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fanfoolishness · 3 months ago

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Senescence

Clones have always lived on borrowed time. On a trip home from the Rebellion, Omega and her family reach a new understanding. Bittersweet soft family feels, ~2700 words. Written for the @summer-of-bad-batch prompts "Just when were you planning on telling us me that?" and "Yeah, kid, we're fine."

---

Don’t go in blasters blazing, Omega thought, despite the fact that she felt so furious she thought she might climb out of her skin. She thought of Mon Mothma, working in the Imperial Senate and keeping her face calm even when she was lying through her teeth. She could do it too. She keyed in the code and her brothers’ front door opened up.

Hunter was sitting on the couch, his bandaged leg propped up on a footstool. A new walker stood nearby. A guilty expression lodged immediately on his face, and he threw a blanket over his leg, trying to conceal it. “Hey, look who’s back!” he said warmly, though his eyes still looked furtive.

Batcher woofed slightly, creaking to her feet and shambling towards her. Omega sank to her knees in the entry area, patting Batcher furiously. She could feel the knobbiness of Batcher’s spine through her fur now, aged muscles having wasted, but Batcher was just as pleased to see her as ever. Omega closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and feeling heartened by Batcher��s excitement. “Thanks, girl,” she whispered.

She got to her feet, setting her things down.. She heard the bedroom door open and Wrecker came down the hall, calling to Hunter as he came, his cane stumping down the hall. “Hey, who’s that at the -- Omega!” He closed the distance to her, setting his cane against the wall and flinging his arms wide for a massive hug, teetering slightly as he did so. Some of her anger dissipated as she went to him and threw her arms around him, bracing herself to lend him a little extra support. She rested her head against his shoulder, sighing gratefully.

“Didn’t know you were comin’ home,” Wrecker said softly, his voice thick. He always got choked up when she came home. She hugged him extra tight. “I’d of baked a cake.”

Omega gave him one last squeeze, then pulled back. Stay calm. “Well,” she said carefully, “I wasn’t planning on it… until a little mynock told me about Hunter’s leg.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Hunter said in exasperation from the living room.

“Oh, really?” Omega came to stand in front of him, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning down at him. He gave her an uneasy smile, then winced. Scrapes and abrasions crisscrossed his chin and nose, along with a bruise along his untattooed cheekbone. He reached up to brush his gray and white hair back from his face, looking sheepish. “So who told you? Phee? Shep? Vik?”

“Phee,” Omega admitted. “She thought I already knew. Said she’d keep an eye on you for me after your accident.” She gave them both a tight smile. “You should’ve seen my face when she told me.”

“He’s fine,” Wrecker said quickly, sitting down beside Hunter. “Honest. AZI’s been takin’ care of him, and me and Crosshair, too.”

“It was just a little fall,” Hunter said, ducking his head defensively. “It could’ve happened to anyone. You know what the stairs are like when it rains --”

“And just when were you planning on telling me that this ‘little fall’ broke your leg?” she asked. She knew she was raising her voice, her attempt at a calm exterior starting to fail. She turned away from them, taking deep breaths.

She gazed down at the little alcove opposite the couch, where she had put Tech’s goggles when they first moved in. Now that her brother’s goggles had a place of honor in the Marauder II, the alcove held other things: holoscans of her family through the years, portraits that Crosshair had painted of Tech and Echo, a decorative weaving from Wrecker in Lula’s colors, jewelry Omega had made. And from Hunter, a wooden carving of a familiar skull emblem.

Seeing it all again, her composure broke, and she turned back to them, angrily wiping away tears.

“Look, kid, we didn’t want to worry you,” Hunter said. “I know you’re mad I didn’t tell you. But I’m gonna be fine. AZI’s got me taken care of, the villagers are helping out with some of our work, it’s not a big deal. Things happen,” he said, giving her one of those steady, calm looks she had so cherished when she was small.

For a moment, she almost believed him.

But she wasn’t small anymore. She was a grown woman blessed with normal aging, but her brothers weren’t, and it was catching up to them. She knew a year or two ago, Hunter could still have caught himself easily from a trip or a fall, could have bounced back with just a little stiffness and a tweaked ankle or wrist. Instead, looking at the scrapes on his face, she realized he’d not only fallen, but hadn’t been able to break the fall at all.

“Omega?” Wrecker asked. He patted the couch beside him, where there was an empty seat between himself and Hunter.

She reluctantly sat down between them, then flung her arms around Hunter, pulling him to her as hard as she could. She tried to fight back tears but they spilled out anyway, hot and damp into the collar of his shirt. He held her, whispering, “I’m sorry, kid. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” Omega asked, looking hard into his brown eyes, then into Wrecker’s. She laid a hand on Wrecker’s cheek against his scruffy white beard and gave him a watery smile. She turned back to Hunter, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. “You’re getting older so fast,” she whispered. “All of you. And I’m… I’m scared.”

She and Hunter breathed in, breathed out, like they’d done a hundred times before. But that was different; that was back when she was a kid. She pulled away from him to rest her face in her hands. “We’re… losing a lot of people. Our base on Hoth was overrun, and it was a total mess. We’re doing our best but the Empire’s so massive. And when it gets hard I think of all of you. It’s like, at least there’s somewhere safe out there, somewhere the Empire can’t touch, where I know the people I love are going to be all right. Except I don’t know that now.”

Wrecker rested his hand on her shoulder, and Hunter reached out, resting one hand on her knee. “We take care of each other, kid,” Wrecker said. “An’ when we can’t… well, we’re figurin’ out how to ask for help. We’re not alone here, and we’re not the first people to ever get old.” He managed a chuckle, though his eyes were watery. “We’re just doin’ it a little faster than usual.”

“It isn’t fair,” Omega said, as much as she knew it made her sound like a kid. She shook her head at herself, laughing ruefully. “I know life isn’t fair. But this is hard. I wish I was here with you.”

“No you don’t,” Hunter said in a gruff voice, which he followed with a soft smile. “You thought Wrecker talked too much about bodily functions before, you should hear him get going now that he’s got actual ailments.”

“Hey,” Wrecker said, sticking out his tongue. “At least you know what mine are. Crosshair’s always moanin’ under his breath, but when you ask him why, he just goes ‘ohhh it’s nothing.’ That’s worse!”

“And I just get cranky when something’s bothering me. Like this leg,” Hunter admitted. He twitched aside the blanket covering his leg, revealing a cast that went almost to his knee.

Omega sighed, smiling at him. “You have been extra cranky the last call or two.” She nudged him in the shoulder. “I should have realized something was up, but I was a little distracted with the whole saving the galaxy thing.”

The front door opened, and they turned to see Crosshair come in, carrying a bag of fresh fruit and a well-worn leather satchel. He stopped immediately at seeing Omega. “Omega,” he said, a smile spreading over his deeply lined face. Then he scanned the couch and saw that Hunter’s cast and the walker were visible. His shoulders slumped. “So you know about Hunter’s little spill.”

“I know you didn’t tell me either,” Omega accused, though her anger had nearly faded away. She got to her feet, giving him a fierce look for a moment as he set down the fruit and his satchel of art supplies. She tried to look as stern as possible, though a smile kept threatening to break out on her face.

Crosshair held out both hands in supplication, one flesh, one metal. His metal hand seemed to be working smoothly; she’d check with him before she left in case it needed any tuning up. He sighed. “Truce? Hunter swore me to secrecy.”

“Me too,” Wrecker pointed out.

“So this is all Hunter’s fault?” Omega asked, looking around at all three of them.

“As usual,” said Crosshair.

Hunter shrugged. “Guilty.”

“Well, now that that’s settled,” said Crosshair, raising his eyebrows at Omega. “I believe you owe me a hug.”

“Oh, of course I do,” Omega said. She strode to the kitchen, pulling her youngest brother into an embrace. He lowered his head slightly, resting his cheek against hers, his white beard soft against her skin. “Love you, little brother,” she whispered.

“Love you, Omega,” he whispered, quietly enough that only she could hear him.

She pulled back, letting him go. “C’mon.”

“Come on, what?”

“House meeting,” she said. “Now. I know I don’t technically live here anymore --”

“Excuse me, you’ll always have a room here, kid!”

“But there’s some things we need to talk about.”

---

It was late, and they’d talked through Batcher’s afternoon walk, into dinnertime, well past moonrise. Through the large window in the living room Omega could see the stars spangling the night sky, a fraction of all that lay beyond them. The waning moon wheeled high. She turned to her brothers, stifling a yawn.

“Sure you can’t stay longer?” Hunter asked. “At least a few days.”

“I told you, Hunter, I’m expected back at 1200 tomorrow. I’ll have to leave first thing in the morning,” Omega said. “Hera’s working off some new intel and she’ll need backup. I can’t let her down.” She smiled tiredly. “But I didn’t want to let all of you down, either.”

“You couldn’t possibly,” said Crosshair. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, and he nudged them up. Not for the first time she wondered how much he and Tech might have looked alike by this age, a bittersweet thought.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself, kid,” Hunter said. “But we’ll agree to your demands.”

“When’d you get so good at negotiating?” Wrecker asked, shaking his head.

“Just one of my many skills,” Omega laughed. “So you mean it? If one of you, including Batcher, gets seriously sick or injured, will you actually tell me next time?”

“As long as it’s worse than a sniffle,” Hunter amended. “You don’t need to worry about every little ache and pain. We’re going to get older. That’s just how it works.” He gave her a sad smile. “Clones have always lived on borrowed time. We’ve gotten more than most.”

She swallowed, her throat tight. As much as she wanted her brothers to slow everything down, to age slowly and gently like Shep and Phee, she knew that no one possessed the power to undo what the Kaminoans had created. She had to accept that someday, sooner than she could bear, all of them would follow Tech and Echo before them.

But her brothers were brave. They always had been. She would be, too.

Omega nodded. “I understand. I know this is what we’ve been dealt. And I know we’ve been so, so lucky to have had the time we did.” She wiped at her eyes, blinking back more tears. “So stupid. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry again.”

“We’re not dyin’ right now,” Wrecker laughed. He was crying again, too, fresh tears on his cheeks, but his laugh was as big and booming as ever. “So don’t worry too much about us just yet.”

“Yeah, kid,” said Hunter, giving her a kind smile, his eyes a little too bright. “We’re fine. Honest.”

Crosshair brought out a fresh toothpick, angling it between his teeth. He puffed up his chest. “Don’t worry, Omega. I’ll keep an eye on these old-timers.”

“You know you’re only the youngest by a standard week, right?” Omega said, giggling.

“With accelerated aging, it could be a few weeks,” said Crosshair loftily. “I’ll make the most of it.”

“Oh sure, laugh it up, whippersnapper,” Hunter snorted.

“Okay, okay, you grumpy old men, some of us have to get to bed and go fight a rebellion,” Omega laughed. “Come on. Let me give you all another hug.”

“Won’t say no to that,” said Wrecker. He went to foist himself up from the couch, then paused, holding up his hand. “Mind giving me a hand? Back’s been killing me.”

“Any time, Wrecker.” She braced herself, holding out her hand for him to grip. Together they got him to his feet, and she handed him his cane automatically. He leaned against it, holding out his other arm as wide as he could, engulfing her in a massive hug. Her ear was pressed against his chest, and she listened to his heartbeat, its rhythm strong and steady. “Love you, you know.”

“‘Course I know. Love you, too,” he murmured. “Keep takin’ good care of Lula for me.”

Crosshair was next. Even though Crosshair wasn’t as thin as he used to be, it was still always funny going from hugging Wrecker to hugging him. Her arms wrapped securely around him, and he held her close. He’d shrunk a little, and she’d grown, to the point there were only a few centimeters between their heights now. “Drawing anything new?” she murmured into his ear.

“Some of the birds from around the island,” he confessed. He still got shy sometimes about his work, even though he was always learning new things. “I can show you next time.”

“Of course. Looking forward to it, Crosshair.”

Hunter was last. She sat down on the couch beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her. She slipped one arm behind his back and curled up beside him. “How does your leg feel?” she asked quietly.

“It hurts, but it’s manageable,” said Hunter. “I’ll follow all of AZI’s instructions. Promise.”

“You’d better. I’m sure Batcher misses her walks with you.”

“She’s adapting. But I miss them too,” he admitted. “So I’ll work hard to heal this. And we’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”

“Okay.”

She snuggled in closer to him, feeling safer than she had in a long time. “I love you, Hunter.”

“Love you so much, kid.”

---

She lay on her back in her bed in her childhood bedroom, watching the stars glow and twinkle across the ceiling. Batcher snored contentedly on the floor beside her, flopped peacefully on her side. Everything here was as Omega had left it, though she had told them they could use the space for other things if they needed. Clearly her brothers had their own idea.

It had been hard for them when she left, she knew that, but it was something she needed to do. It was going to be hard to leave this time, too, knowing that every time she came home, they’d be a little bit older, a little bit frailer.

Knowing that maybe someday she’d lose them, without getting to say goodbye.

Omega closed her eyes. She remembered the green smells of Kashyyyk, the sound of Pabu’s waves, Crosshair’s hand in hers, years ago. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was here, and so were her brothers. The future hadn’t arrived yet; there was only the present. And in the present she knew her brothers loved her, and they knew she loved them in return.

That would never change. She was more sure of it than anything.

Omega smiled, and she carried that thought in every breath, in every heartbeat, until at last she fell asleep.

#the bad batch #summerofbadbatch2024 #summer of bad batch #omega bad batch #hunter bad batch #wrecker bad batch #crosshair bad batch #pabu #my batcher fic #yes i teared up multiple times writing this what of it???#just me over here thinking about the batch getting older #crying forever #notes: yes there are birding and art references in here #yes our boys are all old #and it's okay because there's just so much love here #but i'm still crying forever

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avastrasposts · 11 months ago

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A Baker's Dozen - Four

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I kinda figured you all would like Joel's visit to the bakery! Handy man Joel with his green plaid flannel shirt and tool belt... 🥰

This week's Pedro boy is actually forcing me to adjust the warning level, things get a bit spicier than usual with this one around and I think you'll understand when you see who it is....

Series Master List

The little bakery is buzzing with customers this warm summer evening, you’re serving everyone as fast as possible, cursing the stomach bug that had put the kid who worked extra out of commission for the week. As you ring up two slices of lemon meringue pie for Mrs Callahan from down the street, you notice the buzz increasing in the shop, almost like a wave of excitement. You glance towards the door to see if you can spot the source of the commotion and see a tall, proud looking, man closing it behind himself. His rich yellow jacket is all you have time to notice before you’re pulled back to Mrs Jones asking about the amount of sugar in the Millionaire’s Shortbread (a lot, you assure her, no, it’s not healthy just because it contains peanuts).

You lose track of the stranger as you work your way through the long line, finally looking up to realize he’s the only one left in the shop, except for little Mrs Levinson who is just stepping through the door. The man gallantly takes a step back and indicates with his outstretched hand that she should be served before him.

“Please, my lady, I would be offended if you insisted on waiting behind me.”

He has an accent that you can’t place, vaguely Mediterranean maybe, and clearly very good manners. Mrs Levinson gives him a pleased smile and steps up to the counter to buy her regular weekend dark rye loaf, six chocolate chip cookies and one whole apple and cinnamon crumb coffee cake.

“The grandchildren are visiting on Sunday, and they love your cookies, dear,” she informs you, “the mother just doesn’t know how to bake, why my son married a woman who can’t cook or bake I will never understand.”

“I’m sure she has many other good qualities and skills, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, this is a weekly complaint.

“He should’ve married you, dear, how you are still single is beyond me, such a talented girl in the kitchen,” she pats your hand as she hands over her purse for you to count out what she owes. “But Mrs Pike’s son is single, recently divorced, I’ll make sure she sends him here to buy something, he’s such a lovely boy.”

“Thank you, Mrs Levinson, but I don’t need to be set up, I barely have time to run this bakery, I don’t have time for dating.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find time, my dear,” she winks at you and gives the dark haired man behind her another wink as she turns to leave.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say to him as the door closes behind Mrs Levinson.

“No trouble, my lady, I was more than delighted to enjoy the view of such a talented girl,” he says with a confident smile, sauntering over towards the counter.

Now that he’s not hidden by the crowd you can see that he is in fact wearing a long robe, reaching down below his knees. But that’s not where your eyes are drawn, instead you find yourself actively trying not to stare at the deep v of bare, tan skin visible where his robe sits open, adorned by an expensive looking necklace. You pull your eyes up to his face, putting on your customer smile, and mentally slapping yourself.

“What can I help you with today, sir?”

At your words you see his mouth quirk in a wicked grin and his eyes wander over as much of you as he can see behind the counter. Ordinarily you’d be somewhat offended by such blatant staring but…considering your own struggle to not gawk at him, if feels admissible.

“I’m sure you can help me with a great many things, my lady,” he says, the lilt in his voice fitting his strange clothes, and the double meaning isn’t lost on you. You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“Really?” you challenge, “And what else but baked goods do you enter a bakery for?”

“Depends on the girl, or the woman, working in the bakery,” he smirks, “when the lady of the bakery is as beautiful as you, I’d like to buy a great many other things than her cakes.”

This line makes you roll your eyes so far back into your head you think they might get stuck there.

“You really think coming into a bakery and suggesting prostitution to the woman who works there is going to win you any favors?”

Now it’s the man’s turn to raise his eyebrows and look surprised for a moment, then he bends his head, bowing deeply to you.

“My lady, I did not wish to offend you at all, I was not suggesting that I would buy any such services from you. Rather I was, badly I’m sure, suggesting that I would like to buy such a beautiful lady gifts, rather than just buying her cakes.”

He looks up at you, his handsome face giving you an apologetic smile, “Please, truly, I did not mean to offend you.”

“Alright, I believe you for now,” you reply, accepting his apology with a slight scowl, “So what can I help you with? In the baked goods department,” you emphasize, waving over towards the display cases.

“I have this,” he says, pulling a bottle of wine from the satchel he has hanging at his side, “it’s cold and delicious on this warm day, but I would like to have something to eat with it. And I saw that you have these,” he points to one of the bags of lemon and almond biscotti in your display case. “They remind me of the small cakes we have back in my city, Sunspear. Will you please let me buy a bag of them?”

“Of course,” you reply, reaching for the biscotti, “Anything else?”

“An hour of your company?” he says, smoothly, with a smile, “But I won’t offer to pay for it, just beg that you will join me with this wine, and your lovely cakes, as a small apology for offending you.”

You look at the man standing on the other side of the counter. His confident smirk has been replaced by an apologetic smile, his arms outstretched as if he’s holding himself open for you to review and decide upon. You glance at the clock on the wall, fifteen minutes to closing but the foot traffic outside on the street has trickled down to nothing, everyone is on their way home to enjoy the last of the warm sunshine. It won’t be the end of the world if you close up a few minutes early today. And this man does intrigue you, with his accent and his strange clothes.

“Ok, fine,” you say, “An hour, but I have no wine glasses.”

“My sweet lady of the bakery, I’m sure I will survive without glasses, as long as I have your company to keep me distracted,” he winks at you and his demeanor changes back into confidence once again as you wave him behind the counter.

“C’mon then, we can sit out back, but only on the stairs I’m afraid.”

“I have sat on much worse in my days, I assure you,” he chuckles, “even a prince of Dorne can’t expect to sit only on feather pillows every hour of his life.”

“You’re a prince?” you ask but it really doesn’t surprise you. He looks every bit like a prince from some exotic country you’ve never heard of.

“Prince Oberyn Martell, my lady,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, “It is my pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” you smirk, his over the top chivalry is making your inner rebel come out, and you gladly direct him to the somewhat crumbling back stairs, fishing a bottle opener out of a drawer on the way. Drinking wine from the bottle on the back stairs, overlooking the trash cans and patchy grass that lines the dingy alley behind your bakery, is probably not something a prince usually does.

Oberyn is looking around the area outside the door as you bring the bottle opener and the biscotti.

“Wait a moment,” he says, holding up his hand to you before he unbuckles the belt that’s holding his robe together, and dropping it on the ground. He shrugs out of the robe and shakes it out, spreading the luxurious looking fabric out over the steps and then holding out his hand for you.

“Please, my lady,” he says, “it will be a little bit more comfortable for you than sitting on the cold stone.”

“No, but your robe, it’ll be ruined,” you protest, but he shakes his head, “It’s nothing, just a little dust. Do not think me such a feeble prince that I am above getting a little bit dirty.” With his last word he winks at you with a smile, and you can’t help but smile back, taking his hand.

“I don’t know what kind of prince you are, I’ve never even heard of Dorne.”

He lets go of your hand as you settle on the top step and he sits himself on the one below, taking the bottle opener from you.

“Dorne is a beautiful country, warm, much warmer than here, surrounded by turquoise blue ocean, white beaches and fragrant lemon groves,” he says, “And my home, the city of Sunspear, is the world’s most beautiful city, colorful, richly decorated, cooled from the hot sun by our water gardens and palm trees. It is ruled by my brother, the king. I am my father’s second son, fortunately enough for me, for I would’ve made a terrible king.”

He smiles as he speaks of his home, a warm smile, as he pulls the cork from the wine bottle.

“Ladies first,” he says and holds the bottle out to you, you accept it, taking a sip of the cool white wine. It really is delicious; crisp, fresh and an undertone of a rich, buttery flavor.

“This is very nice wine,” you say, giving the bottle back to him and he smiles.

“Made all that much better by the company.”

“Cheesy, but I appreciate the effort,” you grin and he looks confused, lowering the bottle that he was just about to drink from. “Cheesy?” he asks, his eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah, you know, ‘cheesy’, when something is lame, or over the top, corny?”

“I assure you, my lady, I did not intend to be over the top with my compliment, if anything, it was not enough,” he smiles warmly at you, and you feel butterflies in the pit of your belly. Either the wine is working very fast, or this strange man and his flirtatious way is getting to you.

“I could say so much more about your beauty and the joy it is to spend a warm summer evening in your company with good wine and delicious cakes,” Oberyn’s eyes are glinting as he watches you squirm and he takes a sip from the bottle.

You feel your cheeks heat up and you drop your eyes to your hands, suddenly feeling very flustered by his flattery, distracting yourself by picking at some dry dough caught on your nail.

“Oh, the biscuits!” he exclaims suddenly and stands up, “We need just a…” he disappears into the kitchen and you look up as he turns around, scanning the shelves before he finds what he’s looking for, “Ah! Just what we need!” he says and returns to the steps, sinking down next to you again with a small bowl in his hand. “The biscuits are to be dipped in the wine, to soak up its delicious flavor and blend with the sweetness.”

He demonstrates by pouring some of the wine into the bowl and taking the bag of biscuits from you, opening it up. He takes one of the biscotti and dips the end in the wine, letting it sit for a few seconds before taking a bite.

His eyes hold yours as he slowly chews the biscotti, humming slightly under his breath. “My sweet lady, this is exquisite,” he says, awe in his voice once he’s swallowed. “I would hire you as my own personal baker any day, would you wish to leave these premises.”

“Thank you for the offer, that’s very generous,” you say, taking one of the biscuits and dipping it in the wine, copying Oberyn, “but I like running my own business.”

As you bite into the biscotti you hold back a moan, you’ve never tried this before but now you understand why he insisted, the crunchy biscotti has softened slightly and been filled with the crips flavors of the wine, the lemon and almond adding to the complexity.

“This is really good, Oberyn,” you smile, taking the second half, “Thank you for introducing me to it.”

“It was all my pleasure, my lady,” he replies, leaning back against the stairs and taking a sip of the wine from the bottle. When he tilts his head back, his long neck is exposed, even more now when he’s only wearing his shirt, a smattering of freckles on his tanned skin, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. It occurs to you that the man exudes confidence in everything he does, even the way he brings the bottle back down, handing it to you with a small, crooked smile, the way he’s leaning on one elbow against the step just above him, long legs stretched out comfortably in his soft looking leather boots, utterly relaxed even on the crumbling back stairs.

