he placed the bag down.

"You know me so well," you grinned, "thanks though. Take it you don't have time to have one before practise?" You asked despite knowing he didn’t, but you couldn't help but try.

Your smile plus the way your eyelashes batted had Jan Maas willing to pay the late fee. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the reception desk as you offered him a pastry, "You should make Stroopkoeken with me one day. You'd like them,"

"What are they?" You asked, not realising how adorable Jan thought your head tilt was in your confusion.

"They're like a Carmel biscuit. My mum would make them for me growing up. Better than any Starbucks pastry," he joked, “But you have to make them from scratch to get the best experience,”

“You’ll have to teach me some time,” you smiled back and is if on queue his phone began ringing.

Jan deflated when he saw his teammates call, “I’ll need to go now. I’ll see you later,”

As he began to walk away you cringed before taking a deep breath, “Wait!” you called making him stop in his tracks. “Are you free tomorrow night? Maybe we could try making those biscuits,” you offered with an awkward smile that he found insanely endearing.

A wide grin broke onto his face, “I’d love to. It’s a date,” he said before actually turning to go to practise, leaving you a grinning mess.

-

“A baking date is perfect!”

“Nah man you should go out to a restaurant for the first date,”

“Oh, what if you take her to Sam’s place for dinner first?”

“There’s a new bar up the street you could go to after,”

“What you gonna wear bruv?”

“Make sure you actually clean up. Chicks notice that kinda stuff,”

“Oh, you should get her flowers. Birds dig flowers,”

“And make sure when you go to kiss her- “

“Woah woah guys!” Jan said, standing up from the bench and pushing past his teammates who’d essentially jumped on him after practise when they found out why he was late, “It’s just a first date. Well, I think it’s a date. I said it’s a date, but people here don’t always mean date, oh god what if she doesn’t realise it’s a date?” Jan began to panic, turning to his equally clueless mates.

They were all panicking till a loud, “Oi,” stopped them, “Don’t listen to these pricks,” Roy told him after pretending not to care the whole time, “Shower, shave, tidy up, and calm down. She’ll know it’s a date since all you two do is flirt like some snot nosed teens,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Roy’s right,” Sam said, standing to put a hand on Jan’s shoulder, “You’ve got nothing to worry about,”

“Not what I said but alright,” Roy shrugged but this time he got ignored.

Well apart from Jamie who rolled his eyes before adding his own words of wisdom. “Yeah, mate just be yourself,”

-

The kitchen was now a mess, sugar spilt everywhere, and a pot that looked like it would never be clean again and of course a plate of perfectly made biscuits. “I don’t know how my mum made it look so easy,” Jan said.

You laughed as you reached up to wipe the flour off his forehead, “Yeah but they taste good so who cares,” you said, noticing the way his cheeks tinged pink whenever you touched him.

“They’re almost as sweet as you,” he smiled softly, brushing your hair out of your face making your own skin flush.

Enough was enough you thought, “So tell me something,” you said, Jan humming as he waited for you to ask, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” you nearly whispered.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

Pairing: Jan Maas x f!reader

Word count: 1134

Warnings: pure fluff

There were definite perks and draw backs of working at Richmond. On one hand as a receptionist, you got paid to do honestly not very much. However, on the other hand you had to deal with a weird amount of prank calls from football fans.

One recently developing perk was the free coffee you received every morning. No, it wasn't a company thing or from your boss or other colleagues. Every morning this week Jan Maas walked in with a black coffee in one hand and an iced caramel mocha latte with an extra shot of expresso in the other.

It all started when you happened to walk into work at the same time and he noticed the Starbucks cup in your hand. "Is that even coffee at this point?" He half teased half seriously wondered.

"It is coffee," you said, drawing out the words as you defended yourself as Jan opened the front door for you, "caffeine not enough for me. I need that sugar high to deal with you lot,"

Jan chuckled at you, walking you over to the desk where your coworker pretended not to be listening in. "Funny. I thought you were sweet enough. See you later," he said, walking away to leave you a blushing mess.

However as soon as he got out of sight Jan became equally as flustered as he realised what he'd said. What was worse was Sam hearing him muttering under his breath about it resulting in Sam telling all the guys who then set up a plan to teach Jan how to flirt.

The issue was he wasn't very good at it. Instead, every morning without fail he got your coffee for you. "Hey Jan," you called, rolling down your car window as you slowed down. It was 7am and he was walking to Richmond with two coffees in hand, "need a lift?"

Jan preferred to walk. He'd never really seen the big deal around cars. However, he was quick to accept your offer. "My coffees will bankrupt you," you joked as you accepted the drink before resuming your drive.

"Don’t worry about it," he laughed, "your worth the money,"

"Think you can buy my affection? “you teased as you were pulling into Richmond.

"Maybe," he said it quietly, his eyes darting away before back to yours. "Is it working?" He asked.

You turned the car off, taking a long sip out your coffee while pretending to think about it, "I think it might be," you finally said, a smile on your lips and a large grin on his. "Throw in a pastry next time and I'm yours,"

When people saw you get out the same car there were some rumours to say the least. Another drawback of the job. However, another perk was walking in right now with a coffee and a suspiciously sweet-smelling brown bag.

"I wasn't sure which to get so I picked whichever looked the sweetest," he said as he placed the bag down.

"You know me so well," you grinned, "thanks though. Take it you don't have time to have one before practise?" You asked despite knowing he didn’t, but you couldn't help but try.

Your smile plus the way your eyelashes batted had Jan Maas willing to pay the late fee. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the reception desk as you offered him a pastry, "You should make Stroopkoeken with me one day. You'd like them,"

"What are they?" You asked, not realising how adorable Jan thought your head tilt was in your confusion.

"They're like a Carmel biscuit. My mum would make them for me growing up. Better than any Starbucks pastry," he joked, “But you have to make them from scratch to get the best experience,”

“You’ll have to teach me some time,” you smiled back and is if on queue his phone began ringing.

Jan deflated when he saw his teammates call, “I’ll need to go now. I’ll see you later,”

As he began to walk away you cringed before taking a deep breath, “Wait!” you called making him stop in his tracks. “Are you free tomorrow night? Maybe we could try making those biscuits,” you offered with an awkward smile that he found insanely endearing.

A wide grin broke onto his face, “I’d love to. It’s a date,” he said before actually turning to go to practise, leaving you a grinning mess.

-

“A baking date is perfect!”

“Nah man you should go out to a restaurant for the first date,”

“Oh, what if you take her to Sam’s place for dinner first?”

“There’s a new bar up the street you could go to after,”

“What you gonna wear bruv?”

“Make sure you actually clean up. Chicks notice that kinda stuff,”

“Oh, you should get her flowers. Birds dig flowers,”

“And make sure when you go to kiss her- “

“Woah woah guys!” Jan said, standing up from the bench and pushing past his teammates who’d essentially jumped on him after practise when they found out why he was late, “It’s just a first date. Well, I think it’s a date. I said it’s a date, but people here don’t always mean date, oh god what if she doesn’t realise it’s a date?” Jan began to panic, turning to his equally clueless mates.

They were all panicking till a loud, “Oi,” stopped them, “Don’t listen to these pricks,” Roy told him after pretending not to care the whole time, “Shower, shave, tidy up, and calm down. She’ll know it’s a date since all you two do is flirt like some snot nosed teens,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Roy’s right,” Sam said, standing to put a hand on Jan’s shoulder, “You’ve got nothing to worry about,”

“Not what I said but alright,” Roy shrugged but this time he got ignored.

Well apart from Jamie who rolled his eyes before adding his own words of wisdom. “Yeah, mate just be yourself,”

-

The kitchen was now a mess, sugar spilt everywhere, and a pot that looked like it would never be clean again and of course a plate of perfectly made biscuits. “I don’t know how my mum made it look so easy,” Jan said.

You laughed as you reached up to wipe the flour off his forehead, “Yeah but they taste good so who cares,” you said, noticing the way his cheeks tinged pink whenever you touched him.

“They’re almost as sweet as you,” he smiled softly, brushing your hair out of your face making your own skin flush.

Enough was enough you thought, “So tell me something,” you said, Jan humming as he waited for you to ask, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” you nearly whispered.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

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[shukufuyu]

[Card Backstage Translation] Homare Arisugawa SSR — BE.MINE ver.HOMARE (3/3)

Homare: Really? I truly think that’s to be expected when it comes to someone you cherish.

click below to read more

previous

Izumi: We’ll be in your care once again!

Homare: We’ll be in your care. With everyone lending their help, let us make this a fantastic photoshoot.

Staff A: The pleasure is ours! 

This may be haste but, can you grab these props?

Homare: Oya, and this is?

Camera man: It’s a paper bag with products inside, as your setting is “A date around bakeries and tea shops”

Homare: Understood, Should I hold onto them like this?

Cameraman: Yep, that’s good! Then we’ll start now~

Izumi: (The photoshoot is starting smoothly, what a pleasant atmosphere.)

Cameraman: First off, please try moving freely as you’d like.

…Yep, just like that!

Cameraman: That’s a good expression.

For the next one, can you look over to this side?

Homare: …

Izumi: (Homare-san point of view is slightly lower?)

(Ah, his gaze is as if there’s a shorter person next to him—like a date!)

Homare: …

Izumi: (Hm? He’s holding out his hand…)

Homare: "...Shall I take your bags? Or shall I hold your hand?”

Staff A: So…So cool!

Staff B: We should’ve taken that as a video~!

Izumi: (They’re right, that was so cool just now. The staff had a nice reaction, this might become the best photoshoot up until now)

later that week

Izumi: Let’s line up, shall we?

Homare: Mhm…Compared to the time we went to the tea shop, the queue seems to be way shorter, don’t you think?

Izumi: Yeah, while we still have to line up, it’s different compared to that day. We’re lucky!

Homare: While we wait, why don’t we decide on which pastry you’d like?

Izumi: Alright, let’s use this shop’s Inste account so it’s easier to search.

—Eh… Everything looks delicious..Ah.

Homare: What’s wrong?

Izumi: It’s nothing, I saw this french pastry and got reminded of your photoshoot.

Homare: I see, it’s one of the props used.

Izumi: Speaking of which, we were told to check out the photoshoot’s result…they really turned out amazing.

Really, they were giving you high praises.

Homare: Right, right?

It is to be expected, you’d naturally want to escort the person you love.

Izumi: (As expected of Homare-san…!)

(The message being conveyed from the pictures actually felt natural—Because the person himself is truly genuine.)

Choice A: “How wonderful”

Izumi: That’s a wonderful way of thinking.

I can feel those feelings conveyed through the pictures, because it’s that part about Homare-san.

Homare: Do you think it looks just like lovers enjoying their time shopping?

Izumi: Yes, I think that kind of date sounds very fun!

Homare: I’m happy to hear that. Let us have fun to our heart’s content today too.

Izumi: Eh?

Homare: With the two of us standing in a line at the bakery, you can certainly call this a shopping date, yes?

Along with today's date, I’ll put more care—so Director-kun, lest hold yourself back and have fun.

Choice B: “Just like Homare-san”

Izumi: That’s very Homare-like of you.

Homare: Really? I truly think that’s to be expected when it comes to someone you cherish.

That being said, it seems like there aren’t many of those who can escort a woman as intelligent and elegant as I am.

Izumi: (It didn’t even sound sarcastic because it’s Homare-san saying it. That’s amazing…!)

Homare: Hm? Your face is warming up, is there something wrong? Could it be that you’re admiring me?

Izumi: You–you’re wrong! I was just deciding on which ones to buy.

Homare: How fun. Then let’s decide together.

Homare: …Seems like we’ve purchased a lot of things.

Izumi: We spent a lot of time in the queue, so I thought while we’re at it just grab a bunch…

Izumi: (Hm? He’s holding out his hand…?)

Homare: Shall I take it for you?

…Or shall I hold your hand?

Izumi: …Eh?

(Ah! Those were the lines during the photoshoot…!)

Homare-san! Stop teasing me please! Here you go, I’ll leave the bags in your hands!

Homare: Fufu, leave it to me.

previous

[tummieaching]

I hope its ok to share this - I am having a *time* with this kink today and have no one to tell. Please only read on if you're ok with explicit asks. I'm in my 30s, she/her. You can call me ✉️.

Wrote this in two parts, one in notes app while waiting in line at Post Office, two just now at home which I can send next if you could like to read it.

(One). I think I am about to be sick in public because I messed up my plans and I'm anxious and horny about it lol. Today I had a day off and had some low level nausea which was turning me on so I decided to go with it. I ate a lot of rice pudding and choux pastries and raspberries and then drank a lot of water.

The plan was to wait until I felt very sick and then sit in the shower and let it come back up. I ate as much as I could and was starting to sweat and cramp and my mouth started to water. I drank some green tea because it makes me get really uncontrollably sick (I learned this the hard way at a fancy tea one time and threw up scones and cream in a hotel garden). Right as I finished the tea the first wave of "oh god its coming" got me and I stood up slowly to go get a towel and move to the bathroom.

Then I got a text. It reminded me I needed to get to the post office before it closed to drop something off, it was something very important and today is my last chance to do it and I had forgotten. I had no choice, and only 30 mins to get there. I thought about inducing and trying to get it all up before I left but there was no time. I also knew there was very little chance of making it there and back in the heat without having to be sick even though I have a strong stomach. I grabbed the parcel and some water and rushed out of the house.

I made it to the Post Office but had to stop once on the way because I was sure the sick was coming but I just heaved and then it passed. I'm waiting in a queue at the post office and I have just had to turn my head and try to disguise a gag as a cough. They have a pastry stand and the smell is making me feel like I'm going to puke all that pastry from earlier, I can feel it crawling half up my throat each time I burp (as discretely as possible). I just need to drop this parcel off and then I'm going to try walking home through the park because when I do need to vomit hopefully I can do it in a bush or something.

Thank you very much for sending this, I am very okay with explicit asks and this is wonderful ♡ I understand the anxious, horniness as I've been in similar situations and it can be such fun lol...I'm lying in bed in a hotel room with a full belly resisting the urge to touch myself to your story here, please send me more ♡ I wish I was in line behind you watching you hide that intense nausea... I would love to hear more about your tea story as well ♡

[photosbyjabo]

Road trip around Western Europe: Paris, France

So we’ve arrived back in France. It was nearly 10pm when we arrived in the outskirts of Paris. I remember how we struggled to find the hotel. Already sundown and we’ve settled into our hotel rooms. Maybe because of where the hotel was located but we felt a little bit unsafe at that time of night so we didn’t go out anymore.

The following day, we had breakfast in our hotel with croissants that were sadly not very good. We then took the Metro to get to the city centre. We’ve planned out our two days here so it will be a fully packed day today. We strolled around Notre-Dame de Paris and also around the 5th arrondissement where we had lunch of steak and frites (and wine!) at a random restaurant on a random alley.

After lunch, we went to the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur de Montmartre for the second time but this time we went all the way up the cathedral and the view was stunning! You could even see the Eiffel Tower. We were so happy the weather’s nice and not too hot.

Next stop, Musée du Louvre! We must’ve spent about 3 hours of our afternoon here and it was nearly sunset when we came out. So much to see!!! We went straight for the Mona Lisa’s queue though but it was very anti-climactic the moment we got to see it. You don’t really get to appreciate it because no one’s allowed to go near it. A little bit disappointed with that but unfortunately majority of the people who visit the museum just wants to see the Mona Lisa. It was a bit chaotic for me especially once you’re in front of her as they only give you a minute to look at it. Everyone’s basically taking pictures of it and with it. I don’t think I’d want to do that again.

If we had more time I would’ve loved to go around and explore the other parts of the museum. We did see some other iconic pieces of art like the statues of Heracles and Achelous, Diana of Versailles, and the Venus de Milo .

Walking outside was so nice, a moment of respite for us being away from the crowd and some fresh air as well before we move to our next destination. We ended up renting Lime scooters and it was so much fun. However, that meant I didn’t get to take any pictures and videos. Mainly because we try to avoid taking our phones out as we’ve been warned plenty of times of pickpockets. Plus, I won’t be able to do it. Me, being very clumsy.

After resting for a little bit we decided to go to our final destination for the day, La Tour Eiffel. We hopped back onto our electric scooters and we also got to walk along River Seine.

We’ve pre-booked ourselves to go in the tower and all the way to the top but we didn’t realise that our tickets didn’t include the use of lifts so we basically walked from the bottom all the way up! All 674 steps!!! We started the climb up with a bit of light still and then got to the platform at 10pm. We were huffing at the top! Fortunately, the views were glorious! No wonder people call this the “City of Lights”. At intervals, the whole tower lights up and starts twinkling so we already witnessed it while we were at the top but we said we wanted to see its entirety whilst the “sparkling lights” are on so we waited ‘til midnight. Is that too cliché? We were knackered by the time we got to our hotel rooms that we actually booked taxis to get back.

Second and final day in Paris — one last day to scoot around the city. We pretty much only had the few hours of the afternoon to spare so we just ticked another off our tourist list — Arc de Triomphe. You could also pay tickets to go on top of it but we didn’t. Still, what a grand and beautiful work of art and architecture.

It’s bittersweet saying good bye to this city for me. Although we’ve already been to so many places, I feel like there’s so much more that I could do and see here. I know not many people like Paris but somehow I would really want to come back. We had coffee and pastries one last time and off we went to our next destination.

(All photos taken with an iPhone, August 2019)

[soft4gguk]

to build a home | interlude: youth

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: alcohol, slight voyeurism, making out bc I love it, soft dom kook, sub reader, oral (m & female receiving), fingering, protected sex, multiple orgasms, vulnerable sex!!, they’re sweet towards one another, oc’s sober in the smut part!! do not fret, tinsy bit of after care, just overall soft tbh.

Author’s Note: hiiii <3 I am so sorry for how long this took to put out and for all the delays but it is here! I can’t believe that I’m writing this couple again – I’m so excited for the next full chapter, just writing this interlude gave me many ideas for it. As u can see from the length, I couldn’t stop writing this. It feels good! Hope u enjoy and let me know if u do <33 love u to the moon x

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Interlude: Youth

(this takes place sometime after chapter 10)

You find a moment of solace the minute you step into the long hallway on your quest to find the nearest toilet. You’re not necessarily in need of it, more so seeking a bit of calm as opposed to the storm that rumbles in the living room of the apartment Lucy dragged you to, in the promises of cheap booze and good music. One of her pastry chef friends was celebrating a birthday and as you casually peruse around his well-lived home, you try to make a mental effort to remember his name. It’s to no avail though, your memory failing you as it battles around with the first promise. The booze had indeed been cheap but it had been mixed with freshly squeezed orange juice and the only way you can explain such occurrence is, well, pastry chef friends. 

The second promise hasn’t quite been met, but then again you reckon music taste is a subjective matter and by no means would you want to come off as snobby. So, you danced nonetheless, making friends with a confidence you would’ve not had if the lights hadn’t been mere neon specks of green, pink and blue and if the people around you looked sober enough to hold a conversation. 

