#tooth* oops he's so handsome

[erraticroses]

.

[kirozai]

—BETTER AT LOVING YOU.

Sae has always believed that playing football was the only thing he was good at. Meeting you drastically changed his belief. Sae is reminded again while trying to teach you how to play football, which you fail. Badly… BUT he still loves you nevertheless.

content warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, present to past flashbacks pairing(s): itoshi sae x reader word count: 1600+ A/N: idek

PRESENT.

“I don’t get it! Why the hell are there so many rules to a game that's whole premise is just ‘kick ball in goal, win.’” you say defeated.

Sae knew that this wasn’t going to turn out very well, but after your constant pestering for about 4 minutes, he gave in. 

The result?

Pouty you lying on the turf of the empty indoor pitch after about… maybe 20 minutes? After sliding away every single time he tried to pass the ball to you, you seem to have given up. 

“What if I get hit by the ball or something?” you said before.

“Then move on?” he says questioningly.

You did NOT take that well.

With a great big sigh, Sae makes his way to sit near your body and look at your exasperated face. He brushes away the loose strands of hair in front of your face. His eyes trace yours, “mesmerized and in love” the public would describe. 

Well. Sae is not denying any of those allegations.

“It’s fine,” Sae insisted “You're not planning to be a pro football player any time soon anyways.”

“See but if I was anyone else would you be saying that?” you questioned.

“No.” 

“Hmph! See! It isn’t really fine.”

“You���re you and everyone else is lukewarm and boring. Why does it matter that I treat them differently?” He squints at you.

Your mouth is left agape at his response. 

Sae’s lips turned upturned at the sight. You reply with a big grin on your face. It’s always a treat to see your handsome lover’s smile you always say to him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PAST.

Meeting a girl being chased by a seagull was not on his agenda this summer.

Sandwich in hand you rain around the empty sandy beach being chased by one, no wait two, hold on now three?! To simplify it you were being chased by seagulls, many, many seagulls.

Sae watches you with curious eyes, head swaying left and right following you as you try to protect your oh-so-precious sandwich in hand. Finally, after much anticipation, you throw the sandwich at one of the seagulls in despair, but he could tell that you were out of breath. Your hands on your knees heaving after much running from the evil sea birds, you whip your head toward the pinkish-maroon head man. 

Sae not being too far away makes out the words falling from your pretty lips:

“YOU! WHY’D YOU JUST STAND THERE?” You point at him accusingly.

Running up the stairs and… pushing him down to the ground?

“Ah. Oops. I didn’t actually mean it-”

And that’s where your sudden story of love began. After the apologies and bickering you forced him to buy you new food as an apology. Sae looks at you with an eyebrow raised, hands in pockets. 

“I’ve seen a lot of fans trying to ask me out, but I’ve never seen someone as stalkery and insane as you.” He says as if it’s a fact. 

“You were literally watching me for the past ten minutes,” you reply blankly.

Seems like Sae can’t argue with that.

He finds out on your little rendezvous that you're here in Spain for vacation and you aren’t a stalker fan. Though Sae questions if that’s true ever so often. Your intentions are clear though, after this, you want nothing to do with him.

Which… is new...

So in your next days in Spain, somehow fate has linked you two together in some of the coincidental places Every. Single. Day. Much to your avail. 

Sometimes it’s bumping into him again on a random alleyway. Others it’s you getting scammed in a tourist trap and Sae is just “too annoyed” to see a tourist get their money taken away.

Except, every practice he goes to now he wonders if he’ll see you again today. His mind used to be filled with only one thing and that was football, but somehow you’ve wiggled your way into his mind.

Maybe even his heart.

His stone-cold expression to you is just a challenge to break the ice even more and you find yourself growing warmer to the emerald-eye man. 

Your odd compliments and your unique character stir something inside of him. He continues to tell himself that this is only temporary and he’ll forget about you after you leave.

Even though.

Even though, he doesn’t want you to leave.

His brain is now filled with more of you than football. He thinks about what he can do to make you smile, to laugh. He thinks about what gifts you’d like next and if you’d like churros more or xuixos.

You ask him questions past his athlete life and ask him about things he likes to do. Unfortunately, he has no reply. He’s known nothing more than football all his life. 

So you open him to the world of, well, everything else. You force him to go on walks with you and visit random tourist places that Sae’s gone to millions of times, but every time with you seems brighter than the last. You teach him about your hobbies and other places you visited. You talk about your home country to him and reminisce about the times in high school. This summer is different, more you.

Time passes by and you two grow closer. Even his teammates see the subtle differences. They look shocked to see that Sae is doing something outside of practice.

At some point, the spontaneous meetings aren’t enough and at one of your meetings, you take his phone and add your number to him with a cute little selfie of you. You always remind him how much of a dry texter he is, but he always replies instantaneously even to your random texts at 3 am.

You’re “bearable,” he says. 

Bearable enough to have you as the only person who can bypass Sae’s Do Not Disturb.

Time slows when he’s with you, always experiencing new things with you.

Time doesn’t stop completely though.

At some point, you have to leave. It’s only summer after all.

And that fact leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

You, however, don’t seem a bit worried. Sae frowns at the fact.

Until one day before your departure, he asks.

“Why don’t you seem fazed?”

“Hmm?” you say while stuffing all sorts of pastries in your face.

“About leaving I mean,” he says in a hushed tone.

“It’s not like this is goodbye though. We’re still gonna talk duh.” You say as if it’s a matter of fact.

Sae’s taken aback at your reply. He’s used to your random replies but this one seems so.. genuine. You don’t plan to leave this behind, your memories behind.

You don’t plan to leave him behind.

The day your plane departs is probably one of Sae disliked days. You wave at him but don’t say goodbye, instead it's a “See you Later!”

And you leave.

He wonders if you’ll text back if you’ll really keep your promise of staying in touch.

And you do.

You call him when your plane arrives back in your country. You tell him how bad the legroom was and everything else. He’s happy to hear your voice.

So after some weeks of constant calls, texts, and memes, you ask the dreaded question.

“So.. uh.. What are we?” you laugh nervously.

Sae is lying in his bed, it's currently 11 pm, very much past the time he should be asleep by now. 

“Saeeee…??” you drag out.

He furrows his brows, taking in the question. What are you two?

“What do you want to be?” He internally slaps himself at the reply.

“That’s so ominous.” You joke.

“I mean, I don’t know. Does the famous athlete Itoshi Sae have a secret girlfriend on the side right now?” you ask.

“No. Unless…” He trails off.

“Unless??”

“Unless you want to be mine.” He declares.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PRESENT.

Sae smiles fondly at the memories. He blanked out out of pure embarrassment, but he recalls your reply being something like “Well you better ask me properly!” He remembers looking for flights for you to come back to Spain. And when you do things become official. You stay at his place because it’s “cheaper”, but you both know that it’s just an excuse. You spend time any time you can. He still clearly remembers the day when you called his penthouse your home. 

He knows he’s not very good at a lot of things out of football, but he knows he’s good at loving you. After a couple of years, he made you his wife. The one he’ll always come home to after a game or practice.

“Whatchu’ smiling about huh?” You beam.

He rolls his eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?!”

“I didn’t roll anything. You should be practicing rolling the ball around right now.” he says dryly.

“You’re so unfunny Sae.” You drag his arm down and topple on him.

“No more football!” You state loudly.

“No more football,” he repeats.

Sae never thought he’d be saying that line ever in his life. He never even thought of marrying anyone.

But sometimes fate can surprise us.

So while football was a bust for you it was still a good time spent in Sae’s egoist mind. Any time with you is a good time in all honesty.

You may not be the best at football, but that’s okay. He doesn’t need another football lover he just needs you to love him

And with this in mind,

Sae is good at football sure, but he’s pretty sure he’s better at loving you over anything else.

[satoruxx]

SWEET SNACKS.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader | 2.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: tooth rotting fluff, meet cute, battles with inanimate objects, reader's got exams bc i have exams, satoru's whipped af (as usual), sorry i love writing him as a simp, reader is also whipped bc this is gojo satoru, bonding over snacks !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: if you saw me tryna post this yesterday no you didn’t. this was supposed to be a quick drabble oops. but it's finals week so i'm offering this piece of fluff to maintain sanity and gush over the meet cute i will never have. if y’all are also dealing with finals, i'm wishing you the best !!

satoru strolls down the bustling streets with a quiet hum, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets to keep them away from the bite of the cold breeze. his boots crunch against the thin layer of melting ice that has formed overnight, now warming under the cold afternoon sun that coyly hides behind gray clouds.

honestly, he wasn't the biggest fan of weather like this, and he wouldn't have stepped out on any other day. but one meeting with the higher ups had his mood souring, and shoko had suggested he take a walk, maybe grab something to eat.

he knew better than to argue with her, especially since she could somehow read him better than most people could—scary.

so here he was, trudging down the streets of tokyo with his hat pulled over his ears, cheeks pink from the frosty air as it dances across his skin. despite the weather, satoru thinks there's something oddly peaceful about the city, the quiet chatter and sounds of boots scuffing against pavement as he turns a corner to head to the nearby vending machines he's frequented so many times.

the peace is broken by an annoyed grunt, and satoru looks up.

"are you serious?" another irritated groan. "of all the days…"

he takes in the scene with interest.

even with all the anger that he's not quite understanding, he thinks you're so undeniably pretty—puffy jacket hugging your body and the warm scarf resting around your neck. your brows are furrowed, exasperation tugging your features into expressions that shouldn't look so endearing.

you groan again, slamming your curled fist against the glass of the vending machine—frustration ticks at your brow.

and why wouldn't it?

nothing was going your way today. it had already started off badly, the atmosphere filled with gloom that made it impossible to want to leave bed. but you had to force yourself to miserably extract your body from the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows that urged you back with a siren's call—a promise of comfort that looked all too enticing.

and then, when you finally did manage to drag yourself to the library to sit down and study, nothing was sticking. you read through paragraphs over and over until your head was spinning, dizzy with information that wouldn't absorb, and that fact is nothing if not disheartening. the impending quickness with which your final exams were approaching made you feel even sicker, so you decided to take a twenty minute break to grab a drink from the nearby vending machines.

but of course, even that couldn't just work out.

satoru watches you stand in front of the machine with a glare, before you're shoving your weight against it, huffing as it remains in place and hoping that at least one of your efforts will prove to be fruitful. he's talking before he can help himself.

"hey, you need some help?"

you turn to face the owner of the voice, finding cerulean eyes behind black shades that so directly contrast the white of his snowy hair. he's tall—abnormally so as he peers down at you with curiosity and a bit of mirth.

you think you've never seen a man so handsome in your life.

then you remember he's asked you a question, and you attempt to swallow down the unnecessary nerves that have taken root in the pit of your stomach. "oh, my uh…my drink got stuck," you reply somewhat lamely, cheeks heating up under his gaze as you think about how utterly ridiculous you must've looked to passersby.

satoru's eyes travel from your face to the machine, noticing the way your drink of choice is stuck in a frozen free fall against the glass and the rack. he sighs in exasperation. "tried hitting it?" he asks, walking closer to stand next to you and take a closer look, even though he knows the answer already.

you're not sure what it is, but this man exudes a certain energy—confidence that leaks through his very skin. it makes you feel like you have no right to be standing this close to him, but all he does is smile at you patiently, waiting for an answer.

so you nod, brows ticking again as the dull throbbing in your fist reminds you of how you had lost the battle with the greedy machine. "yeah, i've been hitting it for the last ten minutes. didn't budge," you sigh, checking your phone to see that there are only a little over five minutes remaining for your quick break. "what a waste of time and money."

satoru watches you shrug helplessly, smiling up at him. "oh well—"

he takes two long strides until he stands right in front of the machine, grips the edges, and shakes it hard.

satoru can feel you gape at him, at the unfiltered display of strength, and the unbothered expression on his face that tells you it didn't faze him. you hadn't been able to move the machine even an inch.

his powerful movements earn you a tell tale thunk, and your heart leaps in excitement as he bends down to push his hand through the slot and pull out your drink. he returns to his full height, an easy smile on his face as he turns around and hands it to you.

"thank you." your voice comes out breathless, a weird kind of excitement thrumming through your veins because it feels like you aren't supposed to know this man.

satoru's smile stretches further when your fingers graze his, taking the drink and popping it open eagerly. he watches you take a sip, oddly pleased with himself at the sheer joy on your face. he doesn't quite understand why this drink looks like it's made your day, but he doesn't ask because you look so sweet drinking it.

"how did you do that anyway?" you ask after you drink a little, curiosity so obvious in your tone. "i tried so hard to move it and it didn't budge at all."

satoru smothers a smile, fighting back the urge to say something stupid. instead he grins, cheeks warming a little under your eager stare. "guess i'm just strong."

you make a face, raising a brow with a playfully disbelieving expression as you cross your arms—to which satoru just laughs. "what's your name?" he asks.

you purse your lips, hiding a smile as you tuck your nose behind your scarf. you give him your name, almost shyly, and satoru tests it on his tongue. he decides he likes the flow, cocking his head as he replies with his own.

"satoru."

for once, the pressure of his last name doesn't permeate the air, and he's all too grateful for it. he turns around to approach the machine again, and he can feel your somewhat confused gaze on his back.

you watch as he stands there for a good minute, his back to you as he ponders the choices in the vending machine like they'll lead to life or death. then he shoves in a bill and clicks a few buttons, and within a couple of seconds, you hear the thud of two things falling.

he remains facing away from you for a few more seconds and then turns around, and you see that he's bought a chocolate bar and the same drink that you have in your hands. you raise a brow.

"well you did almost just lose your life trying to fight a vending machine for it," he says, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. "figured it'd be good to try."

you sputter over your words, embarrassment crawling up your neck, but satoru laughs good-naturedly. his eyes shine with mirth as his shoulders relax. "i'm kidding." he stresses, smiling into the collar of his jacket. "but it does look good so…"

he opens the drink and takes a sip, eyes squeezing shut dramatically as he hums at the sweet flavors washing over his tongue. you suddenly feel like getting revenge for his unfiltered teasing.

"well?" you hum cheekily, taking a sip of your own and raising a playful brow. "taste good?"

satoru laughs—a full, pristine sound that makes him throw his head back. "yeah," he agrees easily, feeling oddly fond of the way your voice curls around your words. "it's sweet, i like it. you've got great taste."

somehow the words of this man you've met not five minutes ago cause the muscles of your heart to trip over themselves. you watch him peel open the candy bar, a brand that's unfamiliar to you.

"what'd you get?" you ask, unsure of where the confidence to speak up is coming from. a man like satoru—so unflinchingly ethereal—would normally have your lips zipping and throat muted.

he holds up the bar with a grin. "my favorite."

there's a pause, followed by your sheepish smile, and satoru gapes at you, cerulean widening so clearly behind a backdrop of white. he takes in your innocently confused expression and his ribcage shakes with thuds. "what, you've never tried it?!"

before you can even shake your head no, he's breaking off a piece and handing it to you.

"no, oh my goodness, it's yours—"

"take it." he pushes his hand closer to you, eyes staring imploringly, and you sigh, reaching up to take the piece from between his fingers. a graze of skin—he's warm.

"thank you." you slip the piece past your lips, not at all surprised by its sweetness and yet a little taken aback by its underlying comfort—a rush of warmth.

"good." you're nodding, smiling between chews as satoru's stomach flips. "really good."

he chuckles, all too triumphant for something so menial. "told ya."

you laugh, a quiet subdued sound that satoru wishes he could hear more of. "thanks for getting my drink out," you say. "i really needed it today."

"oh yeah?" he finds himself asking. "how come?"

you sigh, smile dropping as a bit of fatigue makes itself comfortable on your face. "ah well, i've got final exams this week. i've been studying like crazy. nothing's really sticking, and the closer i get to the exams, the more annoyed and stressed i get."

satoru hums, not envying you for a minute.

"so it kinda felt like a kick in the butt from the universe when the drink decided to not just…"

he laughs again, taking another piece of chocolate and chewing on it soundlessly. "i gotcha."

you grin, curling your fingers around each other to diffuse some warmth back into them. "yeah."

there's a silence that follows—not uncomfortable, not unwelcome. you take quiet sips of your drink, and satoru breaks off little pieces of the chocolate bar to chew on. his eyes linger on you, watching the way your lips curl around the bottle, the way your fingers rub against each other, the way the cold has settled into your nose and cheeks and made a home amongst your skin.

when you look up at him, he looks away, throat oddly parched. his fingers flex.

"here, the rest is for you," he says, pushing the half finished candy bar into your hands.

you shake your head immediately. "no way! you paid for it! besides isn't this your favorite snack?"

satoru shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grin that looks too happy. "you liked it, didn't you?"

you nod, slowly, like you're confused at what he's getting at. "well then, enjoy the rest of it. i buy them all the time—i don't mind sharing this one."

you can't help the soft smile that graces your lips, looking up at him with an odd sense of gratitude and surprise—touched that someone could be so casually kind.

"then thank you," you laugh quietly, eyes fluttering against the gust of cool wind that tickles your skin. "i'll enjoy it."

satoru grins, uncharacteristically pleased—he won't ever admit it, but he's glad shoko told him to take a walk. he'll have to thank her when he gets back.

he clears his throat, offering you a small wave as he turns on his heel to head back to the school. "well then, see you around. good luck with your studies, yeah?"

you smile with a gentle nod, oddly rejuvenated after seeing bright blue eyes and snowy hair. "thank you."

and then he's disappeared into the crowds. you laugh to yourself quietly, looking down at your drink and the half-eaten candy bar nestled between your fingers. a part of you feels strangely forlorn, wishing that you had the guts or confidence to talk to him a little longer—ask a little more.

but you've never been good at that, so even just this small happiness you'll take in stride. you grin to yourself, shoving the drink into your bag and slinging it over your shoulders.

you begin walking back to the library, fingers breaking off pieces of the chocolate and savoring the sweetness on your tongue. somehow you didn't expect a man with such an imposing presence to enjoy simple sweet things like this, but that just makes you all the more fond of him.

by the time you've reached the entrance of the library, you're shoving the last piece of chocolate into your mouth, sighing as the doors of reality swing open once more. the meager slice of giddiness that enveloped your very being dissolves, and all the reminders of what's left to do come back to suffocate you.

you bite back a groan, about to throw the empty wrapper in the trash when something catches your eye. you double-take, peering down at it with wide eyes and rapidly heating skin. there are a set of numbers scrawled there, along with a haphazardly written message:

in case you need someone to fight another vending machine for you -satoru <3

[harleehazbinfics]

Sly

a/n: im brushing up on how to write for lucifer. i missed him 😭

During the fall of man, there was chaos among the order of the angels. With heaven's very own Lucifer being the catalyst of it all, it had sent all the elders in a frenzy and leading to his eventual fall from grace.

You were but a child when it all happened. They all used his name as a threat, to scare off angels that dare defy the rules. However, you didn't quite understand why he was condemned from heaven for merely dreaming, and why couldn't he be redeemed by asking for forgiveness. Isn't that what your principles were? You confronted your mother about this, but in fear that she would lose you she begged you to stop speaking about the matter.

From then on, you stopped talking about it. Up until a fateful occurrence.

You were rushing your way towards your office, a tall stack of papers in your arms and as you guessed it, rushing when you can't even see in front of you is a really bad idea.

"Oops, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" You cried holding the remaining paper in your arms. The person who bumped into you used their magic to lift sheets of paper off the ground and back onto your stack.

"Oh, it's fine. What's the rush?" A familiar voice of a man calls while he was helping you.

"I need to bring this report to the virtues. Hopefully, the meeting hasn't started yet," you explain, "Thank you, Sir Michael! Would you like to walk with.. me.. there..?"

You look up at the male in a daze as you figure out it wasn't Michael at all. Though they look similar and act the same way, it definitely wasn't him. He wore a distinct white top hat with a snake coiled around the base with accents of red, you trailed down to his face seeing his apple cheeks and awkward sharp toothed smile from being mistaken for his brother as he clutched onto his apple cane.

"O-oh! I'm terribly sorry for not noticing, Sir Lucifer!" You apologized, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

"Oh it's fine. I get that a lot," he chuckles charmingly.

You blush at your mistake and how irrefutably handsome he was. He has a kind smile that seemed to wane ever so often with how downcast his eyebrows fell. It was as if he felt uncomfortable being here.

Your tug your lips into a thin line before cheerfully saying, "Is there anywhere in particular you're going? I'd love to be your escort!"

He seems dumbfounded at how an angel was kind enough to talk to him so candidly. Weren't there tales about his disobedience spread across of heaven? If this matter didn't require his attendance, he would have never come at all. However, seeing your gentle kindness made it seem worth while.

"Oh, couldn't possibly bother you. Aren't you late for a meeting anyway?" he refuses gently, pointing at the papers.

"Oh, it's fine!" you blush, "I'd be honored to spend some time with you!"

He quirks his eyebrow at you with a smug smile, making you splutter at your mistake, "I meant--as your guide! Yes! I don't have those kinds of intentions towards you! I apologize if it seemed that way!"

He gives you an attractive laugh and uses his magic to lift the paper off your hands and levitate beside you. Saving you the trouble of carrying them everywhere. He gestures his hand forward and replies, "Then shall we?"