You take the bottle from him and take another sip, the cool wine slipping down far too easily. From the corner of your eye you see Oberyn take another biscotti and dip it into the wine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. With a small smirk he puts the biscuit in his mouth, closing his soft looking lips around it, sucking lightly while he lets his eyes linger on you. You feel heat creep up your throat, there is such promise in his eyes, such a challenge in his flirting. It’s like he’s daring you to flirt back, to push him just a little to see how he reacts. You feel a familiar heat spread through your core, a temptation to entice him. But his confidence, just the way he takes the bottle from your hand, his long fingers caressing yours with intent, almost intimidates you. If you flirt with him, even just a little bit, you think he might challenge you even more, see how far you’re willing to go, and you’re not sure you can trust your body to resist. His easy assertiveness, the way he leans back against the stairs, his hand now resting just an inch from your waist, it both unnerves you and makes arousal thrum under your skin.

With a slight tremble to your hand, you take the bottle again and take another sip, bigger this time and it goes down the wrong way, your nerves getting the better of you. With a cough you splutter into the crook of your elbow, your eyes watering. The prince shoots up and immediately puts his hand on your back, patting you lightly a few times before he begins to rub circles between your shoulder blades.

“Careful there, my lady, are you all right?” His eyebrows have pulled together in concern and he leans forward, looking at your face. You feel the tears that formed spill over and roll down your cheeks as you cough a few more times.

“Y-yes, yes, I-I think so, thank you,” you finally say with a croaky voice, “it just went down the wrong way.”

Taking a deep breath, you almost choke again when Oberyn gently cups your face with his large hands and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, softly running them under your eyes.

“Can I fetch you some water?” he asks, his voice low and concerned, but you shake your head.

“No, thank you, I’m ok now,” you say, taking a steadying breath. He’s so very close now, looking into your eyes with a soft smile and you notice how one of his eyes is made amber by the evening sunlight, the other dark chocolate brown, half hidden in shadow. You feel like your brain is spinning in place, wheels turning but not moving forward, as you’re unable to tear your eyes away from his intense gaze. His hands are still on your cheeks, warm and soft even though you can feel the rough calluses on his palms.

His eyes finally leave yours, only to very slowly move down to your lips, holding his gaze there for several seconds before he looks back up again. His face transforms into a more roguish smile and he drops his hands from your face, moving to pick up another biscotti and dipping it into the wine.

“My lady, please,” he says, holding it up to you, one hand cupped under it to catch any drops of wine, as he offers it to you, holding it by your lips.

You don’t know why, but you obediently open your mouth, letting him feed you the biscotti, tasting the tang of the wine and the sweetness of the sugar as you break it off in the middle. The tip of Oberyn’s tongue comes out to wet his lips as he watches you swallow it down, and then he dips the second half in the wine again, and places it between his own lips. All the while his eyes never leave yours.

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a crooked smile, and he leans back against the door frame, crossing his arms over his lap.

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he says, matter of factly, “if you want me too.”

You reach for the wine bottle to distract yourself while you calm your beating heart, keeping your eyes on him, that smirk still lingering on his lips as he watches you take a small, controlled sip, this time.

You pour some more wine into the bowl and place the bottle on the top step, reaching for another biscotti and making up your mind. Dipping the delicate biscuit in the wine you look up at Oberyn, holding his gaze while you bring it up to his mouth, mimicking his gesture of cupping your hand under it. A wicked smile flickers across his face as he obediently opens his mouth and takes the biscotti. But he doesn’t bite it in half, instead he leans forward and closes his lips around your fingertips, his tongue licking at them as he takes the whole thing into his mouth. It’s warm and wet around your fingers and he gently sucks on them as he pulls back, a low hum escaping his throat. The touch of his tongue shoots a jolt of electricity through your body, settling firmly between your legs and your breath hitches.

Oberyn swallows the biscuit and takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth again, with his eyes locked on yours he takes each finger between his lips and sucks them clean. When your pinky leaves his lips he moves forward, taking your chin between his thumb and finger, holding you steady, your heart beating its own erratic rhythm in your chest.

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he repeats, looking from your eyes to your lips and up again.

You don’t trust your voice, so instead you inhale, his warm scent; oranges, cinnamon, sandalwood, filling your nose, and you lean forward. He doesn’t smile this time, instead he mirrors your movement until your lips brush, your heads tilting ever so slightly to come closer together, mouths angeling as he presses a soft, gentle, explorative kiss to your tingling lips. Warm hands slip up your neck, into your hair, large enough to cup the back of your head as his thumbs stroke your cheeks.

His next kiss is more insistent, his lips parting to taste with the tip of his soft tongue, licking the seam of your mouth. Your body seems to have lost all will to follow your head, it just moves as he moves you, pulling you closer to his lips, opening up to his tongue, letting him slip inside and explore, tangelling together as he tangles his hands in your hair, making you lean closer into him. Without knowing how you got there, you find yourself sitting on his lap, his hand finding your thigh and pulling your leg over. When he puts his hands on your hips and slides your body closer to his, your mind goes blank and you moan into his mouth. He’s distinctly hard underneath you, the thin fabric of his trousers doing nothing to hide the firm length of his cock, and he groans with delight as you roll your hips over him.

“Sweet thing,” he whispers, his lips momentarily leaving yours, “sweet, sweet lady, I knew your kisses would be as sweet as your cakes.” His fingers dig into your hips, his mouth pressing firmer against yours as he sucks on the tip of your tongue, pulling back just a fraction and trailing kisses and bites over your jaw, down your throat, pushing back your t-shirt to suck a mark into your collar bone, making you keen and whimper under his warm mouth.

“I wonder if you’re as sweet everywhere,” he mumbles, fingers digging into your hips and dragging you over his heavy length, straining against his trousers, “I would very much like to find out.”

You lean your head back, exposing your throat to him as he continues to kiss and lick the soft skin of your neck, heat is building rapidly in your body and for a second you feel as if you’re looking down on yourself from above. Straddling the handsome prince on the stairs, sitting on his golden yellow robe, his face buried against your neck, his hands rolling your hips over his erection as you pant to the darkening sky above. With a groan you put your hands on his shoulders and push away, stumbling back onto your feet.

“You’re dangerous to be around, Oberyn,” you pant as his hands slip away from your hips. His mouth hangs open as he reaches for you. In the dimming light you can see the prominent bulge of his trousers, it makes your mouth water, the image of sliding down over it coming unbidden to your mind.

“It’s just pleasure,” he says, his voice dark and mischievous, “no guilt to be had over feeling pleasure.”

“No, but I’m not about to have sex with a stranger on the back steps of my bakery,” you say, taking a deep breath, running your hands over your head, down your face, to ground yourself again.

“Well, then the question beckons to be asked,” Oberyn grins, “where would you have sex with a stranger?”

“I don’t have sex with strangers,” you say, shaking your head and quickly stepping past him, into the kitchen again. Behind you, you hear him get up and pick up the bottle, the remaining biscuits and the bowl. Placing them on the counter inside the door he follows you out to the shop as he slips his robe back on, where you unlock the door and wait for him to approach. A big part of you doesn't want him to leave, but you know that if you let him stay, he’ll have you naked on one of the counters within minutes, your body will betray you and let him do whatever he wants.

“If you let me, I would like to not be a stranger to you,” Oberyn says as he reaches you by the door, “Would you let me come back and take you out, maybe show you Sunspear, my city?”

“Show me the life of a prince?” you ask, you doubt you’ll see him again once he leaves, “Sure, come back and show me another side of yourself, and I’ll consider whether or not I want you to be a stranger.”

“You don’t think I’ll come back,” he replies, a crooked smile on his lips, “have I made such a flighty impression on you, such a poor representation of who I am?” He chuckles, taking your hand and bowing low, pressing a feather light kiss to it.

“I promise, my sweet lady of the bakery, I will come back and I will show you the true colors of a prince of Dorne. Until then I will keep your honeyed kisses close in my memory.”

He opens the front door and steps through it, before turning and smiling back at you, “And I’ll keep your delicious moans even closer on lonely nights.”

You feel heat rise in your cheeks again as he winks, a mischievous smirk on his face, before he bow lows again and disappears down the street.

Part Five

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #game of thrones #a bakers dozen #pedrostories

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starlightkun · 1 year ago

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❧ word count: 11.8k ❧ warnings: cursing ❧ genre: fluff, modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au if you squint, werewolf jeno, human reader, ft. various other magical dreamies & neos and human!renjun (and an extra special guest appearance), hybrid au adjacent? (you’ll see what i mean, but i swear he’s a big bad werewolf), same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: and here’s werewolf jeno too! continuing my big baby jeno agenda in this one so please take care of him, y’all <;33 ❧ sequel

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

Your friend’s eye roll was practically audible over the phone. “Just because I’m a Magical Creature Studies major doesn’t mean I’m a werewolf doctor, Y/N. I study them in a sociocultural context—”

“He’s grown ears and a tail, Renjun. Not wolf ones.”

Unlocking the back door to the bakery, you flicked on the light switch by the doorway. Immediately, the kitchen was illuminated, and you dumped your bag on a stool to root through it. You secured your navy blue apron from inside it, putting it over your neck then fastening the straps around your waist, now ready to start your opening checklist. The idea of a 4 a.m. opening shift should’ve made you shudder, but you always came into Half Moon Bakery with a bounce in your step despite the distinct lack of sunlight.

The first thing was to preheat the ovens: separate ones for yeast breads that needed more moisture, and sweets like cookies, muffins, and cakes that didn’t. You took the yeast doughs out of the fridge first that you’d prepared yesterday. It was all muscle memory, turning and shaping the dough with your hands and bread scraper. After shaping loaf after loaf after loaf, you put those aside for their final proof, then started on the sweets. Some had also been prepared the night before by the closing shift, whichever cookie doughs needed to sit overnight before being shaped. In the mornings, you mixed up the doughs and batters that didn’t need to be chilled prior to baking.

By the time the bread was finished proofing, you had usually at least spooned out your first batch of cookies as well. Those went in the sweets ovens first, then you turned to scoring the loaves before putting those in the bread oven. And it was usually at this point that you were entirely on autopilot, operating solely on dings of timers, no other units of time or place really having meaning to you.

You only knew that it was 6 a.m. when your coworker arrived. The employee entrance opened again while you were setting a hot pan of blueberry lemon scones down, Lee Jeno stepping through. He pushed some of his hair out of his eyes sleepily, lifting a hand in your direction in greeting.

“Morning, Jeno!” You chirped, pausing the music blaring from your phone.

He mumbled something akin to ‘morning’ back as he dropped his own apron around his neck then fumbled with tying the knot around his waist.

“You are never going to be a morning wolf, huh?” You sighed, grabbing the other pans that were in the oven.

“No,” he shook his head. “‘S too early.”

“What if I told you, that I…” You set down the pan of chocolate chunk cookies you just took out, then darted over to a different counter. A plate was there, a single broken sugar cookie on it. If the cookie were whole, it would have been half-dipped in chocolate to look like a half-moon. But alas, this one didn’t make it.

You held the plate out towards Jeno. “…Saved you a discard.”

The werewolf visibly perked up at this. “Really?”

“It’s not peanut butter, sorry.”

He rushed over to take the plate from you. “I can have it?”

“Yeah, Jeno,” you chuckled. “I accidentally snapped it trying to take it off the baking sheet. Better it go in this garbage disposal than the actual garbage.”

You poked his stomach on the word ‘this,’ earning an indignant scowl from him. Which didn’t have the intended effect, as he already had stuffed the entire cookie in his mouth.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jeno said once he’d swallowed the food in his mouth. “I didn’t have much for breakfast.”

“Oh?” You frowned as you returned to your station, starting on preparing the icings to drizzle over the batches you’d just taken out. Werewolves usually had quite the appetite compared to humans, Jeno must be starving. “Were you running late or something? You could’ve eaten, I wouldn’t have minded if you were a couple minutes late.”

“No, I just… I don’t know, wasn’t that hungry.” He shrugged, starting to go about his own opening tasks.

“Who are you and what have you done with Jeno?” You pointed a whisk at him accusatorily as he opened up the storeroom.

He laughed. “I’m serious, though. It was weird, I made breakfast but when I sat down to eat I just… didn’t want to.”

“You seemed to handle that cookie just fine at least.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice slightly muffled as he took a couple steps inside the storage room to tally up the ingredients. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to turn down your baking, Y/N.”

You grinned to yourself as you whisked up the lemon icing for the scones. “Aw, thanks, Jeno.”

“Seriously, I don’t know how Mr. Minseok and I managed before you came along.”

“You seem to be forgetting that Minseok bakes. And very well, too,” you scoffed, referring to your sphinx boss. He had started the bakery by himself some years ago and Jeno had been his very first hire when he realized he couldn’t handle the front and back at the same time. You’d only started at the bakery a little less than a year ago, having been a passionate home baker who needed extra income now that you were in school. It was the summer right now though, between spring and fall semesters so you found yourself at the bakery most days.

“I know, I know. But like half our menu is your recipes now. And you improved some of Mr. Minseok’s.”

“Okay, improved is a choice word there, I streamlined the process a litt—”

Jeno emerged from the storeroom with a big sack of flour over his shoulder, and you completely lost the rest of that sentence as your eyes were drawn like magnets to where the muscles in his arm flexed and tensed. The sleeve of his white t-shirt—the same one you were wearing, with a small half-moon embroidered above the cuff—strained a little around the bulge of his bicep, veins crisscrossing his skin like roots of a tree.

“Y/N?” Jeno tilted his head curiously. This was truly so unfair; he was simultaneously looking like a confused puppy while holding a bag of flour one-handed that would take two humans to carry normally. “That’s a lot of icing on that scone.”

You looked down at where your hand had frozen over a scone, the spoon that you’d been drizzling icing with now pooling and entirely covering one with it instead. “Oh, shit!”

Picking up the scone, you held it over the icing bowl to shake and scrape off as much as you could, taking a few deep breaths.

“Anyway, this is our last bag of bread flour, and we’ve only got half a bag of whole wheat. We need to order some more?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You kept a laser focus on the scones as you went back to drizzling, refusing to look up at Jeno or his stupid big, stupid strong werewolf muscles. “Uhm, two bags of bread flour, one whole wheat. And how are we looking on all-purpose?”

“Still got three bags.”

“Order a bag of that just in case.”

“Heard, chef!” You could see him salute you in your peripheral vision before disappearing back in the storeroom.

After finishing his back of the house opening tasks, Jeno went to start to open the front of the bakery. You, very thankfully, didn’t do much in the front of the house. People in general were alright, but you’d much rather deal with dough and batter, and hear secondhand from Jeno how much everyone supposedly enjoyed what you baked and how delicious they apparently thought it was. You still had a job, so you figured that the customers liked your food just fine, at least. Sometimes you’d be called in as a very last resort to cover a front house worker’s shift, but usually the only times you ever emerged from the kitchens was to drop new batches off in the cases, then you’d disappear again.

Jeno popped in and out to take the food out to the display cases as it got closer and closer to opening, then dropped off an empty tray without picking up a new one.

“T-minus ten minutes until opening,” he informed you with a bright smile, disappearing back through the swinging door to the front for the last time this morning.

You knew it was 7 a.m. when you heard the quaint coffee shop playlist Jeno always put on start to filter in from the front. There wasn’t always a customer right at opening, so you usually relied on the music to reorient yourself in time. Chatter from the front would rise and fall as waves of customers came in and left, but you just kept working on your batches and washing up between them. Now with the bulk of your baking done for the morning, you had a lot of cleaning to do.

Minseok’s arrival let you know that it was 8 a.m., you were already 4 hours into your shift. Your boss came in through the employee entrance as you were dipping some now cooled half-moon cookies in chocolate.

“Morning, Minseok!” You greeted him with a grin.

“You know, Y/N,” he stopped in the middle of the kitchens to turn to you. “I will never doubt my decision to hire you. You know why?”

“Uh... why?”

“Who else could I possible give the 4 a.m. opening shift to and they would still give me such a nice greeting every single time?” He chuckled. “You should’ve seen Jeno’s face the first time I told him what time I open the bakery at.”

“Oh, yeah, he doesn’t seem to be a morning person.”

“You kidding me? Kid asks for the morning shift now,” he snorted, shuffling over to inspect the cookies you were dipping. “Jeno used to be about ready to rip my throat out with his teeth whenever I had him open with me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed. “Though that was the early days of the bakery, you know, when he was just my hormonal teenage summer hire because I was doing his dad a favor and needed someone to work the register while I baked.”

“Now it’s almost like you two are a real business or something.”

Minseok laughed, his sharp canines glinting in the fluorescents. “Almost. Anyway, I’ll be in the office. Holler if you need me.”

You knew it was 11 a.m. when another coworker arrived. It usually cycled between a few different front house workers, and today it was Donghyuck, a dryad friend of Jeno’s who was a newer hire. You waved at him as best you could with two soapy hands, cleaning while a new batch of bread dough bulk proofed. A second front house worker usually came in a little before the lunch rush to help out, make sure whoever opened could take their break, and take over when their shift finished.

A little while later, Jeno came into the back, stretching and groaning. He took his apron off, hanging it on a hook against the wall by Minseok’s office door.

“That time already?” You asked knowingly.

“Yep. Lunch?” Jeno grabbed his keys from his pocket, spinning them around on his finger.

“Wish I could, but these loaves are going to finish proofing in like half an hour,” you sighed wistfully.

“I’ll go bring something back for us.”

“Oh, Jeno, you should go enjoy your lunch break away from work,” you tried to insist.

He made a face. “All by myself? How would I enjoy that? No, I’d rather hang out with you. Now, what do you want?”

Sat on two stools in the small, usually unused breakroom attached to the kitchen with Jeno, you bit into your sandwich gleefully.

“How do you not get tired of bread after working here?” He asked, peeling up one of the slices of his own sandwich.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I just like it. Isn’t that kind of part of the job requirements?”

“Mm... good point.”

You were halfway through your sandwich when you realized that Jeno had barely taken a bite of his. The most he’d done was pick a little bit at the fillings, but he really had just been chatting with you. Normally he would have already devoured his, and been pretending not to be eyeing yours.

“Jeno? Aren’t you going to eat?” You asked, gently pushing the food towards him by the wrapper.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I don’t... want to...”

You set your lunch down. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I feel fine,” he nodded. “I’m just not very hungry.”

Concerned, you stood up and headed towards the door that led back into the kitchen. “Wait here.”

You went over to the cooling racks, searching for a specific tray of cookies. You pulled off a peanut butter cookie and walked back over to the werewolf, holding it out towards him. He sat up a little straighter, but it wasn’t the usual ecstatic reaction he had to his favorite kind of cookie.

“Here,” you pushed it in his hand. “You can have it.”

To your relief, he didn’t hesitate to eat half of it in one bite. His eyes crinkled into familiar little crescents as he happily munched on the cookie, quickly polishing off the other half.

Minseok approaching your station from the front typically let you know that was mid afternoon, about time for your shift to end as well. His schedule was variable, it depended on what kind of administrative duties needed to be done, and whether or not he needed to help out in the front or back at all that day.

The sphinx stopped across the counter from you as you put away clean utensils that you didn’t need anymore. “Hey, it’s too slow today. I already sent Donghyuck home and I’m having Jeno close the front. Go home once you’re done cleaning up.”

He was walking towards the back door when you suddenly thought of something. “Oh, Minseok!”

“Yeah?” Your boss stopped, his hand almost on the handle.

“I actually wanted to ask if I could stay after my shift and test a new recipe?”

“Sure. What kind?”

“New flavor of brownie?”

“Hm. If all goes well, it can be a limited flavor. Keep Jeno to taste test.”

You grinned, already planning on doing that yourself. After all, this recipe really was for him. “Will do, thank you!”

“Call if you need anything. Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Minseok!” You sent him off for the day with an enthusiastic wave.

Jeno came into the back just a few minutes later, tossing a washcloth into the laundry basket. “You need any help back here?”

“Yes, actually.” You couldn’t hide your beaming smile.

“Oh no,” he groaned. “What is that smile? We’re getting off early and you’re happy about giving me more work?”

“You can go if you want...” you sighed teasingly. “If you really don’t want to help me taste test the peanut butter brownies I’m about to make.”

He gasped, face immediately lighting up, “You’re making what?”

“Yep, the test kitchen is open this afternoon. But, since you want to leave work early, I guess I won’t have my trusty taste tester this time.” You let out another comically deep sigh, shutting away mixing bowls into cabinets. “And to think... all that peanut butter just going to waste... I guess I could give some to Sungchan. I know he says it’s not a werewolf thing to like peanut butter but—”

“Y/N!” Jeno cut in with a whine, grabbing your arm. “I’m staying! I’m your taste tester!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, turning to your friend and patting his cheek, “I know, Jeno. Now come on, help me put this stuff away and we can get started.”

Despite having worked at a bakery for a few years, Jeno didn’t know much about baking. He knew what the different kinds of baked goods that the store offered were, but he didn’t do any of the cooking. Mostly his role in your little test kitchens was to just taste test. And when your arm got tired of mixing sometimes, you’d pass the batter and spoon off to him. Sure, you had electric mixers for that kind of stuff, but for small batches like this, you preferred to just do the mixing by hand.

This time, you were making brownies swirled with peanut butter and with mini peanut butter cups in them. It was something Jeno had been begging for nearly as long as you’d been working at Half Moon. It had been sort of always in the back of your mind to get around to eventually, but Jeno’s disturbing lack of appetite today had finally spurred you into action.

As you folded the mini peanut butter cups into the brownie batter, you saw a hand snake under your arm towards the batter.

“Hey,” you gently pushed Jeno’s hand away from the mixing bowl. “That’s unsanitary, Jeno.”

“We’re not serving it to customers!”

You shook your head, pouring the batter into the square pan. Turning back to Jeno, you handed him the big mixing spoon, still coated in batter.

“Here.”

As he happily went to work licking the batter off the spoon, you put the finishing peanut butter swirls and mini peanut butter cups on top, popped the pan into the preheated oven, then set the timer.

“Alright, now we wait,” you declared, grabbing your hand towel off your shoulder and wiping a stray dollop of batter off the back of your hand.

“And by wait, you mean…”

You latched onto his forearm, the hand of which was holding a now batter-free mixing spoon, and hauled him over to the sink, which was filled with the dirty dishes from preparing the brownie batter. “I mean active waiting, of course. Come on, Jeno, do you want to wash or dry? I’ll let you pick, I’m feeling extra nice today.”

He sighed, nudging you over towards the other side of the sink, “I’ll wash today.”

Your eyebrows shot up as he turned on the faucet and picked up the sponge, squirting a small amount of dish soap on it. Normally if either of you were given your pick, you’d take drying, hands down. No chance of touching gross wet food, no soapy smelling hands, and no pruned fingertips. Drying was clearly the superior task.

But you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth—or a gift werewolf, you supposed—so you grabbed a clean dish towel.

By the time you two were done with the dishes, the brownies were only about halfway done. So you did Jeno’s preferred method of waiting: passive waiting. Grabbing two chairs from the dining area, you sat down right in front of the oven, the interior light on, and watched them bake.

“And you’re sure liking peanut butter isn’t a werewolf thing?” You double-checked.

“I’m sure.” He confirmed with a chuckle.

“Okay, because you like really like it. Don’t get me wrong, Jeno, it’s endearing. But it’s practically supernatural how much you like it.”

“Well, it kind of is.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know that werewolves have heightened senses, right? Compared to most other creatures. Other than vampires, I guess…”

“Well, yeah.”

“Sight, hearing, smell, taste…”

“Touch?” You asked curiously. That one was always left out of whatever werewolf lore you’d hear about.

“Oh, sure. I like really fuzzy blankets.”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the image of Jeno bundled up in a bunch of fuzzy throw blankets.

Jeno continued on with his justification of his love for peanut butter. “So, when I find something that I like the taste of, I really like it. At least, compared to a human, you know.”

“Because you taste it a lot more strongly than humans do.”

“Yeah!” He beamed at you.

“Got it. That makes sense. And you just happen to like peanut butter, like some humans will like peanut butter-flavored stuff more than others.”

“That’s part of why I like working here so much, too. Everything you make smells so good.”