It wasn’t a bad way to spend a Saturday night and you can feel the way your body relaxes alongside your demeanour. You lean against the wall, the music now somewhat distant and muffled as the hallway encases you in contrasting silence. Your eyes close, almost involuntarily as you bask in it – the introvert in you rejoicing. 

It’s then that you hear giggles, somewhat distant but clear as day. Your eyes open, unconsciously looking for the source, slightly attracted to the giddy sounds as they begin to grow louder. Your gaze lands on a room a couple of doors down, slightly ajar as dim light shines through it. Your feet have a mind of their own as you begin making your way down, curious for some reason. 

The giggles turn into a sound that’s hard to miss – a little whimper that drags into something passionate and it takes your eyes about a second to register the image you’re posed with the moment you’re close enough to the door. They’re kissing; fervent hands roaming down each other’s bodies, quiet whispers you can’t quite make out, but sound much like the promise of love. Or perhaps it’s lust – you don’t know these people after all. For all that it’s worth they could be lovers for one night, but boy are they making it count. Her fingers get tangled in his hair as he makes his descend, pulling out little whines from her lips and though you can’t make out much, you see the way she squirms in his hold, making him laugh. That’s the last innocent sound you hear, which signals your queue to go. 

You make sure to quietly close the door as you walk past the room and into the bathroom, feeling slightly giddy and airy yourself. You’ve never been much of an spectator, having difficulty with letting yourself immerse in the explicit nature of porn because, well, it lacks a story – intimacy, a plot. Or a good one at that. Call it romanticism, you just couldn’t relate. To your good fortune, your imagination ran wild enough to do the job. Yet there’s something about what you just witnessed that has your body warming up to the touch as you bring a hand to your cheek, staring at your reflection in the mirror, a trail of shivers running up your spine. 

What you do next comes as no surprise. 

“___?”

There’s only one person on your mind, after all. Perhaps the sole reason why you feel this way.

“Jungkook,” it’s a sigh that drags a bit at the end. 

“Are you okay?” He worries. He uses that tone that doesn’t falter – stern and precise, and you blush slightly at the way your stomach flips at this. 

“Yeah- yes. I’m okay. I’m sorry, it must be late.”

You can hear his smile when he says, “nearing one o’clock. What’s up?”

“Shit. Sorry, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t wake you up. I’ll let you go-”

“Hey, no, no. Don’t worry about it. Soori’s at my parents, I had dinner pretty late and I was up reading. You didn’t wake me up.”

“What are you reading?”

He laughs at how fast your question reaches him. “The Catcher in the Rye.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh?”

“Don’t tease me. I was trying to remember what was the last book I read that I actually enjoyed. I read this before moving to New York, light years ago.”

“Bold choice for a Saturday night.” You say, humour still lacing your voice but only as to mask the troop of butterflies that settle in your gut at the image of him, in bed, shirt off perhaps, reading a book that moves him – or once did, at least. It’s intimate through your eyes, in the language you speak. 

“Yeah, I kind of feel nineteen again- wait, where are you?”

You giggle. “I’m at a party.”

“What kind of party?”

“Um,” you ponder, finding words to explain your surroundings. “A house party? Pastry chef friend of Lucy. A birthday. God awful booze. That Justin Bieber song that’s everywhere has been played three times already. You know,” you paint him a picture. 

“Well, you’ve stripped me off my fantasy. I feel twenty-eight again.” 

“I like you twenty-eight.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” it’s dreamy and he doesn’t miss it.

“You okay, baby? Why aren’t you out there having fun?”

You giggle yet again. 

“Hm,” he gives. “Are you drunk?” 

“I shouldn’t be. I had one drink- and a half!”

He laughs at this. “And a half?”

“Yeah. Don’t patronize me.”

“Never. You are a bit of a lightweight, though.”

“And what if I am?”

You’re going around in circles, prolonging the conversation because you’d take any excuse to keep him on the line. 

“Nothing. You’re perfect like that. Just be careful, okay? Is Lucy there? Is she okay?” He’s aware he sounds very much like Jungkook the dad, but he can’t help it.

“Yeah. Lucy’s dancing – she’s an extrovert, you see. Unlike me. I like the bathroom.” 

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Go dance with her, you’re a good dancer.”

“I called because I missed you.”

“I miss you, too.” He hesitates for a second, wanting to say more but at the same time not wanting to keep you away from the party that he can hear going on at the end of the line. “Go have fun. Go be young.” 

You want to tell him that it’s with him that you feel young. Alive, impulsive, brave. All of your favourite sentiments. But you opt for a soft, “okay.”

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Okay.” 

And so, the line disconnects and you pretend like that’s enough. You attempt to fool your heart into believing your short phone call satiated your longing. The way your brain fogged up with the thought of him, over and over again as the night progressed. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. Over drinks and seamless conversations, Lucy’s futile attempts at keeping you on the makeshift dancefloor for more than two songs, it was him who your thoughts landed on. 

You think about that couple – probably tangled up in each other’s bodies right now, in some stranger’s bed yet too blissed out to care, let alone move from the embrace. You think about the way Jungkook holds you after he’s had you, like he doesn’t want to let you go. Like he doesn’t have to; time his greatest ally as it stops for just you two. 

Your heart wins and that’s how you end up back in the bathroom, temple pressed against the wooden door as the phone rings in your ear. Through the reflection in the mirror, you can see your flushed cheeks. You blame the alcohol and the way your stomach flutters in anticipation – not knowing whether he’ll answer your slightly drunken, yet passionate call. 

Passionate is a stretch, you realize, but you can’t help it feeling like so. 

“___?”

“I’m okay. I’m safe.” You say, sensing the worry in his voice the moment he picks up. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. Halfway through The Catcher in the Rye now…,” you hear the bedsheets shuffling, can picture him getting comfortable, a bit sleepy and relaxed – supple. You wish you could be there.

“I’m now two and a half drinks in…”

“Hm… and how many dances?”

“Maybe three. And three quarters.”

He laughs at this and the smile that paints your face follows right after. “Having fun?”

“I am. But missing you makes it hard.”

If you could see him, you wouldn’t miss the way his cheeks take on the prettiest shade of red – suddenly warm against the coolness of his pillows. 

When he stays quiet, you sigh. “Is this extremely juvenile?”

“A little.” 

“I wish I cared,” you say.

“I don’t want you to.” You hear shuffling yet again and his voice picks up distance when he says, “where are you?”

“Pastry chef’s birthday party, I told you.”

“No, I meant- send me your location.”

You can barely contain your smile, biting your lip as you tease him. “What for?”

He rolls his eyes and somehow, you know this. “Wanna see you. Maybe feed you as well.”

“As in sexually?”

He snorts. “No. As in carbs. You’re drunk, missy.”

“I am not! I only had two and-”

“A half drinks, yeah, yeah. Now send me your location. I’m on my way to you.”

He hangs up and the reflection in the mirror smiles back at you. Giddy, happy, young. 

~

“I love carbs.” You say, voice muffled as you not so graciously bite into your burger. 

“Hm,” Jungkook agrees, biting into his own, eyes glued to you as you close your eyes and moan in pure satisfaction. “I can see that. Not even I get those sounds out of you.”

You chuckle over a mouthful, hand coming up to save your grace as best as you can. “Don’t get too jealous. I’d choose your meat any day.”

He chokes, completely taken aback by your words, eyes wide staring at you with an amused look on his face. 

“I do apologize for that, I let my intrusive thoughts take over.”

He laughs at your blank expression, nonchalant as you shove a handful of fries into your mouth. “No, please. Don’t apologize. Dirty talk me further, it’s flattering.”

“I’m trying to come up with a good pun that relates to this milkshake… but my brain is fried,” you say, holding up a French fry, a cheeky grin adorning your face. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he holds your face, squeezing your cheeks and making your lips pout as he brings his closer, giving you a kiss that ends way too soon for your liking. 

You’re sat inside his car, in the middle of the empty parking lot of a McDonalds. Your drunken indecisiveness made the drive thru experience surely something, and Jungkook simply ended up ordering one of everything that caught your eye. He laughs to himself at the thought that you wouldn’t be able to finish it, proving him wrong as you bask in the bliss only carbs can offer in your drunken state. 

“Jungkook,” you call, glassy eyes staring at him.

“Yeah?” He leans forwards, lips closing around the straw, sipping on your vanilla milkshake as his big eyes stare up at you.

“Don’t take me home- to mine, I mean. I wanna be with you…”

He smiles. “Okay. You’re coming with me.” 

He kisses you, lips sweet and soft and it’s so easy to fall into the act, moving closer to him – wanting more. You’re greedy, you realize. Another inevitable trace of the youth in you, the youth he ignites from you. You pull away, only for a second, hazy eyes taking him in. His hair is messy, longer now. White long-sleeved shirt and grey sweatpants, so boy and so yours. He smiles when he catches you staring, sweet and knowing as he takes you in as well. 

You shorten the distance, lips crashing into his with more fervour now, hands traveling to the back of his neck as your fingers tangle in the strands of hair at his nape. He gives in easily, sighing against your lips and letting your tongue meet his as you deepen the kiss. A throaty whimper passes your lips, reaching his and bringing him back from the cloud that kissing you encases him in. 

“Wait, wait,” he pants against your mouth.

“Why,” you ask, pouting. 

“You’re drunk, baby.” He puts distance between you two as he settles back into the driver’s seat.

You follow his movements, huffing a bit stubbornly as you know you won’t convince him with this, and not wanting to make him uncomfortable either.

“Let’s go home, yeah? You’re probably tired. We can cuddle and watch The Cooking Channel.”

You can’t help but smile at this, glassy eyes staring at him as your hand settles back at his nape, massaging it tenderly. “I’d like that, yes.”

It feels… good. And it’s then that you realize that perhaps this night has brought a different kind of intimacy. One that’s less physical yet intentional, not lacking the personal dynamic you guys have settled into. 

It fills you with hope. 

It fills you with all the good things in the world, really.

~

You begin to slip into total soberness the moment you step inside his house, the car ride had been quiet yet pleasing; soft music playing through the speakers, the ambient lights turned blue and his hand in yours. You thought the butterflies in your stomach over the simple act were due to the alcohol but now you it’s proven to be a false statement. You don’t run away from the feeling, though – it’s too good.

He tells you to get comfortable, offers up his shower as he retrieves a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie from his walk-in closet, telling you to feel at home as he goes to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water and some painkillers so the hangover won’t get you tomorrow. 

You stand under the hot streams, it cascades over your body, relaxing you immediately. Closing your eyes, you just stand there, a certain quiet and peace about the moment that feels comforting and it takes your mind mere seconds to fall back into Jungkook. You think of him and his comfy clothes. His messy hair and slightly tired eyes. You think about the discarded copy of The Catcher in the Rye you found on top of his sheets the moment you stepped inside his bedroom. And of the times you’ve spent in this shower – in his company, his embrace. His hands on you, his lips an incoherent prayer against yours that you understood all too well, simply because you spoke his same language. Simply because you felt the same. You think of the couple back at the party – you think of youth. 

When you step back inside his bedroom, you’re wearing the fluffy robe he’d left out for you, your long hair still wet and dripping at the ends. Your mind’s clear and set, and you know what you want next. You’re only hoping he grants it. 

He’s perched against the pillows, book in hand once again and he must be invested because it takes him a beat too long to look up at you.

“How was your shower?” He smiles when he sees you.

“It was good, thank you.”

“Hm,” he says, sighing as he lets his body fall back into the soft pillows, head tilting a bit as he watches you walk over to him. Your knee touches the bed, hands on the mattress as you crawl over to him. “Hey…” he has a lazy smile, almost like he knows.

“I missed you.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that…” he feigns indifference but his cheeks tint red and his legs open slightly as you get closer, making space for you. 

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I won’t say it again.”

“That’s a cruel punishment for such an innocent joke, don’t you think?”

“What? You like to know I miss you?” He simply hums, as if contemplating. “That I wish you were there, and by there, I mean everywhere. Even if I don’t think you would’ve enjoyed the cheap booze and shitty music.” 

He finally gives, laughing the way you love most, nose scrunch and everything. “I would’ve endured it for you.”

“I rather be here.”

And it’s then that his hands reach out, cupping your face, bringing you closer, letting his lips fall into yours as you kiss, slow but with fervour, with want and need – love and lust. It has a gentleness to it, the kiss. The way his thumb runs slow circles against your shin as you capture his bottom lip between your teeth slowly, no rush behind your actions. He whines against your mouth, in pure pleasure as the air grows heavy around you in the best way possible. 

You don’t waste time as you let your hand fall from his chest to his lap, dangerously close to where he wants you the most. He jumps a little at the contact. Paradoxically enough, the impulse behind the need for him and the desire to take your time blend perfectly together, and you let your fingers dance over the waistband of his sweats, caressing the soft skin of his abdomen, feeling the ridges and his strength as his tummy clenches in anticipation. 

“Wait,” he pulls away, gaze looking for yours and you already know what he’s about to say next.

“I’m fine – I promise. I’m sober. I want this, I need you, Jungkook.”

“I need you, too.”

Your lips crash against his again, passionately and a bit harsher this time in attempts to let him know. You give – you give as your fingers hook against the elastic of his sweatpants, finding him at half mast over his Calvin’s. He whimpers against your tongue, head falling back into the pillows, bringing you with him as he catches you off guard. You chuckle at this, lips running over his jaw, down the crook of his neck as you leave wet kisses against his warm skin. He smells so good – soft and homey, the way you love it the most. His scent is slowly starting to resemble home to you.

His cock hardens against your touch the more you add pressure to the slow strokes and when his throaty moans start to sound a bit too impatient you give yet again, making your way down and helping him get rid of his sweatpants and boxers. You make a little show of removing your robe, letting it fall past your shoulders. His eyes follow your every move, his big hand taking a hold of his cock, slow strokes aiding his pleasure. You settle between his legs, tummy against the mattress as you replace his hand with yours, looking up at him as he bites his lip and gives a little nod, encouraging you to keep going. 

When you take him in your mouth, his hand falls to your cheek, eyes closing in pleasure as a moan leaves his pink lips. Your tongue travels from base to tip, coating him in your saliva as you try to get him as wet as you possible can for you. Your lips close around the head and his gaze travels back down, hazy eyes looking at you. You give a little suck, testing the waters as your tongue flattens against his frenulum, moving the muscle expertly from side to side before you’re taking him as much as you can. You gag as you feel him against your throat, his fingers tangling in your wet hair. 

“Fuck. I love your mouth. I love your mouth so much.”

You repeat the motions, tongue swirling over the head of his cock, paying attention to the places you know feel the best for him before your throat is closing around him – slow and then all too fast, leaving him a heaving mess in no time. 

“I love how big you feel on my tongue, Koo,” you look up at him, catching your breath as your hand strokes his throbbing cock, the feeling almost ecstatic to Jungkook with all the extra lubrication from your saliva. 

“Yeah?” And even though it’s rhetoric, you nod, glassy eyes looking up at him, sending his head into a spiral over how good you look right now – fucked out in front of his cock. “You look so fucking pretty down there, baby.”

With little warning, you take him in your mouth again, deepthroating him easily this time. You don’t miss the whine that passes his lips, or the way his fingers tighten against your scalp, pulling a little, sending a shiver down your spine in pure pleasure. Your hand travels down, playing with his balls as his grip gets tighter. You moan against his cock and it makes Jungkook’s stomach clench, walking dangerously close to the edge. He pulls you away in one swift movement, not so gently, but you like it. You like it so much that you dare push him further, tongue flicking over his tip, circling around the sensitive skin, head hovering against his cock as he holds your head by your hair. You smile when his dick twitches, looking up at him as he hisses. 

“Stop.” He warns, his deep voice making you clench around nothing. 

“Please,” you beg, trying to get closer to him, to feel him hot and heavy against your tongue again. 

He tugs harder at your scalp. “You don’t listen well, do you?”

“Want you to cum,” you gasp as his grip tightens, “down my throat.”

He has to close his eyes for a second to gather back his composure. He loves it when you get filthy for him, your words not matching that sweet face of yours. But he doesn’t bend, stopping you yet again with a firm, “no.”

He moves quickly, so much so you barely register the way he pulls you up and closer to him before he’s pushing you back against the bed and hovering on top of you. 

“Behave.” He relishes in the way you can’t quite reach his lips, a desperate little whimper passing your plump lips. “Because bad girls get nothing, baby. Be good.”

“Fuck, Jungkook. P-please, touch me. Please.”

“You’re so needy today, aren’t you?” 

“I am- I need you so bad. Couldn’t stop thinking about you the whole night.” You push your hips closer to his, in a frail attempt to feel him, but it’s to no avail, leaving you panting.

“Yeah? Tell me. Tell me what you thought about.”

His hand makes a steady descend down your body, fingers grazing your nipple as you arch your back before he’s bringing his mouth down to hover over it, his hot breath makes the bud harden and he runs his tongue over it. 

You moan in sweet relief at having his mouth on you.

“Tell me, baby. Be a good girl for me.”

“I- I thought about how much I missed you.” He sucks on your nipple, making your nerves aware of him, tummy clenching in pleasure. “I was looking for the bathroom and- and I saw something.” You’re a stuttering mess but he follows. 

“What did you see?” He looks up at you, mouth traveling to your other nipple, his hand gripping your waist before it travels to your hips, his gentle touch there heavily contrasting from the way his teeth bite gently at the sensitive skin of your breasts. 

“I- a couple, I think. They were…,” your eyes close, moaning in pleasure as his hand snakes in-between your thighs. “In a room, they- they were kissing.”

“Hm. That so?”

“Y-yeah, shit. Yeah,” you sigh, your whole body tensing and relaxing repeatedly as his fingers run against your slit, quickly parting your lips and gathering your slick before his nimble fingers circle your clit. 

“What else?” He asks, adding more pressure against your sensitive bud, tongue working your nipple. You drift, focused on the pleasure he’s igniting as opposed to his question. “What else, ___? Focus, angel.”

“He, oh my god.” His middle and ring finger circle against your opening before pushing inside of you slowly. “He was going down on her.” You say, in-between moans as he begins shallowly thrusting into you. 

“And you stood there and watched?” You nod, it’s all you can do. “That’s naughty, isn’t it? Would’ve never guessed it from that sweet face of yours.”

“I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Did you think of me doing that to you? Kissing you…,” he brings his lips back to yours, kissing you for a brief moment before he continues, “going down on you…” his fingers press against that spot and it has you mewling against his lips. He chuckles. “You did, huh…”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, Jungkook. I did.”

“What else did you think about?”

He makes his way down, settling between your legs, wasting no time as his tongue runs a stripe against your slit, fingers moving in and out of you as his lips close around your clit, giving light suckles to it in between long strokes of his tongue.

“I thought about how much I like the way you make me feel,” you’re freed of inhibitions, mind too clouded with pleasure to hold back a feeling, let alone the world of you feel for Jungkook. “About how in a room full of people, you wouldn’t leave my mind for long enough to not long for you.” Your last words get caught up in a whimper. 