You beam him a smile and escorted him to his meeting room, while giving him an update on the changes that were made since he's been gone. He looked less tense when you first bumped into each other and even chimed a joke or two in your conversation.

Not before long, you arrived at the door now carrying the paper in your hands. Giving him a big smile while he carefully walks forward to the door.

"It was nice talking to you, Sir Lucifer," you say a blush adorning your cheeks which he found adorable on you.

"I enjoyed our time together, (y/n). Hopefully, we can meet again someday," he replies with a smile of his own.

You gave him one final smile and started to walk down the hallway. But before you could take your 2nd step, he says something that made you blush from your cheeks to your ears and nape.

"By the way, you can just call me Lucifer. I'm divorced," he calls with a flirtatious smirk before entering the room.

His gesture makes you blush from the top of your head to your toes at his comment, calling him sly in your head. You shake your head trying to gain your composure as you trotted to your office. But it doesn't wipe the stupid smile you had on your face.

🔗All OTHER Lucifer Fics Taglist:

@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @midorichoco, @bontensbabygirl, @janey, @akiqvq, @wonderlandangelsposts, @spoiled-slutt, @preciousbabypeter, @roboticsuccubus83, @simbalioness, @reachthestars, @atlas-rin, @luc1fersducky, @lovestruck-enby, @azullynxx, @delightedtosee, @s2tng, @cherry-4200, @aria-tempest, @lvstyangel, @0strawberrysorbet0, @corvid007, @kaminarithebest, @selvyyr

[kneelingshadowsalome]

NAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH YOU CAN'T JUST SAY BIPOLY ENGEL LIKE THAT AND RUIN ME ITS NOT FAIR

because I need these two girls to not just adore HIM but adore EACH OTHER. no fighting in this house we share good dick! like imagining him coming home to them cuddling asleep on the couch while a movie plays in the background and not knowing what to even do with himself, he WANTS to just devour both but god this is such a picture perfect scene and they look so cute and peaceful like this? he takes a picture and it becomes his lockscreen.

side note but I want friend to have a southern accent and hyper affectionate with both, especially verbally, calling König sugar, big boy, handsome, papa bear. and calling Engel june bug, angel cakes, muffin, sweetness. ugh this is tooth rotting I love them

Ok ok no fighting in this house good vibes and good dick only! (Papa bear handsome big boy König and june bug muffin angel cakes Engel, I CAN'T why would you do this to me?? König taking a pic of them cuddling and setting it as his lock screen pic stahppp it's too cute!!? I need this so so bad)

It's soooo tooth rotting: he comes home and they're napping and the movie they were watching is Ponyo (Granmamare being majestic on the background as he walks in) and there's a few candles burning (man almost chokes: this is so dangerous he must scold them to not leave candles burning while sleeping) and Engel has made cinnamon rolls, the scent and sight of his girls cuddling next to a plate full of warm cinnamon buns is so sweet that his heart can barely take it ❤️

And when he gently wakes them up (with the flashlight of his camera oops), they are quickly on and upon him, drowning him in kisses and climbing him like a tree, fussing around him and offering him a cinnamon roll because he has to taste it, right now, Engel made them so so good, and how about they start the movie from the beginning now that he's here too? How was work, is everything ok? Is he hungry? There's leftovers in the fridge ^^

And when he tries to calm down his ladies and say he needs to take a shower first, they give each other a look before asking if he would like it if they joined him…? They can help wash him and everything!

[randomthingsthatidointhedaytime]

Permission to ramble about any MCSM character you’d like 🫡

oh- Urm hmmm PERMISSION GRANTED

Aiden. Let's chat about that fucker. Oops- !!spoilers about Mcsm!!

I like how he can get mad at some silliest things, he's just so... OAHDJSHX I love him sm, he's so damn idiotic and silly, I also like how if you take him with you he talks about how sorry he was and how he'll become a writer, Im happy that he at least was mentioned in season 2.

HC ALERT, srry

He uses gel to slick back his hair and he always gets ready in the day

He has a temper problem

Magnus is his favorite member, it's literally obvious, I don't think it's not obvious

The spot where his tooth was punched out is still empty, maybe it grew back- IDFK

He secretly cares about Gill, even though he usually pushes him around, he treats Maya a little differently than him,... IVE NEVER DONE A HC THING IM SORRY OK

The unused voice lines of his show that he cares about Lukas during the Witherstorm arc, maybe even... A small crush?

Later on after the sky city incident, he obviously becomes a writer, he writes poems about stuff he likes and cares about. After hearing about how Lukas has a better reputation than him, jealousy hit again, blah blah blah and he started even trying harder to get popular than him.

AOUGH, I WANNA THINK HE RETURNS TO BEACONTOWN WITH MAYA AND GILL AFTER SEASON 2.

Erm... I have OC x Aiden HC... HAHA HAVE SOME EVEN THOUGH YALL DONT CARE 💅

Spoilers again-

When Jesse was like fighting Aiden, Menixa somehow DOTN ASK ME, she like flies off the ledge, and for a millisecond, Aiden quickly grabs her and pulls her up, she hugs him as she was shivering with fear, she thanks him a bunch as Jesse realizes maybe that Aiden not so bad after all

AOHS, Aiden and Menixa have like a enemy type of relationship, they always push each other around and stuff

Menixa's ex boyfriend is Floyd, a guy who she fell for his handsomeness, he was a sweet guy but he quickly hated her after Menixa dumped him after SHE found out he cheated on her.

Aiden gives Menixa his jacket when she's cold or it's raining, because she usually wears her tank top all the time in Beacon town or during any adventure with her "armour" on.

Whenever Menixa like, runs her fingers through her hair, it always strikes Aiden's heart, he has a thing for that. NOT IN A BAD WAY HOLY-

Ummm that's it I think

Bonus: Menixa is a complete Gaga person or how TF you call them, for bad boys.

AHEM, Aiden is like a bad boy, but slightly good.

Yeah silly blocky people and FUCKING AIDEN

Yw 😁

[jacepens]

hi! "one talking to the other when they think they’re asleep" for sundown/mad dog would be nice

Bonus points if for once it's Sundown talking and Mad Dog listening (but really anything's good)

thank

Ahhhh yes yes absolutely I can do that for you!! I hope you enjoy!:) (btw I set this in post-canon!)

And oh boy did this get tooth-rottingly sweet at the end. I know they’re enemies to lovers but I am simply incapable of not making them the sweetest couple to exist xD Oh and I got slightly carried away and this is about 1000 words oops lol. But anyway enjoy!!:)

One thing that Sundown misses the most about sleeping under the stars is the sounds that always lull him to sleep. Ever since he teamed up with Mad Dog, he always insists they sleep in a “real” bed in a “real” room, if there was one nearby. Sundown used to complain until three nights in a bed cured the worst of his stinging back pain, and now he agrees every time to sleep in an inn.

Tonight feels quieter than he’s used to though. Even the great bounty hunter Mad Dog didn’t say but a handful of sentences before falling asleep, and the steady rhythm of his breathing is nice but still not enough.

Sundown turns over in the bed to face Mad Dog, wondering if watching him sleep will somehow make him drowsy. He looks like he always does when he sleeps, peaceful—deceptively so. 

Watching the rise and fall of his shoulder and the occasional twitch in his (handsome) face gets old quick, and Sundown is left more awake than ever. Tapping his finger against the mattress in thought, a rather silly idea drifts into his mind.

It had been years since he thought about the stories his mother used to tell him when he would complain of being wide awake. He hardly remembered the stories now, unfortunately, but maybe if he tells a story he knows? Mad Dog shifts a little in his sleep, and Sundown smiles. 

Alright, it was worth a shot.

Sundown opens his mouth to talk before quickly closing it in hesitation. If Mad Dog woke up, Sundown would never hear the end of this… then again, Mad Dog’s a notoriously heavy sleeper and he’s been doubly exhausted today. 

Unless Sundown had a better idea— which he still didn’t—he would be telling himself a story until he fell asleep.

Clearing his throat a little, deciding on the opening words he’d let guide his story, Sundown finally starts.

“Did I ever tell you the story about Little Danny and his sister Margaret?” His heart thuds heavy and Sundown waits for any sign that Mad Dog’s waking up. 

Nothing changes, and Sundown breathes easy. “Little Danny was the sweetest kid I ever knew. He’d always wave at me and always knew how to make every adult and kid alike smile. Margaret on the other hand, was a real troublemaker,” Sundown chuckles.

“I remember the time I caught her stuffing the baker’s sweets into her mouth and pretending like I couldn’t see the crumbs all over her dress,” he sighs and falls into the rhythm of his story. “Anyway, you can imagine the kind of arguments they would get into and boy were they something. They may have been little but their shouting matches were not. And one night, Margaret was getting sick of her younger brother always pestering her to do the right thing, telling on her, that sort of thing. So she decides that she’s not going to be the bad kid anymore, he is.”

Mad Dog shifts in his sleep, but Sundown doesn’t notice. He’s picturing the scene she set now clear as day.

“Margaret worked all night to set up her little crime scene. She was dead set on getting him into serious trouble, but what she decided to do was set up some clever trap—Lord knows where she got the idea—to ambush Danny when he woke up. I think her intention was to not only frame him for a crime, but make him accidentally do a crime.” Sundown starts smiling wide now, remembering the petrified look on poor Margaret’s face at her brother Danny’s crocodile tears.

“Their parents came bursting into my station first thing in the morning; I was terrified something awful had happened. Then I saw Margaret’s brilliant idea of tying a string around her brother's wrist and connecting it all the way to their grandmother’s urn. Oh when that poor boy woke up and shattered it he was so distraught, and Margaret too was the most apologetic I’d ever seen her.” A few chuckles escape him as he remembers the worst, yet funniest part of the whole story. “I think the icing on the cake was the fact that their dog had chosen to take a nap right next to that urn. Oh, he was fine, it broke right next to him but he was covered in ashes. I remember having to bite my cheek to keep from laughing in those poor kid’s faces.” Sundown suddenly has to cover his mouth to keep from waking up Mad Dog with his laughter. He had forgotten about that story and those two siblings.

“Kid—” Sundown stops laughing. “Why the hell are you telling me this in the middle of the night?”

Sundown keeps his hand over his mouth. “Oh. I thought you were asleep.”

Mad Dog scoffs, glaring at him. “I was until someone decided to tell me a funny story.” Seeing Sundown’s wide and panicked eyes, Mad Dog’s glare softens. He reaches over to gently pick Sundown’s hand off his embarrassed face. “What were you doing?”

Taking the opportunity to tangle his fingers in Mad Dog’s, Sundown mumbles, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you woke me trying to put yourself to sleep, that it?”

Sundown sheepishly avoids Mad Dog’s eyes. “Yeah.”

Still holding his hand, Mad Dog moves closer to Sundown until he can’t resist the pull of those hard eyes on him. God be damned if he didn’t make Mad Dog deadly handsome.

“You old fool,” Mad Dog grins lazily. “Well since you went through the trouble of waking me up, how about a kiss?”

Sundown chuckles, already moving his free hand up to cup Mad Dog’s face. “You single-minded scoundrel,” he murmurs against Mad Dog’s lips before gently pressing them together. 

Something about the lazy kisses they share under the bed covers blissfully, finally makes sleep pull heavy on his eyelids. Mad Dog slowly breaks away, and slides his thumb through Sundown’s beard which causes his eyes to suddenly close dangerously fast.

“Now c’mere, Kid,” Mad Dog murmurs as he wraps his arms around Sundown and pulls him so close his warm breath tickles his ear. “‘n don’t move a muscle.”

Sundown chuckles and Mad Dog’s heavy arm presses down. “Just go to sleep, Kid,” Mad Dog sighs.

Minutes of silence and warmth pass by, and Sundown’s never felt so at peace. Just before his heavy eyes are about to shut and his endearing gratefulness overwhelms his chest, he whispers to the sleeping Mad Dog: “love you.”

“Love you too, Kid.”

[coreymichaelsmithson]

When I Was A Princess

Ever since I was a little boy, the role of royalty in fairy tales has always confused me. My grasping young mind seized upon princesses ... their beautiful costumes, their perfect hair, how they always seemed to get the happy ending they wished for (whether or not they really deserved it). But my mental picture of life as a medieval princess had been mostly formed by Disney movies and treacly storybooks, and these cotton-candy fantasies were, of course, way out of whack with the harsh actualities of the Middle Ages: stinking gutters, festering sores, tooth decay, mass starvation. In fact, being a real princess probably sucked, day-to-day, though I'm sure it was still substantially nicer to be a princess than a peasant. I'd reckon that it still is.

I’ve come to realize that my fascination with princesses was due more to the aesthetic and romantic awakening such tales ushered into my imagination than any real admiration for wealth. Growing up as a queer kid, in every sense of the word, and trying to figure out my place on the gender spectrum, I had to admit that I often identified more with princesses than princes. Princesses had better outfits, for starters, and simpler narrative arcs; they basically had to just wait around for a handsome prince to come along, and he would whisk them away to an enchanting castle, which presumably had good ventilation and abundant fireplaces, and life would forever after be perfect.

The messages us kids got from these stories were of dubious morality. Cinderella married out of her class by virtue of her comeliness, an impractical shoe, and a little magical trickery. Sleeping Beauty was a princess disguised as a peasant, who could only be rescued from her coma by a wealthy and apparently none-too-picky heir. Snow White married a would-be necrophile. Rapunzel was a captive virgin with good shampoo.

An observant friend of mine once said about Disney movies that it was “better to not look under the hood.” These are the shitty takeaways I got from watching Disney tales: “Girlfriend Be Trippin’ If She Thinks She Can Marry Into Wealth And Escape From Her Lowly Social Strata ... But Oh Wait, Here Comes Drunk Magic Grandma, Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo, Have A Hoopskirt And Some Pearls, There, Problem Solved”; “Girlfriend Better Not Turn Sixteen Because She Already Pissed Off The Green Sorceress Just By Being Born An Attractive Female And Now She’s Gotta Watch Out For Dragons And Country Antiques, Oops, Well, Shit, She Pricked Her Finger And Now She's In A Coma, What A Bummer, Hope A Horny Prince Shows Up”; “Girlfriend Better Not Eat That Drugged Apple After Getting High As Balls On Mushrooms And Singing To Wildlife And Shacking Up With Seven Random Dudes She Met In The Woods Because Sleep-Rape Is Apparently An Acceptable Practice In This Moral Landscape, And By The Way, Her Stepmother Is A Murderous Witch Who Asked A Hunter To Bring Her Bloody Heart Back In A Box”; “Girlfriend Better Stop Singing About Freedom And Mobility And Start Reinforcing The Patriarchal Order Through A Sad Regime Of Self-Denial Or Else She’ll Be Cursed By The Scary Octopus Drag Queen Into Having A Body That Probably Menstruates”; “Girlfriend Better Not Try To Educate Herself Through Reading But Should Instead Cave In To Stockholm Syndrome So She Can Come To Love Her Hairy And Violent Captor Who's Really Deep Down A Sensitive Guy, Honestly, Despite His Animal Rages And Dangerous Possessive Behaviors And Obvious Psychological Instability”; “Girlfriend Better Cooperate With Racist Colonialists If She Knows What’s Good For Her”; “Girlfriend Better Dress Like A Dude And Wield A Sword To Get Anywhere In Life”; and so on.

Why did the storytellers of yore aggrandize the aristocracy? Weren't kings and princes and dukes, at least historically speaking, usually the oppressors? When many of these popular fables were being formed, the peasants were still suffering under the rule of the fortunate few. The real history of royalty is rife with incest, inbreeding, religious persecution, torture, suppression of dissent, excessive taxation. So why, then, were the rich and powerful so often made into the centers of our fairy tales? Why do we cheer for the “charming” prince, who rides into the scene and sweeps our poor lady protagonist up and away to a better life? Why do we lionize the merciful king who throws lavish balls and stays executions, or thrill to the plots of the wicked queen? Why do we confuse true love with economic agency?

We do this because power makes for a seductive escape. It's easier to imagine being rescued. The prince just showed up, with white teeth and a white carriage ... what could possibly go wrong?

But when I went to college and studied history and actually got a chance to view images of real royalty in action, I had to admit my disappointment. What I saw looked nothing like what Disney and company had prepared me for. All those tapestries and etchings revealed a much sadder, grimier life.

Poor princess. I see her in her lonely tower, wearing a dumb conical hennin and a heavy-lidded, somewhat dopey expression. She has the double chin, pouty mouth, and baggy eyes of a medieval woodcut, and she always looks like she’s suffering from a bad cold. She's attended by maids and a homely matron and maybe a unicorn, and she’s pretty much resigned to a lifetime of making bad embroidery and mooning over dreamy brigands. Her “entertainment” mostly consists of watching sad syphilitic jesters or doing that lame limpwristed dancing courtiers used to do. You know the kind I mean ... twirling about and hopping with hands upheld, bowing to one another, prancing back and forth across the flagstones, making uneventful circles, all to a namby-pamby melody of sackbuts and flutes. Blech. Given that I'm a homosexual with a crinoline in his closet, you'd probably think that I'd be gleefully clapping my hands for all this cutesy curtseying and jangling of tambourines and such ... but insipid pageantry totally turns me off.

It's really no different today. We have become so removed from the primary objectives of survival that we seek to derive meaning from media depictions, from virtual representations, rather than through our own direct experiences. We talk about movies now rather than myths, celebrities instead of heroes, plots instead of legends. We are encouraged to define ourselves by the roles we occupy within businesses, by our placements within economic taxonomies, and not by our vocations or passions. We accept the narrative that hard work and fair play will get us to a place of stability and harmony, to a land of plenty, and are disappointed when we don't get the expected results. The American Dream itself is a form of fairy tale, one in which each of us will get the castle we so richly deserve. For some, the handsome prince is a one-way ticket past the moat.

Reality television is so popular because it perfectly reflects the boredom and spiritual vacuity of our culture. We get off on rehab redemptions, ugly duckling makeovers, riches-to-rags stories. We obsess over famous trainwrecks, simultaneously envying and scolding those who are richer and more reckless than we'll ever get to be. In watching their lives unfold before us, we want to feel an attendant rush of adrenaline, while avoiding actual discomfort or injury. We ridicule celebrities for their failings, while aping their influence and purchasing the products they endorse. We gravitate towards images of the rich and powerful, yet we relish every reminder of their human frailty. Our grocery store aisles are filled with shame and schadenfreude. The next time you’re at the market, just take a look at the tabloids glaring at you. Look at all those princes and princesses, publicly flayed for real or imagined sins.

We used to slay dragons; now we covet expensive sneakers. We used to tell tall tales of royalty; now we tell tall tales of supermodels and gangsters. Not much has changed ... just the bling.

I remember learning as a kid how important brands had become. One's identity was tied to adherence to a brand strategy. Of course, being a nervous adolescent, I got just as caught up in the horseshit as everybody else. In middle school, I once threw a hissy fit because a pair of cool girls two grades above me suggested I wear a particular sweater/collared shirt combo, and my parents simply couldn’t afford it. I stamped my feet and howled and wished that I could be more like the princesses, who dressed smartly and had lots of money and who seemed to wield some kind of power that the rest of us didn’t have.

Since then, though, I've learned a thing or two about class. I discovered, with a mixture of surprise and relief, that it's been the same since the days of Versailles: your class and your economic prospects can often be determined by the costumes you wear. Sometimes a person's character is not described so much by their own interests, their strengths, their morality, but by their adherence to (or outright rejection of) a quickly changing code of fashion.

That said, people who actively transform themselves to better reflect their inner lives really move me. I am stirred by self-actualization, especially in the face of stifling conformity. One day in downtown Seattle, I saw a transwoman in what was obviously an early stage of public interfacing, walking out of a building for what may have been the very first time. And I say this without a drop of condescension or snark, but rather with the deepest admiration ... I was impressed. I could see her nervousness, the shaky breath she took before stepping out of the vestibule. I could tell that this was a giant leap of faith she was taking. It would have been wildly inappropriate for me to approach her, but I so desperately wanted to. I felt such a strong urge to cheer her on that tears came to my eyes; instead, I just gave her the biggest smile I could, which was returned with some visible relief. So I’ll say now what I wanted to say to her then.

“I see you, sister, taking your first tentative steps out in public. I see that you are making an artwork of yourself, revealing the sculpture of your femininity with a chisel. Okay, maybe at this point it's more like you’re using a jackhammer, but still … you’re working to define yourself aesthetically and conceptually. You're becoming who you were always meant to be. Maybe you’re just beginning this transformative work, armed with only with a tube of shitty dimestore lipstick, an ill-fitting dress, some awkward heels, a crooked wig … but the results, for all their sincerity and pluck, are beautiful. You are so much more a real princess in my eyes than Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty or any of those other doe-eyed confections Disney sold us on. I see your courage and your commitment. I see your grace revealing itself in stages. I see your majesty, your majesty. You don’t need a prince to rescue you. You’re rescuing yourself. You go, girl.”