“Aw, thanks, Jeno. I like working here too. You’re one of the easiest coworkers I think I’ve ever had. Aside from the incessant begging for peanut-butter flavored menu items.” You lightly flicked his ear, your tone teasing.

“I’m sorry!” He rushed to apologize.

“I’m kidding. Like I said, it’s endearing.” You waved off his apology. There were a few beats of silence, the two of you continuing to stare at the brownies. Something he said had stuck in your brain, though. “You said that was only part of why you like working here. What’s the other part?”

“Uhm…” Jeno’s eyes widened, flicking between you and the brownies nervously. “You know, Mr. Minseok is a really great boss! He’s super easy about asking for time off, and making the schedule around our classes and finals and stuff!”

“Yeah, Minseok’s great…” You agreed, eyeing your friend suspiciously. He was absolutely lying. Not about your boss being a good boss, Minseok really was great, but that definitely wasn’t what he meant when he said that just then.

But then the oven timer went off, and you decided not to press the matter any further. If Jeno wanted to be weird, that was his prerogative, you weren’t going to demand that he tell you something that he was clearly uncomfortable about.

Grabbing the dish with your oven mitts, you now transitioned into your least favorite part of doing test recipes with Jeno…

“Is it ready?”

“No, Jeno, it needs to cool down.”

“Oh.”

And just a minute later:

“Is it ready?”

“No, Jeno, still too hot.”

“Right.”

Two minutes later:

“Are you sure I can’t have just one bite?”

“It’s still steaming.”

“Okay…”

Another minute later:

“Y/N…”

“Jeno, I know you think I’m doing this because I’m a big meanie, but I promise it’s because I care about you and don’t want you to singe off all your tastebuds.”

“Fine.”

And finally, once he'd given up:

“Jeno!”

“They’re ready?!”

“Yes,” you confirmed, grabbing a knife and triangle server.

Serving Jeno up a corner piece, his favorite, onto a half-moon plate, you then dropped your own piece onto a full moon plate. After tapping your brownies together in a little cheers, you two took your first bites.

The brownie was still warm from the oven, fudgy, and gooey thanks to the swirls of peanut butter in there. You got a couple mini peanut butter cups in that bite that melted over your tongue. Altogether, you had to hand it to Jeno, this was a fantastic idea. It was missing a little something, though. Quickly grabbing a shaker from the counter, you dropped a couple flakes of coarse sea salt on top of just your brownie, then took another bite. Oh yeah, that was perfect.

Jeno had already polished off his brownie, and you could see him trying not to be obvious as he eyed the pan of seven others.

“That was really good, Y/N!” He praised you, eyes turning up into delightful crescents. “Like, I think the best thing you’ve ever made!”

“You say that with everything I make,” you pointed out, taking another bite.

“But this one’s seriously the best!”

“Because there’s peanut butter in it?”

“Well…”

“You can have another one, by the way.”

The sentence was barely out of your mouth before he had dished up another brownie. It didn’t even make it to his plate, instead going straight from pan to his mouth. You chuckled. Why did you even bother with dishes with him, honestly?

But really, it warmed your heart to see somebody enjoying your baking so honestly, so thoroughly, and unabashedly. You’d take a hundred customers like Jeno over any pompous pastry chef any day. And you were glad to see that his appetite was back.

He’d finished his second, and you guessed was about to go for his third when you stopped him.

“Jeno, hold on.” You grabbed his upper arm, looking around for a napkin or paper towel.

“What?” He asked, eyes on your hand that was on his arm, curious.

“You’ve got chocolate like, all over your face, dude.”

You’d finally secured a napkin, and stretched back to dampen it in the persistent drip from the sink faucet. Scooting your stool closer to Jeno, you leaned forward to get a better angle at your task. The werewolf jerked away, but you just clicked your tongue in your mouth and grabbed his chin to gently pull him back towards you.

“C’mere, Jeno. It’s just a little water,” you teased him, wiping away the brownie, chocolate, and peanut butter that were on his cheeks. “Don’t tell me the big bad wolf is scared of the equivalent of a baby wipe?”

“‘M not,” he mumbled as you dragged the wet napkin over the corner of his mouth.

You got a smear that was on the tip of his nose next, “How’d you get it up here anyway?”

He made a ‘I don’t know’ noise in the back of his throat, but stayed perfectly still as you moved back to scrutinize your work. Jeno’s face and ears were definitely much pinker, and he was looking straight up at the ceiling.

“Oh, missed a spot,” you sighed, bringing the napkin up one more time to the curve of his bottom lip. “There, Jeno, all good to go.”

It was then that your heart seemed to have caught up with the rest of the team, as you froze where you were. Jeno’s eyes were locked on yours, his warm breath hitting your face as he took shallow, quick breaths. Your blood roared in your ears. You were so close to him, your hand was still holding his chin, if you just—

Before you could actualize that thought, Jeno let out a yelp, tucking his chin to his chest and curling in on himself in pain.

“Jeno?” You stood up, panic overtaking you as he let out something closer to a grunt this time. “Jeno, are you okay?”

He keeled forward into you, and you easily caught him. Easing him off the stool and onto the ground with you, you sat down, cradling him to your chest as he still wasn’t responding.

“Jeno, what’s wrong?” You asked, carding a hand through his dark hair soothingly.

“It hurts, Y/N,” he whimpered.

Your heart broke at how distressed he sounded. “What hurts, Jeno?”

“Everything!” The werewolf wailed.

“Oh my god, okay. Shh, shh,” you tried to calm him back down, still stroking his head. Pressing the back of your hand to his forehead, you swore he felt warmer than normal. Werewolves naturally had higher body temperatures than humans, but he felt hot. “How bad? Do you need to go to the doctor? Should I call someone? What do you need from me, Jeno?”

“Don’t go!”

“I didn’t say I was going anywhere. But you need somebody else.”

“No I don’t—”

“Jeno—” Your sentence stopped in its tracks as your hand that had been running through his hair suddenly bumped into something. Turning your eyes back down from the ceiling to the werewolf in your arms, your eyes widened comically when you saw two fuzzy white ears emerging from the mop of dark hair atop his head. Trailing further down, you saw a fluffy white tail, too.

“I don’t need anybody else,” Jeno insisted.

“Jeno.” You stated quietly, desperately trying to maintain your composure. “I need you to listen to me. I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going anywhere. But we need to call somebody else to look at you.”

“Why?”

“You have ears and a tail.”

Jeno huffed. “I’m a werewolf, remember?”

“Are they always white and fluffy?”

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, “No...”

“I’m going to call Renjun.” You decided, shifting so you could ease your phone out of your back pocket.

“Y/N!” Jeno buried his head in your lap.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jeno,” you reassured him, resting your free hand on his back. “I was just grabbing my phone.”

Dialing up the contact, you prayed that your friend wouldn’t be deep in a study session. Renjun had an annoying habit of being a good student and turning his ringer off when he studied. Finally, after way too many rings for your liking, he picked up.

“Hello?” Renjun picked up tersely. It sounded like there were other voices in the background.

“Hey, Renjun!” You put as much pep into your tone as you could muster. “Sorry, are you busy?”

“I’m at Chenle and Jisung’s, but we’re just watching movies.” He referenced two of their other friends, a fairy and dragon, respectively. You really just knew them from when they'd come into the bakery to (lovingly) pester Jeno. “What’s going on? I thought you and Jeno were working.”

“That’s why I’m calling.” While you felt bad interrupting their hangout, you had something a little more pressing. “I think Jeno’s sick.”

“He’s grown ears and a tail, Renjun. Not wolf ones.”

“I’m coming over right now.” And he hung up.

Jeno was still letting out little groans and whimpers every few minutes when you heard a knock at the rear employee entrance.

“It’s open!” You yelled out. It felt like you wouldn’t be very successful if you tried to get up right now.

Renjun threw open the door, eyes scanning the kitchen for a moment before they finally found you. The two of you were in the same position as before: you propped up against the cabinets, Jeno curled up nearly fetal, head in your lap as he clutched at whatever hurt. His stomach, his chest, his head. Everything.

He rushed over, face turning pained when he saw the state that Jeno was in. Squatting down beside the two of you, the human looked over your friend, but was careful not to touch him.

“He says that everything hurts, and I swear he’s running a fever.” You reported to Renjun. “In addition to, well, the obvious.”

Jeno’s feet scrambled for purchase against the concrete floor as he tried to curl up into an even tighter ball, holding his stomach.

“I know, Jeno, I know,” you murmured, stroking his back. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to help you get better. Just hold on.”

Renjun leaned towards his head, squinting at where the ears were growing out of his hair.

“You know... I’m surprised the other two didn’t come with you.” You commented, just to say something, to fill the silence.

Fae were naturally mischievous folk, there was no way Chenle would miss an opportunity to see Jeno with literal dog ears and a tail. And usually, wherever Chenle was, Jisung wasn’t far behind. From your understanding, dragons tended to be solitary creatures; however, according to Jeno, Jisung had taken a liking to the fairy some time ago and vice versa, and the two were inseparable ever since.

“I told them Jeno was throwing up. Didn’t mention the ears and tail.” The human scooted to inspect the tail next. “Now, I’m guessing he didn’t show up to his shift like this.”

“No, he was fine. We were testing a new recipe and then it just happened out of nowhere.”

Renjun sighed. “I think he’s just pupsick.”

“What?”

“Pupsick. Usually only little werewolves get it, hence the name. It’d be kind of like if you or I got chickenpox. Like, we can get it, but usually only kids do. Pupsickness isn’t contagious to humans, by the way, so don’t worry about that.”

“Then how’d he get it?”

“Pups usually get it from each other, outbreaks will sort of crop up in daycares and classrooms. But the fact that Jeno’s got it… I don’t know for sure. Werewolf immune systems are practically superhuman once they’re adults, even to their own diseases. This one’s past my expertise. I’d call Sungchan, see if he knows anything.”

“Alright, I will. Thanks, Renjun.”

Renjun stood back up, then looked around the bakery. The half-eaten brownies were still on the countertop, not to mention you had your close-up checklist to do. “You should get him home, Y/N. Here, give me your keys, I’ll clean up here and lock up. I’ll put them under your mat when I’m done.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’d much rather be on bakery clean up duty than pupsick Jeno duty,” he nodded towards the werewolf. “Trust me, I don’t envy you.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile, then looked down at Jeno. He’d been quiet all throughout your conversation with Renjun, and you prodded him gently. “Jeno?”

“Yeah?” He mumbled.

“Can you stand up? I’m going to take you home.”

He let out a whine again, but this time higher pitched, sounding more like a petulant child than like he was actually in pain. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Come on, you’ll be so much more comfy at home in bed with all those fuzzy blankets, right?”

“Fine.” He dragged out the vowels, but scooted off of you to let you stand up.

“Alright, come on, Jeno,” you helped him get to his feet. “Now you’re going to have to walk there mostly of your own power. You’re a bit too solid for me to carry on my own.”

You patted his firm chest for emphasis. “If the stairs are going to be too much, let me know and I’ll make a couple calls. I think Sungchan and Jisung combined could probably get you up there. Maybe get Shotaro for good measure. I know sirens aren’t super strong like werewolves and dragons but—”

“No, I can do it,” he mumbled, looping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t need… don’t need them.”

After untying both yours and Jeno’s aprons and handing them to Renjun, you took your bakery keys off your keyring to give those over as well, then wrapped one arm around Jeno’s waist and started guiding him over to the back door.

“Y/N,” Renjun caught your attention before you could push it open. “Don’t worry too much. It’s like a bad cold. He’ll just be really pitiful for a few days.”

“Right,” you nodded, mustering up a small smile. You were sure you looked frazzled still. “Thanks again, Renjun. We owe you one.”

“Free muffin and we’ll call it even.” He waved goodbye to you two. “Feel better, Jeno!”

It was thankfully a very short walk to Jeno’s apartment, he lived just around the corner. Once you got him inside, normally you would’ve been able to pass him off to his dryad roommate. But Jaemin was studying abroad for a month, as evidenced by the very droopy-looking plants around the living room.

“Here, let’s get you to bed, Jeno,” you murmured. “Which one’s yours?”

He pointed. “Left.”

Jeno’s room was surprisingly tidy. Though you weren’t sure if you were expecting it to be messy because he was a college boy, a werewolf, or based off his distaste of cleaning up at work. But regardless, you pulled back his covers and ushered him into bed.

“I’ll get you some ice water, you still feel really warm.” You told him, pressing your hand back to his forehead. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No. Don’t want you to go…” He grabbed your hand with both of his as you went to take it off his forehead, nuzzling his cheek against it this time instead.

Okay, his brain was definitely melting in there.

“I’ll be right back here, Jeno. You definitely need some water.” You shook him off as gently as possible. “I’m just going to your kitchen.”

Now free, you rushed to his kitchen, throwing open cabinets until you found one with cups, grabbing the first one your eyes landed on. You scooped ice in, then filled it up from the tap. Initially, you had planned on calling Sungchan while you did this, but you didn’t think Jeno would be that patient.

You speed-walked back down the hallway to his bedroom, finding the werewolf exactly where you left him, curled up in bed, staring at the doorway. You offered him as bright of a smile as you could, “Hey, Jeno! I’m back! Here’s your water.”

He lit up, moving to get up in bed, and you surged forward in concern.

“Woah, hey, are you good to do that, dude?” You asked, hands flitting over him nervously.

“‘M fine, Y/N, I’m fine. Just…” He yawned, covering his mouth. One of his ears twitched. “Really tired.”

“Well, drink this water first, please.” You lifted the glass to his mouth. His refusal of food was still worrying you, though. Werewolves had much higher metabolisms than humans, and the appetites to match. “Are you sure you don’t want something else? You ate hardly anything on break. Other than those brownies, the only thing you’ve had today was whatever you had at breakfast. It’s almost two…”

After gulping down half the glass, Jeno wiped his mouth and shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

You sighed, patting his cheek and pressing the glass back to his lips. “Okay… Just let me know if you change your mind. I’ll make something or order something. Whatever you want.”

He took a couple more sips before pushing your hand away. “You’re- You’re not going to leave?”

His voice was hopeful, eyes round and pleading—literal puppy dog eyes—as he asked that. You shook your head.

“No, Jeno, I’m going to stay right here with you. I want to stay with you.” You set the cup on his nightstand, gently nudging him forward and further in to make room for you to scoot onto the bed behind him.

Jeno immediately flopped around onto his front, wrapping his arms around your middle and burying his nose into your stomach. You giggled, squirming around for a moment.

“Ah! Jeno, that tickled.”

He mumbled something that sounded like an apology into your lap, squeezing his eyes shut. Your hands dropped to his head, careful to avoid the two white ears there as you ran your fingers through his hair again.

Soon, his breathing evened out, and you stilled your hand. He was asleep.

It was dark when you woke up. You didn’t remember falling asleep in the first place, the last thing you remembered was scrolling on your phone and thinking to yourself how good a nap looked and sounded right now. Jeno was still wrapped around you, peacefully asleep, and you were slumped in the multitude of pillows at the head of the bed. There was a little crick in your lower back, and you had the urge to stand up and crack it. Your stomach growled, and good god you needed to pee.

You tried to sit back up all the way, but Jeno was remarkably heavy in his passed-out state, and you barely moved an inch. Flopping back down, you instead tried shaking him awake.

“Jeno. Jeno, hey,” you said softly. Your lips twitched in amusement when you saw one of his white dog ears perk up towards the sound of your voice. The rest of him didn’t move, though. You shook him with a little more gusto. “Jeno... come on.”

The other ear was at attention now, and you could feel a grumble start in his chest. You switched to lightly squeezing his human ears, sides, and whatever parts of his arms you could reach.

“Jeno! Up! Wake up!” You pleaded with each gentle pinch, finally feeling victorious when he recoiled after you got his nose.

He jerked an arm back to cover his face in his elbow as he sneezed three times in a row.

“Bless you!” You snickered, quickly pulling yourself into a cross-legged sitting position now that you had an opportunity.

“Ack! Y/N, what was that for?” Jeno complained, voice thick with sleep, sitting up as well.

“I needed you to move so I can go use the bathroom,” you snorted, scooting towards the edge of the bed.

Before your feet could touch the floor, a pair of arms had wrapped around your shoulders, and a nose was nuzzling into your neck. “Y/N...”

“Jeno...” You mimicked his tone in an attempt to cover up how the sudden contact had made your back stiffen. You almost tilted your head to the side on instinct to give him more space, but kept your spine pin-straight.

You half-heartedly tried to push at him. “Dude, seriously, I need to pee. And aren’t you hungry?”

“Not hungry.”

“For real?” You frowned, contorting awkwardly to look at his face as you tested for his temperature again. “You’re still burning up. Do you have a thermometer around here? What’s a werewolf’s temperature even supposed to be?”

“We don’t have a thermometer. ‘M fine.”

“I’ll believe that when you’re back to eating six meals a day, Lee Jeno.” You scoffed. “Now I am going to the bathroom, then I’m coming right back. Okay?”

“No!” He clung onto you tighter, and you swore you saw his eyes getting moist as his lower lip trembled.

“Jeno, I’ll be right back, okay? I pinky promise.” You held one of your pinky fingers out to him. He begrudgingly linked one of his with it before letting go of you.

“Thank you.”

You slipped down the hall quickly. After relieving your screaming bladder and washing your hands, you pulled out your phone, seeing that you had a couple texts. They were both from Renjun from several hours ago.

[renjun: locked up the bakery, keys under your mat. how’s jeno doing?]

Then, a couple hours later.

[renjun: hey, just double checking that you found your keys and that jeno got home okay.]

[you: sorry for not replying, he’s been a bit of a handful. i haven’t made it home yet to grab my keys, still at jeno’s. thanks for locking up and dropping my keys off tho!]

You briefly thought of calling Sungchan, but you were worried about Jeno. Poking your head out of the bathroom and back down the hall, you listened for any signs of life. You could hear him tossing and turning restlessly in bed. So he at least hadn’t fallen back asleep.

Your stomach growled again, taking center stage now that the more pressing need had been dealt with.

“Hey, Jeno,” you said loudly as you entered the room, already pulling up a food delivery app on your phone.

Jeno sat up at attention, and with the sheets falling away from him, you could see the fluffy white tail behind him wagging vigorously as he gave you possibly the brightest smile he’d had since this whole thing started. “Y/N!”

“Jeno!” You repeated his name with a bewildered chuckle. “Am I covered in peanut butter or something? What’s got you in such a good mood all of a sudden?”

“Can I not just be happy to see you?” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His tail kept wagging, though.

“No, you can. I was just curious.” You leaned against the doorway, scrolling through the restaurant options. “I think I’m going to order delivery. Which means you’ll have to let me go get it when it gets here. Do you think you can do that?”

He yawned and stretched. “No promises.”

“Alright.” You turned your phone off. “Let me go raid your pantry really quick. You do have food, right?”

“Yeah...” Jeno laid back down, his sudden burst of excitement seeming to be wearing off expeditiously.

Giving him a thumbs up, you took off down the hall again. Jaemin and Jeno’s pantry was fairly human-friendly. Jaemin left three weeks ago, so there weren’t many of his organic trail mixes and granola bars left. And of course, plenty of Jeno’s werewolf protein bars—to supplement when he just couldn’t get enough protein for what his diet naturally called for. But mostly there were snacks that you’d find in your own human apartment, which you were grateful for; you’ve had some unfortunate moments with friends of yours whose appetites didn’t line up as closely with humans. You still shuddered at the thought of the plate stacked with slimy kelp that you’d been offered by Sungchan’s siren roommate, Shotaro. Sungchan and you ordered pizza that night.

Grabbing a few things for yourself, a couple water bottles, you then headed back towards his room. You’d also snagged one of Jeno’s protein bars, maybe you could convince him to get something close to a meal in him.

“I’m back, I’m back,” you announced as you hurried in, dropping the snacks on the nightstand.

Jeno rolled over just enough for you to sit back in your same place against the headboard. As soon as you were settled in, he scooched to put his head in your lap.

“How are you feeling? Still hurting?” You asked, cracking open the first bottle, then the other.

“Yeah…” He rubbed at his eyes.

“Tired?” You stroked his bangs away from his face.

“Mhm.”

“What about your temperature? Still got that fever?” You leaned down to press your lips to his forehead before you realized what you were doing.

You froze halfway back up, eyes locked on Jeno’s. Letting his bangs fall through your fingers and back down onto his face, you forced out a chuckle.

“Sorry, uh, my mom always did that to check my temperature when I was sick as a little kid. Just, kind of happened,” you stammered out as you kept fixing his hair to cover his forehead back up. “Do- Do you feel hot, Jeno? Or cold? Like any sort of chills or hot flashes or anything?”

His whole face was pink, and you couldn’t remember if it was already like that from the fever or not. The werewolf blinked up at you a couple more times before answering your question.

“I’m cold.” He pulled one of the fuzzy blankets up to his chin then as if for emphasis.

“Okay. Alright, well if you’re tired, hurting, and cold, I think you should get back to sleep.” You smiled down at him, patting his chest over the blanket. “Can you just drink a little more water for me?”

After getting a couple sips in him, Jeno rolled over and was out like a light. Oh that looked nice. You would probably take care of your hungry stomach and then join him in dreamland, honestly. Today had been… a lot.

The thought of spending the night in Jeno’s bed made your stomach twist and turn, and you briefly considered creeping out to the couch. But if something happened to Jeno with this pupsickness and you weren’t there, you’d hate yourself forever. No, you needed to stay right by his side, as much for yourself as for him. And so, you grabbed some trail mix and prepared to settle in for a long night.

You were still munching on some of Jaemin’s trail mix when suddenly, your phone rang. You panicked, scrambling to grab it so that it didn’t wake Jeno up. The werewolf in your lap didn’t even stir as the loud ringer kept going, though.

Keeping an eye on him, you answered the call in a whisper, “Hello?”

“Y/N? Sorry, is this a bad time? I had a question about the lecture from yesterday.” It was Sungchan on the other end, your only other werewolf friend, and project partner in your Magical Botany I class.

“Hey, Sungchan. Uh, it’s sort of a bad time but also the perfect time.” You kept your voice low and quiet, holding the phone close to your mouth.

“Oh. And what does that mean?”

“You go first.”

“Can you send me the notes?”

“That’s all you needed to ask me?” You snorted. “The notes from yesterday?”

“Can you send me all of the notes? From the whole semester?” His voice was pleading, sounding like he was braced for ridicule.

“Are you kidding me?”

“The last full moon was rough, okay?”

“Used your Bot I notebook as a chew toy, huh?”

“Will you send me them?” He groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, it might be a little while though.”

“That’s fine! You said this was a bad time, right? Sort of?”

“Right.” You gently dabbed at Jeno’s sweaty forehead. “So I have a werewolf question…”

Sungchan paused, sighed, then said, “Because you’re you, and I know are therefore not about to ask me anything weird, I will entertain this. Go ahead.”

“Do you know why an adult werewolf might get pupsick?”

“Is Jeno okay?”

Sungchan didn’t know Jeno as well as you did— the two werewolves had met a couple times in passing, when your classmate would buy something from the bakery, or the two of you would bump into Jeno while studying at the library. But Sungchan mostly knew of him from you. You happily talked about your job, your sphinx boss, and werewolf coworker to your friends, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that he was able to guess what this was about.

“Immediately blew my cover, huh?”

“It seemed like an awfully specific question.”

“Yes, Jeno’s pupsick. At least, according to Renjun.” You tested his temperature again, with your hand this time, on his cheek. He was still burning up, feeling very much like a heated, weighted blanket. “He’s exhausted, he’s moody, he doesn’t want to eat, he’s got a fever I think—”

“Wait, are you with him now?”

“Yeah, his roommate’s studying abroad for a month and I felt bad leaving him alone.”

“Those are his only symptoms? Sounds like he’s just got a cold.” Sungchan scoffed. “Why would Renjun say it’s pupsickness? Just because he’s a werewolf? Honestly—”

“Oh and he’s got ears and a tail.”

The other end of the call was silent for far too long. “Channie?”