He looks up at you, something you can’t quite read dancing around his irises. “I like the way you say things, have I told you that?” You nod, because he has. It’s a vulnerable moment you two share, beyond the physicality of your actions. You look into his eyes, moaning again as he lands a soft kiss against your clit. “So sweet – you’re so sweet, baby.” 

“Jungkook,” it’s a sigh, the way you say his name. Your hands run through his hair, bringing him closer to you. “Fuck me. Please.”

He gives one last suck to suck your clit, quickly moving towards his bedside table, retrieving a condom before he’s removing his shirt. Your legs open further for him, welcoming him back between them. You watch as he tears the foil open with his teeth, rolling the condom over his shaft in one swift motion. Your hands reach out for him, bringing him closer to you as his chest presses against yours. 

“You ready, baby?”

You nod, pulling him closer to you to you can kiss him, your lips parting in pleasure the moment his tip enters you, slowly pushing into you. It takes all the self-control in him to not plunge into you. You feel so wet and tight around him, gripping his cock tighter every time he pushes an inch further. 

“You feel so good. So, so good. Baby,” he whispers against your lips, bottoming out and letting you get used to his girth for a second. 

“So do you- fuck, Koo.” You kiss him, legs wrapping around his waist as you push him closer to you, silently begging him to move. And when he does, your vision goes white – pleasure taking over you, the heat he radiates in your closeness making everything better tenfold. “I wanted this s-so bad. S-so much. Wanted you so much.” You ramble against his lips, needy and fucking precious in his eyes.

He hisses at the way you clench around him, his thrusts getting deeper, your words making his head spin and his body even more receptive to you. 

“Sweet. You’re so fucking sweet. Can’t believe those pretty words are coming from the same pretty mouth that begs for my cock.”

“All for you, Jungkook. A-always. I always want you- hmmphh,” your words get lost in the moans he coaxes out of you. His movements picking up pace, hand cupping your cheek as he stares deeply into your eyes, both your gazes in a battle to stay alert, the pleasure all too consuming as you fall into the way he fucks you. So good and so deep – slow but with an intention that doubles as strength, determined to make you feel good and succeeding the more he buries himself inside of you. 

“I’m so close, baby,” you say, fingers running through his black hair, tugging on it whenever he hits that spot inside of you, your entire body locking in pleasure the more he does.

“Yeah, baby?” His hand travels between your bodies, taking you by slight surprise the moment his thumb glides over your clit. You’re so wet it’s an easy and quick little movement that has you clenching tightly around him, your moans growing louder against his ear. 

“Jungkook I- I’m gonna cum.” 

“Cum for me, sweet girl. Fuck, cum all over me.” 

His words tip you over the edge, abruptly and deliciously as you cum all over his cock, nails digging into his scalp with force you don’t even recognize as he hisses at the feeling. You clench and lock under him, tears falling over your temple as he fucks you through the high. 

“That was so good, Koo. You make me feel so fucking good. Cum for me, please. I want to feel you cum on me.”

In a split second, he flips you over, cheek against the mattress, ass up for him as he pushes back into you. He thrusts quicker now, and your body shakes in over sensitivity, pussy continuously clenching around him, getting him closer and closer by the second. His view adds to it, and he can’t help it when his big palm lands right on your ass cheek. You whimper in pleasure at the sharp feeling, your pussy throbbing and it takes him about a minute for him to pull another orgasm out of you. It’s not as intense but it drags on, taking over your body as you shake underneath him. 

“Fuck, ___. You’re so tight around me, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

He pulls out, languidly stroking his cock as you push your ass up for him, looking back over your shoulder because you’d be damned if you missed the way his eyes flutter in pleasure, dark hair sticking to his forehead as he bites his lip in pleasure, throaty moans leaving his pouty mouth. He cums all over your back, making you sigh as you feel the hot strings of his pleasure land on your soft skin. It’s one hell of a sight and he hisses, cringing in oversensitivity as he fails to stop his pumps, not wanting this moment to end. 

“Shit,” he falls next to you on the bed.

You giggle. “I agree…”

He turns to you, both your eyes struggling to stay open as sleepiness begins to settle around you, the adrenaline simmering as exhaustion takes its place. But you look beautiful, his hand weakly reaching for you, fingers pushing your hair behind your ear as he scoots closer, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. 

“Stay here,” another kiss, “I’ll get you cleaned up, baby.”

“Okay- but hurry,” you say, pulling him in for another kiss.

He chuckles as he makes his way towards the bathroom. 

“Not done missing me yet?”

He’s out of your line of vision as your eyes flutter and eventually close, a deep sigh leaving you as you respond,

“Never.”

~

to build a home is back and hopefully better than ever besties and gentleman!! please, please do let me know if u enjoyed this - I'm feeling kinda nervous writing this again!! also, I think I got everyone that asked on the taglist, but if I didn't get u or u want to be in it just send me an ask :) or let me know!! love uuuuuu missed uuuuuu kisseeeeeees xx

★taglist★

@roro-in-utopia @yiyi4657 @littlrmills14-blog @namjooningelsewhere @drownforryou @iwanttohitmyself @finelinememories @yukiehyukie @shatzkrinslinzki @bts-fic-recs-mess @kokoandkookie @subtlepjiminie @hobipost @kookiesbreaky @di0rgguk @bloopkook @babyrosieareroses @kookiecrumb @casspirit0705 @eclectictacozinewobbler @tickledpink55 @rjsmochii @dimcorner @miniiimee @vintageroses10 @amyniu @tessxblxckthorn @emotionaltrashcansblog @fangirl125reader @laurynne5 @thickgrinch @dianaxnyc @ruinsofangels @berryonasummerevening @taeslarityy @hisunshiine @preciouschiminie @ruclements @galaxyflab @jalexad @missseoulite @bangtannoonalvg @kootonins @lustremyg @kissme-ornot @92thk @everythingaboutfangirling @cakecobain @callmejimmeo @simp4tae @landl7xoxo @jungjoonie @sanfransolomitatm @primadonnasdream @justinetingball @thesugatoyourtae @ysljoon @vhopeisdope @cantchooseanameby @lookhere-2seok @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @masterpiecejoonie @hinawariinoue97 @chimswae @jsnfjdjsbcfj @levisblackbabe @loolaajt @xoxogukie @fatifatimahm @sbroces

[italiansteebie]

Almond Croissant

Also on AO3

****

Steve woke up, it was dark in his apartment. This startled him a little bit but when his eyes met his bat, he felt relief and safety wash over him. He sighs and heaves himself out of bed, getting ready for the morning shift at family video. He’s grateful Robin’ll be there with him today, not wanting to work with Keith anymore.

He can’t take anymore smacking lips and beratement from the guy, especially when he’s apologized genuinely more than twice. He just. Doesn’t understand why the guy dislikes him so much. But maybe it’s his lack of social queues, maybe he’s missing something. He makes a mental note to ask Robin about it, she’s a little more in tune when it comes to other people, not so much herself. 

He makes his way through his apartment, stopping by his closet, throwing on his vest, running a hand through his hair, and making his way out the door. He grabs his keys and his backpack, and walks down the stairs to his Beemer. While he’s driving he decides he is going to stop and get breakfast at a local bakery for him and Robin. He picks out a few pastries, and calls it good. He pays and continues on his way to work. 

He reaches into the paper bag with his free hand and starts munching on a blueberry muffin, he quickly becomes ravenous, just realizing how hungry he is. He racks his brain, trying to remember the last time he ate, he wishes his body would just tell him when he’s hungry. Maybe he should have the kids call him periodically and remind him to eat, they owe him some service, you know? He’s brought back to reality as a tickling cough makes its way out of his throat. He shrugs and deems it the allergens in the air. He pulls into work, parking and getting out of his car, and the cough is still there. ‘Maybe I’m getting sick,’ he thinks, and pushes open the door, waving hi to Keith, who just glares at him, and clocks in. 

Robin walks in shortly after, shooting over to Steve as she sees the bag of pastries on the counter, he smiles, a few crumbs from the muffin he’s yet to finish, tumbling out. “Gross, dingus. You got crumbs all over the counter!” He smiles sheepishly, “Sorry Robs, I’ll clean it up,” his voice comes out scratchy and he rubs his throat. She gives him a quick concerned glance before rolling her eyes and grabbing a paper towel to wipe away the crumbs. She reaches into the bag pulling out a croissant and bites into it. It’s good, sweet and nutty, but before she can start to enjoy it, her eyes widen. “Hey Steve,” he hums at her, “You feelin’ okay, bud?” He takes a minute to think about it, and then shrugs. “I felt okay this morning but my throat’s kind of scratchy now.” He admits.

Robin nods slowly, trying to keep her panic to a minimum, “Remember when you were over at my house that time and my mom made us almond cookies? And you forgot you were allergic ‘til you started throwing up?” He nods, confused as to why she’s bringing this up. “Do you happen to have an epi pen on you?” she continues, “Yeah. I carry one everywhere now because of that.” She breathes in deeply. “Okay, so tell me. What kind of croissant is this?” She asks, and she can see the gears start turning in his head, “...Almond?” He responds weakly, and she nods. “We gotta go.” He rushes out, noticing the tightening in his chest getting progressively worse. Robin snatches his keys out of his pocket and pulls him out the door, “I thought you didn’t have a license,” He wheezes out, and she gives him a look that says, “Are you being serious right now?” He waves a hand, motioning for her to just forget it. 

She pulls out of the driveway and drives a little haphazardly towards the hospital. Steve reaches around to his backpack, grabbing the epinephrine out of the front pocket, and warns Robin to look away, always considerate of everyone else before himself. Which is annoying, but in this moment she’s grateful that she can focus on driving to the hospital, she can’t do that if she’s having a panic attack. He sticks himself, hissing as the needle pierces his skin. He breathes deeply, chest constricting further, he chokes out a “Can you drive a little faster, Rob? The epi only works so much.” And that. Oh that’s scary. Steve doesn’t ask for help.

She pulls into the hospital parking lot, circling the car and helping Steve out, holding onto him with a tight grip as they make their way to the emergency room doors. She feels him stop, and gently pulls on him without looking, until she hears wet splashing behind her. She turns and sees that Steve is bent over heaving as his body rejects the objects. “Fuck.” She whispers, “Uh. Okay. Steve? Steve. I;m going to go get help okay… Just stay here.” She says and starts running towards the entrance, not looking back, just trying to get help as fast as she can. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit.” She huffs as her feet hit the ground, pushing open the doors she shouts, “Help! Help! My friend, allergic, ate nuts, help.” She heaves, pointing to the parking lot. From her place in the lobby she can see Steve fully laying on the ground now, and the nurses spring into action. There’s a voice over the P.A. system, and there's a team rushing out the doors to aid Steve, who’s trying to come to terms with dying 10 feet in front of a hospital. It feels like it’s been hours, though Robin knows it's only been 15 minutes.  Logistically, she knows Steve will be just fine, having taken the epinephrine and them reaching the hospital as fast as they could, but she breaks down anyway. Tears stream down her face as she watches the doctors wheel Steve back on a stretcher. 

The nurses take pity on her, rubbing her arm gently, saying “Honey, your boyfriend is going to be okay.” Her face twists up at the mention of Steve being her boyfriend, but she doesn’t have any intentions of correcting them at the moment. It is an hour before they let her see him, within that time she’d called Dustin, who showed up 5 minutes after receiving the news. They go back together, and when they reach his room, they take a simultaneous deep breath. Inside, Steve’s sitting up in his bed looking, well. Like shit, but better than before. He makes eye contact with Robin, before stuttering, “I- I am so sorry. I’m. I’m really trying to be better about that stuff but I hadn’t eaten, and when I bit into the muffin I realized I was so hungry. I didn’t even consider…” He sniffles a few tears leaking out. He hates being vulnerable like this, especially in front of Dustin, but the exhaustion from anaphylaxis is making it extremely hard to mask. Robin shakes her head, “Steve. It’s okay, really. I know you’re trying to be better, trust me. I get how hard it is,” She smiles sadly.  “I just wanted to get you breakfast…” He trails, Robin sighs an “I know.” at him, walking forward and grabbing his hand. Dustin is still standing by the door, looking at him. “I didn’t know you were allergic to almonds… I could’ve killed you.” He whispers, and Steve laughs at this. “Dustin. I would have killed myself before you ever even came close to killing me,” He says, reaching his free hand out for him. “Besides, you’re so smart. I’d put just as much trust in you as any of these doctors.” And Dustin goes all sheepish at this comment, waving a hand, “Pssssh. Whatever, Steve.” He says, a small smile gracing his face. Steve turns serious for a moment, “You should both know that I am also asthmatic.”

[change-the-world-someday]

I'll Be Here

Oh boy I'm back baby. Here's a Derek Shepherd x Teen!reader bc I just started Grey's Anatomy. I'm well aware I've had stuff in my inbox for over a year, and frankly I'll get round to them soon. I hope this tides you over.

Derek Shepherd x Teen!Reader

Summary: Who'd have thought the child of Derek Shepherd would suffer with something even he can't cure?

A/N: I've been twitching a lot lately so this was a comfort write. Derek and Meredith don't have a relationship, and there's a bit of canon divergence.

⚠️TW⚠️ Talk and descriptions of twitching/tics

—•—

You knew the moment you woke up you were going to have a bad day.

Your alarm went off at the bright and early nine and as you made a move to turn it off, your arm twitched, almost pushing it off your nightstand. You let out a sigh, leaning down and managing to shut it off and sit up.

Until you neck starts to snap left and right, tensing and relaxing each muscle.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, standing and stretching, well, as much as you can before your twitches start up again. You makes your way downstairs, finding an empty kitchen and a note on the counter. You manage to pick it up and read it.

Sorry, I got called in today. Let me know when you’re up

— Dad

You shake your head, whistling and shaking your hands. Great, so you're alone on a day where your twitches are worse than normal. You sigh and head back upstairs, almost losing balance on the stairs, and takes a quick shower before trying to style your hair. With difficulty, you get changed before reaching over and grabbing your phone. You grip it tightly, until it’s flung across the room.

“Shit,” you mumble, reaching down and picking it up. You open your messages, trying to text your dad.

Y/N

Hi, up. Bad today

It’s short, and to the untrained eye, might seem pretty rude, but to you and your dad, is a warning. Heading back to the kitchen, you try to eat a bowl of cereal. Instead, you managed to spill the cereal twice, drop milk on the floor, and then poke yourself in the side of the face a few times with your spoon instead of eating.

Your phone buzzes.

Dad

Do you need me at

home?

Y/N

No. Just bad

Dad

Do you want to come

to the hospital? You

can stay in one of the

offices if you want

You think about it for a moment, though you don’t get too long before your phone starts ringing. You pick up.

“Hi—” you whistle “—hi Dad.”

You hear him sigh. “Hey kid. Do you want to come in today? I can make sure no one stops you and you can come straight to the office.”

You click, your neck jerking forward. “You sure? I’ve—“ you whistle “—never been there before. I don’t want—“ you click “—to become a case study.”

Your dad laughs lightly down the phone. “I won’t let them. Just make your way over, and keep your earphones in. Music helps.”

You nod, before your neck twitches to the side and cracks, making your dad wince audibly. “Okay. I’ll let you know—“ you whistle and sigh, clearly getting frustrated with yourself.

“I get it. Don’t work yourself up; it’ll only make it worse. See you soon. Love you.”

A ghost of a smile passes across your face. “Love you too, Dad.”

—•—

Derek hangs up and leaves the store cupboard, almost bumping into Dr Bailey as she marches past.

“Watch where you’re going, McDreamy,” she scolds and Derek smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Bailey narrows her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Y'N's coming here. They're having a bad day,” he replies and Bailey nods, immediately catching on. “No one else knows.”

Surprisingly enough, you haven’t met anyone from Derek’s work, except for Bailey and even then, that was an accident. You'd bumped into her on a bad day and Derek had to explain what was wrong. Ever since, Bailey’s had a soft spot for you.

“Not even the chief?” She asks and Derek shakes his head. “Did you warn them?” He nods. “Well, there’s not much else you can do.”

“They're texting me when they’re a few minutes away. If I get caught in surgery, can you meet them at the doors please?”

The two stop in the corridor, Bailey pulling him over. “I have my own schedule too, Shepherd.”

Derek nods. “I know, but you’re the only other person here they know, and you know how they can get in places they don’t know…”

Bailey looks around. “If you’re caught up, you owe me one.”

Derek smiles and nods, a look of relief on his face. “Thank you.”

—•—

You're walking down the street to the hospital, constantly readjusting your earphones so they don’t fall out. Your neck keeps snapping to the side and jerking forward, earning a few odd looks from strangers. You sigh, a few minutes away from the hospital, and pull out your phone. Before you can do anything, though, you promptly throw your phone on the pavement.

Thank god your dad bought you one of those industrial phone cases. You pick it up, dodging people as you go to call your dad. He picks up after two rings.

“Hi, I’m—“ you click “—a minute away.”

“Okay. I don’t think I’m going to be able to meet you at the doors. Just walk through, take the stairs to the fifth floor, and come down the hall. I’ll be in the break room, second door on the left.”

Your eyes widen; you're going to be by yourself? Walking through a hospital? Where no one knows you?

“O-Okay,” you stammer out and your dad sighs.

“I’m sorry kid. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He hangs up and you take a breath, nodding to yourself. You pocket your phone and turn your music up as loud as it can be. Your dad was right, it does ease your twitching, though not as much as you'd like.

Fall Out Boy blasts through your earphones as you walk through the doors of Seattle Grace. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, your neck twitch making it a lot easier to achieve. You click as you make your way to the stairwell, making your way up.

You don’t hear the calls of concerns from the interns following you, trying to catch up to you.

By the time you reach the fifth floor, the two interns have gone to find Dr Bailey to try and assist them, and Dr Shepherd who can help with the disorder being presented. They haven’t had someone who needs medical attention blatantly ignore them and go to a certain department before.

You lose your balance a little as you walk through the doors to the fifth floor, your neck jerking left and right repeatedly, muscles tensing and relaxing. Your hands are shaking and you walk like a new fawn.

You reach the door and push it open, whistling and clicking as you do so. At least you can see your dad today.

—•—

Derek knows immediately what kind of day is happening when you steps into the room. You're a jerking mess, neck and shoulders tensing and relaxing as though given electric shocks. You're whistling, clicking, and your eyes have recently started screwing shut, temporarily blinding you.

And that’s with your headphones in.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets, gently taking one earbud out of your ear and leading you to the seats. At least if you're sat, you have less of a chance of hurting yourself.

“Hi Dad,” you reply until a whistle comes back out. “S-Sorry.”

“Hey,” Derek places a firm but kind hand on your shoulder, “don’t apologise. None of this is your fault.” There’s a silence between you two, only broken by the sound coming from the removed earphone. “Fall Out Boy? Nice choice.”

Your neck snaps but you give a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you want something to eat? Did you manage to get some breakfast?” You sigh, your hands twitching and trembling, which tells Derek everything he needs to know. “Is it a bomb-site there?”

You shake your head. “I managed—“ you whistle “—to clean up. Took ages.” Your neck jerks forward. Derek sighs, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his side. You've always been wary; you never want to hurt your dad accidentally but Derek doesn’t care. You're his kid, and nothing will change that.