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a princess, sort of … though I secretly and more fervently envied the starchy villainesses, with their high eyebrows and pointy shoulders and severe hair. They had more glamor, and power, and there was something satisfying about their unremitting bitchiness, something that spoke to my own nascent and unsatisfied cruelty. But I grew out of it. So now this is what I want to say to the younger me, the one who wanted to be a princess, or a queen: forget about the damnable royals. There's no time to waste in aping them bitches. Become yourself. Your youth is going to pass so swiftly. Focus on your family, your best friends. Ignore the cool kids, the shiny popular ones with good hair and good clothes, because they will peak early, and unremarkably. It'll be the outcasts who matter to you in the long run. Stick with the lonely ones, the nerds and the misfits and the dark mysterious ones with hooded eyes, because you will spend decades adoring them, because they'll become your most loyal friends, the ones who will see you and accept you for who you really are. Focus on your real wealth: the people you love, the people who will love you back. The fake princesses will die a thousand daily deaths, suffocated by their peroxide and pearls, humiliated by their own vanities … while you will remain surrounded by jewels, your genuine ones, your flawed and pitted and perfect treasures, your heroes, your royalty.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

Don’t Go Baking My Heart || Seokjin

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Summary: You fall in love with Kim Seokjin’s bakery after wandering into it to take advantage of the post-Valentine’s Day discount on the chocolates. Maybe it’s the owner’s bad jokes, maybe it’s the other regulars, maybe it’s the delicious pastries. Or maybe there’s something more that keeps you coming back to that shop.

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 14.7k

Genre: Strangers (to Friends) to Lovers, Bakery AU, tooth-rotting Fluff, some smut

Warnings & Tags: mentions of insecurities and of former relationships, smut (vaginal sex, oral [male receiving], fingering), Jin makes Bad Jokes, Valentine’s Day themed

A/N: Soooo this was supposed to come out for Valentine’s Day, but it wasn’t ready then, so you guys get it now instead! I’m bad with puns so I definitely had to look online for those used in this oops. Finally, I’d like to give a big thank you to the amazing @elidebrey​ who actually worked in a bakery shop and told me all about (I’m sorry you guys ran out of milk all the time). She’s an amazing writer and you should check her out if you like the Batfam! Hope you’ll enjoy this one-shot!

February 15th

You first walk into Kim Seokjin’s bakery the day after Valentine’s Day. Your eye was caught by the chocolates and cakes you noticed on sale from the outside, and also the name of the place, The Rolling Scones, which is either genius or terrible, you can’t pick. The door bell chimes happily, first when you push the door open and then when it closes behind you.

The place is empty. There’s no one behind the counter, and you find yourself hesitating there for a second, both arms behind your back like a shy schoolgirl — which you once were, but that was a while ago now. Natural light, the cold sun of February, is falling through the bay windows, and the place is cute, clearly decorated with love and care. It makes you feel just a little warmer inside.

Since no one seems to be showing up, you take your time to look at the display. You’ve spent the past week crying over the end of your two year relationship, and you’re desperately craving something sweet and sugary to fill the hole in your heart and in your life. Post Valentine’s Day discount is definitely the best way to do that.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you knew this relationship was never going to be your forever. It was just a nice and comfortable situation to be in, and you expected you and him to part ways at some point.

You just didn’t particularly expect it to be now.

“Jungkook!” a strong voice shouts from the back of the shop, startling you. It’s quickly followed by a curse, and then a man walks in, glancing back with a worried expression, tying an apron around his waist and adjusting a small black hat on his head. You notice the ‘Jungkook’ tag on his apron, and it makes you soften in sympathy. The second his eyes fall on you, he recomposes himself, and shoots you a smile that’s professional, though the nervousness doesn’t quite disappear. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just looking,” you say, and he leans forward, probably straining to hear. Your voice has always had that weird tendency to become inaudible when you’re talking to strangers. “You don’t have anything with strawberries, do you?”

“I’m afraid everything we had went yesterday,” he says with a sympathetic frown.

“Oh, right,” you mumble. You’re disappointed to a stupid degree, and you know it’s because your emotions have been running wild recently, to the point where any small contrariety threatens to make you cry. Fortunately, you don’t, right now. That would be horribly embarrassing. “Um, I guess I’ll take that box and, uh, the éclair, please, then.”

“Of course!”

His movements are quick and precise as he takes it out, and you could be mistaken, but you think he’s deliberately not looking at you. You’re not particularly blaming him for it, though, because you’re doing the exact same thing.

“Anything else?” he asks once he’s done, and you shake your head, avoiding eye contact. “For here or to go? We’re also a café,” he elaborates when you give him a surprised — and slightly panicked — glance.

“Oh. To go, please,” you say, not so much because you actually want to, and much more because you’re bad at changing your plans when you had already made your decision.

Except… You eye the bakery. It’s not like you have anyone to come back to, and you don’t particularly want to be back at your apartment to wallow alone. You might even get some things done while you’re here.

“Um, actually, would you mind if I…?” The question dies on your lips. You’re already feeling too embarrassed to continue, but he looks up, eyes wide, and nods.

“No, no, please take a seat! Do you want something to drink as well?”

“That— That would be nice, actually.”

“Alright, just give me a second and I’ll bring you our, er, menu.”

It’s not a menu, it’s a list of drinks the owner printed and coated with plastic, and insists on calling a menu, but he isn’t going to tell you that.

You pick a table that faces the door, and after choosing and ordering your tea, pull out your computer. It’s not that the things you have to do can’t wait, but you don’t like sitting alone doing nothing. The shop is desperately empty, and part of you is terrified by the idea that Jungkook could come over to talk to you. That would probably end up not being completely unpleasant, but you’re not sure you can handle that much interaction with other human beings right now.

While scrolling through the text you are currently working on editing, you pick a chocolate out of the box to eat it and hold back a satisfied moan at the taste. The fact that it’s so good makes you feel a little more upset that you’ve never been in a relationship for Valentine’s Day and therefore have never been given anything like that.

It’s always been bad luck really, because you’ve been in a few relationships, but even with your last boyfriend, the two of you were on a break in February. The others never made it longer than a few months, and never fell at the right time. It’s not even like you want to celebrate Valentine’s Day, you do think it’s mostly a commercial holiday, and you definitely don’t want any expensive gift, but you’d be happy to have someone by your side to make fun of other couples with. Someone to love you, and someone to love.

God, you want to be in love so bad. For a few months, you thought you had it with your ex, and maybe you did, for a moment, but it had slipped from your fingers without you managing to do anything about it, leaving you sad and empty. You want to feel everything the movies and books promised, the butterflies in the stomach, the rush in the beat of your heart. You want to feel like someone holds your world in their hands. You want them to love you back — really love you, so much that you’ll catch them looking at you and see it in their eyes immediately, so much that they’ll remember how you like your tea in the morning.

You don’t think your ex ever loved you, and you don’t really blame him for that. He liked you, certainly, and for a long time that was enough for you. But now, with it being over and him telling you he’d ‘met someone’, you want more out of your next relationship.

Then again, you’d thought that last time as well.

You’re grateful when Jungkook brings you your tea, tearing you away from thoughts you really don’t want to be having right now. He gives you a smile, then is quick to retreat back behind the counter, and something tells you that he has the same difficulties talking to people as you do.

That can’t make his job fun.

You’re soon able to immerse yourself in your work, much to your surprise. Usually, you’re hyper aware of your surroundings, and it’s hard to get work done unless you’re in a place that’s both quiet and familiar, but the atmosphere in here is so warm and pleasant that you’re able to relax and focus, all while drinking your tea and eating your sweets. It’s quite close to perfect, actually.

Which is why you jump violently when someone’s voice booms into the shop.

“Jeon Jungkook!”

You look up, panicked, and Jungkook turns around with the exact same look on his face. You don’t remember the doorbell ringing, so it has to be someone from the shop, and indeed, a tall man with short black hair walks in from the same place Jungkook entered. And your brain short-circuits.

It doesn’t happen all that often, for you to simply find yourself frozen because of how good-looking someone is, but in that case, you just can’t help it. The man who just walked in is tall, with very nice, broad shoulders, and the apron he is wearing underlines the muscles of his chest in ways you didn’t think were possible, but more than that, he’s also, quite possibly, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. When you glance at his plump, full lips, you find yourself having a hard time to tear yourself away. You’re relieved that you didn't have to order from him, because you’re sure it would have made you blush and stutter.

“Jungkook, there’s a mess in the back! What are you waiting fo—” Jungkook gives panicked glances in your direction, and the man catches your presence from the corner of his eyes, turning his sentence around as smoothly as is humanly possible, all while his lips curve up into a professional smile. “Ooh, hello, dear customer! I don’t think we’ve seen you here before, have we?”

A smile spills on your mouth, much to your surprise.

“No, it’s my first time here,” you answer. Your voice isn’t as strong as you’d like for it to be, but at least you didn’t choke. You suppose still being heartbroken serves as a shield against the man’s handsomeness. “I figured there’d be some discount after Valentine’s Day, and I was hungry, so…”

“You figured you’d kill two birds with one scone?” the man asks while Jungkook, behind him, silently smacks his forehead. You figure he’s heard it a million time before, but you haven’t, and you can’t help but laugh. That makes the man’s smile widen genuinely and his eyes crease.

“I guess you came up with the bakery name,” you chuckle.

“Absolutely. Isn’t it a great name?”

Jungkook shakes his head in disgust.

“It’s genius,” you say, and the man slams his hand on the table.

“See? I told you! Jungkook keeps saying that I have a terrible sense of humor—”

“I’ll be in the back if you need me,” Jungkook grumbles.

“Hey, what do we say to customers?”

“Ah— It was nice to meet you!” he says, turning around to look at you and he seems somewhat sincere. “I hope we’ll be seeing you again.”

Then he bows his head politely and disappears in the back of the shop. The other man — who you suppose is the owner of the place — watches, laughing fondly, but goes quiet after that, so you go back to your work.

You don’t stay around too long, not wanting to overstay your welcome, but you’re still the only one in the shop by the time you decide to walk out.

“Was the tea any good?” the man asks as you walk by him.

You nod and smile.

“And the chocolates were delicious,” you add. “I’ll make sure to come back.”

“That’s music to my ears,” he says, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. That’s when you notice the ‘Seokjin’ tag on his apron. You don’t know what to do with that information, though. You don’t call strangers by their first name and you also don’t stalk people on line.

Especially not when you don’t have their last name.

You say a quick ‘goodbye’, then walk out. Jin’s eyes follow you for a few seconds, before he sighs and turns around, already taking off his apron.

“Jungkook!”

The boy is quick to appear again, scanning the shop for your presence.

“She’s gone?” he asks, and Jin gives a slap at the back of his employee's head with a groan. There’s no strength in it, though, and Jungkook barely reacts to it.

“How could you run away like that, you little—”

Jungkook easily avoids him when Jin tries to him it again, laughing at his outrage.

“We’re not going to be getting a lot more clients today, are we?” he asks, looking outside at the passers-by that don’t even spare a glance at the little shop.

“No,” Jin groans, letting himself fall on a chair.

The depressing calm that follows what is possibly the busiest day of the year for him is just one of the reasons why he absolutely despises Valentine’s Day.

February 22nd

When you show up at the bakery again, about a week later, you’re feeling surprisingly good about it. Last time went well, you decided, and the people were nice, so you’re not afraid to throw a quiet but polite “Hello!” when you walk in. It’s kind of funny — or is it sad — how it always surprises you when people are nice to you, much more used to passive disinterest at best.

There’s another man in the shop this time, with a laptop and a coffee in front of him, but he doesn’t look up at you. A head lifts up from behind the counter though. You feel vaguely embarrassed that you remember this one is Seokjin, and you only feel more awkward when he gives you a dazzling smile.

A glance at the display tells you that they have restocked on their strawberry-based pastries, and you happily pick a slice of cake for yourself.

“For here or to go?”

“I’ll have it here,” you say with a smile. You feel strangely proud of yourself for being able to say it spontaneously. He has no way of knowing it, but it’s quite the victory for you. Usually, you try to run from the presence of others as fast as you can, and it’s even worse those days. “And I’ll also have Darjeeling tea with it, please.”

“Coming right up, just take a seat and I’ll bring it to you,” he says, and then he winks. He doesn’t stick around to see the surprised look on your face, so you just do as he told you, wondering if he was flirting with you or if he’s just Like That. You think that second explanation might be the answer.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says when he arrives with the cake and the tea. You’re pretty sure he can’t place you exactly, just thinks your face is familiar, but it still makes you happy.

He tells you he hopes you’ll come back when you leave, and you decide you want to believe it.

June 1st

You’re not sure when you become an official ‘regular’ at the bakery. Maybe it’s when you ask Jin if they even do scones, and he leans over the counter to tell you conspiratorially that he actually wanted to call the shop ‘bake it ’til you make it’, but was told it was too long. That elicits a brief burst of laughter from you, and Jungkook tells you to stop encouraging him, but Seokjin looks so happy with himself when you laugh that you decide not to listen to him. Jin has that way of breaking past your shyness that fascinates you. It might be what keeps you coming back, more than the delicious sweets and how beautiful the two workers look.

Or maybe it’s when Jin tells you that it’s not fair you know their names but they don’t know yours, and that he’d ask you for your ID before selling you stuff if you don't tell him. When you tell him, he repeats it a couple of times, like he’s tasting it, before nodding with satisfaction. After that, him and Jungkook start greeting you with it, and insist you do the same with them. You’re reluctant at first, feeling somewhat confused about the whole thing, but it turns out to feel… nice, to have people to greet, and who also know your name.

Maybe it’s when Jin tells you that you’re late when you come in, or complains when you don’t show up on one of your usual days because you had a meeting with your boss. He doesn’t say anything on the day where you take your pastries to go because you’re visiting a friend at the hospital, though, and you wonder if he can just tell. Regardless, you appreciate it.

You find out about other people who come here frequently, too, and especially the ones who are friends with Jin and Jungkook. Namjoon, who sits with his laptop at the opposite end of the café from you. Yoongi, who usually sits in the same spot as you, and eyes you threateningly when he comes in and you’re there the first time, until Seokjin tells him to knock it off. Taehyung and Jimin, who always come in together, and who Jungkook usually joins to bicker and laugh with them. Hoseok, who likes to waltz in at random times, and whose smile actually rivals Jin’s.

You yourself come in twice a week, getting to your usual place to work — except on the couple of occasions where Yoongi gets there before you and gives you a triumphant smile when he sees you. You enjoy the way you’re always greeted by Jungkook or Seokjin, like they’re genuinely happy to see you. You discover that the old ladies who come here to gossip love to flirt with Jin and that, even though he flirts back outrageously, much to their delight, his ears tend to turn a bright red when he does.

You even bring your friends on a couple of occasion, and Seokjin jokes that you’re responsible for half of his turnover at this point. Your friends enjoy the food, and the drinks, but they enjoy the handsome employees and customers a lot more.

“So this is where all the hot men were,” Hana marvels when you walk out, and you burst out laughing. You like that you’ve shared this place with her, because it’s something that makes you really happy these days, motivates you to come out of your bed, and even to talk to people, something you’ve never been good at.

When you walk into the shop and make small talk with the people you’ve come to know, something you used to consider yourself terrible at, it might be silly, but it kind of feels like home.

June 21st

You are pretty sure you know when you go from regular to friend, though. It’s a day like any other and you hum on your way to the shop. Instead of the joyful “Welcome back, (Y/N)!” that you’ve gotten used to hearing these past few weeks, however, you’re greeted with Seokjin shouting “(Y/N), my savior!”.

You freeze on the spot and give him a worried look. From his table, Namjoon looks up, just as puzzled.

“Is everything okay, Jin?” he asks.

“Jungkook isn’t there today,” Jin tells you. His voice doesn’t sound different from usual, but there is a glint of panic in his eyes.  “I need your help.”

Namjoon stands up.

“Why didn’t you ask me? I could—”

“Stay where you are and don’t even think of approaching my kitchen,” Jin says threateningly. “(Y/N)? Please?”

Well. You suppose your work can get done later. You’re more productive when you come here, so you have some advance on your usual deadlines these days. But you don’t know what Jin wants from you and you’ve never worked in a bakery.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask cautiously.

He grabs your shoulders and your eyes widen at the contact. Not that it’s unpleasant, just unexpected.

“I knew when you first walked in here that you were a godsend,” he tells you seriously, looking right into your eyes, and you tell yourself that if he’s that good of an actor, you should probably watch out. “We’re out of milk.”

You blink.

“Okay. Is there a specific type of milk you want?”

“Just, milk. Get me milk and I’ll worship the ground you walk on until the end of days.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and take your bag off your shoulder, handing it to him.

“Look after that, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll protect it with my life,” he says solemnly. “Also paper napkins please!” he shouts as you’re already walking out.

“Will do!”

“Bake a leg!”

You want to protest the joke that even you find to be quite bad, but the door has already closed behind you, so you just shake your head at him, only to see him laughing with satisfaction through the glass, and head to the nearest supermarket.

You come back with two big packs of milk and a lot of paper napkins, just as two men are exiting. You’ve seen them before, but they never stay to chat. Inside, Jin is juggling three women, and he looks more relieved than you’ve ever seen him when you walk in.

“I’ll help you with that,” Namjoon says immediately, bumping in the table as he gets up.

“If you break anything, I’ll kill you,” Jin warns him. He’s smiling like he’s joking, and his tone is light, like he doesn’t want to scare off his customers, but his eyes say he’s sincere.

You’re quick in the back, and Namjoon does drop the packs once, but nothing bad happens. He presses a finger against his lips to tell you to keep it a secret, and you grin without a word. Part of you is kind of wondering what you’re doing there, why Jin feels comfortable letting you in the back and why he asked you to do that, but you don’t have an issue with it, not by a long shot. This is… kind of fun, actually.

“Anything else you want me to do?” you ask Jin when you come out, and he looks at you in a pleading way.

“You don’t mind?”

Something tells you you shouldn’t accept too quickly, that you could end up in way over your head faster than you know. But his brown eyes are wide and desperate and you just can’t say no. So you smile and shake your head.

“Of course not. You look like you really need a hand here.”

“I do.”

That’s how you find yourself in an apron, with the cute, black hat Jin and Jungkook always wear on your head. Jin mostly sends you in the back to pick up things he needs, or makes you bring the beverages to the customers, which you’re thankful for, because that way you don’t have to greet anyone. Time flies quickly, and you can barely find a second to breathe for the first few hours.

“Sorry, it’s lunch time,” Jin grimaces as he passes you by, and you think to yourself that at least, it will get better, but it takes a while even after that, and when it’s done, Jin sends you to buy some more stuff from the supermarket, because as it turns out, things go fast.

Before you know it, it’s closing time, and you look outside in disbelief. The sky is starting to turn a nice pink, and other shops are putting up their shutters.

“You can go, if you want,” Jin tells you. He sounds terribly sorry, and that makes you feel bad. It’s such an unusual tone for him to have.

His offer is tempting, of course. Your feet hurt, your head aches a little from all the noise that never bothered you before but turns out to be a lot when you’re there all day, you’ve burned your hand against an oven, and you’ve found out that carrying things ends up really hurting your back. But you know that he’s experiencing the same thing you do, and you just don’t have the heart to abandon him here. Also, you’ve already lost your day, so you might as well help him out now.

“It’s fine,” you sigh. “Do you want me to help with anything?”

Cleaning up goes quietly in the main shop, and that soothes you a little. You don’t mind the silence, even enjoy it, and find yourself relaxing for the first time today. Surprisingly, you’re feeling… satisfied. It’s not something you would particularly look forward to doing again, but you’re happy you did it, happy you helped Jin, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something today, which is always a good thing.

“You have flour everywhere,” he tells you bluntly when you walk in the back of the shop, and you laugh.

“Well, it got everywhere,” you reply, trying to rub some off your face, and it’s Jin’s turn to laugh when you fail miserably.

You know you shouldn’t do it, but you gather a small handful of flour from the table, and throw it at him. A good chunk hangs in the air and makes you cough, but the rest does land on his apron. His mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape and you know you’ve messed up.

“Listen, I am so sorry—”

“No you’re not,” he says, taking a step towards you. His hand is on the table, which is covered with flour, and you swallow.

“Sure I am, Jin, please—”

But your pleas fall in deaf ears, and flour is soon flying your way. It’s your turn to stare at Jin in disbelief, and then you’re laughing, loud and clear.

Maybe that’s the exact moment when the two of you become friends — really friends.

Or maybe it’s seconds later, when the room you’re in turns into the scene for an all-out flour battle. Regardless, you’re laughing the whole way through, when you’re not choking on the flour hanging in the air. Jin’s laughter is quieter than yours, miles away from the booming and somewhat fake laugh you’re used to hearing from him.

The fight only escalates when Jin picks up an egg. You shake your head, mouth ‘no’, but he doesn’t listen, and after that, things get a lot messier. By the time the two of you, exhausted and bent in half because of how much you’ve been laughing, finally stop, you can feel yoke trickling down your back, and you know the sight can’t be pretty. Jin reaches out to you in a useless attempt to wipe some flour from your face, only to laugh more when it, of course, fails once more.

You try not to think about the jolt of electricity that ran through you when his fingers came in contact with your cheek.