“Ah. Yeah. He’s pupsick.” He confirmed.

“So… do you know why he’s got it? Renjun said that adult werewolves usually don’t get pupsick.”

“They don’t. Although I’m not surprised Jeno is.”

“What? Why? Is he okay? Does he have like… a werewolf autoimmune disease or something? Do you guys have those?”

“Jeno’s immune system is fine, Y/N,” your friend reassured you.

You relaxed again. “Oh, good.”

“It’s a combination of things that determines whether a werewolf gets pupsick or not. Yes, it’s our immune system, but one of the biggest symptoms of pupsickness is what you’re looking at: the partial shift.”

“The ears and tail.”

“Yeah. Pups can’t control their shifting yet because they’re more volatile emotionally and magically.” Sungchan walked you through it. “And like any other kids, they’re germ factories. So they get pupsick a lot more than adults do.”

“Then why’d Jeno get it? It’s not like he’s an education major or anything, he hasn’t been around any pups.”

“Adults usually get it when there’s something in their life that’s made them emotionally and magically volatile again.”

“Volatile?” You echoed, looking down at the peacefully napping wolf. He really just looked like an oversized puppy.

“You said he’s moody?”

“Mhm. Kind of… down? I don’t know, he’s not as bubbly as he normally is, you know? I could barely get him to let me get up to use the bathroom earlier, he looked like he was about to cry. And then when I came back, you’d think I brought him a jar of peanut butter or something he was so happy.”

“That’s what I mean, not like he’s going to snap and break a vase or something. And his shifting is obviously not in control either.”

“Well he’s going to get better, right?” You asked hopefully. “Renjun said it should just be a few days.”

“It is for pups.”

Your stomach dropped. “That sounds like there’s going to be a but coming…”

“But for adults, they got sick because something in their life was out of balance.” Sungchan reiterated.

“So he’s going to be like this unless we get his life back in balance? I’ve got to what, sign him up for werewolf yoga or something?”

“Or wait until the next full moon. A full shift should do the trick to reset him.”

“Oh. When’s that?”

“Three weeks.”

“Three weeks?!” You couldn’t help the loud panic in your voice. One of Jeno’s ears flicked, and you held your breath as he shifted slightly, but ultimately stayed asleep.

Sungchan was still talking, “And there’s no promise that he won’t just catch it again if he’s still at unrest.”

“God, who knew you werewolves were so sensitive? You’re like orchids, you need a very specific soil pH or you’re going to die!” You hissed into the phone.

“We’re a very hardy species, actually. You know, if the Black Plague were to come back, humans would—”

“Yeah, I’m sure humans would all die out, and werewolves would inherit the Earth or whatever Revelations says.” You cut him off, all too used to his lectures on the differences between humans and werewolves. With a sigh, you determined that you’d gotten all the useful information you could from him. “Well, thanks, Sungchan.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

“Wait…”

“What?”

“Why did you say that you’re not surprised that Jeno’s pupsick then? Do you know what’s making him sick?”

“Y/N…” Your friend sighed. “You are so smart, and yet…”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve only met Jeno a couple times, but the guy so clearly has a huge crush on you. A better name for what’s wrong with him would be that he’s lovesick, honestly.”

Your jaw dropped as your eyes were glued to Jeno’s peacefully sleeping features. “S-Seriously?”

While you’d had a creeping suspicion—you weren’t that stupid, no matter what Sungchan was implying—you were also a little worried that it was all in your head.

“Every time I see you two together, he’s all heart eyes for you, Y/N. I don’t know how you’re missing it.” Sungchan chuckled.

“Must be your superior werewolf eyesight,” you replied sarcastically.

“Must be.” He repeated humorously.

“So like… what should I do?”

“He’s your wolf, Y/N. Do what you will.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You sputtered out, jolting up in your seat.

Sungchan’s cackling laughter came through your speakers as you felt Jeno shift and stir in your lap. He lifted his head up slightly as he mumbled out a very sleepy, “Y/N?”

“Oh my god, you woke Jeno up!” You snapped at the other werewolf at the phone. “I’ve got to go!”

“I woke him up? Oh really—”

You cut Sungchan’s incredulous words off by hanging up, then tossing your phone aside on the bed. Jeno had settled back down a little bit, and you scratched between his ears.

“Go back to sleep, Jeno,” you murmured quietly. “Back to sleep… Sweet dreams, baby.”

As he relaxed again, you started humming a familiar tune, a lullaby that your mom used to sing to you when you would wake her up in the middle of the night because you weren’t feeling well. You didn’t let up even after Jeno’s breathing had evened out again, keeping it going as you slowly shifted around until you were no longer sitting up, laying down now. Jeno’s head still laying on your midsection, a comforting pressure. The rest of him was under all his fuzzy blankets, and you made sure he was securely under them all, gave him one last head pat, then let your eyes flutter shut, drifting off still humming that lullaby to yourself.

It was bright out when you woke up. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to roll over to bury your face into your pillow. Except there was a weight attached to your back, and a low whine right next to your ear. Your eyes flew open, and you quickly remembered that you were not in your own bed.

Which meant that— Yep, that was Jeno koala-hugging you from behind. He had a pout on his face even his sleep, which turned into a peaceful smile as soon as you’d given up on moving, relaxing back into him.

His two white dog ears were splayed out to the sides, and while they were very cute, they also worried you. Your conversation with Sungchan yesterday came back to mind. God, what the hell were you supposed to do about that?

“Hey, Jeno? You awake?” You asked softly, quiet enough that if he weren’t, he hopefully wouldn’t wake up.

“Mm… mhm,” he nodded his head against your back. “Yeah… ‘m up.”

You turned over onto your back in Jeno’s arms, then feeling for his temperature on what part of his forehead that you could get to. “How are you feeling?”

“Still sleepy…” He muttered, the words muffled against your collarbone from where he had readjusted to nestle his face into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” you hummed, stroking his head. “You can go back to sleep.”

“Who were… who were you talking to?”

“When— Oh, last night. Sungchan. I was trying to figure out how to make you better.”

He made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement, and for a brief moment you thought he might’ve fallen asleep again, until he looked up at you with the most heart-stopping, big, round eyes.

“Uhm, he said that when you shift on the full moon, that’ll probably kind of reset everything.”

“But the next full moon’s in…” he let out a yawn, punctuated by a sniffle. “Three weeks. I don’t know if I can take feeling like this for another three weeks.”

You rubbed a hand up and down his back soothingly, “I know, Jeno, I’m sorry. He did say something else.”

The werewolf’s animal ears perked up. “Something else?”

“Well, he was telling me about why adult werewolves get pupsick when its usually only pups who get it.”

“But I haven’t done anything to throw off my spiritual balance,” he whined. “I think… I mean, I haven’t pissed off any witches that I can think of, my shift on the last full moon went great, and everyone in my pack back home is okay.”

“Well, Sungchan said that it could be something personal, too. Not exactly related to werewolf stuff. Any kind of serious rift in your life, you know.” You tried to paraphrase your friend’s explanation as best you could without the heavy implications that he had. “Can you think of anything like that?”

“No...” he dragged out the vowel. “Just—”

Jeno suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence, going still in your arms.

“Just? Just what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Clearly it’s not nothing,” you said pointedly, giving one of his dog ears a gentle tap. He fidgeted a little, but didn’t move away from your touch.

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“It’s going to ruin everything.” Jeno just sounded utterly defeated now, refusing to look up at you. “I’m going to ruin everything again.”

You were ashamed to say that you were gobsmacked in that moment. You took a deep breath, desperately trying to throw together any kind of acceptable response.

“What are you talking about, Jeno?” You needed more information.

“I always break stuff, and I get too excited, and I don’t stop, and I’m too much and that’s not even on the full moon!” Jeno rambled. “I always have to replace my stuff because I tear it or break it or chew it or crush it and I don’t even realize and—”

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, woah, woah,” you shushed him firmly but kindly, hearing in his voice that he was getting himself too worked up. “It’s not like you’re Godzilla out here leveling cities or anything, okay? You’re not ruining anything, and you’re not too much or whatever stupid stuff you’ve been told before. Don’t be offended, but I honestly can’t imagine you as some big bad wolf blowing houses down and eating little piggies.”

The dog ears on his head perked up, and he sniffled again. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed, scratching behind one of the animal ears. Under the sheets, you could see that the dog tail had started wagging back and forth. “I mean, you’ve been curled up in my arms like an overgrown puppy for over twelve hours now.”

You had expected him to have some kind of objection to you calling him an overgrown puppy, but instead he just seemed to melt even more into your hold, his eyes fluttering shut as a lopsided, content smile took over his features. Seeing him so relaxed almost made you rethink your want to press the issue.

“Was that it? Do you think that’s what was wrong to make you pupsick?”

Jeno let out a heaving sigh, and his eyes opened again as the smile fell from his face. “No. But fixing my pupsickness is just going to ruin something else. Something really important.”

“You can’t stay like this forever, Jeno.”

“What? You don’t like the ears?” He joked with a dry chuckle.

“They’re cute, but not so much if they’re a symptom of you being so sick.” You habitually checked for his temperature on his forehead again (hot, as expected), then wrapped both your arms around his shoulders tightly. “Now, humans don’t exactly have pupsickness, but when we get really stressed out in work or school, it puts too much stress on our bodies and our immune systems, and we get sick more easily too. It makes us take a break and take care of ourselves. Whatever’s wrong, it’s not sustainable for you and clearly your body knows that too.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“So? What is it? Can I help?”

The werewolf shifted in your hold, and you loosened your arms to let him sit up from you completely. You followed his lead curiously, the two of you now sitting cross-legged on his bed facing each other, knee to knee. He brushed some of his hair out of his eyes, other pieces sticking up in random directions around the two fluffy white dog ears. Now that the covers had fallen off both your bodies, the tail rested beside him, no longer wagging happily as he gave you a forlorn look.

“Y/N… please remember that in order to cure the pupsickness, I just need to get this off my chest, okay? My health is not dependent on your response at all, it’s all about my internal state being stagnant for too long. So… don’t feel obligated to respond any one way for my sake.”

Your heart picked up speed in your chest, and there was no doubt that he could hear it. But still, you put on an encouraging smile for him. “Okay. Go ahead, Jeno.”

He kept his gaze down on his hands, seemingly messing with a seam on one of his blankets. And after one more deep inhale, he finally admitted, “I really like you, Y/N. Not coworkers, not friends. And I’m really sorry that I just—”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“What?”

“Do you think I really would’ve done all this for like… just anybody?” You confessed weakly. “I like you too.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, Jeno, I do.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his constant disbelief in what you were saying. “Why do you just think I’m constantly lying to you? Like— Oof!”

Your sentence was cut short because in that moment, you were caught in a tackle-hug and nearly smothered under the weight of a very excited werewolf. Laughter poured out of you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut as you just let the happiness in your chest get bigger and bigger with each passing second.

“You really are just a big puppy, huh?” You teased, reaching up to scratch behind the dog ears on his head. Except, they weren’t where you were expecting them. You couldn’t find them by feeling around in his hair, and opened your eyes to look for them. The only thing on his head was his mop of dark hair, fluffed up by your fingers, but otherwise, entirely typical. Peering around his shoulders, you couldn’t spot a tail either.

“Jeno!” You gently pushed on his chest to encourage him to get off of you for a moment.

“Mm?”

“The ears and tail are gone! You’re not partially shifted anymore!” You pushed a little harder, and he seemed to finally get the idea, rolling over and flopping onto his back instead. You shot up to a kneeling position beside him, looking down at him excitedly. “How are you feeling?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment, and you couldn’t help but put the back of your hand to his forehead once more, relief washing over you when it was just a little warm compared to your skin, but pretty much the usual difference between humans and werewolves this time.

“Feels like your fever’s broken,” you announced giddily.

“I still feel a little yucky, like I’m getting over a cold,” he informed you, grabbing your hand that had been feeling for his temperature and resting your linked hands over his middle.

“Aw, poor pup,” you cooed, squeezing his hand, and not missing the way his cheeks flushed, but he didn’t reject the nickname entirely. “Well, we do have today off anyway. I can stay, if you want?”

“Please?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything!”

You leaned over to grab something off the nightstand, the werewolf protein bar you had snagged for him yesterday. It hadn’t been touched at all the night before, and you now held it out to him.

“You eat.”

He nodded. “I think I can make that work.”

Jeno was still feeling off by the end of the day, so you called Minseok and explained most of the situation to him—that Jeno was getting over pupsickness and you were helping take care of him. Your boss was understanding, and easily gave you two the next day off as well, sending the werewolf well wishes to get better soon.

Slowly but surely, Jeno’s appetite was coming back, but your mind wouldn’t truly be at ease until he was back to eating six meals a day, no matter how many times he reassured you that he felt fine.

Jeno wasn’t sleeping as much, but now he’d finally taken one of his rare naps on the couch—he’d fallen asleep trying to show you one of his favorite movies, which you’d paused as soon as you’d realized he was asleep, so that you could finish it together later. You were snugly in his arms, head resting on his chest and now contemplating attempting a nap of your own.

Then the front door opened. You would have sat up to look at who it was, if your position allowed for that at all, and if you didn’t know well enough already who that definitely was.

“Jeno?” A voice carried through the apartment from the front door easily. “Thanks for picking me up from the airport, asshole! I had to get a ride from His Highness, so now I owe him one! Which, by the way, you’re so going to help me repay when he comes to collect—Oh!”

The dryad had finally made it to the living room and stopped in his tracks as soon as he spotted the two of you. He was in a hoodie and sweatpants, a duffel bag over his shoulder and towing a suitcase behind him. Clearly fresh off the plane back from his month of study abroad.

You and Jaemin just stared at each other for a moment. Jeno hadn’t stirred.

“Uh, hey,” you greeted him awkwardly, cringing internally at the crack in your voice. “I’m uh… I…”

“Y/N, right?” Jaemin grinned down at you. While you had seen each other in passing when he'd come into the bakery on occasion, and of course knew of each other through the still slumbering werewolf with you, you'd never really been properly introduced.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N,” you smiled back at him, not-so-subtly smacking at Jeno’s arms to try to wake him up. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaemin.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Y/N.” Jaemin gushed. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Uhm, how was your trip?”

“It was great! Saw lots of sights. Still seeing some more now that I’m home, too.”

The werewolf under you had finally come to at that point, and groggily looked between you and Jaemin, eyes snapping open with alarm when he realized what was going on. “Jaemin! What the hell?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Jeno.” The dryad threw a hand over his chest. “I was abandoned at the airport and had to call Chenle for help—a fairy! And then I finally make it home, thinking the whole time that surely you must be injured; in the hospital; dead! to have gone back on your promise. Only to come home and find you napping with the Y/N. I mean, I was only gone for a month, what the hell happened?”

Jeno single-handedly chucked a pillow at Jaemin’s head, which the dryad easily dodged.

“I was sick, you little shit,” the werewolf groaned, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and keeping his other arm firmly wrapped around you. “I got pupsick like two days ago, I’m still recovering. I’m sorry about forgetting about your flight.”

“And what did I tell you before I left?” Jaemin put his hands on his hips, staring his roommate down pointedly. “I hate to say I told you so but—”

“No you don’t.”

“—but I told you that you were going to get yourself pupsick if you didn’t do something about Y/N.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have another pillow to throw,” Jeno covered his face with his hand.

“And you just brushed me off like everyone else does.” Jaemin threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Dryads aren’t just a bunch of hippies, you know. Nature and your connection to it is very important, it’s nothing to mess around with. I hope you know better now, Lee Jeno.”

A low grumble started in his chest at the scolding he was getting from his friend, and you bit down on your lip to stifle your giggles at the scene that had been unfolding around you.

“Yeah, Jaemin, I know that you’re always right and I don’t know anything ever and should always listen to you. Happy?” Jeno retorted sarcastically.

“Quite.” Jaemin smiled back with the same amount of sass, but you could feel that the tension was dissolving in the air. He grabbed his bags again. “You're also helping me repay the favor I now owe His Highness, by the way."

Jeno groaned again, but didn't argue.

"Anyway, I’m jetlagged and exhausted. I’ll leave you two alone. Lovely seeing you as always, Y/N. So sorry you had to deal with a pupsick Jeno for this idiot to finally confess to you. Goodnight!”

“Hey!” Jeno cried out indignantly.

“Goodnight, Jaemin,” you replied humorously, taking a look at the clock. It was only 11:00 a.m.

And with that, it was just you and Jeno again.

“Ugh, sorry about him.” The werewolf readjusted his hold on you, pecking your forehead.

“Don’t worry,” you chuckled. “I had a pretty good idea of what he’s like.”

“I know, but he didn’t have to make a scene like that.”

“I think he was entitled. You left him for dead at the airport, after all.”

“Oh my god.”

“He had to get a ride from Chenle.”

Jeno scrunched his nose, presumably remembering that he and Jaemin now jointly owe the fairy a favor. “Yeah, I probably should’ve at least arranged for one of the other guys to pick him up.”

“Mhm…” You picked up the remote again. “So, ready to finish the movie, pup?”

sequel :･ﾟ✧｡･:･*

⤷ blog masterlist ⤷ anthology masterlist

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sleeplyparks · 5 months ago

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Sweet Pastries

Or: it’s slender’s birthday, sally wants to celebrate!

There’s a burning cake in the kitchen — Tim can smell it as soon as he walks in: his first thought is God, Ben is trying to cook again — his second thought is Fuck! Is Sally trying to bake again?

He looks towards Toby — who is no help, who simply just gives him a look one that says: what do you want me to do? Before heading towards his own bedroom.

Must he do every single thing around here? First taking on extra missions because Jeff just doesn’t do them — now preventing the mansion from burning down. He sighs, slipping himself through the kitchen entrance — and yeah, behold him is a sight.

Flour is everywhere, with icing and sugar painted across the counter as if someone wanted to try abstract art. He grimaces at the sight of broken eggs on the floor. And as excepted, right in the middle of a mess is a little girl with a now flour stained pink dress.

“Sally,” he starts, “what are you doing?”

She looks towards him: her stuffed bear was right by a bowl filled with what he assumes to be cake batter. But there was way more bowl than there was batter, and by looking at the mess of the floor — and the batter on her face, he can take a guess of where it went too.

“Trie— tried to bake a cake!” Sally smiles. “Got hungry.”

“And the floor?”

She looks at it, as if just noticing he mess, “It split.”

He sighs— tried, exhausted, and all the other words for sleepy— as he bends down to her height.

“What did I say about using the oven?”

“Mmm not too!” Okay, so she just didn’t listen to him, she already fits right into the mansion.

“Than why?”

She points towards a piece of paper on the counter: on it is a messily drawn balloon, and a overly tall stick man. He frowns. “It’s mister slendy’s birthday! And — my mama used to make me cakes!”

Oh fuck, he one hundred percent forgot about the operators birthday— which, he wondered how on earth it even had a birthday? Wasn’t it some eldritch being?

“That’s sweet, kid. But you should’ve waited for one of us to get here to watch you.”

“Mister death watched me!”

She looks at the bear: and he doesn’t like how the two button eyes stare right through him. “…Right.”

He stretches, moving to grab some paper towels. “Let’s clean up, than we can make a proper cake, ‘Kay?”

She nods enthusiastically.

—

He doesn’t know why he excepted her to help, really. She tried — but she seemed to make more of a mess than actually clean it, he sighs— wiping the counter top one last time for good measure.

“Sal,” he calls — looking towards the little girl who was just behind him. “Can you grab the ingredients? We can try and make the cake now.”

“Okay Masky!” She calls, quickly walking towards the cupboard.

He grimaces, “it’s Tim, kid.”

“But mister slendy calls you Masky.” He does not feel like trying to explain the relationship that him and slender have today, he sighs and nods.

She places the stuff on the counter — he grabs the mixer and they start. It takes a while, a long while, for them to actually try and make the batter— Sally who kept trying to eat it, and with Tim who had to keep slapping her wrist away from the bowl.

God, when did he start to feel so old?

“Is it done yet?” Sally asks for the fifth time, huddled by the oven watching through the glass door.

He huffs. “We just put it in.”

“Can it go faster?” She taps on the glass.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause that’s not how ovens are made.”

“Why?”

“…I don’t know, go ask someone who makes ovens.”

“Why?” She asks again — and this time he can hear the giggle that follows with it. He smiles, just a little.

“You’re a little shit.” He points out, looking down towards her.

She beams. “That’s what Jeff calls me!”

“Does he now?” He asks, and makes a mental note to talk to him later.

“He says that I can’t say it though.” She points out again, fiddling with her bear.

He laughs— just a little, “You shouldn’t, it’s not a nice word.”

“But you said it.”

“Rules are different for me.”

“Why?”

“We’re not starting this again.” He deadpans, and she goes back to being quiet.

After mintues go by— the timer finally beeps and he takes it out of the oven, placing it on the counter.

“Grab the icing.” He says, and sally quickly goes to grab it — he gets a knife with the cutlery cabinet, and takes the cake out of the pan.

Sally plops down next the icing next to it. “Can we decorate it now?” She questions, peaking at it — he shakes his head. “Has to cool for a second, you can go choose the sprinkles you want though.”

Thank god for Lulu’s baking obsession, he thinks — otherwise they would have zero baking things.

After a bit Sally picks out some yellow and blue ones, and he gives her a small butter knife. He peels open the icing and hands it to her, “go crazy.”

Which— in the end was a bad idea, he realizes later on. The cake is a mess of icing, sprinkles, and apparently she had got her hands on some of the chocolate from the cupboard as well because that was scattered across it.

It was lumpy, and a mess.

“Do you like it?”

It’s so ugly.

“It’s beautiful, Sal.” She grins right up at him, and he moves the cake to sit on a plate. “Here, let’s go give it to the big man himself, yeah?”

“Yay!” She claps her hands, quickly following after him. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll love it, don’t worry.”

—

He knocks at the operators door with his foot — his office looms over the both of them. Sally stands next to him, jumping in place — and a voice crawls through the air.

come in.

No words are said, but they are made to be thought in their minds, Tim hums opening the door with his empty hand— letting Sally skip in first.

“Hi mister slendy!” She speaks, words quick and excited. “We — we made you something! Because it’s your birthday! And— birthdays are supposed to be celebrated.”

She rambled a little, but by the end she points towards Tim who stands in the doorway: cake in hand.

“Hi sir.” He nods towards the operator, making his way forwards and setting it on his desk.

The creature looks at it — it’s long hand coming up to poke at it.

How nice of you, little one.

The thought is meant for Sally— the creature nods at Tim, and in a second Timothy wonders how it’ll even eat the thing.

And than… it just.. poofs. Gone.

“Where’d it go?” Sally questions— confused, and honesty he was as well.

I ate it. It was amazing. Thank you.

Wow, a man of many words the operator was. Despite the utter — oddness Sally just squeals happily, and honestly, this has to be one of the least weird things that has happened in the mansion.

“Happy Birthday, sir.” He says, which Sally happily parrots.