“You’re okay. Do you want some lunch? We can go to the cafeteria—they’ve got some pizza in there that’s actually pretty good.”

You nod, knowing anything you try to say will be interrupted by one of your twitches. You walk alongside Derek, trying your hardest to suppress your twitching as you make your way through the hospital and into to lift, where a few others are going to different floors. Derek notices, and leans into your ear. “You don’t have to hide it here, kid. Promise.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief from you as you let out a scatter of twitches, your neck jerking forward as you whistle and click. Your hands shake and flap and you let it all go. A few of the doctors and nurses turn around to look at you, but one harsh glare from Dr Shepherd makes them all go back to minding their own business.

You exit the lift and walk through the corridors to the cafeteria. You join the queue and you feel Derek keep an arm around you, trying to help you ease your twitches. You're grateful, though you both know there isn’t much either of you can do to stop them. You sigh, putting your earphones back in and blasting some music, this time Hozier.

Derek watches you struggle, sympathy panging through his heart. He hates that you've been cursed with this, and the worst part is they can’t find anything that’s causing it. It’s not like there’s a tumour or growth on your brain Dr Shepherd can operate on, you're just stuck with it.

“Dr Shepherd, good afternoon. Who’s this?” Lindsey, the server behind the food counter, greets. Derek smiles.

“Afternoon Lindsey. This is my kid, Y/N. They're joining me at the hospital today,” he explains, gently tapping you on the shoulder and causing you to take an earphone out. “Y/N, this is Lindsey.”

“Hi,” you greet, before your neck jerks forward yet again, cracking. The two adults give a wince and Lindsey gives you a small smile.

“What would you like, hun?” She asks. You look over, or does so as best you can. You can barely stay still long enough to read the menu. “We have a standard pizza or pepperoni pizza today. We also have some ham, chicken, or cheese sandwiches and salads. Or a few pastries we can heat up if you’d prefer.”

You give her a grateful smile. “Can I—“ you whistle “—have pepperoni please? And a—“ you click “—bottle of water?”

“Sure thing, and you Dr Shepherd?”

You put your earphones back in, trying your hardest to stop twitching. The problem is, the more you try to stop it, the worse it gets. It takes a few minutes for you to get your food, and when you do, Derek carries both trays to a table and sets them down. He takes a seat opposite you, giving a small smile.

“Thanks Dad,” you thank, pulling one earphone out so you can hear the conversation. You pick up the plastic fork and spear a few chips, but before you can eat them, your hand twitches and you throw it on the floor. You sigh but before either you or your dad can make a move to pick it up, someone else does it for you.

“You better be more careful. I don’t want fries on my shoes.” You recognise that voice anywhere, and smile as you look up at Dr Bailey. You let out a small laugh.

“Hi Dr Bailey,” you greet, whistling as your head snaps to the side and back. She smiles at you.

“Heard you were coming and through I’d say hello.”

—•—

“Guys, shut up,” Cristina hisses. “Do you see?”

“See what?” George asks as they quieten down. She nods her head and the table of interns turn around to catch sight of what’s going on. Dr Bailey is talking Dr Shepherd… and you sat with them. You're not dressed in any kind of hospital gown, nor are you wearing scrubs, so who are you? And how are you making Dr Bailey smile?

Meredith watches, catching sigh of your hair, and her eyes widen. She reaches over, slapping George on the arm.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s them,” she replies, “the person from earlier. Y’know, the one who didn’t check in at reception and took the stairs. The one who ignored us!”

George’s eyes widen too, and the two get up and start to walk over, ignoring the protests of Cristina and Izzie as they reach the table. You're struggling to get a sentence out, whistling and clicking as you try to tell Dr Shepherd about something.

“Dr Shepherd!” Meredith calls out, making the conversation halt between you. “Are you with a patient?”

She misses how you cringe. Dr Shepherd frowns, which only deepens more at the crack in your neck as it jerks forward. “Dr Grey, Dr O’Malley, how can I help?”

“W-We saw, erm, this kid walk straight through and up to neurology without checking in. Do you want us to check them in and get a better examination? We were going to come to you for a consult when we saw them anyway, but since you already seem to know them…” George trails off and Dr Shepherd looks between you, the interns, and Dr Bailey.

An awkward silence falls between you, only disturbed by the occasional whistle or click from you. “I can get a wheelchair if it’s easier.”

“No need,” Dr Shepherd cuts in. “They aren’t a patient, their name’s Y/N. They're my kid and they're accompanying me to work today.” The two interns look at each other, mortified. “Now, if you excuse us, we were just having lunch.”

Your hand flexes again, making you throw your fork on the floor (the second one in the space of fifteen minutes) and sigh. You go to pick it up, only for George to beat you to it. “Here.”

“Than—“ you click as your head jerks forward “Thank you.”

“Don’t you two have places to be?” Bailey asks, less than impressed with her two interns in front of her. They both nod and scurry off, back to their table to tell Cristina and Izzie about Dr McDreamy’s kid.

—•—

“I don’t know how they cope with it,” George muses as the group of four interns sit on some beds in the back corridor, waiting to be paged for something.

“Yeah, twitching all the time. God, I’d kill myself if I had them,” Izzie continues. “Would ruin my chances at both medicine and modelling. And a lot of other things, probably.”

“Do you think they wanted to go into medicine? Y’know, before they started twitching? Or have they always had it?” Cristina asks. “Or do they have a tumour?”

“For your information,” a voice cuts in, making all four jump and turn to the source, meeting the likes of Dr Shepherd, “Y/N wants to be a lawyer.” He walks down the corridor to them, everyone’s cheeks turning red a the prospect of being caught gossiping. “The tics developed about eighteen months ago, just before we moved to Seattle. It’s not a tumour, or any kind of swelling; in fact, we have no clue what set it off.”

“Have you done an MRI? CT?” Meredith suggests and Derek nods.

“We ran everything. It all came back clean.” He looks at Cristina. “They did want to be a doctor. When we realised we couldn’t cure them, they were upset for weeks. They—“

“Talking about me?” A voice calls down the corridor and Derek’s face splits into a smile, something that doesn’t go amiss by the others. You whistle, making it to the group and taking a seat next to your dad. You lean on him… until your neck twitches and you almost fall back. Derek’s hand shoots out, supporting you.

“We were just—“ Izzie tries to say before you cut her off, clicking in the process.

“Let me guess.” You whistle. “The doctor que—“ you click “—question and how I live with—“ your neck jerks to the side “—it.”

Your dad gives you a smile. “Ten out of ten for you,” he smiles. You nod.

“Well, I used to want to—“ you click “—be a doctor, until we found out this is incurable.” You whistle. “Pretty soul-crushing.” Your neck jerks back, and if it wasn’t for your dad’s hand, you would’ve hit the wall. “And we’ve learned to adapt to it. There are—“ you click “—days where I’m fine, with only a few, and days—“ you whistle and everyone can feel the frustration radiating off you. Still, no one chooses to finish your sentence, letting you get it out yourself “—like this.”

—•—

For a while, the six make general conversation, until, slowly but surely, you start to drift off. It isn’t until there’s an odd silence that Derek notices, and he has a smile on his face as he looks down at you, asleep on his shoulder.

“They look so… peaceful,” Izzie comments quietly, the others agreeing.

“Yeah. We’ve had a few rough days this week. God knows they need the rest,” Derek mutters. He shifts to look between the four. “Any of you wake them, I’ll make sure you’re banned from the OR for a month.”

Everyone’s eyes widen as they nod in unison; they’re all begging for a chance at more surgery. Carefully, Derek manoeuvres you so your head’s lying in his lap, body stretched out on the hospital bed. He carefully cards his fingers through your hair, detangling it as gently as he can.

The interns’ pagers go off, assigning them jobs and the four rush off, leaving Derek and you to rest. He smiles, getting himself comfortable sitting on the end of the bed, back against the wall.

“Get some rest, buddy. I’ll always be here for you.”

—•—

Hope y'all enjoyed. I know it's pretty different from what I usually write, but this is for my own comfort so...

Sorry not sorry

Taglist

@breadsticks2004 @criminalsmarts @rororo06@ogmilkis@ssebstann@herecomesthewriterwitch @garcias-batcave @spidey-reids-2003 @lovelylaurens@sataninsatin@snarky--starky @mcntsee @averyhotchner @dindjarinsspouse @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (Part 1)

Hi friends! Sorry I've been away, my computer is fixed now. :) Here is part one of the Christmas fic I'll be writing this December! I have a rough outline in my head and an Advent challenge prompt list, but if there are any prompts you'd like to see in particular for Christmas please let me know!

Lots of love, C

-----------

December 1: Snowflake

When Harry blinked his eyes open he was surprised by two things. First, and most pleasantly, he was surprised by how well rested he felt. Second, after pushing Helmi’s wing down out of his face, he was surprised by how light it was outside.

He always hated how dark it was in the winter when he had to get up.

Helmi folded her delicate wings down along her back and curled up tighter on Harry’s chest, nudging his chin with her snout. He stroked his hand down her neck, feeling her smooth scales beneath his fingertips. For what must be the thousandth time he sent up a little thank you that someone, somewhere had made the “mistake” of creating pygmy Antipodean Opaleyes so that Helmi could still curl up on his chest even at the age of 3 and sleep there without crushing him.

“What time do you imagine it is?” he asked her softly, grunting as he shifted to grab his glasses and wand so he could cast a tempus charm.

He cast the charm and then cast it once more, “Bloody hell,” he groaned. “We’re late,” he said, nudging the twenty pound dragon off his chest. “Merlin, he’s going to kill me.”

Harry left Helmi to delve under the blankets for warmth, feeling only slightly resentful that she didn’t have to get out of bed for mundane tasks like showering and dressing. He multitasked by stretching out the tense muscles in his left thigh while he showered and dressed. The stretches were slapdash at best and his healer would have scolded at him if she could see him but he didn’t have time to dawdle.

After racing around the house, getting dressed, and getting his coat on, he called his dragon in parsel tongue, a language she seemed to understand even if she didn't speak it. “Helmi! Let’s get a move on. We’re already late!”

(Read more below the cut)

He heard the soft thud of her jumping down off the bed and her claws scratching against the floorboards as she stretched.

“Now,” he called, rolling his eyes.

She made an appearance a moment later, half flying, half stumbling down the stairs to where Harry was standing with her harness.

“Good girl,” he murmured as he slipped it on and opened the door for her. Much to Helmi’s delight, it was snowing outside as they stepped into the brisk morning air. He watched with a great deal of amusement as she stuck out her long tongue to catch a snowflake.

He debated stopping off at the coffee cart and eventually decided that he was already late, so a few more minutes couldn’t hurt. “Morning Karl,” he said cheerfully when he arrived at the front of the queue.

“Morning Harry,” he replied, then with much more interest he looked down at Helmi, “And good morning to you, my most lovely guest.”

Helmi preened, tilting her head to and fro so that the sun would glint across her lumescent scales.

“Aren’t you looking lovely this morning, Helmi,” he enthused. She flapped her wings and took flight, hovering up near the window so he could get a clearer look at her. “Yes, very pretty indeed,” he said, reaching out to hand her a bit of pastry like he did every morning.

She took it gently from his hand and sank back to the ground before tearing into it. “You spoil her,” Harry said with a grin.

Karl shrugged, “She’s my favorite customer,” he said with a wink. “Now, did you want the usual? Medium coffee with two sugars and a medium mocha with soy and peppermint?”

“Ooh, you’ve got peppermint in again?”

“It is officially December,” he replied with a smile.

“He is going to be so pleased.”

“Probably not pleased enough to let you off the hook about being late. Aren’t you supposed to be in at 8:00?”

Harry winced, “Better make it a large,” he conceded. “And I’m not that late,” he muttered as Karl started making his drinks.

“Whatever you say.”

He finished them quickly and passed them off and Harry started off again toward the shop with Helmi following along contentedly. The Quidditch shop that he partially owned and worked at was just another two blocks away and Harry sipped his coffee and tried to enjoy the last few minutes of quiet he was likely to have until the evening.

The bells overhead jangled when he unlocked the front door and stepped inside. “You’re late, Potter!” the voice he’d been dreading a bit called out.

Harry looked around, trying to locate the other man. Helmi found him eventually, under a pile of boxes and fake snow that he was using to decorate the windows.

He greeted her as he always did, “Good morning, Helmi, you great menace.” Then he shooed her, “Out of the fake snow,” he instructed, giving her a gentle shove after patting her flank. “I’ve left you a breakfast treat in your nest.”

Harry watched Helmi fly over to the nest that Draco had built her a few weeks after Harry had adopted her. Then he turned back, “I brought you a peppermint mocha,” Harry offered.

A blonde head popped out from under the tree he was fiddling with the lights on in obvious excitement, but his pale silver eyes narrowed nonetheless. “It is,” he paused to cast a tempus charm, then continued, “8:24. You are 24 minutes late, Potter.”

“Stop calling me that, Draco,” he said as he cast a wandless spell to hang the lights in the window and passed Draco his mocha. “It’s weird.”

“There was a time when it was the norm,” Draco replies, taking a sip of his mocha and humming in delight. “And I’m cross with you, mocha or no.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “We don’t even open for another 35 minutes.”

“Yes, but we were supposed to be decorating the store this morning.”

“We could just use-”

“Don’t even say it,” Draco snapped.

“Magic,” Harry finished.

Draco glared at him in the way that only Draco could. “This was your-”

“Idea,” Harry finished with a sigh.

Eyes narrowed at him as Draco continued, “You were the one who started-”

“This tradition,” he groaned, finishing the other man’s thought once more.

“Stop that,” Draco growled.

Harry rubbed his forehead, “You know, I didn’t expect you to turn it into a tradition.”

“Well, then you never should have made the challenge in the first place.”

He unwound his scarf from his neck and shrugged out of his coat, remembering that first year that they’d worked together. When Harry’s injury was new and he’d been bitter and angry. It had seemed crazy but they’d been running in similar social circles following a tentative truce made in their 8th year at Hogwarts. But Draco needed someone to help run his quidditch shop and bring in customers and Harry needed something to bring him out of his sulking.

“I don’t think that you should keep holding that against me,” he said with a huff.

The corner of Draco’s mouth tipped up and Harry’s heart fluttered uselessly against his ribs. “Maybe not, but I like doing it the muggle way.”

“That’s because you hate me.”

Draco laughed, a small, delighted sound, “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I? Wasn’t it just a mere minutes ago that you were spitting my surname at me like a curse?”

He laughed again and Harry’s lips tipped up at the sound. “You’re so dramatic.” He shook his head and threw a handful of fake snow at him, “Come on, let’s get started.”

“I’ll stay late,” Harry promised earnestly. “I’ll get everything before we go home.”

“Too right you will,” Draco replied, sipping his drink. “But I suppose I’ll stay and help you.”

"Oh, come on," Harry said with a huff. "I'm sure you've got a thousand things to do. It's December," he chuckled, knowing that every year, Draco's December was packed full of activities.

Draco looked away and cleared his throat, "Not this year," he murmured. "It's not the same without-" he broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

And Harry wished that he could just sink into the floor, he hated that look on Draco's face, hated the way it made his own heart ache and burn. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

He shook his head and waved a hand, "It's fine," he said casually. "I just," he shrugged, "It's not fun by myself, you know?"

"Do Christmas with me," Harry replied without really thinking. "I know I'm not your mum but," he shrugged a little helplessly. "I'd be happy to do all of the Christmas things you used to do." He swallowed, nerves flaring, "if you wanted to."

Draco stared at him for a long moment that seemed to stretch out into eternity. "I wouldn't want to impose," he said.

"It's no imposition," Harry said quickly. "It'd be fun," he said, the corner of his mouth tilting up. "I've never really had anyone to do Christmas with."

At that, Draco's frown deepened. "What?"

He shrugged, "I've just always been on my own in December since Hogwarts."

"Well," Draco said, straightening his shoulders and giving Harry a little smile that made the tension unfurl from Harry's gut, "It seems you need this as much as I do."

He laughed, "I do," he agreed.

"Right," Draco said. "Well, we'll decorate the shop today after work and I'll think about a list of activities for us to do during December."

"I'd like that," he said softly.

"Me too," Draco said.

And the intimacy and comfort of the moment surrounded Harry, making him feel full to the brim with light and joy. It held for a beat longer before an alarm went off and the moment that Harry always wished would tip and expand into more shattered like an icicle.

Draco blinked and turned to grab his wand. "We need to start getting everything opened up," he said briskly. "Only twenty minutes until customers start coming through that door."

He nodded and watched as Draco headed toward the registers, letting the excitement of getting to spend more time with Draco flood his being. If everything worked out, this might just be the best Christmas Harry had ever had.

-------------

December 2

[nevertheless-moving]

Star Wars AU #20: MacenJar AU

Inspired by this meme and with permission from @simpskywalker

This au is dedicated to everyone who told me that this concept ‘gave them a headache’ or ‘psychic damage’. Especially that special someone who begged me to ‘please stop’ because ‘i hate this, i hate this so much’ and told me ‘please don’t say more words about this.’

Crack Lies Ahead, enough to consume a man. I have spoken.

“Ani. Ani. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hmm?” The dulcet sounds of Padme calling his name dragged Anakin from sleep against his will. 

“Anakin, you have to get up.”

He groaned, rolling over. “...here’s my face...I’ll...be awake in a second...just sit down...I’m awake...”

“No, Anakin you have to leave, remember. You have a 5 AM take-off scheduled, and you made me promise I would get you up early this time, come on.”

She cruelly yanked the covers away. He gasped in betrayal. 

“My own wife...how could you.”

“Anakin if you’re not out of bed in the next 30 seconds the next time you beg to stay the night because ‘you can get up early, you swear’ I am kicking you out before anyone sits anywhere near anyone’s face, do you understand.”

He sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed. “Ok, Ok, I’m up I- Padme!”

“Yes?” She asked sweetly, brushing her hair at the vanity. 

“It’s 3 AM!”

“Yes I know, you were going to stop at that bakery I recommended, remember?”

“You woke me up an hour and half early so I could stop at a bakery,” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Anakin, it was your idea. It was going to be your cover, in case anyone wondered what you were doing in the building.”

“That is-” before he could call it the stupidest idea he had ever heard, the memory of promising Padme that staying the night was a good idea because it would facilitate his cunning ruse (he was distracted, ok? Padme was wearing a lot of layers) came rushing back.

“-right,” he finished lamely.

Padme just hummed and began braiding in her cosmetic forcefields. 

Anakin managed to stretch, complete his morning refresher run, and arrange his robes in a suitably decorous fashion by the time Padme had established the base layer of her hairstyle for the day.

A quick kiss- no goodbye, it hurt too much to say goodbyes in war - and Anakin was out the door. 

He idly scratched his chin, vacantly looking out the lift and vaguely considering growing a beard. The pre-dawn view was quickly replaced by metal walls as the ride dropped below the skyline.