“I’ll clean up in here,” he tells you, “but you should go take a shower upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, surprised. Suddenly, you’re very conscious of the fact that you don’t know him that well. In recent months, you’ve talked to him more than you do with your close friends, and you did just throw several eggs at him, but you don’t know him. You’re aware of the fact that he lives above the shop, but you’ve never been there. The two of you have never even exchanged numbers.

He makes dramatic hand gestures to signal you to get away, like you’re bothering him, and you leave with a last laugh. You don’t notice the way he looks up when you do, or the way it makes him smile. He can’t help it, he just loves that he makes you laugh.

You’re relieved to step into the shower, both because you’re happy to clean up and because there was something really awkward about being in Seokjin’s apartment for the first time, alone. The place was not quite as decorated as the bakery was, with paler colors. Walking through it, you had noticed big speakers, some books in a shelf, and a couple of cute plushes that you had had to resist not to fawn over. The place worked for him, you had decided. It was more understated than you would have expected when you had just started to know him, but it doesn’t surprise you anymore. Jin tends to be quiet when he doesn’t have to be ‘on’, and it’s something he doesn’t seem to feel he has to do around you anymore.

You sigh in pleasure when the hot water hits you, close your eyes. You’ve been craving it for hours now — long before the food battle with Jin. It helps relax your aching muscles, washes away all the sweat from the day, and you have to resist not to just let yourself fall down onto the floor. Your back hurts, but the worst part has to be your feet. You feel yourself gaining a lot more appreciation for Jin and Jungkook, who are always kind, smiling and polite despite all of this. The only thing that kept you from biting someone’s head off tonight was your crippling anxiety when it comes to interacting with strangers.

It’s almost funny now to think you used to feel that way around Jin.

You look around for some soap you could use, and in your search, you’re surprised to find shampoo that was definitely intended for a woman. You don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s no wonder that Jin would have a girlfriend, really, it’s the opposite that should shock you, but you still didn’t expect it. You force away the pinch in your chest. Jin is a new friend, you can’t have your heart fluttering like that.

You consider using it for half a second, before deciding that it would be very awkward if you came out smelling like his girlfriend. Instead, you do your best to get rid of any egg, and tell yourself you’ll wash your hair at home. You barely hear the sound of the door opening and closing over the water, and you’re startled by Jin’s voice outside the bathroom.

“You can take a towel from the chest of drawers,” he tells you, “and I’ll leave a shirt outside, if you want it.”

“Thank you!” you shout back.

Seokjin stands there a few seconds, before quickly shaking his head and walking away. He knows his ears are turning red, and he hates himself for it, but is it his fault, really? Is he supposed not to think about you, right now, in his shower, water running down your body? He never even thought to pretend he was that innocent.

He occupies himself by preparing a drink for the two of you, and then by cleaning around. He’s not particularly messy, though, and there isn’t much to do, so he ends up sitting on his couch, feeling awkward in his own house, and scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He freezes again when he hears the bathroom door open and close, guessing you’re picking up his shirt. Which means you’re— God what is wrong with him tonight? When did he regress to the state of a hormonal teenager?

He hopes he looks natural when you come out, because he’s doing his best for that. The nervous way he’s running his hands over his thighs would probably give him out, though, if you weren’t feeling just as stressed as him.

“I’m done,” you mumble, your shyness coming back, which you decide is to be expected in that situation.

It vanishes the second Jin looks you over and snorts.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, glancing down, and immediately you know that you’re probably ridiculous in his black shirt. It looks like it’s swallowing you whole. “It’s not my fault if your shoulders are that broad,” you pout.

“You look so small,” Jin chuckles. He sounds endeared, and if you noticed that sort of things, you would absolutely realize that his eyes linger on you in his clothes fondly — and a little longer than necessary.

“Want something to drink?” he asks, gesturing at the stuff he got out of the fridge when he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Sure,” you smile, letting yourself fall down on the couch next to him and pouring yourself a glass. The brief awkwardness that washed over you when you came in vanishes already, because of how comfortable you feel around Jin. He’s always been good at making you feel that way, and now he doesn’t even have to try.

“So, how did you find your day?” he asks you, and you look at him, surprised by his tone. He sounds quiet, cautious almost, like he’s worried about what your reaction might be, or that he could be bothering you.

“Fine,” you say with a shrug. “I can’t say I’d want to do it again— When is Jungkook coming back?”

Jin chuckles, and again, it takes you by surprise. It’s so… quiet. So discreet, compared to his usual attitude.

“He should be there tomorrow, don’t worry about it.” Then, he grimaces. “But seriously, thank you for helping out today. I owe you.”

“Yes you do,” you say with a grin, bumping your shoulder against his, trying to lift the mood a little, because he sounds genuinely worried. “Just offer me the tea next time, and I’ll consider us even.”

Finally, a smile forms on his lips, and he shakes his head dramatically, putting his hand over his heart.

“No, I don't think I could ever repay you,” he says, and you laugh at his antics, like you always do. He looks a little appeased by that, and that’s a relief. “Your back must hurt,” he says. “Turn around.”

You raise an eyebrow, but do as he says, startling when his hands fall on your shoulders. They’re large, engulfing you easily, but they also move gently as he slowly massages you.

“Oh,” you gasp, leaning back into him. This is— good. This is very very good. For a few minutes — or maybe much longer, you couldn’t tell — you just stay there, eyes closed, lips parted, focused on the delicious feelings of his hands gently rubbing all the pain and soreness of the day away. When he stops, it takes you a few seconds to come back down to reality, and maybe, just maybe you miss the feeling of his hands. “Oh,” you repeat, rolling your shoulders slowly. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Jin says. “It’s kind of my fault.”

You turn around, shaking your head.

“Seokjin,” you say. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind helping.”

“You’re too kind,” he frowns. “You shouldn’t let people take advantage of that.”

“I’m not!”

Then Jin smiles, in a way that only lifts one corner of his lips, and suddenly you feel— you’re not too sure. Something seems to melt inside you, something moves in your stomach like you’re free falling. You probably should recognize the feeling. It’s not like it’s anything new to you, and yet you miss it. You do something you almost never do in that situation, and you take a step back. You glance up from his lips, shoot him a smile, and get up from the couch.

“It’s getting late,” you comment. “I really need to go home.”

Jin is on his feet immediately.

“I’ll walk you back,” he says, concern flashing in his eyes.

“I’m good. It’s not that far and I need to clear my head after, you know, everything today.” You’re not sure you know, but Jin nods, though a little reluctantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Very.”

He sighs. He doesn’t seem too pleased about it, but you guess he doesn’t want to insist too much, either.

“Give me your phone,” he says, and when you hand it to him, he types his number in, pouting as he explains himself to you. “Text me when you get home, alright? Otherwise I’ll just worry all night, because everyone is so unreasonable, and just wants me to lose sleep, and—”

You take your phone back from him with a laugh.

“I’ll text you,” you promise, briefly putting your hand over his. That feels— normal, you decide. It’s not like your hands have never brushed in the months since you’ve started frequenting the bakery. It just feels fine, and whatever there was before could just be a false alert. But then Jin looks into your eyes, and the feeling comes back.

“You better.”

You practically flee the bakery. You’re trying to make sense of the whole thing in your head, and it doesn’t go over great. You let Jin know you got home safe, and then do your best to push the whole thing out of your mind when you go to bed. You refuse to think about it too much. Not because you don’t understand what’s going on, but because somewhere, deep down, you do. This isn’t— this isn’t something you do. You fall hard and fast, that’s— that’s your thing.

Sometimes it’s nice, others it’s disappointing, but most importantly, it means that when the relationship is over, your life just goes back to what it was before. It you ever had feelings for a friend, someone you’re so used to having around… You’re sure it would truly break your heart.

July 15th

Summer is horribly hot this year. Fortunately for you, your favorite bakery has started serving ice cream. There is air conditioning in the store, but with the door constantly opening and closing, gusts of hot air regularly reach even you. No one seems too happy with the situation, with Jungkook seeming to slowly come apart under the temperature. Even Namjoon has abandoned ship, leaving much earlier than usual today. He waved at you when he got out, and you waved back.

Who knew, maybe the two of you would actually talk next time.

Jin uses a lull in the otherwise busy afternoon to drop at your table, and you smile to him. You haven’t really gone through anything like that night ever since, and you decided it was just a one time thing. You were tired from the work, and you were touch-starved, and, surely, there was nothing there, other than you gaining a new friend.

Yup. Nothing to see at all. Even when he’s sitting next to you, trying to fan himself with one of the bakery’s menus, head thrown back in a way that makes his Adam’s apple even more prominent.

You never thought yourself as someone who particularly enjoyed necks, but it seems you were wrong.

Not that that has anything to do with feelings, of course. Jin’s just hot. You already knew that.

“Hey, (Y/N), what’s your favorite cake?” he asks you.

It takes you just a second too long to answer.

“Uh. Anything that has strawberries in it, I guess,” you say, and he nods, but he’s also frowning. “Are my tastes not up to par?” you grin, raising an eyebrow.

“Clearly, your tastes are great, since you keep coming back,” Jin answers immediately, with the confidence that you now know to be mostly facade, but that you’ve still come to love. “No, strawberries are good. I can work with strawberries.”

“I actually wanted strawberries the first time I came here,” you reminisce. “But there weren’t any left because that was after Valentine’s Day.”

Jin clicks his tongue in disgust.

“Worst day of the year,” he says, “though February is a bad month for strawberries in general.”

“You don’t like Valentine’s Day?” you ask, and if you were a dog, your ears would be perking up with interest. You’ve always loved to hear people’s opinion on the holiday, because it’s so divisive. “You guys must make quite a lot of money…”

“I’m wounded that you’d think money is all I care about,” Jin sighs dramatically, though the glint in his eyes lets you know that he’s only joking. “It’s just very busy,” he admits. “It’s a lot of work to prepare, people place a lot of orders, and we basically don’t get a minute to ourselves. Not to mention— do you know what it does to a person to know that the food he lovingly prepared is probably going to be eaten off someone’s body?”

You can’t help it. You burst out laughing. When you do, you’re completely unaware of the fond way Jin looks at you. He’s always liked that he made you laugh, from the very first day you came into the store.

“No,” you admit, “no, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Well I have to.”

“I’m so sorry for you.”

“I’m sorry for me too.”

Then Jimin practically waltzes in and energetically greets everyone in the room, including you, and Jin gets up to serve him and Taehyung because Jungkook looks like he’s about to collapse, and you don’t give much more thought to the conversation.

But Jin remembers that strawberry cake is your favorite.

September 18th

Somehow, you get roped into helping Jin with his grocery shopping. He sat at your table and complained about how Jungkook wouldn’t be able to help him that week, and you voiced your sympathy, and next thing you knew, you were in the supermarket with him.

Well, maybe you’d offered your help. Maybe you just didn’t want to admit it because of that time he’d told you you were too kind.

“You know, I thought I’d be helping you for the bakery,” you comment, “but this mostly looks like it’s for you.”

“I am the bakery,” Jin replies, and you grin.

You watch him as he carefully crosses item after item of his detailed list. You expected him to be messy, to grab whatever he wanted, but he is as meticulous with this as he is with the baking he does for his customers. Which is— strangely endearing to you.

“Most of what we get comes in bigger orders,” he explains to you once he’s done with that aisle. “Sometimes, we find ourselves missing some things…”

“Like milk.”

“It’s always the milk,” he sighs, shaking his head it brings back bad memories. “But that’s not an issue for a lot of thing, unless something very specific comes up. Like a customer wanting  a pineapple pie.”

You tilt your head as he cautiously picks pineapples. You’re not even sure how you can tell if a pineapple is ripe, but he looks like he knows what he’s doing.

“That sounds… interesting?”

“It’s going to sound very interesting when I’ll make you carry half the bags,” Jin says, and you roll your eyes. Does he think you’re going to bail on him? You would never do that.

Well. Until your eyes fall on Minho, standing there, like he hasn’t simply vanished from your life six months ago. There’s a woman with him, and she’s laughing at something he said. You suppose she was the one he met — or maybe another one, there’s no way of knowing, really. But they look like they’re getting along well, and it— it makes you happy. You think.

“Huh,” you mumble. “That’s my ex over there.”

Jin looks up so fast you worry he might hurt his neck.

“What? Where? Do you need me to insult him?”

You’re about to say no when Minho turns around, and his eyes meet yours. He gives you a hesitant nod, and you think that’s going to be it, but then, after a few seconds of obvious inner debate, he makes his way towards you.

Great.

“(Y/N),” he says, a bit awkwardly. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you reply softly and, much to your surprise, you mean it. You did your best not to let yourself miss him, but you suppose you did. It’s been a long time since you last saw him.

“This is, erm, this is Lisa,” he says, gesturing at the woman, who gives you a polite smile. It looks like she knows exactly who you are, and you suppose it must be uncomfortable for her as well. “My girlfriend.”

Yeah. You’d pieced that together. But then, Minho’s eyes move to Jin, and he raises an eyebrow, and you realize what he’s thinking about.

“Oh, this is—”

“Seokjin,” Jin says, extending his hand. “I’m her boyfriend.”

You’re sure that anyone looking at you can tell from your expression, from the way your mouth falls open and from the incredulous way you shake your head that that’s not true, but both Minho and Lisa are looking at him, and miss it completely. When Jin looks at you, he gives an imperceptible nod and puts an arm around your shoulders.

The warmth is— kind of nice. Maybe it even sends a shiver down your back, but you’re sure it’s because you’re still quite touch-starved those days.

Nothing else here.

“That’s great,” Minho says, and he looks relieved. “It’s great that you’re with someone.”

“Isn’t it?” Jin says before you can think of anything to answer to that. “She walked into my bakery and I just knew she would become my favorite client. Basically love at first sight.”

“Love at first sale, maybe,” you can’t help but answer, even if you know, reasonably, that you shouldn’t entertain him. You’re pretty sure he’s trying to show off in front of the two, which is really unnecessary, but you appreciate the gesture. “Jin makes the best cakes you can find in the whole town,” you tell them. Not to show off, but because it’s true. There are a lot of good things you could tell them about Jin, come to think of it. A lot.

“Maybe we should try it then,” Lisa says, smiling. She looks more relaxed than earlier, though you suppose she could also just be trying to get out of this conversation.

“Oh, it’s a must,” you reply sincerely, and Jin laughs, pulling you against his chest a little.

“She’s too nice,” he says, and you immediately protest that no, definitely not, he does, and you’re sure you look like a very annoying couple, because it doesn’t take long for Minho to clear his throat.

“Well, we have to go but it was— it was nice catching up with you.”

“Same,” you nod, and when he leaves, you can’t help but watch him. You don’t really feel anything right now. You were sincerely happy to see him, but it felt like running into a childhood friend you haven’t seen in a long, long time, and now have nothing in common with outside of those memories. Except it hasn’t been a life time since you last met him. Just a little over six months. Soon, he’ll just be someone you used to know.

You wish you were more upset by this. You wish there was anything that told you that what you had with him actually mattered. Instead, this vague indifference lets you know that your paths had probably diverged before the two of you even broke up. And that makes you kind of sad.

“Are you okay?” Jin asks. He has that quiet voice you’ve heard a few times now.

“I’m fine,” you nod, “but you really didn’t have to do that. I wasn’t— Minho and I aren’t— there really was no need.”

“I was happy to do it,” Jin says, and you notice how petty he sounds. “It’s always a joy to let an ex see how much better than them you’re doing.”

You laugh. You probably agree with him on that, but you’re not going to help feed his ego even more. Jungkook would probably never forgive you for it.

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like you doing that,” you observe, and Jin answers that remark with a blank stare.

“When have I ever said anything about a girlfriend?”

“Well, there was a bottle of shampoo at your place that—”

“So a guy can’t like having his hair smell like fruit, huh?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Wow, way to reinforce stereotypes, (Y/N). I expected more of you.”

He ignores your attempts at protesting and strides away from you. It takes you a few moments to catch up, because of his stupid long legs of his.

“If I had a girlfriend, I would never stop talking about her,” he lets you know while you’re catching your breath. “So don’t worry. You’ll know about it.”

“Duly noted,” you say. You maybe feel a little too happy about that new information so, to distract yourself from it, you change the subject. “So I’m your favorite customer?”

He scoffs and glances away from you, refusing to meet your eyes. He thought you hadn’t picked up on that.

“You’re a strong contestant, I guess,” he says reluctantly, and you laugh, not pushing it further.

“Anyway— Minho broke up with me a week Valentine’s Day,” you say. You’re not sure why. Maybe to let Jin that you’ve been over it for a long time.

“That’s rude,” Jin comments with a disapproving click of his tongue.

“He probably wanted to spend it with her,” you shrug. “When we got together, he told me he didn’t cheat. He left. So— I guess that was it.” Then there’s a laugh, and you can’t tell if it sounds bitter. You hope not. “I’ve actually never had a boyfriend for Valentine’s Day,” you confess.

The silence that follows is unusual for Jin. When you glance up at him, he’s just looking at you, and for a second, you think it’s pity you find in his eyes. But, from the way he frowns, you realize it could just be genuine sympathy.

“Would it make you feel better if I tell you it’s a terrible holiday that’s just there to sell things?”

“I already know that,” you chuckle, even if it does make you feel a little better. “I just want someone to buy me roses once, you know?”

Jin doesn’t answer, just looks at you, and something about the intensity of his stare makes you feel— feel things you told yourself you weren’t feeling for him. But then, you just ran into Minho, didn’t you? It makes sense that you would be all over the place emotionally.

“Anything more on your list?” you ask, and Jin blinks.

“Yeah, that way,” he says, sounding a bit off, but then he adds “More things for you to carry,” and you decide to brush it off.

But he stores the information in his mind. Strawberry cake and roses. Duly noted.

October 31st

“So do you actually like Halloween, or is this just another shameless cash grab for you?” you ask Jin when he brings you your tea.

You have to admit, him and Jungkook truly went all out for this. They’ve decorated the shop with pumpkins, and there are fake bats hanging from the ceiling. There are also themed cakes and chocolates shaped like spiders. It’s spooky, and it delights the kids that come in and ask the parents about it. You definitely appreciate the atmosphere it creates — and you also appreciate the way Hoseok jumped when he walked in front of the witch that lets out an evil laugh when someone passes the movement detector.

“Halloween is not terrible, I guess,” Jin says, like him and Jungkook don’t take a full day out of their schedules and bring in some friends just to decorate the shop. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you answer sincerely, and Jin’s expression softens.

“Hey, we’re having a small get-together after closing tonight,” he tells you spontaneously. “Wanna join us?”

You take a second to answer. It’s not like you don’t want to — far from that — but there’s that voice inside of you that tells you that you’ve been weird around Jin, and you don’t want to be weird around him. You want to keep things as they are, because he’s such a wonderful friend to have around. You’d hate yourself if you changed that.

But if the point is to have him around, then surely, telling him no right now would be counter-productive, right?

“Absolutely,” you say with a smile, and Jin beams, and you feel all warmed-up inside.

You already know that you’ll have fun, and you’ll laugh, and he’ll insist on walking you him and you’ll tell him no. And it sounds exactly like how you want to spend your evening.

January 10th

You first meet Sungho on New Year’s Eve, at Hana’s party. The two of you click immediately, and you enjoy the familiar rush of feelings, the waiting for a text after you’ve given him your number, the anticipation of knowing where this is all leading, if everything goes right. After a week, you run into him at the bakery, or, well, you’re sitting in your usual corner when he comes in. He doesn’t see you immediately, but when he looks in your direction after a little while, you happily wave him over.

“You don’t usually come here, do you?” you ask him. “I would have seen you by now if you were a regular.”

He chuckles, flashes you a bright smile, and you smile in return. Sungho has a nice smile. He doesn’t laugh easily, though, from what you saw when you met him, which is a shame, but definitely not a dealbreaker, even if you love to hear people laugh.

“No, I saw you were talking about this place a lot online, and I figured I would come and check it out. Of course, seeing you here is the best part,” he adds with a wink, and he leans towards you a little. The obvious flirtation sends a wave of heat through your chest, and you don’t hesitate to lean forward as well, resting your elbow on the table and putting your chin on your hand. You enjoy the closeness, the proximity, the chase.

You pull away when Jin arrives with Sungho’s order.

“This looks great,” Sungho comments. “I’m glad (Y/N) advertised you so much.”

“Well, there’s a reason she’s our favorite customer,” Jin replies, smiling, and when you meet his eyes, they’re fond and— and something else that makes it hard to breathe for a second.

But the smile fades when Sungho takes a portion of his cake with the spoon and offers it to you.

“Wanna try it?” he asks, and you do, because you know everything Jin makes will be amazing. You’re not sure you love the gesture itself — it’s kind of cute, but you’ve also just met him and it feels a bit strange — but you still giggle and take the bite.

And all Jin can do is stand there, looking at the two of you. He feels something he has felt before, and it’s that he let something he wanted pass him by. He waited too long to make a move, once again, and once again, it’s cost him something he doesn’t know how he’ll live without, and now he’ll have no choice but to figure it out.

You glance up, and he catches himself, plastering a smile on his lips.