#creepypasta fandom #jeff the killer #slender proxy #slenderverse #creepypasta #sally williams #creepypasta fanfic #found family #parkersfanfic

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the-vagabond-angel · 1 year ago

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Certified Vagabond Angel book headcanons and these are mostly just Armand hcs cause I miss my reach

Armand would be one of those guys who scream random stuff out in the middle of class, you know who I’m talking about

If Claudia was able to live until modern times, I feel like she’d be really into platforms, she likes the extra height

Louis would be the type to wear those turtleneck-cardigan-long skirt combos

Marius would own the ugliest pair of Birkenstocks EVER

I feel like when Armand and Lestat forget they hate each other, they have a really fun time together like I’m talking they go out shopping, have lunch you know, listen to music while dancing then they remember they hate each other and they start fighting about something

Claudia’s first coffin had little doodles all over it trust, it absolutely did

Armand’s current coffin also has little doodles over it lol and stickers, there’s stickers everywhere on it

Lestat would be the type to have a “just girly things” blog in like 2013 or one of those blogs dedicated to emo guys cause let’s be fr

Armand would spend $100 that he got that day in 30 minutes in a visual novel game

When I was 13-14, I started my own cult that was dedicated to that guy who ran CNN 10, I called myself “The High Priest” and everybody had to call me that (I had this black like long cardigan with hella long sleeves that I wore). I had an assistant who was called the Communicator or something weird like that, we had rules and a whole symbol and had about 25 or so people in it, like I would go up to people like “hey, wanna join my cult, it’s really fun” anyways my point is Armand would do that cause he literally did that

Armand probably holds everyone hostage to drink his horrible little smoothies (same boo boo bear holding my whole family hostage to eat my devil’s food cake that I made in my easy bake oven but it’s the old one that used a light bulb)

Armand sleeps with a little night light cuz I get the feeling he wouldn’t like to sleep in the dark (alternatively, he does what I did as a kid and sleeps with a bright ass lamp that lights up his entire room)

Lestat and Armand probably paint their nails together (sometimes they paint Louis’ nails too)

They all watched Twilight together like a big weird family, Armand is team Jacob until breaking dawn then he’s team Bella should’ve dated Alice, Lestat wants to sparkle too now, Marius probably hated it cause he’s an old loser, Louis read the books beforehand and did not in any way understand the movies better, and Daniel probably fell asleep.

Lestat and Armand will describe the blood they drink like it’s wine (“mmhmm yes a vintage 1967 with a very oaky and smokey taste to it” meanwhile they just ate 2 guys who were camping in the woods)

I’m from the era of the internet of like Slenderman’s mansion so I imagine all the vampires who matter live in one huge ass mansion in the woods together

Lestat can’t swim I don’t care if it’s canon that he can, no he can’t, he just looks like someone who can’t swim

Lestat watches beauty guru videos to sleep

After Armand’s basically dadification, he spoils Benji and Sybelle like this man physically cannot say no to these kids, he tried to but it just ended with him convulsing on the floor.

Armand are those pictures on the internet of that lady laying in her room and her walls are entirely covered with crosses and then the other one of that nun just sitting between those 2 women

I’ll add more if I feel like it lol

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #qotd #queen of the damned #tvc #the vampire chronicles

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floryalfonso · 1 year ago

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“Can you believe him? He said we have to put the project on hold because the archway of the building and the color palette we chose for the entrance will never match,” I say to my friend on the phone while tossing my sketchbook onto my desk and slumping into my chair.

“I’m not wrong,” I overhear from the office across from my desk in his smooth, lazy voice. “You say ‘hold’ like I mean forever. It’s just an extra day. And there’s absolutely no reason for a bay window in the sitting room. I know it’s her favorite view but that gigantic dogwood in the front is just going to keep it a sappy mess most of the year.” I try to ignore him but he’s starting to walk my way. He’s not my direct manager and I shouldn’t even have to listen to his input on this project but for whatever reason our boss thinks we complement each other.

“You’re a sappy mess,” I grumble.

“I’m not, you wish I were, and I expect better comebacks from you,” he says, coming to sit in front of me now.

“Do you have any original ideas of your own to provide?” I ask him, albeit mostly sarcastically. He’s a perfect group project member but he’s infuriatingly good at his job and it irks me. I’ve been here longer.

“Already sent them your way,” he says with glee, leaning in while I slide further into my chair. He’s looking down at me now seriously with his sleeves rolled up like he’s about to make me change all of my sketches. Another night in the office together is something I should’ve expected the minute we left the client’s house.

—

The only thing getting me through the long days at work is practicing for our very serious Great Office Bake Off. For whatever reason our boss put a state of the art kitchen in here and the oven is divine. I’m making things I’d only dreamt of before. Every night, different flavors, different techniques. 15 minute breaks call for new batches of caramel, an hour break for lunch and I can complete most of a cake. My biggest competition is Glenda, the 30 year veteran secretary and office grandmother. Her apple pie custard donuts could make anyone cry with joy. Her gingerbread houses every year are impeccable too, with unique flavors in each design element. The holiday season at our office is sweet enough to keep our biggest competitors friendly so they inevitably get invited to the big boss’s Christmas party. Baking well has its perks.

—

Is it just me or does your cake look better this morning?” my friend asks while opening up her breakfast yogurt and sitting down.

“What do you mean?” I ask, looking up from where I’m touching up the frosting on the cathedral shaped cake where the color seemed to disperse unevenly.

“The tower on it. It’s changed,” she says. Pointing at it with her spoon. I look to the side and realize she’s right. I definitely did not do that myself.

—

“Hey, I’m taking out a potential client to dinner tomorrow, any recommendations?” He asks casually while we’re going over each room in the project.

“She must be attractive if you’re the one taking her out,” I quip, looking up and smiling.

“She might be,” he says, lingering on my eyes.

“Have you been to Greene House yet? It’s amazing. Probably my new favorite place. Best desserts in town. Their pastry chef’s vanilla custard is what dreams are made of.” I feel a strange new bubble in my stomach from the eye contact.

“No, no I haven’t. Thanks,” he says while pulling up the menu on his phone. “I’m not a big sweets guy but this looks good.”

“I guess I can cross you off the possible suspect list I’ve been working on,” I say, immediately looking back to my computer. “Someone’s been taste testing my practice cakes. Honestly though,I’m just surprised you care for my opinion.” I try not to make it sound as whiny as I feel. I’m beginning to think the things he’s finding wrong with my suggestions are stacking up a little too high, and whoever is trying my desserts is attempting anything to bring the heat to my beloved bake off. To say I’ve been on edge lately is putting it mildly.

“I’ve always cared about your opinion. I just don’t care for your bad ones,” he responds with sincerity while still looking at his phone. Well that at least makes me feel a smidge better. Somehow.

—

“You have a new competitor in the Great Office Bake Off,” my friend leans into whisper in my ear as I set up. It’s competition day and NOW I’m finding this out?!

“Are you kidding me? Last minute like this?” I dust off my hands from the flour that came loose while transporting my bags to the counter where we were told to put our ingredients. I look up and lock eyes with him. “Since when does he know how to bake?”

—

“It was me you know,” he whispers in my ear conspiratorially. “I was the one trying your practice runs. They were amazing. I’m surprised you didn’t use that bourbon caramel you put on your pecan pie last week on your showstopper dessert. I tried not to make it obvious I tried anything but it wasn’t easy. Obviously I slipped up a couple times.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you said you’re not a sweets guy!” I playfully slap his shoulder. I feel happy to at least have this competition done and know my cake thief. We tied, which in my opinion when competing against the office teacher’s pet is way better than losing outright. “Well that explains us tying then. You make prettier desserts and mine taste better,” I continue, smiling up at him and seeing his face in a completely new light. The freckles, the dimples, the crinkles by his green eyes. At once the butterflies in my stomach swell to an impossible to ignore stampede against my heart. I take a deep breath and steady myself before asking, “How did your client meeting go the other night? Did you end up wooing her with the green tea tropezienne at Greene House?”

“We didn’t end up making it to dinner,” he says, face breaking into a disarming grin.

“Oh,” I say, looking down and focusing on my messy apron.

“What I mean to say is that she signed onto the project as soon as I sent her the work up. We’re starting next week. No wooing necessary.”

“Congratulations!” I almost shout with relief. I feel his hand brushing off some flour on my shoulder and it prompts me to look up at him. He proceeds to remove some from my nose with a stupid amount of focus. It feels like time is slowing down to a halt.

“But I still do very much want to try that dessert. I hadn’t even heard about it until it was our blind challenge today. Sounds doubly amazing if someone else is making it. And if it’s half as good as their spring rolls I had the other day..” he says, while carefully keeping eye contact.

“Wait, you went alone?” I cut him off for clarification as my brain stumbles through the painful realization that I actually like him.

“I went after work on Thursday hoping I’d run into someone there who said it’s their favorite,” he says, unable to keep from smiling as he finishes his admission.

“Let’s go right now, shall we?” I supply while beaming. Phew. I guess I wasn’t the only one feeling the tension.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He jumps up from the bench we’ve been seated on while clutching our matching flower bouquets and cute trophies. He pauses for a second, sets both of our winnings down and grabs my hands. At once he looks at me earnestly and with an impossible amount of adoration. I can feel my cheeks warm. “I really like you and I think we should call this a date. Is it okay if I kiss the rest of the flour off your cheek?” He asks, waiting impatiently for my response with a not so subtle foot tap.

I only manage to nod slowly. My blush grows deeper as he leans forward to do just that.

#sweet #one shot #romance #short story #rucha original

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improbable-outset · 3 years ago

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𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆

TF boys x fem!Reader

Word count: 930. Contains: Mentions of food and cursing (sorry couldn’t help myself there ಥ_ಥ)

Triple Frontier Masterlist || AO3 || Hey Bestie!

Scenario prompt: Character A has a favorite cake they haven’t had since their childhood. Character B spends the entire day before A’s birthday trying to replicate it. ❧By @oc-and-otp-ideas from their birthday prompts.

Dialogue prompts: “It's my birthday guys, please. Don't fight. Not today.” ❤︎ “Hey, I made you this cake! I hope you like it!” ❤︎ “You got her a fruitcake? On her birthday? What is wrong with you guys?” ❧By @inkandpaperxx from their birthday prompts

A/N: Yep finally reaching two decades of my life. Crying and throwing up rn now that I’m 20????😟. So here’s a little birthday fic that I’ve written. 🥳🤍🤍You’re all housemates in this AU and the boys can’t bake to save their lives.

Summary: It’s your first birthday as housemates and the boys went the extra mile to make your day special.

The local supermarket was always busy. It was the only supermarket that was the closest and since there were no other ones nearby, the people near your area had to rely on one for groceries and baked goods. Luckily for Benny and Santi, they both went just an hour before closing time, and thank fuck there was significantly less people, making it easier to get to the items that they needed for your birthday surprise the next day.

Benny placed the last pack of candles from the shelf into the shopping basket alongside a roll of wrapping paper. “I think that’s everything.” Benny sighed, exhausted from rushing and going out at the last minute. “We still need to get her a cake,” Santi reminded. The bakery section was at the back of the store with the fresh fruits and vegetables. You would always go there with one of them to pick up your favourite pecan plaits.

Unfortunately their luck didn’t last long when they noticed that most of the cake display was almost empty. All the best cakes were taken. Figured. “I knew we should’ve come earlier. Shit!” Santi seethed with annoyance.

“So what are we going to do now?” Benny asked, arms folded as they tried to think of a solution.

Earlier the next morning, just after sunrise, the four men were up in the kitchen preparing for your day, while you were still in your room, sound asleep. It wasn’t unusual for them to be up this early, retired from the military, old habits die hard.

“So did you get the cake?” Will asked while filling air into a balloon.

“Yeah… about that.” The room fell silent as Frankie and Will heard what the other two men had to say.

How could they possibly mess something like this up?

“By the time we actually went to the bakery section, they barely had anything good in stock. We only managed to get this.” Benny pulled out a fruit cake out of the plastic bag from yesterday and placed it on the table.

“You got her fruit cake?” Frankie said as he ran his hand over his locks “On her birthday? Pendejo! We can’t give her that. She doesn’t deserve a halfass cake.”

You did deserve better. You were the glue and the peace maker of the household, making sure any heated argument was settled. And after all that, somehow you still managed to tolerate living with them all at the same time. “Fish is right...” Will pipped in “she does deserve better, which is why we're not gonna just buy some cake from the grocery’s bakery” The other three men’s gaze were in Will now, confusion written in their faces.

“I remember her telling me one of her favourite cakes she hasn’t had since her childhood.” he started “If I could find a recipe online, Benny and Santi could quickly pick up the ingredients from the grocery store.”

Will pulled out his phone and went to search up the recipe of the cake that you loved.

“You’re not fucking suggesting that we actually bake a cake, are you?” Benny scoffed at the idea. Neither of them knew how to bake and they knew it.

“Come one hermano, how hard can it be.” Frankie gripped onto Benny’s shoulder as he spoke.

“Yeah, lighten up” Santi’s voice came from behind “if we follow the recipe, how hard can it be.” If they wanted it to go well, they had to be quick. You weren’t going to be asleep forever.

Meanwhile, the morning sunlight bled in your room through the gaps of the blinds. You were still knocked out in bed, sleeping in a little later than usual, and completely oblivious to the predicament downstairs.

You spent the night before with your mother who visited before she left town again. It felt good spending time with her before your birthday, even if it was for a short while.

Eventually, slumber slowly slipped away leaving you to rub your eyes as you allowed yourself to wake up and stretched your arms. You quickly freshened up in the bathroom but noticed the house was quiet. Too quiet. You would at least hear some shuffling or cutleries being arranged, preparing for breakfast. It felt like you were the only one in the house right now.

You made your way downstairs into the kitchen, barefoot on the cold tile floor. You had to hold back a giggle when you saw a few balloons on the floor and your four housemates crowding the dining table.

“Good morning boys-”

“Oh shit!” You heard Benny exclaim before they all turned to you.

You noticed the cake on the table with a thin piping bag in Frankie's hand and your heart swelled at the sight. You stepped a little closer to get a better look and the feeling increased by tenfold when you realised the type of cake it was. “Oh my God… is that-”

“Yeah, that cake you told me about, I found a recipe online and we tried to replicate it. Sorry about the mess.” Will said as he stepped closer to your side. Your name was written in white icing with Frankie’s chicken scratch handwriting, which topped it off beautifully. “It’s beautiful, I can’t believe you’ve really gone out of your way for this, thank you!” You beamed at them.

“And you wanted to give a fruit cake, huh?” Frankie piped up.

“Listen it wasn’t-“

“Please!” you interrupted Ben, holding your hands up to emphasise your stress. “It’s my birthday, no arguing. Not today.”

“Of course, hermosa.”

Tags and people that might be interested: @heythere-mel @queridopascal @queenofthefaceless @salome-c @anaaaispunk @athalien @marvelousmermaid @supernaturalgirl20 @veritable-trash @dinsangelx (let me know if you want to join the tag list)

Dividers by @maysdigitalarts and @firefly-graphics

Please don’t quote me on the title 😭. I’ve written a birthday fic before and it took me a long time to come up with a name then.

Anyways, stay safe and hydrated lovelies (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

#birthday fic #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #frankie ‘catfish’ morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #santiago ‘pope’ garcia #Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x reader #benny miller x you #benny miller x reader #benny miller #william ironhead miller x f! reader #william miller x you #will miller #william miller x reader #Ayrus writes

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princessmisery666 · 3 years ago

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Flirting With Mayhem

Summary: The graveyard shift is your favorite. The characters that wandered into the all-night diner are weird and wonderful, none more so than Opie Winston.

Warnings: fluff, slight smut, smidge of angst.

W/C: 2.8k

Characters: Opie Winston, Reader, Jax Teller, OC’s.

Pairing: Opie Winston x You (no descriptions of body type or ethnicity)

Bingos: @anyfandomangstbingo // @anyfandomgoesbingo Squares Filled: angst - “it’s not my blood, I swear.” // Batman Panties.

Notes: not specific to any season of the show. But Opie is single (not that being married ever stopped him anyway 😂!)

A/N: First time writing for Opie so a little nervous about this one.

Betas: @wonder-cole was a wonderful help as always // and@cockslut-padalecki saved me as always 🥰 // all mistakes belong to me.

Graphics: all by me.

Master Lists: Other Fandoms // AF Angst Bingo // AFG Bingo

The graveyard shift is your favorite. The characters that wander into the all-night diner are weird and wonderful. The regulars, Joe and Arthur, who prefer the world between midnight and dawn, have some of the most enchanting tales to tell. The stories you’ve heard a hundred times before never get old. Then there are the group of ladies that work at Harlot’s strip club two blocks over that always come in every Saturday and Sunday morning, full of energy; dancing to the music they stream from their phones and spending their tip money on mediocre coffee and whatever cake is on offer. You always make sure to bake an extra one and keep it aside especially for them.

Strangers appear every now and then. Groups of friends, families or people riding solo, just passing through, never to be seen again. Some have stories to tell, others keep to themselves and you always know how to decipher between the two. If someone wants to talk they sit at the bar, if not, they choose a booth.

Four-thirty on a typical Saturday morning. Joe and Arthur - the old-timers as you like to call them - occupy the stools at either end of the bar, frequenting the spots so often their ass groves are moulded to the faux leather. In all the time you’ve worked here, they’ve never once sat together because they are too stubborn and set in their ways to admit they are alike and crave the company of others. The ladies of Harlots, occupying their usual two booths nearest to the kitchen, are as boisterous and loud as ever, celebrating Lizzy’s engagement.

The bell above the door tinkles to announce a newcomer and you’ve become so accustomed to it; a latecomer from Harlot’s or Joe coming back in from having a cigarette, you don’t pay much attention until the room falls silent.

You pull your attention from the book you’d been reading to find the reason for the silencing in the form of a mountain of a man. As if his sheer height and overall appearance - baggy jeans, leather jacket, thick beard, beanie hat - aren’t enough to make everyone weary, the patches above the breast pockets of his leather waistcoat, emblazoned with the words ‘Men of Mayhem’ and ‘Redwood Original’, should’ve done the trick.

He reads the room, looking left to right and then spies you across the counter. He looks apologetic that he’s ruined the atmosphere and just as he twists his body to turn and leave, you give him a friendly smile and loudly ask the room, “what’s the matter?” He holds still a moment and you continue, “never seen such a glorious beard before?”

A few tense seconds pass but then it breaks; the newcomer chuckles before walking further inside, shrugging off his jacket as he goes; and everyone else returns to what they had been doing.

Mr Mayhem takes residence in a booth on the opposite side of the room to the rowdy women. Grabbing the coffee pot, you make your way over to him, and as you get closer you can feel his fatigue. You really look at him, past the clothes he wears and the stereotype your mind is stuck on knowing he’s a member of Samcro, and you see how brittle he is. He looks exhausted, not from lack of sleep but the kind of soul weariness tired of someone who’s carried the weight of the world too long and isn’t strong enough to hold it up anymore, or willing to pretend that he is.

He flips the coffee mug over when you stop at the edge of the table, and though he smiles, it’s empty in a way that makes you want to hug him until the light shines behind his eyes again.

“Thanks for that,” he nods toward the door and your previous rescue.

You wink, smiling down at him. “No problem, but I’m sure you could’ve taken ol’ Joe if he started somethin’.”

He chuckles. It lights his eyes for a moment but it burns out quickly. “I’m all out of fight, believe me.” He’s not joking anymore and you see the weight of whatever he’s carrying return in the slump of his shoulders.

“Can I get you anything else?” you ask, pouring the dark liquid into his mug, “the kitchen’s closed, but I’ve got homemade triple chocolate cake, red velvet or banana bread.”

He shakes his head. “It’s been a night,” he says with a heavy sigh, “I don’t have my wallet and I’ve got two dollars in my pocket, just the coffee is fine.”

“I’m Y/N, give me a shout if you need anything.” You give him a kind smile and leave him alone. After all, he’s sitting in a booth, which means he doesn’t want to talk, he was simply being polite for you having rescued him from an argument he didn’t want to have.

It doesn’t take long for the Harlot’s to check him out and you watch them each take a turn to ogle him and then share their opinions with the group. You can’t quite hear their assessments from where you are, which you’re grateful for as hopefully it means he hasn’t heard them either. He’s too deep in his faraway vacant brooding stare to notice much of anything else.

It’s nothing new. The girls like fresh meat to tease and play with, and it’s always a different one of the gorgeous women that has the balls to approach the latest prey unfortunate enough to have come in on a night they’re feeling especially rambunctious. Tonight, it’s legs for days Felicia, her plump lips always painted red and hair the colour of autumn leaves. She saunters toward Mr Mayhem, with mayhem on her mind, sashaying her hips and biting her lip.

She flashes you a wink on her way past and you give her a firm warning of, “don’t.”

She just wants to have a little fun but you know, even if she can’t see it, he isn’t the person for her to prey upon. She huffs and stops walking, turning a pout in your direction. Felicia and the others aren’t the types to cause trouble for you. They’ve been coming in long enough to have found a deep respect for you and you know she’ll back off if you ask her to.

“Not tonight,” you tell her softly, hoping Mr Gorgeous and Brooding doesn’t notice. “Leave him be, please.”

She rolls her eyes, “fine,” but then she hoists herself up on the counter to better lean over to plant a loud smacking kiss on your cheek. “Love you, chica,” she says and wipes her lipstick smudge from your skin before meeting her friends gathered at the door. They all call goodnight to you, Joe and Arthur and then it’s a flurry of scantily clad asses disappearing out the door into the dawn.

You clear up their table, shoving the generous tip they always leave into your apron pocket and collect their dirty mugs and plates into the tub. As always, before you need to enter the kitchen, you check on the customers who remain to ensure they have what they need until you return. Mr Broody is looking at you with a small smile and this one holds a small shimmer of light in his eyes. He has a kind and gentle smile, and for someone of his size and stature it makes you feel safe and warm instead of intimidated and afraid.

It’s that smile that makes you bold enough to put a slice of triple chocolate cake on a plate and take it to his table with the coffee pot to refill his mug.

“On the house,” you say when he begins a protest.

“Thanks, but I can’t.”

“Why not, allergic to chocolate or charity?” He chuckles and his grin remains once the lilting sound stops. “Besides you said you had no fight left in you, so no arguing Mr Mayhem.” His brow raises high and he smirks, an unasked question. “Well I don’t know your name and it’s written on your waistcoat,” you shrug, “so I made it up.”

He laughs loudly, his eyes crinkle at the corners. He really is beautiful. He lifts the waistcoat and explains, “It’s called a cut,” around his teasing laughter.

“And its owner,” you ask, “what’s he called?”

“Opie.”

You refill his coffee and chuckle. “Mr Mayhem is better.”

Someone who wears a badge declaring them as a Man of Mayhem must have a million tales to tell, but you stick to your rules; he’s at a booth and so wants privacy, therefore you leave him be once again.

Joe and Arthur leave at five fifteen, just like every other day, before the cook arrives to start preparing for the breakfast rush.

“G’night fellas,” you say when they both reach the door. Joe holds the door for Arthur to go out first and then he eyes Opie. But he’s in a world only he can see beyond the window.

“You gonna be alright?” he asks, lips pursed and a disapproving scowl.

“I’m good, Joe,” you say and love the old man that little bit more for being protective.

The exchange catches Opie’s attention and he gives a small wave to the old man. “I’m just here for some quiet.”

Joe still doesn’t look pleased leaving you alone with the brute of a man, but he accepts it, giving you one final nod and follows Arthur out.

You take Joe and Arthur’s dirty crocks to the kitchen and when you return Opie is gone, his two dollars on the empty plate that once had the cake on it. There’s not a crumb left. You hope that if he ever looks back on this night, the small act of kindness will bring him a smile.

The following shift is slow. The Harlot’s come in but only to grab a slice of cake while they wait for a cab to take them to an after after party. And you can set your watch by Joe and Arthur leaving at five-fifteen on the dot.

Though it’s not your job, you decide to set the tables for the breakfast rush, setting cutlery and mugs on all the tables. It will save Eileen a job and hopefully make her day a little easier. Your back is to the door when the bell chimes and you turn with a friendly smile to greet the customer only to see Opie staring at you.

He’s not wearing his beanie hat, hair slicked back and pulled into a tight bun, and damn you want to tug on it, use it as a steering wheel while the burn of his glorious beard scratches at your thighs.

His smile is lighter than the previous night. He holds up a ten dollar bill. “For the cake,” he says and walks to drop the cash on the countertop.

The motion pulls his cut and jacket back and you see blood stains on his shirt over his ribs.

“Are you okay?” you ask, rushing toward him. Concern clouds any rational thought and you lift his shirt up without thinking. There’s no wound but your eyes don’t quite believe it and your hand smooths down his ribs, just to be sure.

Goosebumps pepper his skin and Opie clearing his throat makes you jump. You hold still and slowly raise your head to look up at him, an apology for the intrusion ready on your tongue.

But his soft gaze renders you mute for a second. “It’s not my blood, I swear,” he whispers. In such close proximity his breath tickles the top of your head and makes a few stray hairs wave around.

“I can see that.”