The transparisteel pod began to slow scarcely one third of the way down. Anakin suppressed a groan and tried to arrange his expression in Jedi-stoic manner, hoping that whoever got in the lift with him would be too intimidated by seeing a Jedi close-up to think about what they were doing in a Senatorial Apartment building at 3:15 in the morning. If they ask, I’m visiting the famous Bebbisun Bakery. Bennison? BELLASAN. I’m visiting the Bellasan Bakery.

Actually, anyone getting into the elevator this early was probably also doing the walk of shame so it’s probably fi-KRIFFING SITH SPIT THAT’S

“Master Windu!” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice an octave. “Good- Good Morning!”

Windu’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Knight Skywalker. Good morning to you as well,” he replied, stepping in the elevator, doors closing behind.

The lift descended as Anakin’s heart rate skyrocketed. This was it. Windu had to be here for Anakin. What other possible explanation could there be? WHY WASN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING?

Wait.

What other possible explanation...could...why wasn’t he saying ANYTHING?

Anakin scrutinized Master Windu out of the corner of his eye. Were those...the same robes he was wearing yesterday? They looked like the same robes but then again...pretty much all robes looked the same so this was probably a stupid way to figure things out. Fuck, it was too early for this.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t get a sense of the Master’s surface emotions. But his underlying aura seemed...happy? Typically Windu's serene presence had a tinge of righteous fury (something that had frightened him back when he was a child). But now that ever present vaapad edge was... softened? Anakin wracked his tired brain for a more reasonable explanation than- than the obvious but obviously impossible. He had to projecting. Right? Then again...couplings weren’t forbidden (even if Anakin couldn’t quite understand how people enjoyed just- having sex without any attachment).

The corners of Anakin’s lips twitched. The Master of the Order. Getting laid. Master Windu. In the Senatorial apartments. Mace Windu. What level had he gotten on? Above aides...diplomats probably. Should he ask? Force, this was too good- he couldn’t not ask.

Windu stared at him cooly and the knight instantly sobered. What was he thinking? Windu was obviously trying to trick him! If he said anything, Windu would turn it against him! Well, he wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Anakin spent the next several levels of descent staring forward, determined not to be the one to break the silence. 

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the lift slowing prematurely again until the doors opened; an elderly Rodian hobbled in. The two Jedi moved even further apart to allow the man some space.  The lift closed and newcomer glanced at the humans curiously. 

“Aren’t you Jedi? What are two Jedi doing here so early?”

“Bakery,” Mace and Anakin responded in unison, heads snapping to stare at the other in surprise.

The Rodian chuckled. “Oh, that Bellasan place, right?”

“Yes,” Windu replied smoothly. “They have a famously unique caf blend.”

“And you can’t get Sweesonberry rolls anywhere else,” Anakin added quickly, not letting the opportunity to firm up his cover go to waste.

“You mammals and your carbohydrates,” The elderly reptilian clucked, bemused.

Knight Skywalker and Master Windu exchanged wary looks. The door pinged open on level 4848. 

“Enjoy!” the overly entertained Rodian called out as they stepped out from the closing doors.

Anakin cleared his throat. “After you, Master Windu,” he said politely. CHECKMATE FUCKER.

But Windu just nodded serenely, striding confidently ahead, past the checkpoints and into the attached upper-crust market. After a very short walk, Anakin found himself in line behind Mace Windu at a pastry shop in the basement of his wife’s apartment building.

Anakin blearily thought that sentence through again, then subtly pinched the inside of his arm.

Nope, he was awake.

Every second that passed Anakin had to fight the steadily increasing urge to blurt out something stupid, and possibly incriminating, if not both. Just say something bland! Nothing about why they’re both here so early. Nothing about coming here before. Something casual.

“Smells good,” Anakin said.

Nailed it!

“Indeed,” Mace replied.

I’m a genius! He actually thinks I’m here for the bakery! He’s never going to suspect a thing! He was probably here for some boring pre-dawn meeting, and now I’ve got the perfect excuse to come visit Padme whenever! I can probably start sneaking off more often, I’ve just got to remember to bring back a pasty or something. And he can’t even say shit about un-Jedi like consumption!

“Skywalker-”

Oh no. Please be about the bakery. Pleasebeaboutthe

“Believe me when I tell you that I’d rather not ask-”

Oh NO. THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE ABOUT THE BAKERY. I’M AN IDIOT.

“-But did you fly here in a temple speeder?”

Cold sweat started to trickle down Anakin’s back as they shuffled forward automatically in the surprisingly long queue. Guess that’s why Padme woke me up so early.

“Knight Skywalker? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Master Windu, sorry- I was, uh, distracted by the specials board. I, um, have my own hoverbike. Built it myself. No temple resources involved.”

“Sounds...distinctive.” Windu’s tone seemed neutral, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose was obviously irritated. They stepped forward again. Why are so many people at this bakery so early? Guess we’re far enough down that day/night cycles don’t matter so much. Oh kriff, he’s massaging his temples now. Why is he mad about the bike? Is he going to ask where I landed it? Fuck.

Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I- I thought it would be better to take personal property. Since this isn’t exactly order business.”

“That’s very responsible of you. Such...separation of personal from professional is an important skill for a Jedi.” 

The trickle of sweat down his spine increased. The Chosen One discretely wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his sleeves and prayed that his outer robe was hiding any growing pit stains. 

Are we...actually talking about this? Is he going to admit to having an affair? Is he going to tell me to keep this quiet? I CAN BARELY KEEP MY OWN RELATIONSHIP SECRET! Does he know about Padme? Does he know we’re married? Is this conversation still about the bakery visit? Is HE married?

“However...such a vehicle might not be the most discrete. And discretion is also an important skill.”

Is he giving me permission to use the temple landspeeders to visit padme? Is he telling me to take the bus? WAIT! IS THIS A METAPHOR? Is he telling me to come here less? Is this still about the bakery? Did I actually check that I wasn’t still asleep or did I just dream that I checked?

“Do you understand, Knight Skywalker”

“I- uhh. I mean- well, ummm- OH look, it’s your turn to order!”

Master Windu stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, again! Same as last time?”

OH FORCE GODS HE’S A REGULAR. THIS IS IT. I’M NEVER GOING TO GET TO SEE OBI-WAN OR ASHOKA AGAIN AND PADME’S CAREER IS GOING TO BE RUINED AND

“The same blend please, but please add on one of your Sweesonberry rolls- a friend recommended them.”

...Did Mace Windu just call me his friend?

“Excellent choice! Your friend has good taste!”

Mace Windu stepped to the side and Anakin Skywalker stepped up. “...I’ll have what he had.” 

A minute or two later, they were walking back to the lift, matching disposamugs and flimsibags in hand. 

To try and delay the inevitable, the pale and now very sweaty young Jedi took a sip of caf. He raised both brows involuntary. “This is...really good. Holy kriff. I don’t usually drink caf for the flavor but...wow.”

“Worth the trip?” Windu asked. Anakin choked a little but successfully managed to swallow. He took another sip to avoid answering. 

Windu took a bite of his roll, making a small noise of appreciation, “The pastry is also excellent. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but this is remarkably smooth...I can’t say I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”

“Floral, right?” Anakin said, grinning into his cup. 

“Yes, that’s a good description.” Ha! I told Padme I was paying attention.

They drank companionably as the lift indicator dinged closer. 

“Skywalker...you’re parked on 4970, right?”

The knight nodded, too afraid to speak. The force seemed to swirl at the precipice of something. 

The Master sighed. “Look- I’ve got an unregistered van- this one time only, stow the speeder, and I’ll give you a ride back. If you’re visiting the bakery in the future- please take something with a closed cab. Last thing we need is the tabloids wondering where you’re going...”

Anakin nodded again, more eagerly again. He was practically being given permission to visit Padme! That was totally worth an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the temple! He just had to chew slowly so he couldn’t blurt out anything marriage related! He was a genius!

The lift opened.

“Jar-Jar!” Anakin said, surprised and pleased. “Wow, are you also here for the bakery? This place really is popular!”

“Ani! Little Ani! Wassa you doin here?” Jar-Jar looked around wildly, then stumbled out, foot catching at the gap. Windu darted forward and effortlessly saved the Gungan before he hit the floor, while Anakin stuck his arm forward to catch the closing door.

“Bakery, Jar Jar!” he said as he stepped inside. “I’d love to talk, but we’ve actually got to get back to the temple!”

Windu struggled to untangle himself from Jar-Jar, who was being particularly unhelpful about it, even for him. Wow he’s even clingier than usual this early in the morning. It’s nice how patient Master Windu is being; I feel like even Obi-Wan can be too hard on Jar-Jar sometimes.

“Actually Skywalker, why don’t you go on ahead and stow the bike- I just remembered I meant to pick something up for Council; I won’t take long.”

“Uh. Alright,” Anakin said, catching the keys. I guess I can’t really be late if I arrive with Master Windu.

“Ossa no!” Jar-Jar exclaimed sadly. “I was justa saying to Macey lassa night thatsa I missed talkin wit little Ani!”

Anakin smiled reassuringly as the lift began to close. “Don’t worry Jar-Jar! We’ll- catch uh-HOLD ON did you say LAST NIGHT?!”

Mace’s eyes closed in resignation as the door shut on the pair, Jar-Jar still tangled around the Jedi.

AND MACE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO PUT HIM BACK UPRIGHT ANYMORE HOLY KRIFF JUST PUT THAT TOGETHER.

Anakin stared blankly at the metal walls as they rushed past. The lone Jedi Knight took a long sip of caff, then carefully placed the pastry bag and drink on the floor. He systematically wadded up the sleeve of his robe and shoved in his mouth. He then spent the next few minutes squealing with unholy glee while literally bouncing off the walls in a manner only accessible to a force sensitive in an elevator. He was still panting slightly when the lift opened on the primary parking level.

We can double date! Padme and I can host! I can help Mace and Jar-Jar plan their wedding! We can reform the order to allow for romantic love! I can be Jar-Jar’s best man! Padme and I can have another ceremony and Obi-Wan can give me away while Mace officiates and  and then we’ll all have sweesonbury cake and Jar-Jar can help teach our kids how to swim! 

With those dreamy thoughts running through his mind, it was child’s work to follow the the force to the unremarkable hovervan. He was humming to himself when Master Windu opened the door. 

He beamed at the older Jedi. Windu scowled in reply. Anakin smiled wider, unintimidated. He genuinely liked the Gungan, but anyone who could spend hours with Jar-Jar had to have a soft side.

“You know, Jar-Jar is a long time friend of Senator-”

“No.” Windu cut the eager words brusquely. 

Anakin shrank back, a little hurt.

(Maybe a lot hurt.)

Mace glanced over at the obviously crestfallen young General and sighed before amending his words.

“Not- Not right now, alright? Maybe if you’re miraculously more discrete about this than you are about your affection for Senator Amidala, then we can talk, understood?”

Anakin nodded with absolute determination, glimmering images of fairytale weddings visible once more. Distant, perhaps- but the chance was worth any amount of tongue biting. Now that there was a real, possible future where he could have it all, now that he knew Windu had a heart somewhere under his robes- he could be patient. 

He could be very patient.

Anakin calmed his grin down to a smaller, more Jedi-like smile, taking a sip of the cool but still really good caf. He channeled Obi-Wan’s most neutral diplomatic grace.

“Thank you for the ride, Master Windu. I appreciate it.”

Windu gave him an approving glance. “You’re more than welcome, Knight Skywalker.”

Feeling bold, he continued on with his best non-mocking impression of Obi-Wan.

"Have you had a chance to read the latest report on helmet redesigns? I think they might really improve peripheral vision without compromising concussive resistance.”

Mace hummed thoughtfully. “I have. I’m somewhat concerned about deploying such a radical change mid-campaign. Even better gear requires an adjustment period, and I’d rather minimize needless deaths while the troops readjust to hud flow.”

“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern, I was talking to Captain Rex-”

They spent the remainder of the flight chatting comfortably about troop safety and absentmindedly eating (or possibly stress eating in response to the prolonged absence of interpersonal conflict) the box of pastries Mace had picked up. When they arrived at the temple, they divvied up the remainder between them, quietly agreeing that there weren’t enough to share anyway. 

They continued their conversation, Master Windu accompanying him to the orbital loading bay. 

Obi-Wan rushed over in alarm at the sight of them approaching. “Anakin, there you are- I was starting to wonder if you’d make it. Terribly sorry Master Windu- I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother-”

“He’s not your padawan anymore, you don’t have to apologize for him. Though I do appreciate the reflex.”

“I suppose the concern isn’t completely baseless.” Anakin said, tone deliberately mildly. Mace chuckled slightly and Obi-Wan took a step back, slightly frightened by the sudden camaraderie. Anakin pretended to take a sip from his now empty disposamug to avoid fist pumping the air or cheering.

“I- Yes well- the important thing is you’re here in time for departure. What- what is that in the bag.”

Moment of Truth. Don’t freak out. Focus. Prove you can be discrete, THEN double dates, THEN Jedi Wedding Ceremony.

“Sweesonbury Roll,” Anakin answered placidly. He pretended to take another sip of caf. “Master Windu was kind enough to give me a ride from the bakery.”

“That’s- I’m sorry, what?” Anakin bit the inside of cheek to keep himself from reacting to Obi-Wan’s palpable bewilderment.

“I had to double back and get more, but we came straight here after,” Mace added helpfully, with zero hint of intentional mischief. “Oh and Skywalker- you can call me Mace if we’re not discussing temple business.”

Anakin SCREAMED (internally, of course). Outwardly, he simply bowed politely. “And you’re welcome to call me Anakin, of course.”

He deliberately avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan, his former Master’s bug-eyed reaction already pushing him to the edge, even just visible as it was out of the corner of his eye.

Windu nodded in return. “Safe travels you two. May the force with you.”

“And with you.” Anakin replied.

“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan rushed to say, after a short delay.

Master Windu turned and exited the cargo bay doors. Anakin threw out the mug in a nearby bin, pulling out a roll and biting into it before turning to face Obi-Wan. They made eye-contact, each waiting for the other to break first. Usually that would be Anakin, but he had goals now. The Knight chewed. His Master’s eyes narrowed. The older man (who may have aged significantly in the last 5 minutes) finally broke.

“Who are you?”

Anakin just sighed, maintaining the Kenobi impression. “Come on Master, we don’t want to keep the troops waiting.” With that, he walked forward, hiding his smile as Obi-Wan followed closely at his heels. 

“Since when does my apprentice visit bakeries with Mace Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.

“You’re making it sound like a bigger deal than it is.” 

Master Kenobi sputtered as the pair opened the airlock for the short-range shuttle. 

Anakin mustered up an earnest smile. “Master? Would you mind flying- I’m still eating and-”

Obi-Wan made an incoherent noise of horrified outrage before fumbling for his communicator. 

“What are you doing?”

“NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE RIGHT NOW. EITHER YOU AND MACE NEED TO GO TO THE HEALING HALLS OR I DO!”

Anakin burst out laughing. “Relax Obi-Wan, I’m messing with you, holy shit. Obviously I’m flying.”

Obi-Wan slumped into the co-pilot seat, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t do that Anakin! My nerves are stretched thin enough by the war as it is-”

“Sorry, Sorry!”

They strapped in and took off, Anakin still chuckling occasionally, Obi-Wan scowling in irritation each time. 

They ascended above the towering skyline alongside the first rays of sunlight.

“So you didn’t go to a bakery with Master Windu this morning?”

“Uhh-”

[heyitssmiller]

Bewitched, Body and Soul

So... this happened. Blame the Discord. Basically, the premise is receiving a note from a stranger about having similar tastes in books, and my first thought was Finn/Leo. And now, around 24 hours later, this showed up in my word document. Hope y’all like it!! And don’t worry, I’ve already got a sequel planned with Logan ;)

All characters, of course, belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

And, if you’re so inclined, check out my Masterlist if you enjoy this story! <3

CW: food/drink

.

Leo loved this bookstore. There was a west-facing windowfront that allowed all sorts of afternoon light to shine through, creating a large, warm sunspot right in Leo’s favorite armchair. The shelves were always neatly organized by category, there was a featured book of the week, and there was a coffee shop sequestered to one corner of the building. What else did he need in life? He’d spent countless hours here, sitting with a new book and a cup of coffee or tea and getting lost in whatever world he’d been transported to within the crisp pages and black ink. Being new to the city, there were probably better ways to make friends, but there was something so soothing, so comfortingly familiar about shutting off the worry in his mind and just focusing on the story unfolding in his hands.

But when his stomach growled loudly in protest, he figured he needed to put reading on hold.

There was a wrinkled, jagged-edged scrap of paper sitting on top of Leo’s book when he returned to his table, café pastry in hand. It hadn’t been there a second ago. Curiously, Leo set his food down and inspected the foreign paper. Messy, inelegant scrawl slanted across the page in deep blue ink. The lines were uneven and chaotic; the i’s weren’t even dotted, almost as if it took too much effort to go back and add them in. Leo found it strangely endearing. It read:

           Hi!

           I don’t think we’ve met, but based on your choice of literature I think we would make great friends. :)

-        Carrot Top

Leo smiled, read it again, and looked around for the person who sent it but no one acknowledged him, seemingly lost in stories of their own. So he sat there, a smile still on his face as he got back to his book, using the note as a bookmark.

~~~

Finn couldn’t help himself when, a few days later, he left another note after seeing the guy with good taste in books again at the bookstore. He was at what must have been his usual table, seemingly right where Finn had left him. The only difference besides the clothes he was wearing was the book he was reading. Finn let himself linger on his profile, just for a second – the gentle slope of his nose, the way his curls rested against his forehead, how bright blue eyes scanned the pages below him.

Finn wasn’t one for love at first sight; that was for romance novels only. But instant attraction? Oh yeah. He was definitely there.

He picked up a small flyer from the front desk, flipped it over, and began to write.

And maybe it wasn’t a good way of, as the kids said these days, “shooting his shot”. But it was a start. And it was fun – the thrill of trying not to get caught, the anonymity. Sure, one day he’d maybe get up the courage to talk to him in person, but he was happy with this for now.

           Hmm… haven’t read that one. Might have to get myself a copy!

-        The Walking Freckle

After dropping the note off while the blond walked off to take a phone call, Finn tried to act casual as he stared sightlessly down at his own book instead of over at the cute stranger like he desperately wanted to.

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious…

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t really know where to go from here. Did the blond think the notes were creepy? Or weird? He never seemed to mind much, but… well, a stranger was repeatedly leaving notes for him. What if it was making him uncomfortable? Would it make things better or worse if Finn introduced himself?

A snort came out, unbidden. Yeah. Right. That would go well. Finn could practically see it now: he would be clumsy and awkward, probably spilling coffee all over the guy’s book or – even worse – all over him. He’d scare him off for sure.

But at the same time, Finn wanted nothing more than to meet him. To sit down across the table from him and debate the points of the book he was reading, or give book recommendations, or just talk. About literally anything. Finn wasn’t a picky guy. He could sit there and let him speak for hours, absorbing any and all knowledge about him like a sponge. Did the corners of those bright, blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Did his cheeks get all flushed when he was passionate about something, just like Finn’s? What was the story behind the soft-looking tuft of gray hair at his temple?

Who was he?

Finn was overflowing with questions, and desperate for the answers.

But he needed to go about this the right way, didn’t he? The last thing he wanted to do was screw this up. So he closed his book, propped his chin in his hand so that he could stare out the window, and started to plan.