“Enjoy yourselves!” he says, a little too loudly, and he knows, from the way you blink and the puzzled look you give him, that you’ve noticed and it’s— it’s horrible. It’s horrible that you know him that well and that you’ve seen so many facets of him and you’ve chosen someone else. You don’t ask anything, though, and he’s quick to leave.

He’s also quick to ask Jungkook to replace him in the shop, and he, very deliberately, doesn’t ask anything about how things went. Doesn’t want to know if you kissed, or worse, if you left together.

He’ll be fine. It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t been through before.

February 5th

You feel impossibly excited when Sungho asks you out for Valentine’s Day. You gush about it to your friends, a lot, and Hana is delighted for you — and very pleased that her circles of friends are meeting like that. Jungkook sounds happy, too, though slightly more reserved, but you get the type of enthusiasm you wanted from Jimin and Taehyung.

Jin gets quiet when you let him know, though. It’s not something you haven’t seen before, but it does take you off guard, because you’ve never seen it happen while in the shop, where he’s usually on top of his game.

“Are you okay?” you ask, worried, leaning over the counter to put a hand on his arm. “You look a little under the weather these days.”

He smiles, but it lacks his usual flamboyance.

“Valentine’s Day is coming,” he tells you. “The worst day of the year.”

You laugh at that, relax, and take your hand off. You miss the way his eyes fall on the place you were just touching.

“Well, not this year, hopefully. Not this year.”

Yeah. He’s not so sure about that.

February 14th

It’s your first time, ever, having a date on Valentine’s Day, and you’re determined to do everything right. Sungho is taking you to a fancy restaurant, so you decide there is no issue in going all out. You take the day to prepare yourself, enlist Hana to do your make-up and hair, and you use the opportunity to wear a lovely bright red dress that you had been saving for a special occasion.

Hana whistles when you come out of your room after you’ve also put on half-transparent black tights.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she says with an appreciative nod.

You glance down at your body self-consciously and try to smooth the fabric of the dress. You do think it looks pretty good, but you could be wrong. Does it show too much of your legs? Does it hug your curves too tightly?

“You think he’s going to like it?” you ask, somewhat shyly.

“He should if he knows what’s good for him,” she replies, expression turning murderous, before softening. “Just… Are you sure you want to be doing that?”

You give her a confused look.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, going out with Sungho,” she says with a vague hand gesture. “I just— I don’t know. Do you like him that much?”

It’s funny. You haven’t really asked yourself that question. You’ve just been going through all the usual motions — the flirting, the dates, and, inevitably, the start of the relationship, which is probably for tonight.

“We— we get along fine,” you answer. “I like him.”

You leave the words ‘well enough’ out of that sentence. You like Sungho well enough. But then, that’s always been good enough for you, so why should it change now?

Hana seems to think about it for a little while, then shrugs.

“Okay then. Do you need my help to walk to the cab? I would not trust these things.”

She’s pointing at your heels, and it makes you laugh. These aren’t even that high, and they’re pretty stable. You don’t think you’ll have any trouble walking in them. Hana wouldn’t abandon her flat shoes to save her life, though, so you suppose the question was to be expected.

“You can just tell me if you want to hold my arm,” you tease, and it seems to take her by surprise, before she chuckles.

“You’ve gotten a little too good at that. I don’t know if I like it.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid Jin has infected me.”

That gives her pause, and she shoots you a weird look, but you miss it. She opens her mouth to say something, then gives up. She could be wrong, after all.

She kind of hopes she’s wrong, or that if she’s right, you’ll realize it soon enough.

The dinner is perfect. You’re dressed perfectly for the occasion, fitting right in the restaurant’s decor, Sungho complimented you when you walked in and you told him he looked great, which is true, the food is delicious, the conversation flows easily, and there are roses on the table. They’re not for you, part of the decoration, and it doesn’t look like Sungho’s gotten you any, which gives you just a little pinch of disappointment in your chest, but it’s also not a big deal. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

And you’re not happy with it.

You can’t place it, and it slowly drives you insane, as you and Sungho make your way through the meal. You try your best not to let it show, but you think he notices your increasing restlessness. You feel bad about it, because really, he hasn’t done anything wrong. You just— something’s not right.

Dammit. It’s your first time having a date on Valentine’s Day, and you can’t make it work.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Sungho says while the two of you are waiting for your desert, and you do your best to snap out of whatever is going on in your head to focus on him.

“Tell me,” you smile, though the smile is polite, rather than genuine.

He takes a deep breath and reaches over the table to take your hand. It’s far from the first time the two of you make physical contact, you’ve even kissed a few times, and it was nice, but something makes you want to recoil, in that moment. You don’t, though. Why would you? It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about you makes sense right now.

“I like you,” he says, and you find the breath knocked out of you. It’s not unpleasant, though, it’s very nice in fact, and it almost completely dissipates your previous discomfort. “And I think— you know. We haven’t said anything about being exclusive yet, so I figured I’d— ask.”

He looks pretty confident, which you thought would put you off, but it doesn’t. The answer seems obvious to you. It’s been just a little over a year since you broke up with Minho, which is a reasonable time, so your lips part to let him know that you’d be happy to—

It’s then that you remember. You remember what you told yourself after that break-up, and what you thought after the break-up before that, and the time before as well. You remember you told yourself you wouldn’t settle for less than what you really wanted. You told yourself you wanted to love and be loved. You told yourself you wanted someone who’d remember how you liked your tea.

And, just like in a movie, Jin’s face appears in your mind. You almost dismiss it, tell yourself it’s just because of the tea, until you realize it’s not. It just isn’t. You should have noticed earlier, you know that, but you’ve never been friends with someone before developing feelings for them. You’ve always told yourself you were an ‘all or nothing’ kind of person, that you were the type to know immediately if things could happen. Maybe you didn’t quite believe in love at first sight, but you’d always thought that love didn’t wait.

Apparently you were wrong.

Jin’s the one who inadvertently makes you pulse rush, when his hand brushes against you. Jin’s the one who lifts your spirits, no matter what. Jin makes you happy, makes you want to get up in the morning, has done that for months now. Jin actually knows you. Jin looks at you like you’re precious to him. Maybe that doesn’t mean love, maybe to him, it’s all just friendship, but to you, it’s much more than that. And the feeling you get is so strong, so powerful, that you understand that you need to tell him. Need to tell him now.

“I’m sorry,” you say to Sungho, who’s been waiting for an answer all this time. “I’m really sorry, I don’t think that can work out.”

His face falls, but he looks far from heartbroken.

“Oh,” he says. “Um. That’s—”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, already getting up from your chair. You’re buzzing with excitement, with feelings. “I have to go. I’ll pay for the meal, okay?”

“No, don’t—”

“Sorry!”

You stop at the counter briefly before rushing out into the night. You feel that you know exactly where you need to be.

You get to the bakery minutes before closing time, which is exceptionally at 9 p.m. for the day. A couple is just coming out, and that leaves only Jungkook inside. There’s nothing left on display, and you know it’s been impossibly busy, which means Jin is probably in a bad mood, but you can’t wait until tomorrow. When you walk in, Jungkook looks up from behind the counter, clearly surprised by the sound of someone coming in that late, and a puzzled look settles on his face when he notices that you’re out of breath, your previously perfect make-up now looking a little worse for wear.

“Is everything alright?” he asks. He sounds worried, and any other day you would take the time to reassure him, but in that moment you’re pushed by an energy that can’t be stopped, so you just nod quickly as an answer.

“Is Jin here?”

“In the back,” he says, tilting his head in that direction, and you’re pretty sure a glint of understanding lights up in his eyes.

“Can I….?”

He nods, a grin on his lips, and now you’re sure he knows why you’re here. You don’t wait for him to tease you about it, quick to make your way past him.

You freeze the second you walk into the backroom, though. It’s not just because of Jin’s back, though that definitely has more of an effect on you than you’d like to admit — the broad shoulders, the muscular back, and inexplicably, the nape of his neck. It’s also because of the large bouquet of red roses, standing in a vase on the table next to him. Your breath catches in your throat as you look at them. They look beautiful, vibrant, their fragrance floating through the room, all the way to you.

“Who are the roses for?” you ask, making Jin jump.

Any other time, you would have been pleased to take him by surprise for once, but right now you’re hanging on his words, waiting for an answer. The air feels heavy between you, and it doesn’t help that he doesn’t answer immediately, swallowing silently as his eyes travel over your body. You had almost forgotten about the dress you were wearing, and, instead of making you feel comfortable and confident, like it had earlier, you feel naked and vulnerable under his gaze.

Finally, his eyes meet yours, mouth slightly open, and by that point your heart is hammering in your chest. You wonder if he has any idea of how you’re feeling right now. Had he noticed your feelings when even you weren’t aware of them?

“What?” he croaks, voice dry, like he’s forgotten what you said.

“The roses,” you repeat. “Who are they for?”

You need an answer. Desperately.

Jin’s eyes move to the roses, and his face falls. He turns his back to you again as he goes back to whatever he’s cleaning.

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?”

You shrug, though he can’t see it.

“I broke things off with him,” you say lightly, and you don’t miss the way his movements pause, or the way his shoulders tighten, for half a second, before he keeps moving. “Are you— are you meeting someone?”

“No,” he protests immediately. “You know I don’t believe in Valentine’s day.”

You do. You remember that. So you wait for an explanation. It takes a while, and you just wait silently behind him, suspecting that he’s waiting for you to go away. After a few minutes, though, he slams his hand on the table, still not looking at you.

“They’re for you, okay? You said you’d always wanted roses for Valentine’s Day, and I figured, maybe your stupid boyfriend didn’t know that yet, and that I could maybe just drop them off at your place, and—”

“You didn’t ask me why I broke up with him,” you interrupt him, cutting his rambling short, and he falls silent. You catch his eyes from over his shoulder. Finally, you’re feeling yourself calm down, and at the same time you’re practically shaking with anticipation. “I realized I had feelings for someone else,” you say when he still doesn’t ask, just watching you, lips tight.

“…You do?” he simply says in reply. He’s tense, guarded, and you take a careful step towards him.

“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes aren’t leaving his, not even for a second. “He’s smart, and kind, and handsome.” You take a step for each description you give, and you can’t help but smile on the last word. But your smile doesn’t reach Jin’s lips, and he’s just looking at you like he’s expecting you to tell him someone else’s name, or to make fun of him. “And he makes me laugh,” you add quietly, as you get to him, leaning against the table. “A lot. Some have even said it was a little too much.”

“So who is he?” he asks, and you smile. It’s wild to you that you haven’t understood earlier how absolutely head over heels in love with him you are, especially right now, when you’re standing so close to him. It’s also wild that he can’t see it, because you feel as though you’re radiating with that emotion, feel that anyone should be able to tell.

“It’s you,” you breathe out. “It’s obviously you.”

Then you’re pushing yourself up against his mouth, soft and slow. One of his hands closes around your waist as he leans forward, towering over you. His eyes are shut, and you close your own, reveling in the feeling of his warm body pressed against your own. You feel his tongue darting out to brush against your lips, and they part to grant him access, eager to taste all of him and—

“Couldn’t you tell me that earlier?” Jin protests loudly, tearing himself away from you, and your eyes snap open. “I would have planned the best Valentine’s Day you’ve ever—”

You groan and cut him off with another kiss, faster and harder this time, grabbing his wrists to guide his hands to your hips. You moan in contentment into his mouth when he kisses you back and he swallows it eagerly, pressing you into the table, bodies meeting like they’ve been waiting for it for forever and you—

“I wanted to make you an amazing strawberry cake! Now I don’t have any strawberries left!”

“Jin, please,” you sigh, unable to tolerate any other interruption, “would you just shut up and kiss me?”

And, finally, he does. Holds you like he never wants to let you go, kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, and when the two of you part, he rests his forehead against yours like he can’t bear the thought of being away from you even for a second. The silent stretches, comfortable, only filled with your respirations, until someone clears their throat, and the two of you jump away from each other.

“Sorry,”Jungkook says with a shit-eating grin that tells you he’s not sorry at all, “but I was about to leave. Will the two of you be okay?”

“I’m sure we can work things out without you,” Jin says. “Goodbye!”

But Jungkook doesn’t leave right away, turning his smile to you. You would hide into Jin’s shoulder, but you feel so good you can’t be bothered right now.

“Goodbye (Y/N)!”

“Bye, Jungkook!”

“That kid, I swear,” Jin says, shaking his head, as Jungkook leaves, his laugh hanging in the air behind him for a few seconds.

“I quite like him,” you comment, fingers dancing down Jin’s neck to come trace the border of his shirt.

“Oh, you do?” There is a dangerous edge to his tone and you glance up, surprised.

“Are you jealous?” you ask. “I didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

“I’m not.”

“Because it’s not Jungkook I abandoned my date for.”

“Good that you did. I never liked him.”

“So you are jealous.”

Seokjin mumbles something incomprehensible and you laugh and hug him tighter. And when he asks you if you want to come upstairs, even if he doesn’t have the perfect Valentine’s Day dinner planned, even if really, all he has to offer is himself, you tell him yes, of course.

Because he’s all you want right now.

It turns out, you wouldn’t have eaten the dinner anyway. The second the door closes behind you, you’re pulling him down against you for a kiss, and he doesn’t oppose any resistance, doesn’t protest like he did before, just lets out a moan into your mouth. He’s just as eager as you are to get rid of that tight dress.

“Careful with the tights,” you warn when his hands start roaming your thighs.

“Take them off then,” he groans.

You press a few kisses against his mouth, feeling delighted with the way he restrains himself, hands turning into fists against your hips as he stops himself from tearing off your closes. Finally, you pull away with a giggle. His eyes are wide and dark with desire, and they only get wider when you playfully slide off your dress’ strap.

“Don’t tease,” he says, practically growls, but you decide that you will. You guide him to his couch, push him down onto it, and evade him when he tries to pull you down with him, slipping out of his grasp. You stand just out of his reach, but more than close enough to be tantalizing, and you see in his eyes that it’s working just fine.

You take the time of making a show out of sliding down your dress down your body, letting it pool down at your feet before stepping out of it. The heels are the next thing to go, and then, finally, the offending tights. The second you’re out of those, Seokjin pounces, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto the couch.

“If you want us to move this to the bedroom, now would be a good time to say it,” he says as he kisses your neck, hands traveling up and down your body, large and calloused, but kind and gentle.

“I’m good here,” you say, arching your back to grant him better access — and to roll your hips against him. “Are you good here?”

You feel his breath catching in his throat when you move, as well as something hard pressing against you in his pants, and his voice is slightly choked when he answers.

“Yeah. This would happen at some point anyway.”

You laugh. You can’t wait to try this in all the places the two of you can think of in his apartment.

“Then let’s get to it, shall we?”

Jin doesn’t seem to have anything to answer to that, especially not when you hook your leg around his, using your heel to push him down on top of you. He’s still dressed, but you plan on rectifying that. You stop kissing him to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he lets you, breathing heavily. Your fingers explore the skin you reveal in the process, and you’re delighted when he shivers as you find out where his sensitive spots are — right under his collarbone, his nipples, his ribs.

Finally, the shirt joins your dress on the floor. You take a second to marvel at his body. His shoulders are even nicer to look at like that, you decide. You capture Jin’s mouth again, this time with your hands fisting his hair. You’re feeling yourself growing more impatient, wetter, and while your panties are the only thing still covering your body, he’s still wearing pants — which is far too much clothing.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper to him, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Fuck. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

That makes you grin, and you arch your back into him again, pressing yourself against his now rock hard crotch.

“Oh, I think I do,” you reply devilishly, and all Jin does is to bury his head into your neck. His fast breathing tickles your skin, and you love it. You love discovering that you have that effect on him, love how you can make him come undone. Another night, you might really, really enjoy teasing him about it, but you have something else on your mind tonight.

Your hand travels down his body to palm him through his pants, and he groans, bucking his hips against it involuntarily.

“Let me take care of that?” you offer, and he pulls away to raise an eyebrow at you.

Wordlessly, you guide him so he’s sitting on the couch, and then, without breaking eye contact, you drop to your knees. You watch as his eyes go wide and he swallows loudly. You don’t give him time to regain his composure, gently nudging his legs apart so you can place yourself there comfortably.

“Fuck,” he repeats as your hands travel over his thighs before unbuckling his belt.

He lifts himself off the couch so you can slide down his pants and underwear, and that leaves him in his naked glory. And boy, is he glorious, dick standing erect and proud, precum already dripping from the tip. You suppose it’s been a while since the last time he had any sort of intercourse, and so you decide that you will do everything that’s in your power to make it worth his while.

You do your best to maintain eye contact with him while you lean forward to gently take in the head of his cock, wrapping your red lips around it as your hand grips the base.

“Ah,” he gasps, and you wonder if he gets loud during sex.

You hope he does.

You mostly tease him at first, running your tongue over the tip, and you feel his hand grabbing the back of your head gently. He doesn’t try to control your pace or to push you down. He seems to just be anchoring himself as he lets you do whatever you want. Glancing up, you see that he’s thrown his head back and his mouth is hanging open, letting out quiet moans that sometimes get high-pitched.

For some reason, the sight of his exposed throat turns you on impossibly. You slide a hand down your body to try to get some relief as well, and you moan loudly when your fingers finally find your clit. The vibrations have Jin push his hips up as his hands tighten on you. A second later, his eyes snap open.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, “I don’t mind but— Do you have a condom somewhere?”

He hesitates, then reaches for the coffee table. He opens the drawer, rummages through it quickly, and finds what he’s looking for.

“Taehyung said it was good to have them all over the house, just in case,” he feels obligated to explain to you, even while he struggles to open it and to put it on.

Well, you owe Taehyung one, you decide, but now really is not the time to discuss that, so you pull him down for quick kiss before he can lose himself in his ramble.

“Want you now,” you tell him, and it sounds like an order.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, pulling you back up onto the couch.

Your panties are soon gone, and he spreads your legs open with utmost care. Even if you’re pretty sure he could just slide right in, with how wet you are, he pushes a long finger inside you, then another.

“You’re so wet for me,” he marvels. “So wet, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much yet,” you moan. “There’s still work to be done here.”

His eyes are full of love when he looks at you, taking in your body, now completely naked and offered. Just for him.

“Oh, I’ll do it. Don’t you worry about that.”

You’re about to call him out for his cockiness when he lines his cock with your entrance, tip rubbing against your folds, and you close your mouth instead, wisely choosing not to provoke him when he could so easily make you pay for it by making you wait. Except it seems he’s just as impatient as you, because he pushes himself inside you without pause.

You moan and shift to accommodate the stretch, and Seokjin goes still on top of you.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You’re satisfied with the strain in his voice, like knowing you’re not the only one to be so affected here.

“Hmm,” you hum. “Can you— move? A little?”

He pulls out a little, experimentally, and you moan louder than before. It takes you a few minutes to figure out the pace, as your hips keep moving, desperately searching for more friction, but they’re not unpleasant, filled with kisses, sweet nothings and the feeling of his warm skin against yours. In those moments, you feel like you’re discovering him all over again, and you find yourself enjoying that more than you can say.

Finally, you find yourselves, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with your loud, high-pitches moans, and Seokjin’s — softer, quieter, but definitely there. You meet each of his thrusts, with one hand between the two of you to rub against your clit. When you first clench around him, he finally lets out a moan that’s as loud as yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fffuck,” he says, head falling against you, cheek pressed against your collarbone. “If you— If you do that again I’ll— Wait, please, wait, wanna— wanna cum with you—”

You arch your back, your nipples grazing against his chest, and force up the pace of your hips. Jin is moving incoherently, begging into your neck, and you want to give him exactly what he’s asking for. When you clench around him again, it’s with your orgasm. It’s all it takes to push him over the edge as well, but you barely feel his hips stutter into you, completely taken over by your own pleasure.

It takes you a little while to come back down from your high, and when you do, you meet his eyes. They’re soft and gentle, and, more than anything that’s happened until then, they make you melt.

“Hey,” he whispers, “you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, more than okay, in fact. You?”

“More than okay, too,” he says as a lazy smile spreads across his features.

“Good. That’s good.”

Pillow talk is not your forte.

“Hey,” Jin says, coming to rest his forehead against your shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You chuckle.

“I think I’m in love with you too.”

“That’s good,” Jin says, but his voice sounds choked up, raspy, and you know he’s probably blushing. So you don’t add anything, just run your fingers over his scalp, the nape of his neck, down his back. Let him know you’re here, that you’ve got him, that you’re not going anywhere.

“Are you— are you staying the night?” he asks.

“Sure, unless you’re kicking me out.”

His arms tighten around you possessively.

“I would never.”

It takes a little longer before Jin manages to get the two of you off the couch to go get cleaned up, and then into bed, but of that night, there is not a second that you would call unnecessary or superfluous. Not one.

Every single one of them, every moment you spend with Jin on that first night, are essential, and you could not pick one of them to take back.

March 14th

The bell chimes happily when you walk into the shop, and even though Jin is busy with another customer, his eyes immediately find you. It’s something simple, yet it’s something you love about him. The way he always seems to find you, and the pleasant warmth that fills you without fail when you see him. You’ve been told that it was just the high of the first months of a relationship, not to get too used to it but you hope that, even if it dims, it won’t go away completely.