He smiles, and that light you’ve been desperate to see behind his eyes is so bright and vibrant you don’t want to look away in case it disappears.

“That was so inappropriate,” you say, “I'm sorry.” Just as you pull your hand off his chest he quickly pulls it back, dwarfing your hand under his own he puts yours against his skin again.

The shrill echo of a siren sounds and the red and blue flash of the cops lights reflect around the diner walls. Opie’s face drops and he watches the car speed away out of the window.

“Are they looking for you?”

“Probably,” he replies, staring at the fading lights. “I thought I lost them.” It seems the coast is clear until the brake lights are a faraway dot then the car pulls a u-turn. “Fuck!”

You twist your hand on his chest to interlock your fingers. “Come with me, I have an idea.”

He hesitates for only a second before he nods and allows you to lead him into the back. Once the door closes, you pull off your shirt and tell him to do the same. He shrugs out of his cut and asks, “what’re you doing?”

You don’t answer, the siren is growing louder and closer. You unfasten your jeans and he watches you as you wiggle your hips to push them down.

“Do you wanna get caught?” you wonder aloud while he stares.

Opie quickly pulls off his shirt and once your jeans are off you step forward, unbuckle his belt and the top few buttons of his jeans.

“Y/N?”

The cop car is closer, there’s no time to explain.

“Trust me,” you say. He nods yes even though it wasn’t a question and you tiptoe to kiss him. It takes him by surprise, but he leans into it and his large hands grip your hips. He lifts you with ease and he carries you to sit on the nearest surface. All without breaking the kiss.

He rolls his hips and his hard cock rubs against your heated core. He’s a giant of a man, large hands pawing at your breasts, yet he’s gentle and soft.

You moan against his mouth when you grope his cock through the denim and you're glad you unfastened his jeans enough to be able to reach inside and wrap your hand around him.

His responding growl vibrates through you and he shimmies his jeans off his hips to free himself. Breathlessly, Opie breaks the kiss to press open mouthed kisses to your neck while you pump his dick.

“Fuck,” he groans against your ear.

The scratch of his beard against your skin tickles and ignites the deeper desire to feel it between your thighs. He reaches around your back to unclasp your bra and just as it pops open, the chime above the front door sounds.

It’s only now you notice the sirens have disappeared. You release your grip of him and Opie pulls you in tight against his chest. You both wait for the visitor to call out or announce themselves but there’s nothing for the longest of time.

“Yo,” someone calls, finally, “anyone around? Ope?”

Opie buries his head in your neck and laughs against your skin. He pulls back and kisses your lips quickly, “sorry,” he whispers before calling out, “yeah, in here!”

He steps back to tuck himself back into jeans and you refasten your bra. Opie finds your shirt and hands it back to you just as the kitchen door opens and a pretty blond guy appears.

“Damn Ope,” he says, shaking his head as if disappointed but his smirk says otherwise. “I leave you for five minutes.”

“Jax, Y/N, Y/N, Jax,” Opie introduces, putting on his own shirt.

“Pleasure darlin’,” Jax says, with a proud smile still in place, “he told me he was coming to pay a debt, I didn’t know it was that kinda debt.”

Opie shrugs, smiling at you but aims his statement to Jax, “I told you, it was some damn good cake.”

“Good service too,” the blond comments with a chuckle.

You roll your eyes at the exchange and jump off the countertop when Opie passes you your jeans.

“Sorry for the interruption, but I need to steal him, sweetheart,” Jax explains.

Opie sighs, “Give me a sec.”

Jax nods, checks your out head to toe once more and leaves again.

When you're both fully dressed, Opie steps closer to cup your face and kisses you. “If the cops had arrived,” he asks after a moment that isn’t long enough, “what was the plan exactly?”

You shrug and match his earlier smirk, “honestly, past kissing you I hadn’t thought it through.”

He laughs and reluctantly he leads you out of the kitchen to the main area. You walk him to the door and he kisses you breathless one more time.

You spy his money on the counter. “I didn’t give you your change.”

He smiles, bright and wide. “I’ll come get it tomorrow.”

You really hope he means it. He pushes the door open, but stops and turns back to look at you.

“One more thing,” he says, his brow raised, “are you wearing Batman panties?”

You totally forgot you’d put them on. One of the Harlot’s had brought them for you as a Christmas gag gift one year. It’s laundry day and that’s all you had left. You feel the heat under your cheeks but laugh it off. “Yes, I am. And last I checked his sidekick doesn't interrupt when he's in the middle of something.”

A rumbling laugh emits from his chest, “I’ll let my sidekick know he owes you too,” he winks and wets his lips.

“Just leave him home next time,” you suggest.

“Noted,” he agrees with a nod, “I’ll be back to collect my change tomorrow.”

“Counting on it,” you chuckle with a wink of your own.

#OpieWinston #Opie #SOA #SoA #anyfandomangstbingo #anyfandomgoesbingo #SonsOfAnarchy #opiewinston #soa #angst #fluff #smut #JaxTeller #Jax #JacksonTeller #Jax Teller #Jackson Teller

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extravaguk · 4 years ago

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sweets&ink

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / pjm / kth

pairing: tattooartist&tattoed!jungkook x baker!reader

summary: jungkook was everything you feared but exactly what you needed to heal your broken heart.

wordcount: 5k

genre: fluff - angst - smut (s2l!au)

rated: m (?

warnings: some cursing, mentions of past abusive/toxic relationships/trauma that might be triggering, a lil of making love at the end. it’s overall just suuper fluffy, trust me. jungkook is a s i m p. we love that for him! slow burrrnnnn.

Jungkook knows it was love at first sight, but doesn's know how to really explain it.

He knew from the moment he entered the small shop, pastel green walls welcoming him replete of sugary treats, a sweet and heavenly scent engulfing him as soon as he stepped a foot inside. With a new found sense of calmness and serenity within he hadn't experienced in a long time, he searched for deserts of his liking, mouth watering while assessing the many options of baked goods available and bright colored frostings stealing his attention.

"Hi. How may I help you?"

Then he looked up and found you. It wasn't easy to appreciate your whole appearence with the counter hiding the lower half of your body, but it was enough for Jungkook to think to himself that he had never seen a prettier girl in hiis entire life. And that's when he knew it. Any type of movement in his surroundings coming to a halt, his heart skipping a beat, his favourite song playing inside his head. And that particular sensation. The same one that had made him feel so at ease since he found your bakery. For a moment he thought his doe eyes might have actually turned into heart eyes until you raised your eyebrows, a concerned expression replacing your previous warm smile.

Blinking his eyes and clearing his throat, coming down from cloud nine into the real world, he stuttered his order as best as he coud manage, heart pounding inside his chest and later feeling mortified for not being able to pronounce "gingernap cookies" correctly.

At first he kind of hated Seokjin for blackmailing him into going to his favourite bakery to buy his favourite cookies (Jungkook really should've known better than accidentally spill ink all over Jin's new script), but when he comes back home with a goofy smile on his face and dreams of your face, he makes sure to text him he'll go get his cookies anytime he wants.

But Jungkook is a masochist apparently.

Because a week after your first encounter he realizes that not being able to get his mind off a girl he's literally only seen once in his entire life is not exactly normal. Not for anyone, but especially not for him. Realizes that the way he embarrassed himself in front of you and probably looked like a bluberring mess (or a creepy weirdo who had never interacted with any woman before) is not reason enough to not keep wanting to try again. And the way you just giggled at him and simply shook your head as you wrapped the ginger cookies he had asked for in a pretty packaging has kept him aching for more.

So he comes once a week now. Still as nervous as the first day, but content to see that your face seems to light up at the sight of him stepping through the door the same way his does. He likes to see you in your cute pastel dresses, and if he didn't know better he'd think you were just trying to keep up with the bakery's aesthetic. But the more he frequents your shop, the more he realizes you're exactly like the treats you bake. He likes how your vividly honeyed persona contrasts with his darker and reserved one. Likes how you're all colors of the rainbow and he's just a scale of greys.

They are small interactions. Just courtesy and cordial exchange of words everytime he visits. He doesn't even know your name and you don't even know his, but sometimes he asks how was your weekend and sometimes you ask how many people had he inked that week. Sometimes he tells you how pretty you look, and sometimes you blush in response. Sometimes you add an extra macaron in his order and sometimes he debates on whether or not he should write down his number on a napkin and slide in right on the countertop before he waves goodbye.

And although Jungkook has never been one to shy away from women, he feels a certain way he can't exactly pinpoint. A way that makes his confidence falter and leaves him feeling like a little kid who's afraid to confess to the girl he likes. Because as cliché as it sounds, you're not like any other girls he's ever met. You don't feel like any other girl he's ever met. Not the older than him, tattoed and pierced type of girl he's accustomed to; not the type of girl that's addicted to trouble and believe him (maybe even hoped) to be something he's not. So it takes a while for him to summon up enough bravery and determination. It takes weeks of pining and overthinking, and a single push from Yoongi ('stop being a fucking pussy and just do it') to ask you to have coffee with him.

"I... I'm sorry. I can't."

And it only takes those words leaving your mouth to shatter his heart into pieces.

It's fine though, he told you and himself. He wasn't going to be one of those guys who believed the 'friendzone' was an actual thing and tried his best to not make you feel uncomfortable, really tried his best to erase the guilt across your face as you rejected him. So he scratched the back of his head and mustered up a big smile before leaving the shop with a bag full of cupcakes and an unsettled stomach.

Letting out a deep breath you didn't even know you were containing, you observe as the handsome stranger exits the shop. Running a hand through your hair before gripping the counter with your hands, you try to steady the heavy throbbing insde your chest.

The boy in question had been unknowingly tormenting you and flooding your mind with thoughts of him for almost two months now. That day you first had spotted him eyeing the desserts in display in amazement and then you in the very same way. It was sudden and precipitated, but it had almost made your head spin, something you hadn't felt in a long time unexplainable tugging at your insides.

You had kept your cool as best as you could, as best as you had taught yourself in the past. Wrapped those cookies he had asked and then waved goodbye, hoping under your breath he wouldn't come back but silently wishind he would. But then he did. He came back once. And then again. And again, and before you realized he had become a frequent costumer. Trying whatever treats you'd recommended him, creating small talk, sending friendly smiles here and then.

You had learned to expect him at the very same time, the very same day of the week; had learned to manage the fluttering in your tummy and the reddish warmth spreading through your cheeks whenever the eye contact was prolongued. Everything was innocent, it was brief and, most importanly, it never went beyond, even if sometimes you hoped it did.

However, after all these years, there was still something you hadn't learned to control yet. And as he spoke, clearly nervous, hesitant and clearly out of his comfort zone, wondering out loud if he could ever treat you to a coffee sometime, your body shut down. The fondness and excitement you had been harboring over the last few weeks quickly replaced by that which made you want to recoil, made you want to back to your well to let its darkness and loneliness envelop you.

That horrible and ugly wave of crippling fear and axiety all mixed together; a little monster that you had successfully concealed, now displaying its ears in warning and the same smile that had been haunting you for years, now advising you, reminding you and most of all, threatening you, to go back to your own comfort zone. And so, powerless, there was nothing else you could really to but to comply, muttering an apology and a rejection that probably pained you more than it pained the boy in front of you.

You knew you did the right thing, but it definitely didn't feel like it.

Especially a week later, as you expected his arrival- as always, ready with a tray full of fresh baked scones you had particularly made just for him, but were left severely disappointed when time passed and he was nowhere to be seen. Or two weeks later, after spending an extra hour making cake pops that you had specifically designed with him in mind (covered in dark chocolate and white sprinkles), only to realize it was closing time and that he never even showed up.

To say you were bummed was an understatement. You knew you always looked forward to him coming in every week to grace your day with a smile and a polite talk, but you didn't come to terms with how much you would miss it until now. So three weeks later, you still bake with him in mind, trying not to lose hope but still chastising yourself for not being brave enough and accepting his offer. It was just a coffee date, for God's sake, not a marriage proposal! Trying to busy your mind with work and customers coming in and out, even if your eyes dart in anticipation everytime you hear the door swinging.

When hours pass and the sun hides to make room for the moon and stars into the sky, you look at the clock and, with a defeated sigh, finish cleaning and tidying around the shop. But before you can gather your things, the door swings open and there stands the stranger you had been praying to see again.

"Am I too late?" he asks, and you don't exactly know but can tell his words hold a double meaning. You smile, a genuine smile, because he looks bashful with a hand scratching the back of his head like he had done the last time you saw him, and because there's a warm sensation spreading through your chest, like your heart is smiling for you.

"I was about to close, but I can make an exception." you accomplish to say and surprisingly don't sound as nervous as you feel. He mirrors your smile as he walks closer to the counter. "So, what would you like?"

That takes him by surprise because he really had nothing in mind when he decided to come here and now he feels like an idiot.

"Uh, um... I would like... maybe cupcakes?" he sounds like an idiot too. But you nod and smile at him and start gathering his cupcakes into a polka dot cardboard box.

"You missed the cake pops I made last week." you say, trying to keep your voice in check as he hands you his credit car. "I think you would've liked them."

"Ah, sorry... Work has been really hectic." and even if it's true, it's also true the fact that he chickened out and was frightened to face you again. He likes how even when you're alluding to his absence, there's not a malicious tone behind your words. He likes how you're still smiling at him even after he's been acting like a pussy for two weeks. But that's why he's here. "I also would like to apologize for... you know. I didn't-...If I made you feel uncomfortable, I'm really sorry."

With your eyebrows raised, your smile dissipates. "What? No, you didn't do anything wrong, really. It's not- It's not that. I just...can't." you stumble through words, trying to explain how much you actually wanted to go to that coffee date, to get to know his name and more of himself, but unavailable to. You can feel it again. The same anguish that always seem to creep up on you and numbs you altogheter. But him, worriedly sensing your distress, waves his hands in front of him.

"No, no. It's fine, you don't have to explain anything! It's alright!" his smile seems to soothe you and you return his smile in gratitude. "Anyways, I'll... I'll get going. See you next week?"

You nod, anticipation already making its way into you. "See you next week." and then he takes the box filled with cupcakes and says goodbye. Before he can open the door though, a tingle of impulsivity and fearlesness makes you say:

"I'm _____, by the way."

He pauses, clearly taken aback.

"Jungkook."

Jungkook hasn't stopped repeating your name in his head ever since you gave it to him, grinning like a fool and thinking about how good it sounds next to his. He hasn't stopped frequenting your bakery either and has lost count on how much money he's spent on muffins and whatever else you sell. He doesn't care though. All he cares about is how much likes seeing you even if it's only for fifteen minutes in your floral dresses, and as long as you keep looking like you're glad to see him every time, then he's fine.

He's more than fine. He feels amazing. Sings tunes while he works on customers, feels his creativity flowing more than ever and he feels whole. It still baffles him how a minimun interaction with you once a week can make him feel on top of the world.

He's got a bouquet of white and pink lillies next time he visits, so sappy and romantic he doesn't even recognize himself. He doesn't tell you he googled their meaning and his mind instantly associated them with you. Purity is exactly what he thinks of you and admiration is exactly how he feels about you. Hands it to you and the surprised look on your face and the spreading of pink all over your cheeks makes his heart burst. You thank him and he tells you he didn't know what your favourite flower is. You answer it's carnations. He writes it down somewhere in his mind, for next time. And then you're the one surprising him.

"Would you like to have coffee sometime?"

There's uncertainty in your voice that doesn't go unnoticed by him, and for a moment he thinks he's dreaming. He's cool with what he's got right now with you, but you repeating his words back to him makes him feel euphoric, like he can't believe it. He knows he looks dumb, the way he's looking at you.

Completely dumbfounded. He stutters like the first same he met you, but he says yes (omits the part where he tells you he could almost die). You exchange number in each other's phones with shaky hands, set the day and hour, and then wave each other goodbye.

You instantly regret it as you watch him leave. Keep regretting it the following days. That voice in your head telling you 'it'll happen again', telling you fairytales didn't exist and this most likely wasn't one, even if it felt like it was, suffocating you like it had done many times before. Screwing with your head until you consider canceling.

But you power through it, like you had taught yourself to do. This time it's harder though. Because this time there's a new romantic interest at hand, one that's making you feel things you buried a long time ago and made you swear to yourself you'd be smarter and stronger than any man could.

It's Hoseok's encouraging words that help ease the panic. It was also Hoseok's words who encouraged you to ask Jungkook out. Said you deserved something good for once and that you couldn't close yourself to love your entire life.

Thought it was time for you to write a new chapter after a rather sad one.

So on Saturday, Jungkook insists on picking you up and it already feels like too much for you. Especially when he shows up with a bouquet of carnations in his hand and a smile that takes your breath away and definitely doesn't help to ease your nerves.

Takes him by surprised how pretty you look. maybe because it's the first time he's seen you out of your shop and even though you're still loyal to your clothing style, he still fumbles with his words like an idiot to try to express how beautiful you look. Seeing he's as much of a mess as you settles you a little bit. Then he takes you to a cute café that almost makes you laugh, because seeing him, inked arms and piercings and a closet that consisted mainly of black oversized t-shirts and pants in such a bright environment reminds you of the first time he entered your shop.

You're surprised to see how well the conversation rolls, how easy it is to talk to him beyond the usual brief interactions you two have. You like how he makes you laugh and how he seems to love hearing it. You like how his attention is solely focused on you, even if his gaze on yours sometimes feels too intense and his overall character intimidates you. You like how soft spoken he is, how careful he is with words and the sound of his voice. Sounds like a lullaby without melody.

And when the date is over, he drives you home, walks you to your door and respectfully wishes you a good night. You kiss him on the cheek spontaniously before hiding the embarrassment on your face and stepping inside your home. You miss the way he stays at your doorstep for a whole minute before getting in his car and driving himself home. You also miss how peacefully he sleeps that night, dreaming of cupcakes and you. You don't miss the heart emoji he sends you before going to bed, making yours quiver.

You're glad you didn't cancel, and now you're sure you don't regret it at all

It goes on. The dates, getting to know each other more and more, Jungkook's visits to your shop and spending way too much money on sweets and carnations, the butterflies in your stomach everytime he's near and the birth of something inside of you that's starting to make you feel alive after feeling dead for so long.

It's still new, still wholesome, moves in slow motion. You're glad Jungkook doesn't push, doesn't ask for anything, never demands more than a kiss on the cheek everytime he drops you off. He is nothing like he looks like, you realized that right away.

But with every brand new beginning that requires feelings like this, especially as unique and exceptional as the ones Jungkook is causing within you, comes the evil monster trying to scare you off, to make you back off and remind you that not everything that shines is gold. The voice inside your head that keeps bewitching you back into a dark room, reminder in your head everytime that one day Jungkook will want more. He'll want more and you might not be ready to give it to him.

A voice that keeps resonating and has kept you unmoving for the past few years and now is making you feel more frightened than ever.

You've been more quite than usual and Jungkook can tell something is not quite right. It's a friday night, and after having dinner that he insisted on paying, he decided this time to drive you away, to a secluded space somewhere where you both can appreciate the city lights on the hood of his car. He can tell, so he asks you, but you give a vague answer. He wants to ask again, but he's afraid of overstepping your boundaries. He wants to get to know you in every level, want's to scratch the surface until he can see everything. He wants to learn you inch by inch. Wants to love every part you bare to him, because he's sure he will.

"My ex partner was abusive."

You finally say with a voice that's not entirely yours, and it doesn't feel real. Doesn't feel real to say out loud and letting the words sink in. It's taken all this time of excusing behaviors that were not excusable, trying to make light of a situation that wasn't and blaming yourself for things that you were not to blame for. Jungkook stays silent, but his attention immediately focused on you as soon as you spoke. Eyes slightly wide and mouth starting to open as if to speak himself. But you go on.

"Not physically." you swallow a lump in your throat. "Sometimes he would throw things at me, but they didn't always land. Or... one time he pushed me while we were arguing. Never raised his hand at me though. It was mostly psychological and emotional. He was extremely jealous and possesive. Didn't like me hanging with my friends, would never bring me to hang out with him and his friends. Though I' was cheating on him with anyone. The cashier at the supermarket, a randome dude on the street that simply looked at me. Anyone." tears prickle your eyes, but you'd learned to hold them back.

"He would always get mad at me. Would already wake up angry and take it out on me. Without reason. Would always blame me for everything. He would get mad, insult me, call me any terrible name you can imagine, tell me I wasn't worth shit. That I wasn’t worth living.Then he would punch the wall, or break whatever was in sight. Everytime, I told him I was terrified of him. Would cry in a corner and beg him to stop. Sometimes he would just laugh at me for it." you sniff, still looking straight at the city lights, and trying to keep a composed tone throughout. You had grown up a lot since then, and you knew Jungkook deserved to know you. He deserved to understand.

"Then he would calm down, apologize while he cried and promised he loved me and would change. He never did. It took me a long time to finally walk away, but the demons still haunt me to this day. You," you choke, because comparing your ex to the guy currently sitting next to you was like day and night, like heaven and hell. "You make me feel things I've never felt before. I always felt like asking for respect was asking for too much. And then here you come, like a knight on shining armour ready to sweep me off my feet. It felt like a dream. Still does..."

Jungkook's hands are balled into tight fists, his whole body rigid as he listened to you. His own heart breaking, like he could feel himself inside you and experiencing your own heartbreak. His blood's boiling, jaw so tight and eyes blinking. Pushing down his anger, because this is about you not him, he lets his body relax before sliding your hand in yours.

"I like you so much,_____, it literally kills me at night how much. Not as much as hearing all of this, though. From the moment I saw you, I was whipped. I wanted and still want to give everything I can to see that smile of yours. It's me the one who can't believe you're paying me any attention at all." you're still not looking at him, but he still sighs in relief when your lips quirk up. "Just having you here next to me and letting me take you out on dates is more than enough for me. Whatever you give me, whatever your terms are, I'm content with that. You're healing, and while you do, I'll be right here."

You look at him now, not bothering to hide the tears streaming down your face anymore.

"What if I never heal completely?" there's fear in your voice as your eyes meet his, but just the dark brown in his gaze help you feel secure, less worried about the future and more serene about the now.

"I'll still be here."

It doesn't take long for you to call it love.

Not when Jungkook keeps proving himself to be so different and so special. Not when his gestures never cease to make you feel so special, so worthy of recieving and sharing love. Because Jungkook makes you feel invincible, makes you feel one in a million.

"What to you even see in me? We're like, polar opposites." you ask him one day. And it's true, you are. So different from each other, yet the same. He laughs in disbelief, shaking his head, still holding your hand in your doorstep about to kiss your cheek goodnight.

"I see everything." he simply says, eyes boring into yours in adoration. "I see the sun, and the moon, the stars, the entire galaxy when I'm with you." your heart clenches as he interlaces his fingers with yours. "Before I met you, I felt like I was blind. Like I was lost and was looking for an exit that I couldn't find. But then I saw you, in your little bakery, with your cute dresses and those eyes, and it was like my eyes opened for the first time. Everything made sense. Everything has been filled with so many colors ever sinc-"

You shut him with your lips on top of his, emotions pulling at your heartstrings the same way you pull him down by the neck. He takes a few seconds to respond, but then this hands are dropping to your waist, their warmth immediately spreading through your skin against the chilly night.

"Would you like to come in?" you whisper, breath fanning over his lips. He nods, hurriedly, and he knows he looks like a damn idiot for the hundredth time, but he doesn't care. Because coming in doesn't only mean stepping in your home. Coming in means you're letting him in. Means you trust him, means you want him there, means you're allowing him inside your heart.

Again, Jungkook doesn't expect nor demands much. Your presence is everything he needs. You kissing him is like winning the lottery to him. Like completing a marathon, like climbing the Everest, like getting his first tattoo. Kissing you is sweet, fills him with something strong that makes him feel on drugs, like nothing matters but you and him. Like nothing has ever mattered to neither of you.

So it's you who leads him to your room, it's you who straddles his thighs and pushes his hair back as his hands carress your sides. It's nothing fiery. It's slow, tentative, and full of care. Of lingering touches, low sighs against each other's mouths.