~~~

The next note threw Leo for a bit of a loop. He’d saved his table with his coat thrown over one of the chairs and went up to the New Books section, surreptitiously keeping an eye on his table and hoping that he’d catch his note-sender red-handed.

Leo could’ve sworn that he’d looked away for half a second, but – well, he got distracted by a book, so it easily could’ve been five minutes for all he knew. This note was written on one of the café napkins, the ink bleeding through in some spots and a few small tears in the delicate material.

Nice choice! That book absolutely shattered my heart and then pieced it back together. The way she writes love lost just hurts so beautifully, doesn’t it?

I like your sweater by the way.

Fuck I hope that’s not creepy.

I’m not a stalker, I promise. I just think you’re really cute. And you have amazing taste in books. I’d like to learn more, if you’d let me. :)

But first, you have to figure out who I am! Good luck!

-        Your Not-So-Secret Admirer in the Tortoiseshell Glasses

He smiled, wide and happy, and looked around for tortoiseshell glasses, red hair, and freckles. Those were the only three clues he had so far. So he quickly scanned the crowded café, looking for anyone who fit the description. The only one even close was a freckled, redheaded guy at the corner table, but no glasses.

That was a shame, too. He was stunning.

The mystery bibliophile must already be gone, then. Or hiding.

Looked like Leo had his work cut out for him. He did always like a challenge.

~~~

It probably wasn’t Finn’s best idea to take his glasses off. He couldn’t see a damn thing and was left squinting down at his book, trying to determine if what he was seeing was an F or a P.

That smile, though… he could’ve seen that dimpled smile from all the way across the street.

He never thought he’d be pining for a stranger like this, but then again – he wasn’t a complete stranger, was he? After all, you could learn a lot about a person by their book preferences. Finn wasn’t normally known for being a good judge of character – he was too optimistic, too unwilling to see the bad in people. But damn, did he hope he was right about this one.

~~~

Finn had probably been too bold with the note he’d just dropped off, but when he’d seen what book that his new maybe-friend was reading, he knew he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity like that.

He didn’t wait to see the reaction this time – he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He just left the short note on top of the book while the blond was at the café counter and booked it (pun definitely intended) out of there as fast as he could.

           You have bewitched me, body and soul. <3

-        Bambi

~~~

He should’ve waited. Leo’s reaction, all bashful smile and bright red face and pleased expression, would’ve been worth it.

~~~

Leo went back to the bookstore pretty much every day after that, intent on finding this person. Not only was this a fun little game they were playing, but it would be nice to finally have a friend in the city. He still didn’t know anyone besides his coworkers and… well, he was a little lonely. A friend would be nice, especially one who had a shared interest in books.

The only thing left to do was to find them.

Red hair, freckles, glasses, and big doe eyes.

Leo looked for the only four defining traits he had, methodically starting in the front of the store and weaving through isle after isle of bookshelves. When that proved unsuccessful he moved on to the café, gaze landing on the queue first before lurching to a stop at the glimpse of a shock of auburn hair in the far corner booth. Heart hammering in his chest, Leo used his height to his full advantage and peered over the line of people.

Freckles, Glasses, Big, doe eyes.

If he needed any more confirmation, the stranger – the very cute stranger – was reading the same book Leo had been reading a week ago. The one his anonymous friend said they hadn’t read yet.

It had to be him.

Leo didn’t let himself think about it too much – he knew he’d panic if he did. He just strode over and sat down across from him, setting his book down on the table with a quiet thud. The note-writer jumped a little, then lifted wide brown eyes to look up at him.

Oh, but he was gorgeous.

“So what part are you at?” Leo asked, eyes taking in everything they could now that he was close enough – that messy red hair that just barely curled at the ends, the hint of scruff on his jaw, brown eyes shifting from shade to shade in the afternoon light filtering through the window beside him. Soft, mesmerizing lips curved into the beginnings of a smile that Leo couldn’t help but be transfixed by. “Have you gotten to the part where Patroclus dies?”

Finn stared back, trying to look horrified but he knew he was smiling so much that they counteracted each other because, finally, he’d figured it out. “I can’t believe you’d break rule number one of having a reading buddy: don’t spoil the ending.”

Dimples.

“Oops.”

Finn was done for.

“I’m Finn,” he managed to stammer, aiming for his best smile and probably looking like he’d just tasted something awful instead.

“Leo,” his companion said with a warm smile. Then he frowned. “Wait, no. Go back. You can’t spoil the ending of a story that’s literally thousands of years old.” The blond leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee and watching in amusement as Finn gaped at him in horror. He could feel his cheeks and ears getting red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s so not the point!”

Leo laughed, then motioned for Finn to state his case. And then Finn was off, forgetting all about his nervousness and tendency to be awkward. He ranted about that topic for… well, he didn’t really know how long, but it was a while. Leo didn’t even bat an eye, keeping pace well and interjecting with his own points calmly and collectedly – the gentle breeze to Finn’s tornado. He was smiling, too, even though sometimes he tried to hide it behind the rim of his coffee cup. And he was smart, Finn learned as they jumped from one topic to the next and the minutes ticked by. He knew a lot about literature, like Finn, but he could also make these random connections to all kinds of different topics that Finn would’ve never thought of, all while keeping up with Finn’s fast-paced brain and tendency to jump down rabbit holes.

It was an instant connection, the likes of which Finn had never experienced before. It was intoxicating. Finn felt like he could never get enough.

During a lull in between one conversation and the next, Leo pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over, looking suddenly and inexplicably shy. Finn cocked his head confusedly, then unfolded the paper and looked down.

           Would you like to go on a date sometime?

PS: I’m free tonight if you are. :)

-        The Guy Who’s Been Crushing on You for Weeks

Finn’s heart threatened to burst. “Absolutely.” He hesitated, just for a second, then decided to go for it. “Are you free now? I know a pretty great café nearby.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he jerked his thumb at the bookstore café and earned a laugh. He wondered what he could do to earn another.

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked over to the counter together, the backs of their hands just barely brushing – it was still enough to make Finn hyperaware of every miniscule movement and get his pulse hammering. Leo was teasing Finn for his terrible eyesight in a soft, southern drawl – something Finn definitely wasn’t expecting but sure as hell wasn’t complaining about, his fingers deliberately playing with Finn’s now, and Finn knew it was going to be a good night. It was already a good night; how could it possibly get any better?

“What can I get for you?”

Leo and Finn looked up at the barista and their eyes widened in tandem as they took in thick chestnut waves, long, dark lashes, and bottle-green eyes. He wasn’t smiling, not necessarily. His expression was fairly neutral, all things considered – except for those eyes. If you stared at then long enough, you could see just the faintest whisper of amusement.

They both looked down slightly, searching for a nametag. There, in bold black letters, read:

Logan.

[s-horne]

for @maguna-stxrk​ based on this prompt 💖

------

“For the last time, Tony, I am not going to ask them if they sell coffee by the gallon. I’m pretty sure that would kill you.”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“But it does hurt to drink that much coffee. Even if they did, which they don’t, I’m not risking it. You don’t need any help in endangering yourself.”

“I resent that.”

“And I don’t care,” Steve said back. The queue moved forward and Steve stepped closer to the till, already feeling slightly more awake than he’d been before he’d been hit with the scent of fresh coffee. “I’m not helping you with a caffeine overdose.”

“Think of it as a science experiment.”

Steve huffed, moving with the line again. It was going quickly and his mouth was practically watering at the thought of his sweet morning pick-me-up. “I don’t do science.”

“Do it for me,” Tony wheedled, his voice not quite as convincing over the phone as it would have been in person, but still enough to make Steve wish he could do what Tony was asking. He was always weak around Tony. It was something of a problem. “Please.”

“Wow.” Steve paused mid-yawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Tony let out an indignant huff. “I say please.”

“No, you don’t. It’s part of having the Stark charm – everyone just does what you want without you having to ask nicely. Or even ask anything, for that matter.”

“Ooh,” Tony said, smirk clear in his tone, “are you saying you find me charming?”

Rolling his eyes so hard he was almost worried for himself, Steve moved his cell to his other ear and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “You wish. Anyway, I’m nearly ordering. Did you actually want anything? A real order,” he said quickly before Tony could say anything to the tune of ‘all the coffee in the shop’, “nothing that could be fatal. Or illegal.”

“Spoilsport,” Tony muttered and Steve could just picture his pout. “No, I’ll be okay. If it isn’t 99% caffeine, there’s just no point.”

With another eye roll and a soft laugh, Steve shook his head. “Goodbye, Tony. Please make sure my computer is on. I know you’re sitting in my office to avoid Pepper. But please don’t be playing games on it – last time you downloaded something and the music started playing when I was on a conference call.”

“I have to hide; she’s on the warpath! I only forgot one piece of paperwork. I don’t deserve the punishment that I know she has lined up for me.”

“See you in 10.” With a laugh at Tony’s expense, Steve hung up just as the line moved and he was up to order. 

“Morning,” Steve said to the young woman behind the counter. 

“Morning,” she said back with a smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Mocha, please. To-go, medium, thank you. Oh, and a raspberry muffin,” he added when the girl started typing on the till. “I’d better get him something.”

“Is that for your partner? You two sounded so close.”

Steve fumbled with his wallet, fingers slipping on his card as he pulled it out. “Tony? Oh, no,” he said quickly. He felt his cheeks color and he looked down with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wish. He doesn’t see me like that. We’re just work colleagues.” 

“Oh.” The barista sounded as disappointed as Steve felt on a daily basis, but gave him a smile and a shrug. “He talks to you like there’s something, from what I could hear.”

Steve didn’t know what to say and had only managed to splutter out a few nonsensical words before she printed his receipt and handed it over. 

“And you’re taking him a muffin. Well, that’s a guaranteed way to his heart.”

How Steve wished that were true. If that were actually the case, then they would have been together for years. 

Even with Tony being his superior in the office, Steve had quickly realised that Tony did not take care of himself and had felt an urge to do it for him. More evenings than not, Tony would be the last person in the office and at lunchtimes Tony would stay in his office, long conference calls trapping him as everyone else went off to eat. 

It was in Steve’s nature to provide for people. He couldn’t see someone not taking care of themselves and just walk away. His mother hadn’t raised him that way. Despite the slightly uneven feeling and his colleagues gently teasing him that Steve was only trying to get a salary increase, Steve had started adding to his morning order at the coffee shop and doubling his lunches. They had only been boring sandwiches and the occasional salad back then, but Steve reckoned it was better than nothing at all. He’d left them on Tony’s desk at the very beginning with nothing but a sticky note telling him to take a 5 minute break to eat. It hadn’t taken Tony long to warm up to Steve and, before Steve had even realised what was happening, he had a new best friend to share his lunch break with every day, the two of them alternating whose office they sat in and who paid for their meals. 

But that was all. Colleagues turned best friends. End of the story.

 “Order for Steve?”

Steve jolted out of his thoughts and lifted a hand as he hurried over to the counter. 

“Go get him,” the barista called from the till with a wink and Steve laughed, ducking his head when most of the customers turned to look at him curiously. 

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Steve heard as he left the shop and fell into step with the crowds on the street. 

He nodded and huffed a short laugh before he realised whose voice it was. Tony?

Panic flooding him, Steve fumbled with the cup and takeaway bag in his hands to look at the phone screen sticking out of the top pocket of his jacket. Tapping it frantically, he was met not with his lock screen photo of his baby nephew, but with the call screen informing him that his connection with Tony was still very much live. He was also somehow on speaker. 

“Does the whole shop know now?”

“Fuck!” Steve transferred the pastry bag and hot cup to one hand and jammed the phone between his ear and shoulder. “Tony?”

“Yup. You didn’t hang up.”

“I never do!” Steve answered, voice betraying his panic. “Whenever I used to, you threatened to tell our boss because you said it was rude to hang up on a superior! So then I just stopped – it wasn’t worth the teasing. You were meant to hang up!”

Tony laughed. “Still can’t believe you fell for that. Anyway, I think we have something to talk about, don’t we?”

Steve could say no. He could brush it all aside and pretend that it had all been a joke or a big misunderstanding. It would be so easy; it would save him from any awkward conversation, from a broken heart when Tony let him down gently. 

But, he didn’t want that. He wanted to take a chance, didn’t he? What if there was something there? 

Didn’t he owe it to himself - to himself and Tony - to at least try? 

He wanted the hugs, the kisses. He wanted the late nights and the lazy mornings in bed; he even wanted the arguments and the yelling that would no doubt be inevitable one day. 

“I think so,” Steve finally said, voice quiet but sure. “I’m on my way now.”

“I’m in your office,” Tony said and Steve smiled. 

“Aren’t you always?”

“You love it,” the smile was clear in Tony’s voice, any hesitation gone as he fell back into his familiar teasing. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Steve said immediately, automatically, whether Tony had been expecting an answer or not. “Stay there. And stop playing games on my computer!”

“Never! See you in a bit. With my muffin.”

Steve grinned even wider. He was getting predictable, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. “Yes,” he said, fondness that could be heard a mile off seeping into his tone, “yes, I got you a muffin – that you never actually said you wanted.”

“My hero.” There was a pause. “Hurry?”

Wild horses couldn’t have stopped Steve when he knew what was waiting for him at the office and he clutched the phone tighter, dodging a dog sniffing at a streetlamp and a cyclist hurtling towards him. “I’m coming. Five minutes. Less than, even.”

“Good. I’ve already been waiting too long.”

[yuzukult]

—saccharine

pairing: seokjin x reader word count: 2,319 prompt: seokjin doesn’t believe in love at first sight. so... what’s this feeling that’s churning in the pit of his stomach when he meets you for the first time? warnings: none. minor cursing. fluff attack. a/n: to celebrate my follower milestone! thank you all for supporting and reading my fics, it means a lot to me!

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle. 

First, the alarm rings. Then, he slams the snooze button on his phone before resuming into a light sleep for another eight minutes. The annoying horn sings again, and a wash of regret hits from never changing it out of the default, so he finally accepts this by getting up and sliding his feet lazily into a pair of slippers by the side of his bed before making way into the bathroom.

His hair is a mess. But it’s a mess everyday. Life has gone to the point that even brushing his teeth has become a dreadful chore. Shuffling through his bin of hair products, he finds the mousse he consistently loses and finds on repeat and then slaps a boatload of it onto his head.

This is basically a day-in-the-life of Kim Seokjin. Except it’s everyday. It’s never ending. It feels like one of those time loop movies where when he ends his day, it starts back off exactly like it did yesterday. 

To be fair, he can’t complain. He’s got a roof over his head, an apartment all to himself (that means without a roommate), plus a well-paying full time job. It’s hard to whine and cry about how his life seems to have no excitement, other than the occasional meeting with his friends, but contrarily… there’s not much to look forward to.

It’s the same mundane activities. Opening the cabinet above his kitchen counter as he usually does at this time, he grabs his favorite Cheerios. Good starts with happy hearts, as their commercials say, but Seokjin isn’t entirely sure that’s true. 

He’s a “cereal first and milk last” kind of guy. Not that he judges those who do it backwards, but he thinks if anyone does the routine in the opposite order, they might actually be backwards. It’s a condition—he makes it seem, and it’s a rather controversial topic for the guy.

Nonetheless, he enjoys his bowl of breakfast goods. He reads the news on his phone, and when the reminder on his watch dings, Seokjin rushes to put his dishes into the sink and hauls himself down the hall, in direction to his walk-in-closet that evidently is just too big for it being only himself. It’s a constant indication that he’s alone. 

By the time it’s 8:30AM, he’s dressed in his suit and tie, hair slicked back, and has a satchel slung over his shoulder in preparation of yet another day at the office.

But maybe he’d stop by that new place this morning. Change of pace. Maybe it’ll liven up his day and give him something to look forward to. Maybe he’d like it.

The place is around the corner, less than a three minute walk the moment he leaves his apartment building, and if he timed himself, it probably takes longer to leave his home and out of the building. The shop is cute; decor stickers are laid out delicately along the windows, the walls are painted a pretty blush pink, and there’s smiles on all the workers’ faces as if they enjoyed being there.

There’s a smile on your face in particular that captures his attention.

Seokjin is a relatively kind guy, or so he thinks he is. He’s never pinned over girls like those shows he’s seen on TV, but he’s had his fair share of relationships. He’s not shy, but he’s also not outgoing. He has an abundance of friends but only a few are ones he trusts. 

And the girlfriends he had were great but… no one really appreciates his generosity as much as he’d like.

He thinks he’s crazy at this moment, quite frankly, because he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. It’s this theory and idea that writers of a romance genre film and story that people whipped up together to make it seem more appealing to their audiences. But he doesn’t actually think it’s true.

Or is it?

Hair up in a messy bun, there’s a swipe of flour that coats your one cheek, and a smile that dresses your face so beautifully. You’re in a simple outfit that’s a combination of a white tee and blue jeans with the shop’s apron on top, while running around to keep up with all the orders coming through. He has hearts brimming in his pupils and he can’t seem to stop the way his chest tightens the second he lays his eyes on you. Is this what love at first sight is?

Seokjin doesn’t only regret not changing the default ringtone of his alarm this morning. He also regrets not asking for your number.

When he reaches his office, he realizes he forgets to ask for cream and sugar at the bakery. The dark, warm liquid glides down his throat with some difficulty; the bitterness layering his tongue but the memory of you sparks sweetness from within. Who were you? He doesn’t even know you and you’re on his mind like crazy.

Now, Seokjin has seen How I Met Your Mother. He’s watched the nine seasons, totaling out to two-hundred and eight episodes, so needless to say, Seokjin knows what goes on in that show. And ironically, he hates Ted. The guy is a hopeless romantic that thinks every girl he has his eyes on is ‘the one.’ Seokjin refuses to become like Ted, and he would be caught dead replicating those same actions.

Then why the fuck is he caught up on a girl he’s seen once? 

The second time Seokjin comes by the bakery, it’s a hell of a lot less busy. In fact, it’s only three people that man the storefront, rather than the six that he saw the first time he stopped by. He has his fingers crossed behind his back as he waits in the queue patiently, hoping you’d be the one taking his order this time around.

Luck must be on his side because you’re greeting him with those pearly white teeth. “Good morning, nice to see you. What can I get for you today?”

Abort, abort! He can’t talk. He swears that his heart has found its way up into his throat, and he can’t get any words to come out.

You blink. Those gorgeous long lashes brush your cheeks so deftly, and it swells his heart that’s now lodged in the path of his airways. “Sir?”

Seokjin swallows. “Oh—yeah, sorry sorry. Uh, can I get a medium hot coffee? Cream and sugar, please. Forgot to mention that last time and I almost died from the bitterness.” Was that an appropriate comment to make? Did it make you laugh? Or were you offended that he just insulted your workplace’s coffee

He cheers in success on the inside when a soft chuckle escapes from your lips. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear. I guess we should have also done our part and asked if you wanted any. Did you want to order anything else?”