“Hey, Jin, your ears are turning really red. Why are your ears turning red?”

You laugh while your boyfriend turns to shoot a furious look at Yoongi. He’s sitting in your spot, in the back of the shop, and he’s looking smug. That comment of his has become a pretty common thing to hear whenever you walk in, or just when Jin and you are speaking. To be completely honest, you’re not too mad about it. Jin is good at acting like you have no effect on him, but the blush betrays him, and it’s been both cute and useful to see what actually gets to him, or bothers him sometimes.

“I’ll kick you out of my shop if you keep that up!” Jin shouts at him. “Don’t think I won’t!”

But Yoongi just chuckles into his mug, clearly not taking him seriously — and he’s probably right for that.

“So, do you know what today is?” Jin asks nonchalantly after he’s turned back to face you, gesturing for Jungkook take over with the other customer.

Your eyes widen in horror.

“Please don’t tell me you want us to celebrate our one month anniversary. I haven’t planned anything for that.”

Jin rolls his eyes.

“I would argue that our one-month anniversary is tomorrow, if we’re being precise, because that’s when we, um, really talked about it.”

He’s not wrong. It had been a pleasant thing, to wake up in his arms the morning after, to the sensation of his lips gently kissing your neck, and an even nicer thing to take your breakfast with him. You couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. It had just been what had absolutely and irrevocably sealed the  deal for you. You knew it hadn’t been a mistake. You wanted to be with him.

“Hmm, but there is still some sort of anniversary to be celebrated tonight then,” you say, leaning over the counter. “I’m sure I could prepare something for that.”

His ears and neck flush, and Yoongi has the delicacy of not pointing it out this time.

“That’s not— That’s not what I’m talking about! Today is the white day.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“That’s when boys are supposed to give chocolates back to the girls they like,” Jin elaborates.

“But I didn’t give you chocolates,” you say.

“No, but you’re still the one who— Yoongi, I swear to God— You know. You’re the one who took the first step.”

Despite his recent outburst, it’s obvious that he feels embarrassed and vulnerable in that moment. You’d kind of gathered that he really regretted not asking you out before Sungho had, but you had never thought that it was actually an issue.

“I’m really happy I did,” you tell him quietly. He’s not fond of PDA, but you still allow your fingers to brush against his. That feels discreet enough.

“I know,” he says, and there’s so much love in his eyes when he looks at you that it’s a real miracle that you don’t melt into a puddle right then and there. “But I still—” He sighs. “You’re really ruining my plans. This was meant to go over smoothly.”

“Sorry,” you apologize with a wide grin while he picks something up from behind the counter.

“There,” he mumbles, handing you the box.

You open it, genuinely curious. You feel the eyes of everyone else in the shop — Yoongi, Namjoon, Jungkook and, of course, Jin — on you, and you want to tell most of them off, but you suppose that since this is where most of your relationship development happened, they’re kind of part of the story too.

The box is filled with chocolates shaped like roses.

“I know it’s not much,” Jin is quick to say, “but I just wanted to—”

“Jin?” you interrupt him.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

His eyes go wide, and then he sighs, but he can’t force away the smile that’s forcefully making its way on his lips.

“Well, if you absolutely have to—”

But he doesn’t protest when you pull him over the counter to kiss him, hands gently closing over your shoulders. He even brings you back for a second, even briefer kiss, and there’s something fierce in his eyes then. He superbly ignores the cheers that come from your friends in the room.

“I have to warn you, you’re never getting rid of me now,” he says, and it’s light-hearted, but you know there’s a lot of truth behind those words.

“Good,” you simply reply. “I wouldn’t want that for the world.”

He looks like he wants to add something to that, but he chokes on the words, and he falls quiet instead. It’s just as good, really.

There are some things you don’t need words for.

Some things that can be expressed just as easily with a box full of rose-shaped chocolates.

[fairyoftbz]

rêveur | b. jacob

☕ pairing: (shy) pastry chef! jacob x fem! reader (with barista!kevin) ☕ word count: 4.2k (。_。) (oops i got carried away) ☕ genre: fluff, sort of slow-burn (more like jacob and the reader rejecting their feelings) ☕ tw: maybe some occasional swear words and one (1) mention of the reader’s ex but nothing too crazy.  ☕ synopsis: you find yourself always coming back to the café down the street where you absolutely loved the pastries and befriended the barista, but you’ll soon discover the culprit of your sweet tooth. ☕ a/n: gosh it’s long but i couldn’t stop myself writing for him 🥺 i’m just too soft for him. ☕ requested: yes! i hope it’s not too bad!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

No matter how hard you tried, the efforts you put to prevent you from coming back, you always found yourself going at the local café every single week. You didn’t understand if it was the atmosphere or the warmth of the place, but you always found yourself there. The fact that it was located just down the road gave you the excuse of hanging around there more often than you should.

You could be busy, studying for finals or hang out with friends, the café was always hidden in the corner of your mind. As soon as the street works ended, your neighbourhood became the most tranquil place you’ve ever lived in. All your neighbours were friendly and polite, sticking a little note in the lift to warn the other neighbours of a potential party or loud reunion, helping each other at any occasion. Some residents, including you, owned a pet, and you were grateful that none of them was a pain in the butt for the rest of the building. When you told your friends how quiet and different it was from your former apartment, they never believed you.

While some of them would have killed to study or sleep at a place like your current one, you always found yourself going back to this local café. This little, Japanese-like coffee shop became your new obsession over the months, randomly finding it once while you wanted to go to a flower shop at the end of this street. The employees were welcoming and caring, completely catching you off guard as you were used to going to Starbucks, where some baristas and waiters could use a good lecture about politeness and respect. In the small coffee shop, their goal wasn’t to make the most money possible, it was more to please people and make them discover new coffee or pastries flavours. Everything was homemade, and that’s what encouraged you to become their number one fan. The workers, especially one, started recognising you by dint of your regular appearances at the shop, remembering one of your visits.

“Morning Y/N! Caramel macchiato, as usual? Nothing else?” Kevin, the barista, greeted you with a smile, which you returned alongside with a nod.

This barista was a social butterfly, always striking up a conversation with everyone. And he didn’t care, he just kept going, even if the customers were rude or remained quiet. You were admiring because you were among the people that stayed reserved yet polite when he started talking to you, but his ease made you comfortable enough to joke and laugh with him, striking a conversation with him whenever you had the chance, quickly becoming friends over your many visits.

“Yes, please! I need a lot of caffeine today,” you murmured, and he sadly chuckled, understanding your great need for energy. “Rough night?” he asked, and you agreed again, chuckling as you realised how lame it was. “I assisted my dog being in pain while giving birth,” you explained, and the barista’s eyes widened, his mouth falling agape in excitement. “But that’s amazing! How many did she have?” he seized your credit card without even telling you the price of your purchase - in his defence, you were so used to coming here that you knew the price of your order by heart by now - and typed on his screen, closing the cash register in a slam as it randomly opened.   “She gave birth to four healthy puppies, they’re so adorable,” you replied, and the man in front of you smiled as brightly as you were.

“Those are great news! Oh, by the way, would you like to have a taste of the discovery of our pastry chef? You should have seen how happy he looked when he finished the batch this morning,” he explained, and you followed him to the window display, indicating with his finger what resembled a mille-feuille. “That looks nice, I’ll have one, then,” you stated as you were to hand him your credit card again, which he hesitantly took before looking at the back office. You asked him if something was wrong, but he shook his head with a smile and gave you a tray with your drink and the pastry. “Have a great day Kevin!” you thanked him while he washed his hands, head turning to you before shooting you a friendly wink. “You too, Y/N! And you can always tell me if you need someone to take one of the puppies, I’ll gladly adopt one. I only have to talk with my girlfriend first,” your eyes turned into crescent moons filled with joy at his words, and you lifted your thumb excitedly. He quickly waved before serving the next customer, his signature undying smile plastered on his face.

Comfortably sitting down at an empty table, you took off your coat and gulped a sip of your drink, your mouth salivating at the sight of the food. Grabbing the fork, you slid it against the pastry and brought it to your mouth, the sugary taste melting against your tongue. You ate more and more until you finished, almost tempted to go back to Kevin and ask him for another one. But you ignored your love of good food and started getting to work, getting a book and your computer out of your bag, touching up your project that you had spent a lot of time working on. It was one of the last things you had to do for university, and you were delighted to get it done to finally move on.

“Is everything okay?” You recognised the voice of your favourite barista, smiling as you watched him clearing your tray. “Yeah, thanks! Actually, can you tell the chef that it was amazing? I loved how incredible it tasted,” you explained, and Kevin smiled brightly, nodding. “I promise I’ll do it. Jacob gets so happy when he receives recognition, I’m sure it’s going to brighten his day,” nodding at you, he took your empty tray back to the counter.

Quickly saving your paper on your computer, you turned your head to the side to stare at the barista, smiling as you noticed him disappearing in the back as he called his friend’s name.

“Jacob!” Kevin spoke as he wiped his wet hands on his apron, his friend slightly flinching as the voice filled the silence he was used to working in. “Are we out of something?” the baker worriedly asked, and Kevin shook his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth. “No, no, I’m just doing my job, being a messenger,” Jacob slightly frowned and stopped spreading yolk on the biscuits. “One of my friends, Y/N, came and ate the mille-feuille you made this morning. She said that it was excellent, and she wanted me to tell you,” Kevin explained, and the baker blinked a few times, the tip of his ears getting progressively red as he processed his friend’s words. “Thank you, I appreciate it,” the baker replied with a smile, peeking out of the back office to try and get a look at the customers. “Is she still there?” he asked, and Kevin peered closer, shaking his head as your seat was now found empty.

Jacob nodded and went back to work, a bit disappointed to not have been able to see you, hence the pout forming onto his face, but he was touched that someone complimented him on his skills. Of course, it was his job after all, but it always felt nice to receive compliments and validation that what you do is fantastic. Jacob wasn’t the most confident person in the world, so your words only brought him the daily dose of happiness and the credits he deserved.

You came back the next week, the atmosphere of the café had changed into something quite hectic, almost stressing you out when you came here to relax and chill out from your day at uni. Now that your project was done and submitted, you had some hours to kill before meeting up with some friends. Without even noticing, you arrived in the middle of rush hour, people jostling one another to get some pastries or a quick coffee before going back to work. You had to put back into place a businessman that tried to overtake you to place his order, feeling your heart hammering in your chest while doing so. The excuse of being in a rush didn’t persuade you, riposting that you also had to go somewhere so he went back behind you, breathing out of frustration to make you feel guilty, but it didn’t work. You only rolled your eyes and waited, smirking to yourself as the man behind you gave up and left, cussing.

A hand settled the pastries in the window display in a rush, people massing together to decide on their order. Kevin was all over the place but still an angel, a tired yet bright smile adorning his face. Once it was your turn, a man walked behind your friend and recognised the thin hands that placed the pastries in front of you a few minutes earlier. “Jacob? We ran out of chocolate chip cookies, we need a new batch asap, bro. We’re selling them like hot cakes.Y/N, hi, the usual?” Kevin said, and you looked up at the name, the baker stopping in his tracks and nodded, a tired look on his face. Kevin seized the opportunity to grab a chocolate croissant from the tray his friend was holding, wrapping it in a napkin.

Your eyes connected with Jacob’s for a second, his light brown pupils holding something warm and gentle towards you. He wiped the flour off his apron before quickly looking back at you, pushing the strands of hair away from his eyes before replacing his baker cap. He looked in great need of sleep, the bags under his eyes enhancing the empathy you had for him. He was handsome and adorable at the same time, your heart not being able to choose what side to fall for. The baker tiredly nodded at his friend’s request and disappeared, hearing him hastily get back to work.

“Oh uhm, yes, please,” you stammered, and Kevin smirked, humming in agreement, and typed on his screen. You shyly cleared your throat as your friend probably understood your train of thoughts since you weren’t so discrete in observing the baker, but thankfully, he didn’t raise it.

Once the rush hour had calmed down, and the coffee shop quieted down again, just like it was when you came last time, Kevin took his break with Jacob. The manager took over, leaving the two employees time to take a much-needed break and breathe for a while, gathering enough energy to make it to the end of the afternoon.

“It was her that complimented your mille-feuille,” Kevin revealed as he motioned to your table with a nod, where you were happily calling a friend and munching on the pastry the barista had placed on your tray.

Jacob followed his friend’s finger, and an honest, tired smile emerged on his face when he noticed how bright and sunny you looked. You looked so soft and nice to have around, making the baker wonder how it was to have a conversation with you. Eyes turning into crescent moons as you laughed at one of your friend’s joke, you failed to notice the employee looking in your direction, his colleague observing him out of the corner of his eye while sipping his iced americano.  

“She’s pretty, right?” Kevin mumbled, but Jacob didn’t hear him. “What did you say?” The pastry chef mindlessly asked, gaze trailing on your figure. “Y/N. She’s pretty, don’t you think?” Jacob’s eyes widened and stared back at his friend, who was giggling. “It’s okay, I’ll keep it a secret,” the barista nudged his tired friend in the ribs, finishing his drink. “You better,” his colleague finished his coffee, throwing the paper cup in a bin before going back to work, leaving a chuckling Kevin behind. “Why do I feel like cupid out of a sudden?” the barista mumbled to himself, a smirk appearing on his face as he stood up and went back inside.

The next week, as you hung around, you felt the same way of tension as soon as you stepped into the café as last time. Jacob was surprisingly serving customers, juggling between the coffees and the pastries baking in the back office. “H-hi!” you greeted Jacob, and he slightly froze at your word, greeting you with a bright smile. You were surprised when he didn’t even ask for your order, getting straight to work and wishing him a nice day as you walked to your usual seat. However, as you took your first sip, you felt your stomach churn and a disgusting taste landing on your throat. Shivers travelled down your spine as you swallowed the bitter liquid you recognised that belonged to the iced americano. A wave of memories invaded your mind as you remembered how terrible it tasted once you took a sip from your ex’s drink, who was addicted to this type of beverage.

Jacob got your order wrong, and you swallowed thickly several times, pondering if it were a good idea to add more stress to the poor baker’s shoulders by pointing at his mistake, but you couldn’t bring yourself to drink this no matter how hard you tried. You stood up and walked to the side of the counter, waiting for the people to get served before you caught the baker’s attention. You started to calmly explain the uncomfortable situation you were in to the barista, his ears became bright red as another customer came and seemed to have your drink in your hand. The customer got extremely mad as he was apparently in a rush, yelling and cursing at the baker.

“You are paid for doing this, how could you make an order wrong? It’s not that difficult!” the man exclaimed, and you noticed Jacob’s eyes darkening. You knew that he wanted to talk back to the customer, but he didn’t plan on getting fired, so he just listened and nodded. “Jacob, don’t worry I can wait, serve him first,” you said before walking back to the table after offering him a smile, noticing him nodding again and take the two drinks that you and the other man laid on the counter.

The baker cleared his throat as he arrived a few minutes later with your correct order and a slice of chocolate cake.

“I’m sorry for giving you the wrong order. I am the only one here because Kevin is on holiday and my manager was supposed to come, but he left me in the lurch. So… I’m a bit stressed out,” Jacob explained quickly, earning a reassuring smile from him. He swallowed thickly but felt a wave of relief crash onto him as you didn’t look mad at all.  “It’s okay, Jacob, it’s human to make mistakes. If it were another drink, I wouldn’t have said anything but I really can’t drink strong coffee. Thank you for the pastry, and uhm… good luck for today?” you said as he stood up, his tired eyes shining with thankfulness as he got back behind the counter. You quickly enjoyed your food and left after trying to wave at him timidly, but sadly, he didn’t notice you.

When you visited the café on the other days, he disappeared again in the back office, Kevin taking back the lead. There, with your caramel macchiato in hand, you started daydreaming about the pastry chef, his dreamy hands and beauteous face. You imagined romantic dates and activities you could do together, such as baking you new pastries before offering them at the coffee shop or even spending a day at the park together, a lost yet gentle smile on your face.

Everything about him made you dream. He exuded comfort, fondness, and warmth, his eyes always pearly with delight. Even a blind man would not have missed how amazing and passionate he is when it came to baking. You once overheard a conversation between him and Kevin, talking about a new receipt he found on the internet and how excited he was to try it out. His soft voice never failed to make you smile, his fluffy hair making you wonder how soft it was and how good it’d feel if you carded your fingers through his locks as you hugged him.

It was undeniable and inevitable, you had tried to deny those feelings during the past few weeks, but you couldn’t reject the fact that you had a massive crush on Jacob. Kevin gently teased you about this when his friend appeared, making sure to say his name aloud to catch your attention when you sat at a table, only to watch him quickly find a hiding place. You also wished you would see him more often, feeling quite defeated to see him escape your gaze as soon as he saw you. With the number of times you came to the coffee shop and saw your friend, your crush’s brief appearances weren’t enough to fulfil your little heart’s happiness. You wanted more of him, but, much to your dismay – and secretly Jacob’s – you didn’t know what to do.

“Ah Y/N! I talked with my girlfriend today, and I was wondering if I could adopt one of the puppies? I showed her the pictures you sent me, and she is all over the moon for this one,” Kevin said as he placed your order on the tray, quickly getting his phone out after checking whether some customers were waiting or not. “Yeah, no problem!” you smiled as you recognised the crazy, adventurous one. “I asked the vet, and he told me that they are old enough to be adopted. Is it okay if you come with your girlfriend within the next few days? I can’t wait for you to have one, they are precious!” you exclaimed but calmed instantly, heart hammering in your chest as your lovely baker appeared from the back office, visibly in a bad mood. He didn’t even glance at you, his attitude sent a pang in your heart, but Kevin just shook his head, winking at you. “Can we come tonight to your place? I’m excited to meet my future baby boy!” Kevin made sure that his friend heard, noticing that he was listening carefully yet discreetly, hence his movements coming suddenly to a halt. The barista gave you a knowing smile and kept on chatting with you as if nothing happened.

That night, someone knocked at your door, and you excitedly walked to the main entrance, happily greeting the couple, and welcoming them in, eyes widening as Jacob had tagged along.

“What a great surprise!” you awkwardly mumbled, and he nodded, his smile outshining the sun as you let them all inside. Kevin and his girlfriend were quick to follow the yaps of your dogs to her newborns, leaving you with Jacob, who was quick to grab your wrist gently to make you stay with him. You mindlessly smiled, but deep down, you were sure that Kevin did this on purpose.

“I couldn’t help but hear your conversation with Kevin, and I’ve always loved dogs, and since yours gave birth, I wanted to see them,” he explained, and you smiled, heart hammering in your chest. “Yeah no worries, you are welcome here! Let’s go see them before they steal all the puppies.” 

With Jacob on your heels, you went to the spare room that became your dog’s nursery, the couple already cooing at the black puppy as you slowly opened the door.

“Look how proud she is,” his girlfriend said, looking at you with twinkling eyes. Your dog walked up to you, tail wagging as she got all the attention on her and the puppies. Since your dog only allowed you to reach inside the box, you were quick to lift the only black puppy out of the four and placed it in your friend’s arms. “I named him Squishy, I had no inspiration for the names,” you giggled as Kevin pet its belly, the puppy trying to lick his finger.

You brought everyone to the living room, where you offered your guests some drinks and started talking together. Your friend’s girlfriend was adorable, over the moon with the dog, just like Kevin had predicted it. Jacob was more on the reserved side, just like at the café, your dog climbing up the couch to rest her head on his thigh, asking for caresses. You felt a sense of betrayal rushing through your veins as she preferred a perfect stranger over you, retrieving her head every time you tried to pet her. Your dog looked at you almost with a mocking look, as if she wanted to show you that she dared to go up to him, unlike you.

It was getting late, but you were having fun, the couple confirming that they adopted the puppy. You helped packing everything necessary for the puppy and got ready to leave, thanking you for your kindness and hospitality. You were happy but felt a bit sad that someone already adopted one of the puppies. It was hard not to get attached to those cute little creatures, but you were reassured that he’d be treated like a king by living with your friends.

Jacob, on the other hand, was stuck on the couch as your dog prevented him from doing the slightest movement.

“She is quite stubborn,” Jacob shyly giggled as he tried to move his leg, only to have the dog whining and yapping. “Luna, stop! Let Jacob go, now!” you walked up to the couch, and she fled, strolling away from you each time you tried to get closer to her.

After many unsuccessful attempts, you managed to lure her into the nursery, shutting the door shut and she barked, but the apartment was quick to fall in silence.

“Finally,” you said as you went back to the living room, where Jacob was quietly admiring the photos on the wall. He gave you a quick smile and went back to his observations, you standing next to him with a slightly embarrassed smile. “It was nice to come here, but I’ll still reconsider my choices. I don’t want to decide on a whim, I wanna make sure that I’m settled and ready to welcome a puppy.” You nodded at his words, throwing him a reassuring gaze. “I completely understand, Jacob. You can take all the time you need. I’m planning on keeping one anyway, so if you change your mind, you can always come and visit,” you said, and an awkward silence installed around you two, Jacob scratching his neck as he avoided your gaze.