It's you who reaches inside his shirt, hand sneaking past the hem of the fabric and trembling cold fingers coming in contact with firm skin. It's also you who asks for more with a small roll of your hips. It's you who asks him to take his shirt off. It's him who complies. Still tells you you don't have to, you tell him you want to.

It's you who asks him to touch you. He's scared like he's never been, because you're you, and you're so perfect and everything he's ever wanted and suddenly he's afraid of you're too good for him. Jungkook only wants to make you happy, never wants to see you cry, just wants to treat you the way you deserve.

It's you who begs.

It's you who tells him you need him. Need him take care of you, need him to show you much you're worth, need him to help you write a new chapter, probably even a new book where you're both the main characters and nobody else has ever existed. You say it with tears in your eyes, and he's quick to kiss them away, tongue entangling with yours. He's quick to undress you as well, with hands that still ask for permission even after you've granted it already. Hands and lips that are also quick and eager to learn your body, to find every mole in your skin as he lays you back to look at you in admiration. He keeps kissing you. From head to toe, muttering praise, making sure every 'beautiful' and 'gorgeous' and 'perfect' that leave his lips stay fire engraved in your being forever.

He first makes you cum with careful fingers and skilled tongue, thighs wrapped aro around his head, eyes still looking for yours as his hands keep your body still and yours crumple the sheets beneath. Tells you how good you taste, how long he's been dying to have you like this. Tells you this you his favourite sight as he kisses his way up.

You beg him again, asking him to please, please, fill you up. He groans against your mouth and he tells you again, you don't have to. He says he's happy like this. Repeats he's in no rush and just wants to please you and make you feel good. That it's about you, and will always be about you. You beg him again, and again and again, enticing him with a trail of wet kisses down his neck, up to his eralobe. You whisper there, tell him you need him to fill you with his cock so bad. His whole body goes rigid as your legs wrap around him, legs pulling him closer to where you want him, his erection grazing your entrance and his teeth nibble your lower lip.

Jungkook doesn't move for a while, eyes closed shut, jaw clenched and head buried in your neck. He doesn't move because his mind is somewhere else keeping him stagnant, pussy wrapping around him so good and wet and tight he's about to bust. Takes a while for him to move, but when he does he makes sure to grip your thighs around him, keeping you close, never wanting to let go as he tells you you were made just for him. Just for him. Tells you how good you feel. He tells you he loves you. Kisses your lips as you sob, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He tells you he loves you. Tells you he'll love you forever and will always keep you safe and happy.

You're crying now, cheeks wet and he stops for a moment to look at you, concern written all over his face as his hands craddle yours, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "We can stop, baby." You shake your head no. Pull him back into another kiss, urging him to go on. You tell him you love this, love him so much. That it's a good thing. That they are happy tears. That you've never been happier. And then his hips start moving again, your words egging him own, soft whimpers and sobs leaving each other's throats until you cum at the same time.

He then removes himself from you, rolling onto your side but he's quick to pull your body close, arms wrapping around you and lips kissing away the wet stains on your cheeks.

It doesn't take long for you to know Jungkook would be the healthy forever and after you had always dreamed of.

#THE FEEELS BRUH #aaaaaa #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #jungkook fic

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zukuist · 4 years ago

Text

appeal

“y/n decides to make an impromptu cupcake for the class’ angry boy. thing is, they’re bad at making food appeal to the eye. then comes in the said angry boy and.. yeah”

fandom/s: 僕のヘロアカデミア // boku no hero academia (bnha)

includes: k. bakugō (x reader)

your name is shortened to y/n, gender neutral, lowercases intended

note: so like.. it was his birthday yesterday and omg i completely missed it because of school >:( anyways, have this thing i whipped up. also there’s no editing soskdw sorry if this is bad

—

out of the many things you have done so far, this wasn’t definitely not the smartest.

sure, your inner conscience tells you that this would be considerate, and it would’ve been a.. kind gesture towards the upcoming birthday boy.

which is why, you managed to sneak out of your dorm past curfew, a few cooking ingredients that you bought 2 days ago in your arms, as you quietly trot downstairs, and into the kitchen.

you had an internal fight with yourself on why this would be a magnificent idea in the first place. the said upcoming birthday boy being bakugō katsuki, the class’ most feared, and definitely the one with the lowest amount of tolerance with sugary sweets.

so, why did you decide on making him a cupcake?

it’s logical. first, making a small piece of chocolate would be too small for a birthday gift, and he’d probably cackle at your face, if he saw that a piece of chocolate was his birthday gift

not saying that he wouldn’t laugh at you if you didn’t give him a piece of chocolate. the blond would still ridicule you regardless.

and second of all, bakugō despises cake. if he was presented with a large cake on his birthday, he’d probably pay no mind to the time taken to make it, and stomp on it heartlessly.

plus, the class all decided to make him a cake behind his back, so.. why would he need two?

and third of all, you.. have feelings for him. you’ve never actually said it out loud, it just simply haunted your mind for the past several months. you banged your head against your table when you realized that you’ve developed feelings for him.

him, out of all people.

you wouldn’t say that you’re.. nice to him. you have a comeback every time he throws an insult at you, and you take some time out of your day to beat his ass (which is 50/50 when it comes to results)

for once, you decided that you wanted to do something nice. after all, you don’t recall him being necessarily ‘mean’ to you on your birthday

and in bakugō terms, that just meant that he didn’t insult you for an entire day, and instead, ignored you. which you weren’t sure if that was any better.

you’ve thought of things like writing him a letter, buying him spice packets for food and.. getting him whatever he asked for?

you’ll settle with baking a cupcake. you don’t feel like being ordered around right now

it wouldn’t hurt to try, right? you just have to hope that the oven wouldn’t ‘ding’ too loudly, and you just have to rely on your luck that aizawa-sensei wouldn’t walk into the kitchen and see you make a chocolate-vanilla butter cream cupcake.

luckily, the oven doesn’t ‘ding’ loudly, you can thank yaoyorozu for making a quiet oven, just because of mina and kaminari’s late night cooking antics. you pull out the cupcake from the oven with mittens, and you’re just left.. staring.

“that.. can’t look right.” you quirk your head in confusion, “i followed everything in this recipe. why does it look like that?”

the cupcake looked nothing like what you’ve imagined. you had all the ingredients, read through the entire recipe, and you did everything correctly.

however, the cupcake was separated, split down the middle with what looked like.. bubbles? it looked disfigured, and definitely something that was incredibly inedible.

bakugō would never eat this. he would think that you poisoned it!

you hear foot steps echo through the hallway that would connect to the common room, and you panic. just.. panic. you quickly shuffle to disregard the cupcake liners, the chocolate mix, and most especially the sorry excuse of that cupcake.

a voice that’s familiar, well known, and one that strikes humiliation into you fills your ears “oi, which extra is baking in the middle of th—”

scarlet eyes settle on you, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. you can’t help but notice the mop of disheveled ash blond hair, lacking it’s usual spikiness.

which you would’ve teased him about but.. not with what you’re caught with. the situation can’t be turned onto him.

you’re expecting him to just turn around and walk away, tsking in annoyance, but you don’t hear the echo of his foot steps “what the hell are you doing?” he questions you, straight on

you look down on the cupcake, well.. ‘cupcake’ you’ve just made, and you lift your head at him once again. “happy.. birthday?” you greet, “i was making a cupcake.”

he ignores the fact that it is his birthday. “it’s midnight.”

“i’m aware, bakugō.”

“aizawa’s going to beat your ass when he finds out that you’re— no but, what the fuck is that?”

it dawns onto you that he has seen your sorry excuse of a cupcake. your cupcake for the most part is.. put together? besides the messy frosting planted on top of the cupcake, there’s a tiny patch of unbaked cupcake batter, which is a sore to look at (and not in the good way.)

you’d say it looks like a bland batch of casserole but heck, even bland casserole looks better than this

“a cupcake..?”

“ugh. why didn’t you just get some from the fuckin’ convenient store?” he interrogates you for some reason, and it seems to be that the sleepiness from his eyes washed away.

“you’re acting as if you’ve never had a bad batch of food in your entire life!” you half yell, half shout, surprisingly still aware that if you were to raise your voice by an octave, aizawa-sensei would’ve definitely heard it.

“i haven’t. i’m just a fuckin’ natural at cooking.” he rolls his eyes in annoyance, but you’re just annoyed that he’s bragging.

and the fact that you had no source of food rebuttal, and the fact that there’s not a single case of imperfection in bakugō’s cooking record.

“look,” you sigh, looking at the failed cupcake. “you weren’t supposed to see this, at all. i was going to trash this and go to bed.”

“and?? i don’t see any deathly important appeal to a cupcake.” he stares down, observing how the icing was almost about to drip onto the clean counters.

“yeah, but it was a cupcake i made for your birthday!”

aaand that was it. that was totally it. you should’ve kept your mouth shut, and you should’ve just threw the entire thing in the trashcan, and sprint past bakugō, hoping that bakugō would think that he was having some sort of freakish nightmare.

he doesn’t say anything, and you can’t find it in yourself to look at him, even though you normally didn’t have an issue with that. you can hear him navigate through the dim kitchen, and you can feel him observe your ‘cupcake.’

“there’s no visual appeal whatsoever.” his voice is low, eyes averting to the ingredients on the kitchen island, meaning that he acknowledged that the ingredients used weren’t necessarily.. incorrect.

“yeah, figures,” you grumble, ready for another insult to be slammed into your face, and the salt to be rubbed merciless against the wound that was on your ego

but, it never came. “but, i suppose i could try it.”

“you can’t be serious.” you look at him, startled by the sudden suggestion, “don’t food poison yourself.”

“it’s my birthday, i can do whatever the hell i want.” he glares at you, ruby eyes zeroing in on you, and the cupcake.

“oh, well..” there was no way you were going to contradict him. you make a cupcake for his tasting only, so you’d guess that it was right of him to want to taste it, even if it did look horrendous in visual appeal

you shuffle around for a fork in dim lighting, and he stops you, “if aizawa sees a fork in the sink, he’s going to chomp your head off.”

right.. aizawa-sensei would definitely punish someone over an unwashed fork. “so, you want to eat this with your hands? that’s unlike you.”

“i have better ideas,” and before you could question what those said ideas even are, a piece of cupcake is shoved into your mouth, icing smeared all over the side of your mouth, as bakugō smashed his lips against yours

you stumble in surprise, and bakugō’s movements are agile, quick to press you against the kitchen counter swiftly, warm hands are firm against your sides, and his tongue eagerly collects the sweetness of the icing that was shoved into your mouth, his lips moving alongside yours with an inconsistency

but nonetheless, it’s exhilarating.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left with wide eyes, questioning what the hell just occurred, and why bakugō katsuki just decided to shove a piece of your cupcake into your mouth, and take it with his mouth

“the visual appeal isn’t the worst thing, and the taste isn’t bad.” he comments, “oh, and the cupcake lacks visual appeal.”

your cheeks flush with heat at the implication.

“thanks for the birthday gift.” he smirks with satisfaction, and before you could yell at him, he’s gone.

and then, your legs give in, and you fall down onto the floor, utterly stupefied

—

bonus :

“y/n! are you going to join us?” midoriya asks, obviously referring to bakugō being surrounded by all of your classmates, and being forced down into blow the cake’s candles.

“uh.. in a bit.” you smile with reassurance. midoriya seems to doubt you for a second, but he’s dragged away before he could ask for a follow up question.

you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened just a few hours ago. and what was painful was that he was totally smug about it!

on the outside, he looked well.. himself? but whenever no one was looking, he’d throw that.. look on you!

curse him.

bakugō finished blowing out the candles, after many protests, and when everyone is left to chatter to themselves, sero takes the initiative to ask the question first, “uh.. is y/n okay? they seem.. quiet.”

bakugō glances over onto you, and you tense, just knowing that he’s looking at you. “don’t be worried about that dumbass. they’re all shy about something.”

while kaminari and kirishima perk up at the word ‘shy’ in excitement, and they bombard him with inquires. bakugō eyes shift onto you once again, secretly thrilled just thinking about when would be the next time he’ll be alone with you again.

just so he can scold, and most especially tease you about visual appeal

—

#will edit later #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #mha x you #🖋epiphany.writes #bakugou’s birthday #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugou imagine #bnha headcanons

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

Text

Sweeter than Strawberries | Jungkook

→ summary: at euphoria bakery, seasonal changes also bring seasonal menu items. when you find out that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake was phased out after the end of summer, it takes only one puppy eyed look from you for jeon jungkook to make it for you anyway—just don’t tell his boss about it, alright?

→ genre: bakery!au, s2l, fluff → warnings: none unless you count the fact that i’m writing shy!jungkook again :^D, we love mutual pining in this house ex dee → words: 4.5K → a/n: this was commissioned by @ihatemathanal!! i was super stoked to write this bc it’s really cute and sometimes it’s nice to just write happy fluffy things every once in a while (aka zee is turning into a fluff writer jfc) it got a lil longer than it was supposed to, but that’s bc i got carried away lol anyway i hope you guys enjoy!! (ps: this also works for the bgw bingo so... tyg for s2l fics!! let’s get it!!)

For the most part, the beginning of autumn is usually your favorite time of the year. When the tree leaves begin to yellow and the air gains a significantly colder bite, this signifies the end of pit stains and sweaty thighs and the start of sweater paws and chapped lips. Above all, you are most excited, of course, for an excuse to gorge yourself on steaming mugs of hot chocolate, paired with delicious mountains of warm gooey brownies.

For the most part, these are all things that often get you excited for the coming chill. What you do not think to remember, however, is that while these seasonal changes bring more good than bad, there still remains a little snag: a small oversight, if you will. As businesses all over the world begin the annual transition to the colder months, so does your favorite bakery across the street from your university. After all, summer ingredients grow scarcer as the year nears its end, so it’s understandable for bakeries to switch up their menu to keep up with both the supply and demand.

What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, long story short—

Your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake is about to get phased out. No, scratch that—it’s already been phased out, right from under your very nose, no less!

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. You have always known it was a specialty drink; your best friend had even been the one to introduce it to you just near the end of your summer classes:

“This is Euphoria Bakery,” Namjoon had said with a smile, waving cheerily at the two boys manning the till. You heard him chuckle in amusement when your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, staring longingly at the sweet treats and baked goods lining the display case.

Namjoon had stolen your attention away, however, when he pointed to the chalkboard menu on the wall. As it turned out, the bakery also doubled as a cafe, serving the usual coffees and teas while also making the occasional specialty drink for different seasons or holidays. The chalkboard was decorated beautifully, the menu items written out in neat cursive with tiny little doodles littering its margins. On one of the boards, there was a new drink item being advertised in bold pink letters—a great summer treat!—or so it said.

“Jungkook-ssi, can you get me and Y/N a strawberry shortcake milkshake? Extra whipped cream for me, please!” Namjoon called out to one of the boys, startling the younger of the two. The boy, Jungkook, must have been busy fiddling with the cash register that he hadn’t noticed your arrival.

“N-Namjoon-hyung? Sorry, I was just busy counting the money—” Jungkook stopped short in his speech, his tongue getting caught in his mouth when his eyes landed directly on you. He had made a strangled sound, like he had swallowed his spit too quickly and was struggling to regain his composure. “H-Hello?”

You realized belatedly that he must have been greeting you, as you had been distracted by his fidgetiness. His nervousness was cute, if a little bit contagious; you couldn’t help feeling anxious too, like your heart was missing every other beat, even though you had no reason to be. “Hello! My name is Y/N. It’s my first time coming here, but Namjoon says your new summer menu item is really good? I wanted to try it out for myself.”

Jungkook nodded, still staring wide-eyed at you as if in a trance. You expected him to start... well. You weren’t an expert on how bakeries or cafes are run, but you were pretty sure he should’ve started doing something after you had spoken, perhaps ring up your order on the register, or start working on your drinks. Instead, he’s still frozen in place, like he’d somehow short-circuited within the last two minutes.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed his odd behavior because the man working with him suddenly pushed Jungkook to the side, a brief smirk flashing across his face before it was quickly replaced by a more subdued, professional smile.

“Sorry about him. He’s usually my best baker, but sometimes he can get a little... distracted when he’s confronted with sweet things,” the man said nonchalantly, but it seemed that his innocent-sounding comment had embarrassed Jungkook greatly.

“Jimin-hyung!” Jungkook whined, stomping his foot not unlike a bunny. If you squinted a little bit, you could definitely see the resemblance.

Namjoon, who had been quietly watching everything unfold, chose that moment to pipe up. “Oh, I see. I didn’t know you had a type, but after thinking about it—” Namjoon shot a surreptitious glance at you, before turning back to Jungkook with a teasing grin, “—I can definitely see why.”

At the time, you had no idea what was going on, mostly confused as to why Jungkook had suddenly become so red-faced while Namjoon and Jimin giggled like a couple of high school girls. It seemed like you were somehow the main reason for his embarrassment, so you were quick to poke Namjoon in the stomach, effectively silencing him.

“Hey! Stop teasing the poor boy. He’s just being nice,” you said, pointing a soft smile back at Jungkook. “Sorry about him. I’m sure you’re an excellent baker, judging from how wonderful and cute all these cakes on the display look.” Somehow, your praise had only made Jungkook’s cheeks brighten even further. He cleared his throat as if to say something in response, before changing his mind and scuttling away to the back room instead.

“I’m going to start making your milkshake! D-don’t mind me!” He called out from behind the door, causing Jimin to finally break down into raucous giggles, nearly doubling over from his own mirth.

“Aish, that kid. He never learns, huh…” Jimin sighed, but the smile on his face is kind—the sort of fond look an older brother might have for his kid brother. He turned back to you and Namjoon with that lingering softness as he rang the two of you up, before chatting idly with you as you waited for Jungkook to finish making your drinks.

“I’ve never seen you around, Y/N-ssi. Jungkook—sorry, I meant I definitely would’ve noticed you if I did. You go to the same university as Namjoon-ssi, right?” Jimin asked, flipping a pen between his fingers with incredible dexterity. You were slightly distracted by that, faintly jealous of how his short fingers could somehow manage such a feat.

“I—yeah, I do. I’m assuming you’re also a student?”

“Yep. I actually met Namjoon-ssi when we took that one music theory class together. I was handing out flyers for this bakery after class and he happened to be one of the first people to actually come,” he said, winking at Namjoon. You watched with much interest when your friend turned a faint shade of pink, his hand coming up behind his neck—a signature tick of his whenever he was feeling shy or nervous.

“I-It was nothing… I mean, your seasonal drinks are always so good! I remember your old snowman-shaped donuts with the raspberry filling? I still dream of it sometimes,” Namjoon sighed, eyes going glassy for a moment.

Jimin laughed, his eyes crinkling into cute little crescents. “Oh, stop it! I remember how you’d come here even after we stopped serving that donut and you’d beg us to make them again.”

“And yet you never did, even though I know you have the ingredients to make them,” Namjoon pouted, but there’s endearment dancing in his expression.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I never pegged Namjoon as a sweet-tooth guy, so this is honestly all a very big surprise to me. I should be pumped for this milkshake then, huh? Hopefully, you aren’t just hyping it up and I’ll end up disappointed.”

Before either Namjoon or Jimin could retort, Jungkook had reappeared from the back room with two large cups in hand, almost tripping over his untied apron string but managing to get to the counter in one piece.

“Here you go. I hope you won’t be disappointed when you try it,” he said, gaze averted downwards when he hands you your cup. Your fingers grazed each other for a second, nearly causing both of you to drop the drink like it was on fire.

“S-sorry,” you laughed it off, feeling your ears get a little red from your blunder. You pointedly ignored Namjoon’s arched brow, no doubt enjoying your sudden shyness. Without waiting for him to get his own cup, you casually tear off the straw wrapper and take your first sip of the drink.

“So?” Jungkook asked after a while, watching with bated breath as you take a good gulp of the milkshake. “How is it? Is it worth the hype?” You don’t speak for a moment, further aggravating the two bakers as you carefully chewed on the bits of strawberry in the drink.

“This—” you said, speaking slowly for increased dramatic effect. You could hear Namjoon groan beside you, used to your need for unnecessary anticipation. Even as you paused for a moment longer, you could already feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to completely hide your giddiness. “—is fantastic. Show-stopping. Best thing since sliced bread! I could live on this shit alone.”

Jungkook released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, chuckling in relief as you began to completely devour the treat in mere minutes. “I’m… really glad you like it,” he said with a wide, toothy grin. You were so immersed in your drink that you missed the way he sighed softly, hand gently cradling his chest where his heart would be.

Namjoon had taken his own sip as well, sighing dreamily as the creamy and sweet flavor overtook his palate. “Truly the best drink in existence. If I was a Twitch streamer or some shit, I’d promote this regularly for free.”

His comment made Jimin giggle softly, but his gaze is trained on something else entirely. “I’m flattered, but maybe don’t promote Y/N’s cup, over here. We don’t typically have strawberries and hearts doodled all over our cups,” he said, smirking slyly.

Lo and behold, your cup did have small doodles littering its sides whereas Namjoon’s was just a plain white paper cup. “Oh,” you said, blushing furiously when you finally noticed. Your flush was nothing compared to the one on Jungkook’s cheeks, however. The two of you refused to make eye contact after that, both of you trying (and failing) to silence the amused snickers of your respective friends.

Despite that slightly embarrassing (and heartwarming) experience, that had marked the start of your love for the tiny bakery and their special strawberry shortcake milkshake. You returned to Euphoria Bakery as often as you could throughout the summer, even going to visit it without Namjoon most of the time. You would even occasionally go out of your way to visit the bakery, even after your summer classes had ended and there was really no reason for you to be around the area.

It also didn’t hurt that the boy behind the counter was especially cute, with his big doe eyes and melodic laughter that always got your heart beating erratically in your chest. It hadn’t taken long for you to admit to yourself that you had a not-so-tiny crush and every visit to the bakery only made you fall deeper for him.

Namjoon has assured you that Jungkook clearly has a crush on you too, but you’re quick to shut him down. It is one thing to be shy and awkward around a girl and another to have a crush on the aforementioned girl. As you visited the bakery more and more, you do notice that Jungkook is more reserved when it comes to other female clientele, although, dare you hope? He does seem a little bit more… nervous, when he talks to you, but that could be your lovesick eyes playing tricks on you.

Never mind the fact that he only ever seems to leave cute doodles on your cups alone, but that could just be a coincidence, right? After all, he can hardly hold a conversation with you when you try to speak with him, always eager to rush to the backroom to make your drink.

Your visits usually consist of making idle chit chat with Jimin after greeting both him and Jungkook. The younger boy often dips the moment he sees you through the glass door, automatically going to prepare your favorite summer treat without even having to ask for your order. He never stays to stick around long enough to make conversation, as he eventually excuses himself to do some chore or another. During one of your trips, you tentatively asked Jimin if Jungkook was avoiding you, to which the blonde boy just laughed heartily at your query.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. He’ll come around eventually; he’s just nervous. Don’t tell him I told you this, but…” he trails off, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Jungkook wouldn’t accidentally overhear him. When he turns back to you, the smirk on his face is equal parts amused and mischievous. He looks a little impish, though you aren’t sure if he’d take that too kindly. “Jungkook always stares out the door, waiting for you to arrive. I’ve caught him red-handed far too many times for it to be a coincidence.”

Your cheeks flush warmly at his words but don’t say anything after that. You suppose all you can do is wait for him to start warming up to you eventually, and you hope the day comes sooner as the summer days grow shorter and shorter.

Of course, that day does come eventually, but probably not on the day you wished it would happen.

Like all good things, summer comes to its close and so does the summer menu options offered at Euphoria Bakery. Jimin had already told you a week beforehand that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake would get phased out as soon as July hit, but you refused to listen. You had hoped that as his regular customer and friend, perhaps Jimin would make an exception and prolong the milkshake’s lifetime for your sake, but it seems that Jimin has made it clear that friendship and business are two separate entities that he will not allow to coincide.