Ah. Was the conversation already ending? But it’s so soon! He barely held the dialogue for a couple seconds, and since he’s got your attention, he can’t let go now. Quickly, his eyes skim the menu and the display case full of baked goods. “Uh, what do you recommend?” He asks, gesturing to the sweets. 

You wave your hand for another coworker to take the next customer’s order. Walking over to the sweets, Seokjin trails over as well, observing your expression. You’ve got your brows furrowed, deep in thought with a quirk of the side of your lips, engrossed with the plentiful of options. “Do you like tarts?”

—

Seokjin is a regular now. 

Whenever the clock strikes 7:30AM, he’s already in his work attire, hair at its best, and has checked his face in the mirror for the fiftieth time. Then, he’s on route to the corner bakery.

He wants to look good before he meets you. Handsome guy for a pretty girl. It’s only right.

The bells at the front door of the shop ring loudly the moment he enters in, and immediately his ears are filled with that beautiful laugh of yours, but you’re not alone. It’s accompanied by someone else’s, a voice that doesn’t match any of your other coworkers and his jaw clenches at the thought. Who is this male that claims to be the purpose of your giggling with a mop he calls hair on the top of his head?

“Oh!” You beam, lifting up the cup of hot coffee in hand. “Seokjin! Come here, I have a new pastry for you to try, and your daily caffeinated beverage to pair it with. Plus, I want you to meet my friend.”

His name is Taehyung. The freaking guy looks like a model, strutting into the café like it’s his runway, and when his gaze meets Seokjin’s, it makes Seokjin feel small.

Seokjin likes you, if the amount of times he comes in a week is evidence for it. He doesn’t just do that either; he often stirs up a conversation, asks how your day is going so far, and even goes out of his way to remember small details so he can bring it up next time. But he can’t help but wonder—do you have a boyfriend? Are you being kind only because Seokjin is a customer? Or are you normally this sweet as those raspberry filled pastries you set him up with? 

And those questions are only emphasized when Taehyung smiles, extends his hands and offers Seokjin a firm shake. “I’m Taehyung.”

Seokjin’s entire work day has gone to shit. All he could think about was who Taehyung was and why you were so adamant about Seokjin meeting him. 

After taking the last bite of the delicious pastry you packed for him (free of charge, too), it hits him. 

If Seokjin liked you, he should just confess his feelings, no matter what the consequences. Instead of sitting here with his shoulders slouched, eating this treat you gave him with a pout upon his lips, he shouldn’t continue waiting around and feeling sorry for himself anymore. Why would he make himself suffer like this when there’s a way to end this vicious cycle? 

Seokjin concludes that he’s going to confess tonight. 

—

What Seokjin learns about you is that you are by far not close to his ideal dream girl. 

You’re the “milk first, cereal last” gal, and he believes you’re ass backwards. You like consistency, and your favorite ringtone is the sound of those stupid horns he has for alarms in the morning. You enjoy the first few hours of your day, basking in the routine that you’ve put together yourself, including the one that had recently involved seeing Seokjin’s face. 

And although you’re not his dream girl, you’ve become it.

“I like you,” He finally confesses, a bouquet of flowers in his hands that match the decor stickers plastered on the shop's windows. “Would you… go out with me?”

Seokjin isn’t here in the mornings like he normally is, opting that since this is definitely a change of pace, he might as well go all out. Maybe this will be different. Maybe he’ll be happier.

Stunned, your mouth drops open. You’re stuttering over your own words, practically malfunctioning like a machine. “Wha—Like—what? Like… you like me as in like… a woman? More than a friend? You want to take me out?”

“Uh,” Seokjin scratches behind his ear anxiously. Was his plan backfiring? “Yes? I… like you. As in, I come here in the mornings for coffee, yeah, but I mostly came to see you. I enjoy hearing your laugh, seeing your smiles, and listening to you talk about these pastries like they’re your world and I—“ He pauses, inhaling a sharp breath, “—then you introduced me to this really good looking guy named Taehyung and I didn’t know what my chances were with you anymore, so here I am. Confessing.”

You’re silent. Truthfully, Seokjin’s not feeling good about this. His palms are sweaty, his heart is racing, and you still haven’t said a word and he’s sure that over thirty seconds have already passed by.

“What—“ You start again, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. “Thank god, really.”

The front of Seokjin’s brows dip in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

You laugh, combing your fingers through your loosened locks. “I’ve been trying to tell my coworkers that I had this stupid crush on you since you first came in. You’re such a great listener, you’re handsome, and fun to talk to. They think you’re too good to be true, so they thought you wanted to be my gay best friend. Hence… the Taehyung test.”

“The Taehyung test?” Seokjin reiterates. 

Chewing on your bottom lip, your eyes are swirls of apologies. “He’s cute, right? Either you’d get jealous that a guy like him has my attention and you like me, or you like him and you’re jealous that he’s making me laugh instead of you.”

Seokjin’s shoulders drop in relief. “So… does that mean you’ll go out with me?”

You smile softly. “Of course, Jin.”

He doesn’t think those mundane activities he identified before are boring anymore. No, not with you, they’re not. He doesn’t mind watching you pour milk instead of cereal first in the mornings because he’s glad he gets to be the one who pinches your side teasingly and call you a weirdo. He doesn’t hate the sound of the horns—okay, a lie, he hates it so much, but they’re bearable when you’re around since you don’t hesitate to shut it off the minute it rings, and immediately hop out the bed, without using the snooze button. Brushing his teeth is a delight, especially when he sees your toothbrush sitting in your own designated cup on your side of the sink.

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle. 

But Seokjin doesn’t mind those things if it’s done with you. 

[seasonsofeverlark]

$1 Smooches

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: Everlark and a Kissing Booth [submitted by @mandelion82]

Rating: G

Author’s Note: Modern AU. ~1600 words _____________

“That game was rigged!” Katniss seethed.

“Lower your voice, Brainless! Do you want the carnies to curse you? I don’t, I’m standing right next to you!” Johanna hissed, slapping a hand over Katniss’ mouth. 

“I’m sure carnival workers consider that a derogatory term,” Prim sighed, done with her companions silliness.

“Anything is offensive nowadays,” said Johanna, winded, after Katniss shoved her away. 

Katniss scowled, giving another shove for good measure, “Cut it out, Johanna!”

Prim rolled her eyes. “You are aware, this is a charity event benefiting the hospital I work for, right? all booths are operated by volunteering hospital employees, which means the ring-the-bottle game wasn’t rigged,” Prim stared pointedly at her sister, “and nobody is getting cursed!” She glared at Johanna next, “Behave!”

There was nothing Katniss hated more than disappointing her baby sister. “I’m sorry, Prim, we’ll be better,” Katniss glared at her friend, “Right Jo?” 

“Fine! But I demand a greasy, deep fried treat, and a big sugary drink to go with it!” 

“Yay!” Primrose clapped, hooking her slender arms through her sister and friend’s elbows, “Lets have some fun!”

The trio came to a food booth, Prim piped in, “I’ll ordered us a funnel cake and two giant lemonades, you guys go find another game, I don’t mind waiting in line,” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah…and then we can go to the booth my department set up. My favorite nurse in the whole world is manning it!”

Katniss and Johanna walked past the inflatables and the bouncy castle, trying not to bump into families with rambunctious children, and then, they saw a ridiculously loud-excuse-of-an-eyesore-shack painted in pepto pink, decked to the gills with giant red and pink hearts sprouting from every corner of the stand, and a large, white sign crowning the top, announcing: “$1 Smooches”, spelled in blinking light bulbs, with a neon yellow arrow pointing downwards.

“A kissing booth?” Johanna arched her eyebrows, curiously. 

The queue to the booth was very long and to Katniss’ surprise, composed mostly by female patrons. 

“What. Is. that?!” Gasped Johanna, pointing to the booth while fanning herself with her free hand. Without further comment, Jo grabbed Katniss’ hand and marched straight for the kissing booth line.

“What—?”

“Come on Brainless, I have two singles in my wallet and a tube of chapstick ready for the hunk selling kisses!” 

Katniss was momentarily confused, until she saw a muscular man with a boyish, lopsided smile, taking a crisp dollar bill from a very enthusiastic woman; a second later, the man puckered up his pink lips, and leaned forward, just outside the big window of the booth, forearms flexing deliciously against the sleeves of his polo shirt; a wayward curl of his ashy blonde hair fell over his forehead in just the right way.

“Oh!” Katniss gulped, falling into step with her best friend. 

The line advanced impressively fast, for how long it was. In a matter of minutes, which was truly appreciated, since nobody particularly enjoyed being sandwiched between the baking sun and the suffocating blacktop of the lot. The girls were second to next line, but Johanna started sneezing uncontrollably, thanks to the cigarette smoke of a passerby. 

“Ugh! This is a hospital’s parking lot! A no smoke zone!” Jo rasped angrily, “Here!” She shoved a balled up wad of cash into Katniss’ hands, and before her friend could stop her, she went after the smoking a-hole, to rip him a new one. 

Katniss found herself at the front of line very suddenly, and the man beckoned her forward, lopsided grin, so inviting, she stepped up without consciously deciding to.

The man studied her quizzically for a moment, “Hello, there,” he greeted, “Are you an employee at Panem General, or are you a guest? You look familiar,” he said.

“Guest,” Katniss answered, a little too fast. She stepped backwards, rethinking her situation, the woman directly behind her, gave her a weak push forward, to keep her from stepping on her toes. 

The man looked at the ball of cash in Katniss’ hands and smiled brightly. “Would you like to make a donation to Panem General’s pediatric wing? Every dollar counts,” he said softly.

Katniss nodded bashfully, not really understanding his words, too preoccupied with how velvety soft the man’s voice was. She handed him the whole wad, which apparently was $5 in crinkled $1 bills. 

The guy took only one, and placed the rest of the money on the counter, next to Katniss’ hand, before leaning forward to brush his lips against Katniss’. 

There was no telling how long the kiss lasted, but judging by the aggravated buzzing of complaints coming from behind Katniss, it had been long enough to warrant an annoyed calling out.

“Hey! Stop holding up the smooches!” 

Katniss opened her eyes, shifting down to the ball of her feet. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes and stretched on the tip of her toes during her kiss. She stared at the guy, who looked slightly dazed as he admired her back; his smile seemed even more crooked than before. 

“Oh my gosh, you found our booth!” Prim cried out, startling Katniss. “Oh, and you met nurse Mellark!” 

“What?!” The crowd behind Katniss grew restless and annoyed by the second. “I haven’t met any nurses—“

Katniss peered back at the booth suspiciously, expecting to see this nurse her sister spoke so much about, but the only person currently in the booth was the kissable blonde man, watching his sister with arched brows and surprise in his deep blue eyes. 

“Hi, Peeta!” Prim waved, the guy in the booth waved back, but the next person in line stood in front of him, blocking his view.

“Wait…” Katniss pulled Prim further out, before the mob of angry women throttled them, “That man is nurse Mellark?” She asked, pointing back as discreetly as she could; the man was looking at them with badly veiled concern, while still trying to do his job, as host of the smooching booth. “You mean to tell me, the handsome man kissing half the fair is the nurse Mellark you’re always gushing about, with the home baked cookies and the cute little drawings for the oncology patients?” Her gray eyes x-rayed her sister.

“Uh, yeah,” Prim sounded a bit too nonchalant. “He’s amazing, let me tell you,” she sort of mumbled, studying her cuticles. 

“Hey! What did I miss?” Johanna came back munching on a box of nachos, swimming in melted cheese. “Oooh! Elephant ear!” She said, snatching the funnel cake Prim was holding awkwardly. 

“Primrose forgot to mention that her most favorite nurse in the whole world is a HE!” Katniss snapped. 

“What?!”

“What’s so wrong about that? Men can be nurses,” Prim shrugged.

“But you didn’t tell me he was a man!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me you were a sexist pig, Katniss.”

“I am not!” 

Johanna giggled, stuffing her face with fair food. 

“Nurse Mellark is a great care provider who loves children and does his absolute best to bring joy during the worst time of our patients’ lives…What does it matter if he’s a guy? He’s great! What did you expect anyway?” Prim countered defensively, stubbornly.

“I don’t know! An elderly lady, with lots of motherly wisdom or something… I mean, every time you talked about nurse Mellark, you mentioned delicious homemade pastries, and finger paints, and sweet bedtime stories… I never pictured nurse Mellark to be so…”

“Manly,” Johanna finished, looking at the man in the booth, dreamily, finally having caught on. “He’s more of a tall tree trunk I’d like to climb like a koala bear in heat… now where’s my cash, brainless, my lips are ready for some smacking,”

“Johanna!” Katniss growled, but her friend waved her off. A thought occurred to her just then. “Prim…” Katniss whispered into her sister’s ear, “Are you…okay with this?” She said motioning to the 20 or so women in line. “Are you okay with all these people kissing nurse Mellark?” 

Primrose’s lips twitched, “Why wouldn’t I be? This booth was sort of my idea… it was actually more about  Doctor Odair selling the kisses, but nurse Mellark was very good sport, volunteering, ” She rolled her blue eyes. 

“Mmm… I just thought, maybe you had a thing for him?”

“For Peeta?!” Prim said loudly, before laughing hysterically. 

Katniss’ eyes shifted everywhere, and to her chagrin, the man in question— Peeta, apparently— looked up at his name.

“Not so loud!” Katniss hissed, but got interrupted by a booming voice. 

“Ladies, it is time for me to take a break.” Announced nurse Mellark— Peeta— A chorus of disgruntled patrons filled the air, but the man raised his hands placatingly, “Not to worry everyone, my pinch hitter, Doctor Odair, is ready to take over!”

As if by magic, the most attractive man Katniss had ever seen in her life— besides the beautiful male nurse, of course— popped from beside nurse Mellark and a collective swooning sigh rapped over the small crowd. 

Prim laughed. “Come on, I’ll introduce you guys properly. You’re going to love Peeta!”

“Hell no! I’m paying double for the new guy! You gals go ahead,” Johanna called, wolf whistling at the newcomer, waving two dollar bills in the air. 

A moment later, Prim had dragged Katniss to meet her most favorite nurse, secretly crossing her fingers as she made introductions…she thought Peeta and Katniss were perfect for each other, and she wholeheartedly hoped they would kick it off right away, so when she was wrinkly and white haired, she could tell her grand nephews and nieces the story of how their grandma paid a dollar to kiss their grandpa for the very first time. 

[writers-hes]

Fucking Harry | Summer Feeling Challenge

Hi, guys! How are you? I’m finally back with an all new fic called ‘Fucking Harry’. This is an entry to @helladirections​ ‘s Summer Feeling Challenge. I hope you enjoy!

word count: 2884  masterlist + if you love me come clean masterlist  be a part of my taglist!  SUMMER FEELING MASTERLIST (over 40+ fics about summer. angst, fluff, and smut!!!) SUMMARY: You were back in the same place where you last fell in love, alone again. You prayed to God that he was here. Chanting his name multiple times under your breath until he appears right beside you—but you knew that no magic in the universe will do that for you. You were born unlucky, after all.  Story Theme: Theme Parks unedited

---

It’s that time of the year again. You knew, because suddenly, the upcoming summer started to be gloomy. You hated summer more than you hated anything. Everybody was off to go to their country clubs, get summer jobs, go on trips with friends, fall in love…ick. Summer love? That doesn’t last anyway. Once summer is over, the person you fell in love with leaves you alone and gives you nothing else. Even if they were your friend at first. You agreed that you’ll be friends first and then lovers. Who could blame you two anyway? You were both lonely that summer. All your friends were away while you were stuck in Italy.

Fucking Italy.

You both agreed that there was something about Italy. It’s romantic. He kissed you just like how the sun kissed your skin. He made love to you in the private confines of his home there…and in the beach, in the yacht, well, he basically made love to you everywhere. You hung onto him like a necklace. Love marks littered his body and he showed it off to everyone—wearing polos with the buttons intentionally stopping right under his swallows or not wearing anything at all. You believed his words like a gospel and everything he said seemed like a prayer. That was him for you and perhaps all of the boys and the girls adoring him in everything that he did.

Now, you were back in the same place where you last fell in love, alone again. You prayed to God that he was here. Chanting his name multiple times under your breath until he appears right beside you—but you knew that no magic in the universe will do that for you. You were born unlucky, after all.

“Harry, Harry, Harry…fucking Harry,” you groaned, annoyed. Italy is just associated with Harry and it was fucking annoying. Why did you come to Italy in the first place? It’s unlike you to go back to a place associated with bad memories—the reason why you never went back to your hometown. But then again, you saw that there was a seat sale on some airline and that your boss told you to go take a break because you’ve been working non-stop since that wretched summer happened. You shook your head, an attempt to get rid of the guy inside your mind. So you walk, head on, in the streets of Florence where you fantasised the tow of you roaming around Cinque Terre, a city that overlooked the ocean. You remembered that Cinque Terre was a sight in itself. The city was adorned with hues of blue, yellow, red, and pink buildings. It had five towns and it was secluded from other cities. It was a nice life where you can buy pastries and greet the baker. Everybody knew everyone and Harry Styles was very well-known.

To be completely honest, you didn’t know how Harry Styles managed to stay in your mind for two years. You can still remember the rasps and the moans when you had sex—an ear-worm that haunted you to this very day. Still, you couldn’t help but smile when you took a trip to the theme park. A place where you and him considered solacing. It was loud in there, the mechanics of the rides replaying inside your head, little Italian children and international tourists asking their mothers to get them a toy.

Perhaps you could visit the theme park alone this time. You knew that it was open at this season. Everyone’s there and it’s summer. You stopped a small bakery to get some bread for lunch. You and Harry went to this place, around noon, to get a croissant sandwich that Harry raved about. You also remembered how much he liked their focaccia flowers. You entered, the smell of coffee and freshly baked bread enveloping your senses. You were giddy—they served the best bread in the world. You walked to the counter, smiling at the same baker that greeted you two years ago.

“Ciao, bella!” the man greeted.

“Hi. May I get a ham and cheese croissant sandwich and Caffe Latte?” you asked him, remembering your order from the last time you went here.

“Cosa certa,” he said, listing your orders on a notepad. “For who?”

“Y/N,” you replied, opening your wallet to retrieve your card. The barista nodded as you paid for the food.

“Grazie,” he said. “My boy will call your name and you can get your food,”

“Grazie,” you replied, walking away from the man and his cheeriness. You sat down on a chair where you can view the busy streets outside. You sighed sadly. The last time, you were the couple sitting a couple of tables from you—enveloped in each other’s hands, unaware of the prying eyes.

———

“Ah, fuck!” you exclaimed once you were inside your hotel room, exhausted from the wishful thinking and the walking. You walked towards the balcony and sighed, opting to open a bottle of wine from the mini bar. Getting wine drunk in Florence, Italy doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

Or maybe it was because the next day, you opened your emails. Hungover, you looked to see that you had an e-ticket to the theme park. Then, you remembered that in a courageous rush, you bought one in hopes of seeing the man with green eyes again. So in a haste, you were up and dressed, a plastic cup of coffee in your hands, in a cab to the amusement park. You watched the panoramic view outside your video and you wondered how a love like yours and Harry’s ended like it did. It was sad, really. He just left and in harsher terms, he ghosted you once you landed back in America. Fucking Harry.