“Y-you know. I enjoy… what you bake, really, and I can’t wait for your next pastries,” you shyly mumbled to the man in front of you, who looked up with red adorning his cheeks. “I’m touched by what you’re telling me, thank you so much,” he said and quickly looked outside before inhaling and turning back to you.

“I’m going to go, but… I was wondering Y/N… y-you know, you’ve been friends with Kevin for a while and come around the café regularly, so I was wondering if we could also hang out, but you know… only the two of us? Maybe without Kevin?” Jacob was finding his words, thickly swallowing as he tried his best to tell you what he wanted. You giggled at the way he said things, imagining Kevin on his own while you were together. “Sure! Sure thing! You probably have a hectic schedule, but we can find something that works for the two of us?” you suggested, and he smiled, taking out his phone from his jeans pocket, holding the device with a nervous grip.

“Can I get your number, then? It’s gonna be easier to communicate rather than you coming around the café all the time. I- It’s not what I mean though, I really like having you around the shop, but you know, it’d be easier for the two of us,” you both shyly giggled as he messed up, the tip of his ears glowing bright red.

You were quick to enter your number in a new contact, confirming it before returning the phone to its owner, who gave you the warmest smile you had ever seen on his face.

“I’ll call you tomorrow then,” Jacob said as you walked him to the door, him thanking you just like your friends did. “Drive safe,” you whispered, and he nodded, giving you a soft smile before getting closer to you and softly pressing his lips on your cheek.

Your eyes widened at the sudden display of affection but smiled, feeling a wave of embarrassment invading your body. You waved at him until the elevator arrived, closing the front door with your heart pounding in your chest, doing a little dance of joy in the corridor as something concrete was starting to form between the two of you.

And the best was still yet to come. ♡

[a-dorin]

innocence

pairing: plo koon x femmale jedi!reader

word count: 1.815k (oops, got a little carried away)

warnings: alcohol consumption, teasing, allusions to sex, use of pet names, smut elements, nc-17

prompt: “don’t look at me like that and then feign innocence.”

“are you ready for tonight?” 

aayla is practically glowing as you shift, eyes falling on her. a sleek, silk, inky black dress hugs her curves, a slit resting barely above the junction where her hip and thigh meet. a silver headdress glitters on her forehead and crest, trailing down her lekku. her plush lips are tinted a crimson hue, glossy and enticing as they curve into an admirable grin. 

“well, don’t you look absolutely gorgeous.”

“i could say the same thing about you,” a giggle bubbles up as fingers smooth out a wrinkle on your own gown, “bly is going to have a heart attack when he sees you.”

she scoffs, “oh, this is nothing. the man’s seen every inch of me. did you ever find a date for the gala?”

“no,” you exhale, “i’ll be going solo.”

“i can assure you the moment you walk into that ballroom,” aayla crosses over to you, placing a consoling hand on your shoulder, “all sorts of men, clones and jedi alike, are going to be fighting tooth and nail for one dance with you.”

“i doubt that,” you snort, fiddling with a ring, “with my luck, i’ll be stuck with ki-adi-mundi for the evening.”

“he has five wives to worry about,” aayla chuckles warmly, “he doesn’t need a sixth.”

stifling a laugh, you fluff your hair, beaming at aayla’s work. it was a painstaking hour sitting still, but nonetheless, the end result was near perfect, not a single strand out of place. your own gown was flattering yet alluring, a simple black piece with an off the shoulder neckline. sleeves cling to your arms, a soft, satin-like fabric. 

wrinkling your nose, you wriggle your hips, in a vain attempt to alleviate the tightness around the small of your back, dipping to the curve of your butt. there was a slit on the right side, just tapering off about mid thigh, but it wasn’t enough to create any sort of wriggle room. 

which, aayla reassured you wasn’t an issue. 

“you look fine,” you flinch as aayla’s firm tone floods you left ear, “the longer you stare into that mirror, the more you’re going to nitpick. if we don’t leave now, bly is going to get restless.”

“i’ll have to thank him for at least escorting me in,” you murmur, adjusting your dress for what felt like the fourteenth time in the last five minutes, “we should leave before i decide to stay in for the night.”

aayla flashes you a bright grin, “atta girl.”

departing from your quarters, the two of you make your way down the long corridor, taking a left at the end. in seconds, bly comes into view, shifting on his feet, glancing at the commlink strapped to his wrist. 

bly is dressed in a luxurious suit, the color a snowy, bright white. his shoes were a leather of some sort, matching with the suit. however, the shoulder cuffs were an intense gold, gleaming under the dim light of the jedi temple. regalia and medals were pinned to his chest, displaying his battalion, rank, as well as other accomplishments. 

in your peripheral, you could sense the admiration enveloping her features, how she was stunned by his appearance. 

“hey loverboy,” aayla calls, “we’re right here.”

bly’s head swivels, his demeanor completely changing the second his eyes met with aayla’s, “well good evening to you too, love.”

aayla wraps her arm around his elbow, taking a moment to pick a curl off his crisp white uniform, “you look handsome, as always.”

“and you look radiant,” he leans over, pressing a light kiss to her temple, “i’ll have to keep my eye on that cheeky nautolan.”

“cheeky nautolan?” you echo, arching a brow. 

aayla rolls her eyes, waving a hand, “oh, he’s referring to kit. he’s not a fan.”

bly’s jaw clenches, “and he’s not a fan of me either.”

“well you have no need to worry, commander,” aayla purrs, “i’ll be on your arm all night.”

“speaking of that,” bly remarks, jutting out his elbow, “if i recall, i have to escort you in, as well, general.”

“you don’t have to call me that,” you loop your arm through his, “let’s just skip the formalities for the night.”

“sounds like a plan to me,” bly nods, “i’m going to get wasted.”

“and have me take care of you again?” aayla teases, the click of her heels echoing through the corridor, “no thank you.”

“oh my love,” bly nudges his lover, “you’re always love taking care of me.”

“is our shuttle ready?” aayla queries, “i’m hoping it’s not a long way there.”

“it’s just at the senate building,” bly responds, gazing out the doors of the temple, “and if i’m correct, our chariot is waiting.”

“well, what are we waiting for?” aayla cocks her head. 

“i was waiting for you,” bly opens the door, motioning his head towards the shuttle parked outside. 

“after you, ladies.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

swirling a spoon in your drink, you suck in a sharp breath as a classical ballad begins to play, the sweet notes mixing effortlessly with the sound of laughter. there’s a calm, relaxed aura in the air as clone troopers, generals, commanders, senators, and jedi mill about, sharing tales of battle to the current political debates. 

your drink is half-consumed, a refined corellian wine. the notes linger on your tongue, intertwining with the sharp taste of mint. you were crunching on the mints provided with the meal, head resting on your hand as you stare at the dance floor wistfully, aching for just one dance. 

“why the long face, little dove?” 

a rumble to your left startles you, eyes flickering over to a familiar face. 

a kel dor hovers around your seat, talons tucked neatly into his clasped hands. his wardrobe for the night was a black suit, burgundy slash splayed across his chest. medals twinkle, silver and gold alike. 

“oh,” you straighten your spine, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “just -- um, watching everyone.”

“are you watching everyone else or wishing to be like everyone else?” there’s a hint of a tease buried in his inquiry, “you’ve been sitting over here all night. i’m surprised kit has not asked you to dance, nor obi-wan. you’ve been a hot topic tonight at the bachelor’s table.”

“bachelor’s table,” you can’t help but feel the corners of your lips twitch into a meek smile, “was i really a topic of discussion tonight, plo?”

“indeed,” he hips his head. your eyes gravitate to his hand as it stretches out, palm up, “it would be an honor to dance with the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

“plo,” your eyes widen, “surely you did not--”

“did i stutter? dance with me, little dove.”

the moment your hand falls into his, he’s sweeping you away, bringing you out to the dance floor. a tender hand  wraps around your waist, the other hand lacing with yours. carefully, you follow his lead, ensuring you don’t trip over his feet. 

“don’t be so nervous,” plo’s voice is soft, “no one is paying attention to us, little dove. it’s just you and i.”

taking in a deep breath, you glance around, clinging onto the kel dor, “did you really want to dance with me or do you just pity me?”

heat flourishes through your cheeks, spreading to your neck as talons dig into your hip, “well, i wasn’t going to just let anyone have the first dance with you.”

“i’m surprised i was a topic of discussion at the bachelor’s table,” your heart flutters as he raises his arm, spinning you around, “i never knew i had that kind of power--”

“you do, little dove,” plo brings you in once again, in closer proximity than before, “and you don’t know the kind of power you hold over me.”

“o-over you?” 

there’s a beat of silence as the song falters, the orchestra ceasing as they prepare for the next song. plo’s gaze locks with yours, and although you can’t distinguish the emotion behind it, you can sense the intensity, the pull, urging you to lean in. you lick your lips, blood roaring in your ears as the flipping of pages transition into a new melody. 

“the things i want to do to you in that dress are utterly sinful.”

“do you care to elaborate?” your mind is reeling now as his hand drifts towards the small of your back, tugging on the fabric ever so slightly. 

plo’s head extends, modulator just outside the crest of your earlobe. there’s a quiet huff, followed by the richness of his voice. 

“i want to rip that little dress off of you, and make you mine.” 

your lashes tickle your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, “i-i -- plo, please--”

“oh little dove, how i would love to just hear you whimper my name.”

a shiver rolls down your spine as your knees buckle, the statement going directly to your core. plo purrs as you practically fall into his chest, skin hot to the touch with desire, “plo.”

“yes?”

“c-can we um--”

“there is nothing that i would love more.”

wrapping an arm around your waist, plo leads you away from the dance floor, deflecting the whistles and shouts of kit, wolffe, sinker, and comet. the hall adjacent to the ballroom is empty, not a single soul around. there’s not another word from plo as he strolls down, seeking out a storage closet. 

tampering with the lock, he uses a talon, along with the force to pry it open. you slip in, followed by the kel dor. darkness floods your vision, yet you can feel his chest pressed against yours, a smooth surface cooling your back. 

“may i remind you of something, my sweet girl?”

you nod, feeling his forehead brush against yours, choking back a whine as fingers curl around your breast, “y-yes plo?”

“don’t look at me like that and then feign innocence, as i will not hesitate to strip all of that away in a matter of minutes. are we understood?”

“y-yes,” you breathe, nearly crumpling to your knees as a talon drags lightly across your inner thigh, nearing your slick folds. you were practically dripping now, the rush of exhilaration pumping through your veins. 

you could get caught at any moment. 

and it was clear that plo did not have any hesitations about taking you here, right here in this storage closet, where there were hundreds of people gathered not too far away. 

“no underwear?” the inquiry is edged with a growl as the pad of his calloused thumb circles your clit, “you’re soaking wet, sweet girl.”

his touch sends euphoria rippling through your being, and you find yourself craving more. 

“plo,” his name drips like honey, “stars, plo, touch me.”

“oh, i’ll touch you, my little dove. as long as you can keep quiet, i’ll give you anything you desire.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

taglist: @fandom-gal44 @dexthtoyounglings @xcertaindarkthingsx @idiotonanadventure @pinkwhorecrux @letitrainathousandflames @maiaofmischief  @laorme34 @vinciwolf​ @justalittlecloud​ @marina-isabella​ @queenofheavenandhell​ @always-on-tatooine​

[kinngxali]

hii! i had a cute idea! may i request nagito as a prince and he’s slow dancing with his female reader at a grand ball? thought it would be very tooth rotting fluff<3

i am in love with this request ahhhh! hope you enjoy this <3

in this imagine his parents are alive, i can’t think of any other way to keep him as a Prince and not a king lolol

•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•

Prince!Nagito slow dancing with s/o

warnings: none that i can think of !

.

.

.

“Who’s that handsome fella over there?”

You pointed over to a tall male with fluffy hair that was as white as snow; you could see his pearly white teeth as he laughed at Mikan’s clumsiness - he seemed to be enjoying the ball more than you. “That’s Prince Komaeda right there, you gotta thing for him s/o?” Akane swiftly moved her arm around your shoulders, a small smirk plastered on her face. “No! I don’t even know the guy! He’s kinda cute, though...” Akane and Chiaki nodded in agreement, with Akane grinning at you. “Akane, don’t do anything stu-” Before you could finish your sentence, you felt her push you forward with a great force, making you stumble over as you desperately tried to steady yourself. The last thing you needed was to embarrass yourself in front of everyone.

“Do you need some assistance, miss...?” You looked up to see the Prince himself, standing in front of you with an open hand. “N-no, I’m okay.. and my name is s/o.” You managed to stand up straight, smiling awkwardly at the attractive man. His green eyes shone with curiosity, and his graceful demeanour almost made you drop to one knee right then and there.

“What a beautiful name, it fills me with so much hope!” His angelic laugh sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, causing you to look away, your timid nature rising up from the shadows.

Suddenly, you backed up, your smile fading away. “I’m so sorry, your highness!” You bowed, looking at the floor. He stumbled slightly, trying to register what had just happened. “Why are you apologising, s/o?” His eyebrows were furrowed together to form a frown, and his lips were slightly parted, almost as if he was contemplating on telling you something. “I forgot to bow...” He let out another chuckle, going slightly red in the face. “I suppose I could forgive you if you call me by Nagito.” You nodded, standing up straight once again; gazing into his forest green eyes, making him seem more handsome than before.

“Okay then... Nagito. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” You gave him a warm smile, bowing once again. He stared at you for a second, taking in all your prominent features. “Would you care to dance with me, s/o?” His face had gone a darker shade of red, and he held his hand out, shyly rubbing his neck with his other hand. “I-uh, is this allowed?” Nagito nodded his head, flashing you another charming smile. You reluctantly took his surprisingly smooth hand and he gently led you over to the centre of the room. “Nagito?” Your voice was quiet, and you were extremely anxious. “What is it? If you don’t want to dance with me that’s fi-” You shook your head quickly, going red from embarrassment. “No it’s not that-! I just...,” You paused, messing with your dress. “I don’t know how to dance..”

Nagito suppressed a laugh and smiled at you, showing off his pearly white teeth once again. “I can teach you as we go, don’t worry.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, nodding. He gently grabbed your hand - which seemed to fit with his hand like a jigsaw - and placed it on his shoulder; placing his own on your waist - not daring to go any higher or lower. With his other hand, he grabbed your free one, intertwining your fingers. “Just follow my lead.” Nagito stared into your eyes, a loving look on his face.

You eventually got used to the stepping pattern, accidentally stepping on Nagito’s feet a few times. There was a romantic song being played, and you and Nagito made the most of your time together. “Do you have any hobbies?” You tilted your head, maintaining eye contact. “I don’t think you would be interested...” You frowned, of course you were interested, that’s why you asked.

Nagito noticed the confused expression on your face, and he sighed, closing his eyes. “Despite my high status, I am still a piece of trash, nothing can ever change that.” His face looked grim; you let go of his hand, placing it on his shoulder, causing him place his free hand on your waist. “Well for the record, I don’t think you’re trash.” Nagito turned into a tomato, he felt his face heat up, and he awkwardly laughed. No one had ever said that to him before.

‘I have to marry this girl’

“You’re extremely beautiful, I’m sorry for not saying it before.” Now it was your turn to turn into a tomato. “Thank you.” Your voice was quiet, and he laughed once again, almost as if he was trying to pull at your heartstrings.

You both danced in silence, slowly edging closer with each passing minute. His movement was graceful, almost as if he were born to savour this enthralling moment. You noticed how remarkable he truly was, the complete opposite to how he sees himself.

The music slowly faded away, and you were trapped in your own world, it felt as if you were the only two people in the room. His eyes were fixated on yours, and his grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly.

“S/o?” You were pulled out of your trance by Hajime, who was awkwardly standing beside you and the Prince you had grown to adore. How long was he standing there for?

“Uh, we gotta go...sorry to interrupt you.” Hajime cringed slightly at his awkwardness and you giggled softly, letting go of Nagito. “I’ll be there in a minute, okay?” He nodded and scurried off; you turned back to Nagito, who had a smile on his face. “That’s a shame.” You nodded in agreement, if it was up to you, you would spend all night with this man. “Tonight was nice, thank you.”

“I would like to see you again, s/o.” Your eyes widened slightly, and you stared at him in disbelief. “I-is that even allowed-!?” He chuckled under his breath before answering your question. “Yes, but I won’t be upset if you don’t want to-”

“I would love to see you again, your highness.”

•~•~•~•

i feel like i dragged this out too much, oops~

- alicia >_<

[grayfilmsandstuff]

heehoo you say you love getting asks? then I request for a madcom matchup if thats good ! If you dont feel like doing this you don't have to 😁

I'm 5'7, an artist, a gamer, and a baker! I like to goof around a lot and easily get distracted💆‍♀️. I have dirty blonde VERY curly hair (not coily though) that reaches just past my shoulders!! I tend to draw people more than anything else, and watercolor painting is my favorite medium :>! I adore baking a variety of sweets since I have a massive sweet tooth. I like to think myself as funny and cool, but I do have a few major insecurities due to some physical medical problems🤌. I love doing puzzles, and I'm very smart education-wise. I'm very prideful and competitive, and also will not back down from a challenge. I have slight anger issues as well, but most of the time I'm very accepting and loving of others, listening to their problems and helping them no matter what! Only certain specific things tick me off🦵. Unless they were anything extremely horrid like a p//do or smth i will unconditionally love them as a friend, s/o or anythin like that! People usually say I'm the mom friend and have a motherly personality.

Go all out with whoever you match me with im willing to take anyone <3 have a good day !! 💕💕

you sound so sweet ogm. .. . thank u for the request aweewe

i match you wiiiiiiiiiiiiith...

Deimos!

- Deimos probably met you when 2BD took you back to the bunker to help you because you were pretty beat up, and although at the time he had never met you, he stayed by your side and told you stories to make you laugh and feel better during your recovery

- you and him definitely goof around a lot together, pulling pranks on everyone, telling the most ridiculous jokes, and just having fun

- Sanford is probably a huge third wheel for the two of you, but he thinks of you both as good friends and helps remind you of things when you tend to forget them

- Deimos LOVES your hair, curly hair is like a weakness to him because its so soft and bouncy so sometimes he'll come up behind you, wrap his arms around you, and rest his chin on your shoulder, which causes your hair to get all in his face

- you don't mind at all because you think it's really cute when he does literally anything at all

- he loves watching you draw and supporting you while you do so because he knows he's no good at it. if you ever ask him for anything to draw his immediate answer is himself

- "hey Dei, what should i dra-"

- "me. draw me. please draw me you make me look so handsome"

- whenever you bake, you bake enough for everyone, so you're the one providing the sweets for the four

- Deimos absolutely loves it when you bake because it amazes him how you can make something that tastes so good! he likes hugging you from behind while you're hard at work and just watching you do your thing

- when he tastes something you make and you ask him how it is, he always says "it's sweet, just like you ;}"

- one time he tried to sneak a cookie you had baked and burned his hand because he touched the pan, poor guy just wanted a cookie but instead got a second degree burn on his palm

- you have a long list of every puzzle you and Deimos have done together, and pictures for each one. his way of asking you out was actually a scavenger hunt! he laid out pieces of paper with clues all throughout the bunker until it led you to the roof, where he had a nice dinner set out for the two of you

- sometimes you unintentionally scold Deimos, most of the time for smoking but sometimes for dirty jokes and such. he loves it though and does his best to listen to you

- i love you is said at least 15 times a day both to you and from you. he just feels the need to let you know all the time <3

thank you for the request bb!! i realized ive written more matchups for deimos than i have for everyone else, oops

a lot of inspiration for this matchup came from @cookie00122 who helped me with this tysm bestye

[jaydicksummerexchange]

JAYDICK EXCHANGE: AUGUST 29, 2020

[ ❤ Works posted so far! ❤ ]

Here are today’s fanworks! Please leave a comment and kudos for the authors and artists. They’ve worked very hard to bring you a ton of great works. Authors/artists will be revealed September 3rd!

It Should've Been Enough by anonymous for ZeroMonster [FIC, Teen, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Six of Crows AU, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Moral Dilemmas, Kidnapping, Copious Amounts of Guilt, Grisha Jason, Severe bouts of Self-Doubt, Captivity, Angst, Death of unnamed background characters

Summary: Jason is more than Dick could've ever asked for in a little brother, and he's willing to do a hell of a lot to keep him safe and happy. Maybe too much.

Six of Crows AU.

When you wear white by anonymous for Redzik [FIC, General Audiences, No Warnings Apply, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Fluff, Idiots in Love, That's it that's the plot

Summary:  Dick can’t help the simultaneous inhale and exhale when he sees Jason coming down the aisle. The cut of his white tux makes a gorgeous figure against the backdrop of blue and red they chose for the decor. A nightmare for their wedding planner, but somehow, someway it worked for them. Dick can feel his heart flutter in his chest. 

He didn’t know how to feel about Jason wearing white. When the man first brought it up he agreed without question. 

Now staring at his handsome, statuesque fiance he wishes he thought about it more.