“Please Jimin? Just one more time? I’ll even settle for a small size,” you beg, your entire body draped over the cashier counter like the pathetic plebeian that you are. Thankfully, since you have made it a habit to pass by the bakery when it’s close to closing time, there aren’t any other patrons left to judge your pitiful display. Unthankfully, that also means Jimin is free to flick you on the forehead with no holds barred, leaving a large red welt where his finger hits.

“I already told you that I won’t budge, not even if you licked my Balenciagas. Besides, we’re out of strawberries anyway.” Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes at your pained whines as you grasp your head in agony. “Oh stop it, will you? I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ, hyung.” Jungkook pipes up, startling both you and Jimin. Jungkook is usually content to wiping down the glass displays or tables while he passively listens to the two of you bicker, humming occasionally to indicate that he’s still listening, so it comes as a small surprise whenever he does decide to speak up. He must have noticed this too, as his ears quickly begin to redden as he scrambles to finish his sentence. “I-I mean, hyung might have small hands, but his finger flicks are no joke. You could break someone’s skull with that thing.”

“Who are you calling small, huh?” Jimin growls, but the playful smirk on his face tells you that he’s just teasing. He pulls Jungkook in a headlock, who surprisingly doesn’t seem all that bothered by the fact that Jimin is actively trying to block his windpipe with his strong forearms. “Take it back!”

“Never,” Jungkook wheezes, effortlessly removing himself from Jimin’s grip. He dusts himself off, not even breathless. “Also, why’d you lie to Y/N like that? We still have strawberries in the back. How else would we make our strawberry jam tarts?”

Jimin squawks indignantly, folding his arms. “How dare you sell out our company secrets! I could fire you for that!”

Jungkook scoffs, bumping Jimin with his hip. Jungkook must also not know his own strength, because he accidentally causes Jimin to stumble a few steps back, nearly toppling over one of their bread racks. “You’re joking. If you fired me, no one would be able to make the bagels in the morning because you never know how to proof them correctly.”

“Slander!” Jimin hisses, pinching Jungkook’s side in retaliation. You and Jungkook laugh at his childish pouts, but the older boy can’t hide his own mirth for too long. “Fine. You can stay. But you,” he points at you this time, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You better not seduce my boy over here to make your strawberry shortcake milkshake. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He drags his finger to the corner of the walls, where there is—

“There’s nothing there?” You follow where he’s pointing, but all you can see is a stray cobweb that Jungkook must have missed while dusting this morning. “Am I supposed to be looking at something?”

“Jimin is thinking of installing surveillance cameras soon. He’s convinced that someone is trying to steal his banana cream pie recipe.” Jungkook shrugs. He slings an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, glaringly delighted when their height difference becomes even more apparent while he stands close to him. “Anyway, I promise I won’t get ‘seduced’ by her, or whatever you want to call it. Why don’t you head home early for tonight? I’ll close up and I’ll try to convince Y/N to try our other pastries as a replacement.”

You open your mouth to try and protest, but Jungkook sends you a cheeky wink, making sure that his boss doesn’t catch him in the act. Bemused but interested to see what he’s up to, you decide to keep quiet and wait for him to continue.

“Don’t try and think you’re being slick here, buddy,” Jimin says, closing in on Jungkook’s personal space by pressing his chest against his. “If I see that you break the bakery code and serve her that drink… There will be consequences.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically as he gently pries the smaller man away from him. “Yeah, yeah. I got you. No funny business, I promise. Now get out of here, hyung. Leave the rest to me.”

Jimin gives him one last firm look before squinting warily at you, lips pursed tightly. “No seducing,” he repeats, wagging his finger at you. He unties the apron around his neck, throwing it haphazardly at the coat hanger on the back door where his jacket was hanging. He folds it over his arm and points at the corner of the ceiling with his free hand once more before exiting through the front entrance, the soft bells hanging above the doorway tinkling in his wake.

When he’s gone, you release a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. “Well, that was easier than expected. I didn’t think you’d be able to get him to leave. He must trust you a lot, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Nah. He’s just lazy. He hates closing the bakery and will jump at any opportunity to go home early.”

You nod. “Seems like him.” There’s a beat of silence. “So… How much seducing am I gonna have to do to get my milkshake, huh?”

Like you guessed, Jungkook immediately turns red at your words, spluttering and stammering over his spit for a few seconds before managing to come up with a reply. “O-oh, there’s no need for that. I was gonna make the drink for you anyway.”

“But what about the quote-unquote consequences?” you ask, still worried that you might be getting Jungkook in trouble. You’d rather have your arm cut off than have him get punished, no matter how small it might be.

“No need to worry about that. Jimin might pretend to be a prickly old man sometimes, but he’s mostly just full of hot air,” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “He’ll just make me treat him to some skewers or something. He’s just teasing.”

“If… If you say so? I just really don’t want him to get angry with you…” you say, voice turning small as you tried to reign your embarrassment in. “I know I made a fool of myself just moments ago and begged like a baby for the milkshake, but I was just exaggerating…”

“Something tells me that you aren’t, but let’s pretend for your sake that you are,” Jungkook says. You huff indignantly at his teasing, but you’re more overjoyed by the sight of his cute bunny smile. You had only seen it in passing a few times in the past, but seeing it directed at you is an entirely different experience. Because of you, your mind helpfully supplies.

He heads over to the backroom to begin preparing your drink, but he keeps the door open this time so you can see him even from behind the counter. You can mostly only see the large industrial ovens and bread racks filled to the brim with all sorts of pastries proofing for the night, but you do catch a glimpse of the sole blender near the back. Jungkook grabs the glass jar first and then walks over to the fridge just out of your sight, most likely to grab the ingredients needed for your milkshake.

The bakery is mostly silent, save for the sound of Jungkook moving and assembling everything. You rack your brain for some sort of conversation starter, as the atmosphere between the two of you has begun to return to its usual awkward state as you skirt around each other, unsure of where either of you stands. You might have known him for a while now, but today is the most you’ve ever spoken to him and the tension is palpable.

“So.” You clear your throat, heart beating a mile a minute in your chest. “I… guess this is going to be the last time I have this drink, huh?”

The sound of Jungkook chopping on the cutting board pauses for a second. You can only see his left shoulder from where you’re standing, but you can see it tense even then. “I… I mean, will you stop coming over to the bakery if it is the last time?”

There are so many things you want to say all at once, but the words somehow get caught in your throat. You want to say that you love coming to the bakery to see them (though it’s mostly Jungkook if you’re being honest) and that the strawberry shortcake milkshake had just been an excuse to visit for a while now. You want to keep visiting for as long as they’ll have you—but you don’t know how to say it without hot humiliation running down your spine. You don’t want to weird him out by confessing to him all of a sudden. And so, you clam up, not knowing how to respond.

When Jungkook throws in all the ingredients in the blender, he doesn’t turn it on immediately. He tilts his head to the side, not fully looking at you but giving you a view of his beautiful side profile. You see his Adam’s apple bob for a moment, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he speaks. “Because… If that’s how it’s going to be, then maybe… buying a couple of skewers for Jimin won’t be so bad.”

You freeze. “What? Are you saying that...”

“I’ll keep making the drink for you, even if it’s not on the menu anymore?” Jungkook finishes, turning fully to face you. There’s a shy grin on his face, coupled with the ever-present pink flush high on his cheekbones. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We’ll have to be sneaky about it, though. You’ll have to come to the bakery only when I’m closing so that he doesn’t catch us but otherwise…” He scratches the tip of his nose, looking embarrassed. “If… If you’re fine doing that, I mean.”

It feels like an eternity before you can remember how to function like a regular human being again. Your insides feel like molten lava and you’re certain that your internal organs have begun to self-destruct right after that super-effective hit from Jeon Jungkook, super baker boy extraordinaire. It’s mind-blowing how effortlessly cute he can be, making you realize belatedly that his quiet demeanor over the past few weeks had been a blessing and not a curse. If he had been this sweet with you from the get-go, you’d surely be melted butter on a sidewalk by now.

“I would love you—I mean, I would love it if you did that for me, actually.” You stammer, resisting the urge to punch yourself in the tit. You’re thankful for the lack of mirrors at the bakery, for you are positive that you must look like the devil’s blazing red testicles at this point.

“Great,” Jungkook smiles softly. He turns the blender off, pouring your drink into a paper cup. “Oh, before I forget…” He grabs a marker from the small tin can near the cash register, and you watch as he quickly scribbles a few hearts around the circumference of the cup. “There we go. Now it’s done.”

As Jungkook hands your drink to you, you’re hit with a moment of déjà vu when your fingers brush just like the first time you had met. You sense the same familiar shock of electricity when you touch, but instead of pulling away like before, Jungkook surprises you for the third time that day.

When he’s sure that you have a secure grip on your cup, he grabs your free hand with his, unfurling your fingers until he can get a hold of your pinky. He curls his pinky into yours, linking them together with a bashful smile on his lips. “There. Now we pinky promised to each other.”

“Y-yes. Of course,” you mumble, giggling lightly when he still refuses to let go. “I pinky promise.”

Five minutes away from Euphoria Bakery, Jimin sits quietly in his parked car, his figure hunched over the small screen of his phone as he chuckles loudly to himself. There is a tiny video of two people, a boy and a girl, with their hands held together. Despite the quality being grainy and warped, Jimin needs no confirmation as to who those people are; he’s always known, after all.

“All according to keikaku.” He whistles happily, already salivating at the thought of all the skewers Jungkook will have to buy for him.

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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years ago

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(I love all of your writings) one of Scout's voice lines literally broke my heart. The one in the Birthday mode which said that no one came to his birthday :"((( the fact that he called everyone his best friends make it sadder. Can you write about that a little bit. I know that you have written about his birthday before but can you do one more pleaseeeeeee

birthday boy time

(warnings for alcohol mention, mention of violence, and injury)

“Happy birthday, lad,” Demo greeted, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by. Scout lit up, calling back a greeting in return.

Call him a sap, but he hadn’t quite given up on having fun birthdays yet. He’d heard it a hundred times from most of the rest of the team, that you stop focusing so much on your birthday when you get older, but not this guy. Scout was determined to actually have a nice birthday.

That being said, he knew by then, after those first few years working with the team, that they had a bit of a history of not necessarily being 100% on board with doing a whole thing purely because someone was a year older, and he mostly settled for bugging some of the team into going out for drinks or ordering a bunch of pizza and playing board games, stuff like that. A hundred times more low-key than what he’d do if they were in Boston, but hey, he took what he could get, and it usually ruled anyways.

To be honest, he didn’t even really have plans that year. He’d said as much when he was asked earlier that week. It was the middle of the week, not all that close to the weekend, so going out with everyone was pretty much off the table, as was getting drunk considering they all had work the day after. He was gonna head into town and get himself a gift, that was most of his plan, maybe hang out with everyone later on too. He’d been saving his money for a while, a just-in-case fund that he’d been working on for a few years, a luxury he didn’t have growing up, and didn’t tend to spend much money on himself outside of snack food and Bonk and sometimes comic books or little things like that. It would be nice to get himself something he really liked. That alone was plenty of excitement. Not an adrenaline kind, just a regular, nice sort of thing.

Overall, he was honestly just thrilled that apparently everyone actually remembered this year, greeted all morning by similar casual “hey, happy birthday”s, including a particularly excited one from Pyro, who hugged him and spun him in a few circles outright. He had plenty of time next year to do some really sick birthday stuff, but overall, he was just gonna chill out, treat himself for once, and relax.

“Alright everyone,” the Engineer said grimly, half an hour previously, casting a look around the room. “Here’s the plan.”

The team minus their fastest member were all gathered around the debriefing table, and this time, rather than Miss Pauling with official orders or Soldier with the latest new strategy, it was the Engineer standing up front holding a piece of chalk.

“We’ve been over this, Toymaker, twice weekly all month,” Demo drawled, rolling his eye.

“I know that, but this is important,” he stressed.

“It is true,” Heavy rumbled, nodding solemnly. “This is big deal.”

“We can’t afford to let this one get mucked up considering our history,” the Engineer said firmly. “Every year it’s somethin’. This year we aren’t taking any chances, especially after that catastrophe last year.”

A groan from the team as they collectively remembered. A nod from the Engineer.

“We’re lucky Firebug was the one to ask why Scout was in the kitchen combing the cabinets and not one of us, otherwise he would’ve found out for sure. If he knew we all forgot his birthday, it would crush him,” he said emphatically. The team looked embarrassed as a whole, while Pyro looked particularly mortified. “And we can’t just buy the damn kid a few pizzas and hand him alcohol like that was the plan again this year.”

“Fortunately for all of you, I’ve been so generous as to look into a few things,” Spy piped in, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette.

“As if you won’t take any excuse to snoop,” Sniper mumbled, and was glared at.

“I resent that remark,” Spy scoffed. “Regardless. I happen to know that we’re in luck, and that Scout is planning to go into town for a short period of time this afternoon. For what purpose, I’m not sure. But it should mean we have plenty of time to set everything up.”

“I trust you all have gifts ready?” Medic asked, and received a general murmur of agreement, and made a check on the paper he had attached to a clipboard. “Ja, ja, that is good. Herr Demoman, Pyro, you are done with your baking?”

“Cake is baked, iced, and decorated,” Demo nodded, Pyro giving a thumbs up of agreement.

“Soldier, how are decorations?”

“Acquired and prepared for deployment!” Soldier barked, holding up a hand in salute.

“Doc, Heavy, you two were meant to run interference,” the Engineer said, and the two nodded. “With that not a worry, how about you help with the cooking and decorating?”

“Heavy can do this,” Heavy agreed, and Medic nodded as well, jotting down a few notes on his clipboard.

“And the snake was gonna help with anything that went wrong, and Sniper, you were gonna help with headed into town for anything we needed last minute,” the Engineer said, and received nods from the two of them.

“Do we need anything so far?” Sniper asked.

“No, we’re fine for now. And I’ve got my own setup handled,” the Engineer said, and nodded a few times to himself. “Alright. Sounds like we’re golden.”

“Ja, very good. Herr Spy, would you keep an eye on Scout and let the rest of us know when we can begin getting ready?” Medic asked.

“Obviously,” Spy said.

“Alright. Now go on, get, he’ll be wondering why we’re all running late, act natural,” the Engineer said, shooing them all from the conference room.

Later that day after battle was over, Spy dispersed news not long later that Scout had gotten changed into civvie clothes and gone into town on his bike, and they all leapt into action. Within half an hour, the decorations were ready, streamers and balloons in every direction, the table unfolded from their storage (only used when they needed to seat the entire team, which wasn’t often) and was set up with the cake, ready to have candles lit, the presents were stacked neatly, the Engineer had set up the new sound system he’d been working on (put into crunch time to have ready for the occasion), everything was set up and perfect. The only thing they still needed was Scout.

They settled in to wait, knowing town was a good twenty minutes away, thirty if he was headed to the better one. By the time he found everyone, Spy said that it had been about ten minutes, and they took around thirty to set everything up, meaning that Scout would probably be at least another ten minutes, maybe as much as half an hour. Spy would keep his eyes open and warn them when he came back, but in the meantime, they could relax while they waited.

In the meantime, Soldier and Demo attempted a few ‘finishing touches’ (putting party hats on his more docile raccoons and setting out some firecrackers and sparklers, respectively), and some of the other members of the team sat to play cards for a bit. Pyro, easily the most antsy, burned their way through the box of matches that sat waiting next to the cake one by one and started idly playing with their lighter when they ran out, occasionally lighting some of the extra candles.

Half an hour came and went. Forty minutes. Fifty. An hour.

They asked Spy if he had any word yet. The answer was no, and the visual of a few cigarette butts littered around Spy’s feet and a scowl.

The Engineer played a few song requests on the sound system. Soldier switched around party hats on the raccoons to better suit their personalities. Demo lit a sparkler and let it burn out. They switched card games.

At the two hour mark, the concern was starting to build in all of them. Maybe Scout went even further than any of them had expected. He hadn’t told any of them to wait up for him, to be fair. But he always told them outright if he wouldn’t be back for supper, and he hadn’t said anything, and should’ve been back by then. It was getting well into sundown.

“I am preparing to declare Scout as officially AWOL,” Soldier mumbled somewhere near the two/and-a-half hour mark, just a bit angrily, adjusting the party hat on Corporal Munch where it was crooked. Demo patted him on the shoulder to console him.

“He’ll get here when he gets here,” he assured, going back to fiddling with a party popper.

“Don’t waste those,” the Engineer warned. “And no queens, Go Fish.”

A groan from Medic. Demo shrugged. “We have some extra. Here, just to liven her up.”

He tugged the string on the popper, setting it off and sending a short shower of confetti onto Soldier, and that was where it all went wrong.

Corporal Munch, startled, made a little yelp-like noise and quickly clawed up Soldier’s chest, startled and attempting to escape. Soldier tried to grab on harder, but that just made the raccoon even more alarmed, and it rushed to clamor faster, digging claws in hard. Heads turned in time to see Soldier losing his grip and the animal rushing away towards the nearest enclosed, dim space, which just so happened to be the table Pyro was sitting at with the cake.

Pyro leapt up from their seat, battle instincts kicking in for a moment, and the movement startled the Corporal, who veered suddenly and crashed directly into one of the chairs, toppling it and the one directly next to it and making the entire table jerk.

Pyro, panicked, quickly grabbed the cake stand before it could fall over, dropping their lighter and the candle in their hand. The two things landed on the tablecloth, and by the time Pyro realized their mistake, they’d already lit the thin paper tablecloth on fire.

Shouting around the room as teammates attempted to leap into action, Pyro trying to save the cake from the fire first and foremost, Soldier attempting to catch the Corporal, who was only becoming more freaked out over time. Heavy moved to snatch up some of the other flammable items off of the table, but misjudged where Pyro was moving, and Pyro collided with him, the cake tumbling from the stand and directly across the both of them. The Corporal, entirely confused on the commotion, attempted to claw into the space under the cards table, making Medic yelp as his legs were torn into, Sniper rushing to try and catch the animal as well. Demo, having found the fire extinguisher, realized he was a bit late as he tried to put out the table, most of the tablecloth gone and the fire having spread across the streamers, and he tried to put out what he could, and it was only with the Engineer’s cry of dismay that he remembered, oh, right, those streamers were on top of that shiny new sound system, weren’t they. With a final puff, the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign went up in flames and was gone, and the team was left there in the wreckage.

Spy rounded the corner into the room, eyebrows furrowed from the commotion he’d heard. When he saw the smoking, foamy, cake-y remains, all he could do was sigh, kneading at the bridge of his nose. “Something new every year, is it?” he drawled.

It took them the better part of forty minutes to clean up the mess, and even then, the room had a weird smell to it. By the end of everything, all they had was one of the undecorated practice cakes Pyro had baked, some party hats, and some poppers. And by the time they were done cleaning up, Scout still hadn’t returned.

“At least he doesn’t have to see what a damn mess we made of things,” the Engineer sighed, and that seemed to be the consensus.

It was much later that Spy finally let them know that he’d seen the headlights of a motorcycle coming up the road, and the team just sighed, too tired to work up much energy. Some of them at least planned to call out a ‘happy birthday’ at him, but all they could do was stare when he walked into the room.

“Hey, guys,” Scout croaked, attempting a smile through a bruised lip.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sniper demanded, taking in the sight.

Scout was busted up in a number of different ways. What looked like a former bloody nose and a swollen lip seemed to be the worst of it, an amount of blood all down Scout’s front, staining what looked like one of his nicer civvie shirts beyond repair. There was also a dampness to his shirt and hair and a stain that implied he’d been splashed with something, practically drenched by the look of it, and he carried himself just slightly off-balance and held a bag in the arm not cradled to his abdomen.

Despite that, he managed a laugh, a lopsided grin. “Man, what the hell didn’t happen to me is more like it,” he said, shrugging. “Had a weird one.”

“Are you alright?” Medic demanded, already standing up, from his chair, and Scout shrugged again.

“Just bruises and all, it’s not an emergency or whatever, but I’d appreciate a heal or somethin’,” he admitted, and Medic left the room, hurrying towards the infirmary. “Forreal, though, what a fuckin’ night.”

“What’s on your shirt?” Spy asked, entirely deadpan, looking vaguely disgusted.

“Uh, I think it’s a margarita?” Scout said, glancing down at it and picking at his shirt vaguely. “I, uh, I should start from the top. Okay, so I went into town, right? I was just gonna buy some stuff real quick, and I got, uh… I got a little lost.”

“A little? Scooter, you’ve been gone all day!” the Engineer admonished.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. There was construction on the usual road, I think they’re fixin’ a bridge or somethin’. Anyways, I got pretty far off track, but I got to town eventually. Just took a while. Anyways, I do my shopping, but because I was all rattled from havin’ to take a hundred detours I totally forget that there’s this one guy at the store that hates my guts, and I’ve gotta split pretty fast before he knocks some teeth out, y’know?”

“Do we want to know why he hates you?” Demo asked, a bit of humor in his tone.

“Nope,” Scout said simply, grinning right back. “So, yeah, but on my way into town I saw at the bar they have some kinda thing goin’ on, right, some kinda weird drink special. So I figure, hey, I’ll walk in, get the new drink, then I’ll leave, y’know? I don’t wanna have to drive home after dark and drunk. So I order, and as soon as I order some guy who’s been at the bar too long already starts tryin’ to pick a fight with me, right? And it’s a whole thing, and I finally get my drink but now there’s a whole thing, and I kinda make this offhanded comment at this gal nearby, y’know, tryin’ to make sure he knows we’re in a public place, all ‘hey, you’re really gonna embarrass yourself by pick in’ fights right in front of this real pretty girl?’, right?”

“Oh no,” Sniper sighed, already seeing where this was going.

“Well, yeah, bad luck, turns out that’s his girlfriend, and he shoves me into some guy, and I get a whole drink all over me, and mine is all over some third gut, and this whole brawl breaks out—anyways, busted lip and no drink and I’m probably not allowed in that bar anymore, but whatever, I finally start headed home.”

“Right,” Spy said, suspicious.

“And, uh, I never wanna drive at night because there’s all these animals out here, right? And the roads are shitty. And I’m headed back, and it’s dark as dicks, and I think I see this rock and I try and go around it, but then the rock moves back in my way because it’s a lizard or whatever and I hit the breaks and swerve straight into a pothole and just barely manage to keep on my bike, but I donk myself on the handlebars and totally throw my leg out of wack and all that. And, uh, and now I’m here.”

“Christ alive,” the Engineer marvelled.

“Bad day to have,” Heavy said, also stunned.

“Hey, it’ll be a funny story to tell later,” Scout shrugged, still grinning. “Got those new shoes at least, though.”

He pulled a shoebox out of the paper bag, and the box was dented into some kind of new parallelogram, barely resembling its past shape. Scout, meanwhile, was still smiling.

Silence in the room. “Well. While it is unlikely you need any more excitement today,” Spy trailed hesitantly. Pyro, understanding the cue, leapt up and hurried off into the kitchen, coming back with the cake.

“Woah, seriously?” Scout asked, eyes lighting up. “You made me a cake? Mumbles, you’re the best!”

“We, uh… we had more planned, but, some things went a little wrong,” the Engineer admitted, and trailed off as well as he looked at Scout.

“Not that we get to complain,” Demo laughed, seeming to come to the same realization as the Engineer.

“Are you joking? This rules!” Scout said, and lit up further when Medic returned with his Medigun, shaking off his injuries within a few moments. “Hey, thanks guys, seriously, no idea what I did to get such cool teammates. You guys are awesome, I mean it.”

“Dunno how we got a bloke like you, either,” Sniper shrugged, voice quiet compared to the rest of them. “Not many people can laugh after a day like yours and still have the energy to be pleased with anyone.”

“Aw, hey, I mean… y’know, it’s nothing,” Scout shrugged sheepishly, glancing away for a second. “Hey, you guys are playin’ cards? Deal me in! Oh yeah, hold on, we need plates and stuff for cake—“

He dropped his bag near the door and hurried into the kitchen. The room was quiet behind him. Demo held up a party popper, glancing around the room. The Engineer took it from him, shaking his head.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #que?#my fanfiction #shut up me #everybody talks

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