You sighed, for the nth time—ready to just combust and call Harry. But you can’t, so you just chanted his name again, until it was time for you to enter the gates of the theme park. You looked at it, it was all the same. All the fucking same and you were reliving everything alone. You walked around the theme park and it was gigantic. There were trees that shaded the walkways and families taking photos of their children. You smiled at the sight, love and joy radiating the place but for some reason, you can’t be bothered. You were alone in a sea of people bonding and it just sucked. You sat inside one of the cafes in the theme park and got yourself his favourite Americano. What else is there anyway? He made you a godforsaken mess—an idiotic fool. You were busy looking through your phone, chanting his name under your breath when a pair of black Old Skool Vans appeared on your line of sight. You looked up and there he was, looking at you, his mouth agape. He seemed to be alone too and you were there too, speechless how he found his way to you. Perhaps all your chanting was true and the universe wanted you to meet again.

“Y/N?” he breathed, pulling the chair in front of you, a Caffe Latte in his hand. “How have you been? What brings you to Italy? Why are you here?”

“Hold on,” you replied, still in shock at the wonder in front of you. Harry was here. He was here and he was real because the way that he was looking at you right now was the same way he looked at you before. “Harry…how are you here?”

“I asked first,” he said, seeing the Americano in your hand and how you were still in sync with him because he got you your favourite.

“I took a break from work and saw that there was a seat sale going here so I decided to stay here. Yeah,” you nodded, awkward.

“I drove here from London. I stopped by France and I decided to go to Italy too,” he replied, clearing his throat. “How have you been?”

“Been better,” you admitted. “I mean, it’s Italy,”

“Yeah, I feel the same,” he replied. “Y/N, love. We’re here in Italy, in an amusement park. Do you want to try out some rides and just forget for a little while?”

“What do we do?” you asked.

“Just…relive Italy together even just for this day,” he said. “I do need a hand to hold onto in the roller coaster,” he said, extending his hand. It was true. He was a little bit of a scaredy cat in some rides and you were the hand that he held onto when he needed reassurance that everything will be okay. You thought about it. It would be nice to spend Italy with someone.

“Alright but we're not talking about what happened last time, okay?,” you nodded and he beamed.

“Alright,”

———

“Are you sure you want to ride the roller coaster?” you asked him. You were in a queue and were close to the entry gates. Harry was shaking like a flower.

“Relive it, right?” he said, forcing a smile. “I want to, Y/N,” I want to hold your hand again, he thought. There was absolutely no way for him to ride on this goddamn roller coaster but  you liked how free it made you feel. The ups, and downs, and the spikes made you feel liberated. It made you feel something and you liked how your hair flew everywhere. He didn’t want to ride the death trap but if it meant seeing you smile genuinely and holding your hand when he’s scared, then he wouldn’t mind a little sacrifice. You smiled at him, excited.

“I promise, after we finish the ride, you can lean on me if your legs wobble,” you teased and Harry laughed. He might take you up on that offer.

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouted but smiling anyway as he saw you chuckle. “Will you treat me to a nice scoop of gelato after? I was thinking...pistachio or cherry,”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. The queue to the rollercoaster became shorter and shorter and you were bouncing on your feet in anticipation while Harry bounced for the opposite reason. Soon, you were inside the little carts, waiting for the operator to finish setting up everybody.

“You want me to hold your hand, Harry?” you asked, opening your palm for him to squeeze.

“Yes, please,” he nodded, gulping thickly. “You know how queasy I get sometimes,” he chuckled nervously, wiping his sweaty hand on his blue denim before encasing your hand with his. “I’m sorry if my hands get sweaty,”

“It’s alright. Thank you for coming with me to ride it anyway,” feeling nauseous at the familiarity of the scene unfolding before you. Harry’s leg bouncing, his hand and yours, the sweat on your forehead from the heat, and the love that you felt for him. You wanted to scream at him, push him, and ask him what the fuck happened between the two of you. The way that he’s looking at you right now, through the facade of his anxiety, was love and you knew that.

“May we please remind you to keep your seatbelts on, be seated, and most of all, enjoy the ride,” a woman spoke, triggering the machine to pull back slightly and slowly riding up the small bump, before speeding down to the ground.

Harry was hysterical beside you, screaming while closing his eyes in fear. His grip on your palm became tighter and you smiled, screaming at the top of your lungs. The frustration, anger, sadness, and hurt all coming out and nobody cared. This was freedom. You screamed some more until your lungs gave out.

“Fuck!” you heard the man beside you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,”

“It’s okay, Harry!” you screamed in return. “We’re about to land,” you added, seeing that you were about to enter the station again. The coaster slowed down, stopping at its designated spot. You looked at Harry, who was red. You were pretty sure that there were tear stains on his cheeks but you ignored them.

“Thank you for riding our famous roller coaster. We hope to see you again,”

“Hope my ass. You will never see me set foot on this shit again,” Harry muttered under his breath, making you laugh. The safety locks on your chairs are lifted and you lead him to the exit. He was heaving, and had wobbly legs.

“You okay?” you asked. “I’m sorry if I had to make you go through that. We can try on other rides if you want to,” you offered.

“No, no more rides, please. Just wanna sit and play carnival games later. With the big toys, you know?” Harry said, rushing on the first bench that he sees. It actually takes a while before Harry calms down again. He laid on the bench for what seemed like an hour, bottles of water on his stomach that it makes you wonder if it was alright to just tell him to go home and leave things at that. You were about to speak when Harry interrupted you.

“Y/N,” he called. “Do you...maybe want to leave this place and have dinner with me?”

“Harry...I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you replied. “Only here, remember? After this, I have to go back to my hotel and you back to where you’re from,”

“Please, Y/N...I have so many things to tell you,” he said, sitting up so you could sit beside him. You didn’t, opting to stay on the bench beside where he was. The distance was frustrating Harry but he respected your boundaries. “Well, I’ll say it here then,”

You nodded, uneasy. Harry sounded serious and solemn in what’s supposed to be a happy place.

“I’m sorry I left,” he started, making you gasp at his bluntness. “I really am. Look, the last time I went here was with you and it was the best trip that I have ever had. I knew that it was something that I would cherish for the rest of my life but--”

“Why did you leave me?” you asked, facing him. “Do you know how I felt when you left? When we landed back, you changed.  You just left and I couldn’t call or text you. I received text messages from you thrice a month and that was you being generous,” you told him, newfound courage surging through your bloodstream.

“I was scared,” he admitted, making you chuckle pathetically.

“What about me? Wasn’t I scared too? It’s been two years. You can’t just decide to pop in anytime you want and leave when it’s convenient. Did you even mean it when you said that you loved me?” you asked, defeated. People started to notice the fight that broke out with you two and they started to recognise who Harry was. You noticed too so you stood up. Harry trailed behind you until you stopped at a more private part of the park.

“You know I love you, petal,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I told you to never doubt that, right? I love you still, Y/N and I’m sorry,”

“Harry--why are you here? Why did you insist on reliving what we had two years ago?” you asked, desperately trying. He was hiding and you were sure of it but he didn’t budge, shrugging.

“I’m sorry. I don’t--don’t know why I did what I did and then doing what I’m doing now. You know I’m not a man of regrets but I’ve been feeling so alone and lonely and I miss you.I love you I really do but that night, when we landed...I realised how Italy can only happen in Italy.There’s so many people prying on my business and I don’t know how they’ll react,”

“You’re ashamed of me,” you concluded, nodding at his confession. Harry was rendered speechless. It wasn’t as if he was ashamed. He was scared of how the public will react when you’re revealed to the world. “You’re fucking ashamed of me because I’m not like you?” you ask him, and Harry could feel the venom dripping from your words. “I--I can’t do this,” you exclaimed, tears on your cheeks. You laughed pathetically at yourself, straightening your back and walking. Harry was Harry so he grabbed you by the arm, ready to apologise and admit his mistake but you snatched your arm away from his grasp.

“Don’t,” you seethed. “Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t talk to me, don’t think of me. Leave me the fuck alone, Harry. I swear to God,” you warned, walking away from the boy who broke your heart for the second time. Harry was slumped over, his figure becoming smaller and smaller in the Italian sunset and you sobbed, leaving your heart with the man who took it.

You were hoping for a change but now, you were back in the same place where you last fell in love, alone again. You prayed to God that he was following you. Calling out your name multiple times above the crowd that was starting to appear until he appears right beside you—but you knew that no magic in the universe will do that for you. You were born unlucky, after all.

“Harry, Harry....fucking Harry,”

-- sorry if you thought it was smut... :) 

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[anakin-danvers]

to wish upon a star

Rex x gender neutral!reader

Request: “For a fic, from prompt list #2, "Look! A shooting star! Make a wish," with any character you want to write from the Star Wars prequel trilogy? (Not entirely sure who you write for, do I'll leave it up to you.)” as requested by @valkyriesandbrokenhalos​

Description: While on a mission in your home world, you take the time to enjoy the night sky. To your surprise, a certain Clone Captain decides to join you. 

Word count: ~2.2 k

Warnings: Fluff. This is pure and utter all fluff. Some drinking! Tinyyyyy bit of angst if you squint to see it. Also, first time writing for our boy Rex so please be kind!

A/N: I decided to do Rex for this fic after a suggestion from @acnini​ (also special shoutout to her for beta reading 💖)! I hope you all like it, especially you Aro! Thank you for participating in my celebration! 🥳💗 

P.S. I have another Rex request I am working on which will most likely be a part 2 for this!!

tags: @acnini​ , @catsnkooks​ , @kaminobiwan​

—

Sitting in a dinner hall in a table full of tipsy clones was not what you imagined you’d be doing when General Skywalker told you to pack your bag for the mission this morning. But here you are, in your home planet, eating delicacies you’d only dreamt of as a child. 

Music bounces off the walls, not loud enough to hurt your ears, but definitely loud enough to make it hard to think. You look around, feeling a bit overwhelmed with the setting you are in. Usually, you wouldn’t be attending these sorts of things; your position as an engineer for the 501st allowed you to stand on the sidelines, focus on your job and nothing more. But this is a special mission. The meeting General Skywalker has is with none other than the head of foreign operations of your home world Elzu. 

The small planet could have been as beautiful as Naboo, were it not for the exploitation of natural resources by the government. By the time Elzu joined the Republic, it was drastically divided. Those who had been part of the group exploiting the resources are still the ones in power now. The rest are left to fend for themselves, many immigrating to other planets in search of a better livelihood. Your parents were part of the latter group, taking you and your siblings to Coruscant when you were about 9 years old. Thanks to their sacrifice and hard work, you now have the job you have. 

So when General Skywalker asked if you’d be willing to join him and the 501st to the meeting as a point person for all things Elzu, you were hesitant. Elzu held many bittersweet memories, and you’d only been back a handful of times since your family had left all those years ago. General Skywalker had sensed your hesitation, and asked if instead you could help by giving him a list of the customs of the planet. However, as you were writing the list, you thought back to all the ways Skywalker and the 501st had helped you get to where you are, and knew that the least you could do was help with the trip in person. Though now that you’re here, you’re starting to wish you’d just stuck to the list. 

The boisterous laugh of Fives rips you from your thoughts. You blink a few times in an attempt to refocus on the present. You turn to look at Fives, who’s sitting at your table, in an attempt to see what he’s laughing at. When your eyes travel around the other clones in your table and settle on a rather flustered looking Dogma, you have an idea of what Five’s source of entertainment currently is. 

In spite of your otherwise uncomfortable feelings, you can’t help but smile. It was rare that the clones of the 501st were so at ease while on a mission. Seeing them all gathered in the main dinner hall enjoying good food made you happy, especially knowing this type of mission would be one of a kind. 

The eating and socializing continues, and though you converse with the clones around you, you mostly stay quiet. After deciding you’d had enough to eat, you excuse yourself and walk out of the dinner hall. 

You hate to admit it, but the palace you’re currently in is gorgeous. The large and intricate structure was built from different Elzian resources, Elzian marble being the most predominant. As you mindlessly walk down the hallway, you stay close to the wall, the smooth walls leaving a cool sensation on your fingertips. You keep walking around, not really knowing where you intend on going. That is, until you spot  a sliver of the night sky. 

Your feet make their way to the landing deck on its own. It isn’t until you feel the cool night breeze on your skin that you realize just how hot it is inside. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you step out onto the seemingly unused landing deck. You almost gasp at the sight; the height of the deck makes you feel as if you’re in the sky. 

If there was one thing you’d always miss most about Elzu, it’s the sky. It’s easy to forget that there’s even a sky in Coruscant due to the endless bustle of traffic. But that isn’t the case here. No, here, the sky is clear, the stars densely decorating it to look like the most royal of sparkling gowns. 

You take a seat directly on the landing deck, sprawling your legs out in front of you and placing your hands on the durasteel ground. Maker, you can almost reach out and touch the stars, pick them like the fruit of a tree, with how close they seem. 

“Beautiful night.”

If you weren’t sitting, you would have jumped at the sudden voice behind you. However, as the initial shock leaves you, you recognize the voice, a deep honey voice you never get tired of hearing. 

Footsteps approach you, and you can feel them under your palms. They stop as two white and blue armored legs appear next to you. Your eyes follow the legs up to their owner’s face, the brown skin and blonde hair of your favorite person making the feeling of a thousand pairs of wings erupt in your stomach. 

“Rex.”

“How are you, nau?”

At the sound of his tone, you know he can tell you’re not feeling your best. You also know there’s no point in trying to convince him otherwise. 

“I’m doing okay, given the circumstances,” you say. 

Lightly dropping his helmet to his side, he takes a seat next to you. You look at him as he mimics the way you’re sitting, legs spread out in front of him, hands on either side of him. And honestly, you can’t help but admire just how beautiful he looks. 

Your eyes move from where you see his legs brushing your own, landing instead on his face. You find him looking at you, concern etched onto his features. 

“You know how I feel about this place, Rex. It doesn’t hold the best memories,” you finally say. 

“I know,” he simply says. 

He knows. Of course he knows. He knows because he’s been by your side when you’ve had a few too many drinks at 79’s and spilled all about your childhood hardships. He knows because he’s been by your side when you try to discreetly get information on how the less fortunate of Elzu are holding up with the war. He knows because he’s always been there, with you.

Relief washes over you when you realize you don’t have to explain all the feelings caused by being on Elzu. Bringing up your legs to hug them to your chest, you look up at the sky again, the smile from earlier returning. 

“Have you ever heard of shooting stars?”

“Shooting stars?” At his question, you nod. “I haven’t, nau.”

“Well you’re in for a treat tonight.”

His brow raises, and a faint smile paints his face. “Is that right?”

You nod again. “Elzu is known for its shooting stars, sometimes called flying stars. The people of Elzu believe they’re the souls of beings who have passed all around the galaxy as they make their way to their final resting spot. Legend has it they grant wishes.”

Rex laughs lightly, not in a mocking way, but rather in a surprised way. For someone who’s usually surrounded by so many facts, Rex doesn’t expect you to be so invested in old tales. 

“Hey, I’m being serious!” you say, a laugh coming out of you as well. “I used to make a wish every night when I was a kid.”

Rex won’t ask what you wished, you know that. He doesn’t want to impose, pour salt on the wound that is already being constantly poked at while being here in Elzu. But either way, you continue, part of you needing to tell him what you wished for all those years ago. 

“I’d initially wish for childish things; a new toy or the chance to taste one of those many pastries they have inside. But then the guilt would creep in, and instead I’d wish for the star to bring my family and I stability. Not riches, those weren’t necessary, just stability. Food on the table, a roof over our heads, shoes on our feet. And the next night I’d do the same again: wish for something childish then scrap it for a worthwhile wish.”

As you finish, you don’t know what you expect Rex to say. You don’t know if you even expect him to say anything. And initially he doesn’t, he sits there next to you in silence looking up at the same sky you’d stare at endlessly as a child. 

“Ca’tra.”

You turn to look at him, the word foreign to your ears. For the most part, you knew the phrases of his native Mando’a he’d speak around you. Nau, for example, was what he called you, a nickname of sorts. He’s told you it means light, a nod to the way you two initially met during a blackout on a ship you’d been working on, a flashlight in hand as you bumped in face first to his chest. But ca’tra you didn’t know, so you waited for him to continue. 

“It means ‘night sky’,” he explains, and you make a mental note to add that to the list of Mando’a words you have written on your data pad. “I often gazed up at the night sky back in Kamino growing up. It brought me calm whenever I’d feel...uneasy.”

“Ca’tra.” You test the word in your mouth, hoping you pronounced it correctly. At his smile and nod, your heart blooms with pride. 

“And though we have no word for shooting star, we do have ka’ra, which means stars.” 

Another word to add to the list, you think. 

Your eyes go back to the sky, and almost as if on queue, you see the flash of light that filled you with hope as a child. 

“Look! A shooting star! Make a wish,” you say, closing your eyes to mentally make your own. You wish for progress in the war with as little casualties as possible, you wish for his safety. A whisper of a thought adds another part to the wish: I wish for Rex to stay by my side. 

You open your eyes slowly, glancing over at Rex to see if he’s done with his wish. Only, you don’t find him with his eyes closed as you’d had them. He’s not even looking up at the sky. No, he’s looking at you. 

For a split second, you forget how to breathe at the sight of his beautiful eyes on you. Taking a small breath, you speak. 

“Did you make a wish?” You don’t intend for your voice to be a whisper, but with the way he’s looking at you, you don’t manage anything else. 

Rex nods. “Yes, I did.”

You want to ask what it is, but know that the way wishes come true is by keeping them to yourself. 

“Well,” you say, your hand seemingly moving on its own will as it lands on top of his. “I hope your wish comes true.”

“I hope so too,” he responds. 

You turn back to look at the sky, your hand still on Rex’s. And maybe it’s the glass of Elzian wine you drank, or the fact that you’re looking up at the night sky you spent your whole childhood wishing under, or even the drunken state Rex causes you to be in regardless of the amount of alcohol in your system, but you think you know what Rex wished for. Well, you hope you know what he wished for. 

As if to put your mind at ease and to confirm your thoughts all at once, Rex moves his hand so that he’s now holding yours. The cool feeling of the durasteel you both are sitting on makes for a sharp contrast to just how warm his hand feels on your own. Before you have time to process his actions, he hits you with another jolt of electricity when he softly squeezes your hand.  

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling, because you’re smiling too. You’re smiling the smile that only appears whenever Rex is with you, by your side, safe. 

And as the two of you sit under the night sky, you don’t feel the guilt you’d expected to feel at the last addition to your wish. It’s a bit selfish, you admit, wishing for something exclusively for you. But you don’t, can’t feel guilt when all you feel is warm, kind love with Rex by your side. 

When the next shooting star paints the sky, you once again wish for Rex to stay by your side, nothing more, nothing less.