Raise the Stakes by anonymous for Prickat [FIC, Teen, No Warnings, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Fluff and humor

Summary: After a (presumably daring) rescue, Dick cooks dinner and games are played.

somewhere in nineteen by anonymous for 3ssen [FIC, Mature, Underage, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Slice of Life, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: Sixteen-year-old Jason Todd knows there's opportunity, and then there's Opportunity, and he's never been the one to miss a chance to help him survive on the streets of Gotham.

Degrees of Offence by anonymous for Cirth [FIC, Teen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lady Shiva is Jason's Mother, Jealousy, Resentment, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial, Crushes

Summary: Jason should have known better than to go picking unnecessary fights with heroes. Especially ones like Nightwing. Now that his mother has offered Dick Grayson training in exchange for defeating her son, all he can do is seethe at the injustice of it all, as well as hope for the opportunity to set the record straight again. An endeavor that would be much easier if Dick didn't insist on being so perfect all the time.

my soul a raging storm by anonymous for Witchy_Clover [Fic, Teen, No Warnings, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monster, sSoul Bond, Identity Reveal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence

Summary:  A huge storm is raging over Blüdhaven.

Nightwing is missing.

Jason volunteers to walk into the storm, lies on his tongue and a second heartbeat in his chest.

What he discovers could change everything but is it enough to find Dick and stop the storm?

I think I want to miss you right now by anonymous for Airdanteine [FIC, Explicit, No Warnings,  JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Canon-Typical Violence, Amnesia, Clubbing, Fighting Kink, Blow Jobs, Consensual Sex, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs

Summary: The latest rumor is that Nightwing had been taken down by a lucky contractor. Jason didn’t believe it at first.

Welcome Home by anonymous for Nottak [ART, Gen, No Warnings, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Fanart, House Husband AU, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, Civilian Jason Todd, Dick Grayson is Not Nightwing, Civilian Dick Grayson, for a given value of civilian, JayDick Summer Exchange, nose kisses, y’all nose kisses are cute too, it isn’t just forehead kisses, Married Life, Married Couple, Police Officer Dick Grayson, oops forgot to add that tag

Summary: Dick Grayson of the Bludhaven Police Department comes home to find his lovely husband cooking dinner.

Jason greets him with a kiss.

[bittywitches]

Ask: 6. Accidentally stepping on their heel in a crowded room. w gray ? 🤍

Oops forgot to post a lot of these 😅 (also I just realized this said heel but I didn’t do that exactly I’m sorry)

6. Accidentally stepping on their heel in a crowded room 

(for reference lol)

You honestly didn’t expect to find yourself in this situation, especially on your mother’s wedding day. This was supposed to be the best day of her life, she’d spent months planning this day for hours on end. She wanted it to be completely perfect, and you did all that you could to ensure that it would be. And you loved your Mom’s fiancée, she was literally the sweetest woman you’d ever met (aside from your momma). You already knew her pretty well, but in the weeks leading up to the wedding, you guys became even closer. She literally felt like one of your closest friends (even though she was a few decades older than you). So when the day finally arrived and you found out that you basically had no role to play in it? It hurt a bit.

You were already a bit furious with the fact that your sister was the one who got to be the maid of honour. Sure she was a lot older, and could probably handle the role a lot better, but it didn’t make you any less bitter. And even though you were still a bridesmaid, you were practically locked out of her dressing room for most of the night. And since you guys had gotten to the venue earlier than the wedding was scheduled, you just spent your time moping around the almost finished wedding hall.

It was only about an hour later did you have your phone ringing, a call from your sister. You sighed, picking the phone up reluctantly.

“Finally remembered that I exist?”

“Don’t be an ass. We need you to run an errand.”

“Of course. I knew my own family wouldn’t think of me unless they needed me for something.”

“Would you stop being petty for one second? There’s been an issue with the bouquets. Apparently, nobody remembered to go pick them up.”

“What? Isn’t the wedding supposed to start in-“ your phone away from your ear to look at the time. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Yea, that’s why I need you to GO.”

“Weren’t the bouquets supposed to be your responsibility?”

“Will you please just go get it?”

“What do I get out of this?”

“The satisfaction of giving mom the wedding of her dreams?”

“Mmmmm….”

She sighed over the phone. “I’ll pay you.”

“How much?”

“Twenty dollars.”

“What, do you think I’m twelve? No deal.”

“Dude-”

“Do you want my help?”

“Ugh, fine. Thirty.”

“Fifty or you’re on your own.”

“What? I’m not paying you fifty dollars just to-”

“Alright, good luck with-”

“God, FINE! Fifty!”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Fuck you. I’ll text you the address.”

Seconds later your phone vibrated in your hand, the location of the florist popping up in your notifications. You stuffed your phone into your purse and headed for the coatroom.

As you approached the door, you were confronted with  a few dozen faces pouring in through the front doors and drifting into the coatroom, in quite a disorganized fashion. You groaned. You guys were really cutting this close.

You pushed your way through the hectic sea of guests, making it through the coatroom door with a bit of ease, but after that, it was literally as if you were drowning in hairspray and cologne.

“How does my mom know so many people?” You grumbled, throwing out an ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ every half a second, but eventually just trying to push your way through the group of people.

Your eyes landed on your coat, so you began treading towards it, but just before you could grab it, the heel of your pump dug into something that most definitely was not the hardwood floor, causing your ankle to jerk sideways and you stumbled over.

“Woah,” Your shoulder jabbed into the side of a lavender dress shirt, and you definitely would’ve toppled over if it weren’t for the large hands that came up to catch you. You looked up to see who the voice was, and saw the face of a handsome young man staring back down at you.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry.” You fumbled, trying to stand up straight but another elderly woman rammed into your backside as she headed for the door, shoving your right back into the man’s arms.

“At least try to look where you’re going?” You yelled after her, but she only gave you a dirty look before leaving.

You sighed, looking away from her to see that you were still clutching onto the man’s shoulders, his black polyester slipping in your fingertips.

“God, hold on-” You leaned up and behind the man to reach up and grab your coat, your chest flushed against his when you did so, and his arms naturally came to rest on your lower back.

You leaned away, holding your coat in one hand and then grabbing his wrist with the other, yanking him to get him to follow you. You pulled him out of the coatroom, gasping when you finally got to breathe something that didn’t smell like fancy fabric softener.

“Felt like I was gonna drown in there,” You turned around to look at the man with you, colour returning to your face when you noticed his disheveled look.

“God, I’m really sorry,” you walked up to him and adjusted his blazer, straightening out the collar.

“It’s no big deal, really.” He placed his hands on your shoulders to get you to stop.

“No, you look so nice and I just,” You looked down at his black leather dress shoes to see the left one was creased right at the tip, a large cut where your heel had stepped on him.

“Oh my god, no!” You bent down at his feet, wiping at the top to see if it was just a smudge or not, and you blew air out of your nose in annoyance when you confirmed that the cut was there.

“Hey, it’s seriously not a problem.” He bent down to grab you by the shoulders and pull you back up.

“No, I ruined your shoes, and they look really expensive-”

“It’s fine, I promise.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry.” You got up on your toes to fix his ruffle hair, a result of the pandemonium that had occurred within the coat room. “You’d think a place like this would have a bigger place to leave your coats.”

He laughed, and you smiled when he did. You noticed a gem on his canine tooth when he chuckled, almost looking similar to the two shiny studs in his ears. His hand came up to rub his stubble, trailing up his chin. You were right. He looked really nice.

He looked back at you, an eyebrow quirked. “You’re one of the bridesmaids, right? I saw a few girls wearing that dress outside when I came in. Seemed like they were in a rush.”

You sighed. “Yeah, apparently things aren’t going as smoothly as we’d hoped.” You tilted your head. “Well, as smoothly as they’d hoped.”

He scrunched his nose at you in confusion.

You stuck your hand out. “I’m Y/N. Daughter of the bride. Er, well, the bride that proposed.”

He laughed when you said that, and took your hand, giving it a firm shake. “Grayson.”

“My sister is the maid of honour.”

“Oh.... ouch.”

“Yea, pretty much sucks ass. She’s practically planned the whole thing without any of my help. Except now, because things are going off the rails, I’m the one who has to save everyone’s ass.” You blinked. “Speaking of, I should head to the florist’s. Bouquet mishap and whatnot.”

“Oh, okay.” He said, a bit disappointed. “Maybe I’ll see you la-”

“Wait!” You grabbed his arm, startling him a bit. “There’s a small formal wear store that’s literally in the same plaza as the florist! I can make up for ruining your shoes.”

His eyebrows raised. “Y/N, it really isn’t necessary-”

“Nonsense! I’m not going to let my mother have guests wearing improper attire to her own wedding.” You winked at him.

He chuckled. “Alright, we better leave quickly then. The wedding’s gonna start soon.” He held out his arm for you, his elbow jutting out to the side.

“My, what a gentleman.” You smiled, hooking your arm around his and gripping his bicep as you led him out to your car.

・ ・ ・

“So, how do you know Lindsey?” You said as you hopped out of your car, locking it behind you as Grayson followed suit. “I’m assuming you're a guest from her side.”

“Yea. My dad used to work with her, and they were pretty close. Recently drifted apart, but he was very excited to be invited to the wedding. She also used to babysit me.” He held the door to the florist open for you, and you walked inside.

“Hah, I bet you were a cute kid.”

“You think so?” He asked, the door jingling as it fell closed behind him.

“Well I can’t imagine that anyone could be ugly as a kid and then grow up to look like-” You looked over your shoulder at him to see him chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes resting gently on yours.

“What I mean is,” you fumbled, pulling the straps of your dress higher up your shoulder. “Nobody could have that big of a glow up.” You gave him a small smile, turning back to the counter to hide your gradually growing pink face.

“Well, thanks.” You heard his feet pacing behind you, snaking through the rows of beautiful flowers. It was pretty late, so nobody else was in the store except you two and the Clerk.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up an order. Should be under ‘Lindsey and Nia’.”

“Ah, yes. One moment.” The clerk disappeared through a door, and you laid your elbows onto the counter, your face resting on one hand while the other tapped your fingers on the cool marble.

“Hey,” You felt a tap on your shoulder, and you looked around to see Grayson gently holding a beautiful pink peony right in front of your nose.

You breathed in, taking in the wonderful scent, opening your eyes and looking up to meet Grayson’s soft ones.

“It matches your dress,” He said simply, but his sweet tone somehow made it feel like he was serenading you with a love song.

“It does.”

“Kinda looks like you,” He said, gesturing towards your low bun, tiny white flowers peeking out of it. He handed the flower to you, and you took it, holding it gently in your fingertips.

“It’s beautiful.”

“That’s what I said.” Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, a small but playful simper on his lips.

“I-”

“Here you are, miss.” You suddenly turned away from Grayson to look at the vendor, your eyes landed on the two pink plumeria bouquets.

“Oh, they’re gorgeous, thank you.” You took them from him, closing your eyes to inhale their scent.

“Do you plan on buying that, miss?” You looked at where he was pointing, and saw he was talking about the peony in your hand.

“Oh, no, I was just-”

“Actually, no. But I was.” Grayson stepped up to the counter, taking his wallet out of his pocket. You stepped back to give him some room, looking at him with a bit of wonder in your eyes.

“Five dollars.”

“For ONE flower-” You interjected, but Grayson rested his hand on your arm, and for some reason it silenced you.

Grayson handed the man a five-dollar bill. The vendor asked if he wanted a bag, and Grayson refused, wishing the man a good night after the exchange. He turned to you, handing you the flower then heading for the door.

“You coming?”

It felt like you’d been watching this happen from somewhere out of your body, and had to blink to get yourself to return to Earth. “Yea, coming.”

・ ・ ・

“Y/N, we seriously don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, we do. I owe you for two things now.”

“The shoes were an accident, and the flower was barely anything, you don’t-”

“Just shut up and choose a pair of shoes.” You demanded, and he put his arms up in defeat, walking back up towards the display of shoes on the wall. You sat down on one of the stools, absent-mindedly smelling the beautiful pink flower that Grayson had gifted you.

“These look pretty good, don’t you think?” He gestured towards a pair that had two different shades of brown on it.

“You’re kidding right? Do you think my mom’s wedding theme is ‘the wild west’?”

“Jeez, it was just a suggestion.” He said with an exaggerated tone, and you giggled.

“How about these?” You walked up and picked up a jet black pair, almost resembling the ones he was wearing except for the seams lining the sides.

“They’re basically the same as these.” He wiggled one foot in the air.

“Yea, but these don’t have a cut in them.”

He chuckled, picking up the box that had those shoes, then taking them out to try them on. They fit perfectly.

“Dang, these are nice.” He sat down to slip them off and place them back in the box, but his eyes bulged when he saw the price tag. “No way, these are way too expensive.”

“Lemme see.” You read the label, and you had to chew the inside of your cheek to prevent you from making any sort of remark. “It’s not that bad.”

“Are you serious?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m paying for it.”

“That’s exactly why it does matter-”

“Grayson come on, I don’t have the time for this!” You took your phone out of your purse to check the time, and instead saw a stream of texts from your sister asking where you were. “I was supposed to be back like ten minutes ago. Just pick a pair of shoes!”

“But I can’t let you buy these! It’s too much!”

“You bought me something too.”

“It was a flower! For five dollars!”

“Okay, time’s up, we’re choosing these ones.” You grabbed them back from him, running for the front of the store as you heard Grayson call behind you.

“Y/N-”

You slammed the shoes down on the counter, startling the cashier. “Is this all, ma’am?”

“Yep.” Grayson stumbled up behind you, slipping on his creased shoe and sighing as the cashier scanned the box.

“At least let me pay for it.”

“What? No! Then I’d still owe you!”

“You don’t owe me anything-”

“Jesus, you’re more annoying than my mom and Lindsey bickering over what centerpiece they want.”

At that he finally dropped it, laughing. “Lindsey is pretty picky about her flowers.”

“Yeah.” You inserted your credit card and put in the pin. “I was surprised they were even able to make a decision on the bouquets. I was so sure they were going to choose different flowers.” You sighed, looking at him. “But Lindsey knew mom would die for these, and that was all she needed to know to make her decision.”

“Guess they really love each other, huh?” Grayson mused as you took your credit card back. The cashier handed you the bag with the shoes as well as a receipt, and you thanked her before walking out with him.

“Yea. They really do.” You remarked, looking down at the single peony still in your hand.

“Hey, your car is that way.” He grabbed your arm, then took the bouquets from you as you laughed at your disorientation.

“Right.”

・ ・ ・

After rushing to the dressing room to find half the exasperated bridesmaids as well as a finally stress-relieved sister, your mother gave you a huge sloppy kiss on the cheek that you squirmed away from, but you were happy all the same that she was able to get her bouquets. One of the other bridesmaids rushed off to give the second bouquet to Lindsey.

Of course you were pushed out a few minutes later, but this time you weren’t as upset. Your mind was lingering on other things… so when your sister pushed you out the door, you were quick to snatch the pink peony that you’d left lying on the dresser.

・ ・ ・

Ceremony over, bouquets thrown, tears wept and first dance completed; After it was all over, you found yourself hovering near the back of the hall, watching as your Mom and Step-mom danced the night away, carefree as ever with the biggest smiles on their faces. You sighed, happy at how this night had turned out. It was perfect, it was gorgeous, it really was everything you’d all dreamed of and more. The love of the two oozed out of their very pores, filling the room with a bubbly feeling that you quite easily caught on to you. You found yourself with eyes roaming the room, looking for a certain someone with a lavender dress shirt, but your shoulders slumped when you couldn’t find it through the haze of pink lights dancing across the room. You looked down, and took another whiff of the flower you still held in your hands, not daring to let go of it after your bridesmaid duties had been accomplished. You looked up again, hoping to find the disheveled hair and shiny studs.

“Looking for me?” A voice caught you from behind, and you looked behind you to see Grayson, his arms casually held behind his back, but a small smirk played on his lips when he noticed the flower in your hands. “Still have that?”

You bit your lip, slowly shifting your way over to him amidst the music and laughter. “It’s too pretty to get rid of.” You looked down to see he’d changed into the new shoes you’d bought him, and it brought a smile to your lips. “They look good.”

“They’re great. You have great taste.” You met his eyes, them dark and wonderful as they glazed over you. “I really wish you didn’t pay for them though.”

“I’m happy I did.”

“But now I owe you.” His fingertips met yours as he took the delicate flower from you, bringing it up to his face to smell it, smiling at the fact that it still had that wonderful scent.

“Maybe you can make it up to me…” Your hands came up to his, your fingers first tracing the petals of the flower, then down the stem, then dragging across his large hands.

He wrinkled an eyebrow. “How so?”

You gestured towards the dance floor, that now had many bodies moving to the music on it.

He smiled, taking a step back from you just so he could lean forward with one hand behind his back, the other holding the peony out for you. “May I have this dance?”

You grinned, taking the flower from him, but letting your fingers linger a little while longer this time. “Of course.”

He chuckled, holding his elbow out for you once more, and you gripped it, leading him towards the dance floor.

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (2)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (in case u wanna come say hello on main but no pressure)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death, some mentions of sexual situations but nothing explicit, spoilers for season 2 (should probably have tagged ch1 for this too oops)

words: 6607, no regrets

summary: it’s not a date if it’s for work

Author’s note: There is so much research that went into this I would just like to say thank you internet for letting me look up stuff from the comfort of my own home at unholy hours even though I did get very distracted while looking up late 80s wedding dress fashion. Also bless the s2 dvd extra which was a director’s commentary on s2 ep10 and very informative.

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83 

(message me if you want to be added to the list. or just message me in general)

and also I urge you to look at the beautiful moodboard that @huliabitch made for me! I love it so much!

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

"All the best from Mr DEA." Diana said as she threw herself down in the seat across from her best friend. Gabriela looked effortlessly glamourous as usual, even though she was just in a blouse and jeans. She just had that air about her, like one of the vintage movie stars, something Diana had never quite been able to match. She was well aware she was downright frumpy in comparison, not one to catch eyes just by walking past. For the most part, that suited her. Gabi tried to seem nonchalant about the greeting.

"Oh?" She sipped gingerly from her drink and put her menu away. "You finally met, then? He's back?"

Diana nodded and stowed away her purse and cardigan. "Yeah, this afternoon and yesterday, in the morning. He seems... nice enough? I don't know. Not a talker, is he? He seems a bit on edge, to be honest. Though I suppose that's to be expected." But despite everything, he still has kindness in his eyes.

Gabi just grinned at her for a long moment, waiting to pounce.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a grump. ...Handsome though, no?"

Diana sighed, swatting at the other woman with her own menu. "Did it ever occur to you that the newly divorced woman might have had her fill of men for the time being?"

"It has occcurred to me that five years of unchanging, uninspired missionary for half an hour exactly, twice a week, with that wet blanket you married might have left you with the need to really be filled by a man for once."

"Gabriela!" she gasped, choking on thin air and mortification, even though their conversations would often get way more explicit than this. Just never with her being the subject. Gabriela just smiles like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, hailing a waiter to give him their order.

"Speaking of newly divorced: has the dipshit finally signed the papers then?" Diana groaned, throwing her glasses down onto the table to massage her temples.

"No, he's dragging his feet. Which is ridiculous, it's not like I want anything from him. It's not like we're fighting tooth and nail over every other thing, like that American movie, the one we watched on your mom's old VHS player, you know? With Meryl Streep? In any case, now he decides to fight? If you can call that fighting."

"Kramer vs Kramer." Gabi remarked sagely. "Yeah... At least you don't have children together. That could really have gone ugly. I still don't know what you ever saw in that man."

"Oh shut it. I used to be fond of Juan Mateo; I don't know when that changed." Diana huffed, quickly snatching up her glasses when the waiter sailed over with their drinks and appetizer.

"Well that's the problem, you never loved him! And your parents set too good an example; what could ever live up to that?" She took a generous drag from her drink, then dug into the food with hungry abandon. "At least you're finally rid of his snoring. And his mother."

"God, she really hated me. Couldn't bear it that her precious boy brought some lowly scum from the comunas into her pristine middle class home. Marrying me might have just been the only demonstration of free will that man has ever managed." Diana allowed herself to seethe a bit at the memory, taking it out on her food as she stabbed at it roughly. "And I will definitely not miss the snoring."

"Mr DEA barely snores." Gabriela remarked lightly. "Just ...very softly. It's quite cute."

"Since when do you let clients stay to actually sleep?" Diana inquired around a mouthful, brows scrunched. Gabriela hummed thoughtfully, swiping some sauce off her plate with a piece of bread.

"Ah, but he was so tired, poor thing. It wouldn't have been safe to send him back out, he would have crashed his car and died in a ditch somewhere, which would have been a real shame. I just let him nap for an hour or so that one time. Besides, I wasn't in any state to do much myself after he blew my back out." She had a way of being so nonchalant about these things that Diana supposed came from a sort of professional equanimity. Diana possessed no such poise and gawked openly, the wheels turning in her head as she recalled previous conversations and connected dots.

"Oh." She breathed as realization hit. "Oh! No! That was him? You're kidding me. How am supposed to look him in the eye now?" Gabi was already cackling, barely able to hold her laughter as Diana sputtered, recalling the very detailed recounting she'd received after the night in question. "You said you felt that for days after!"

"I did, but it was worth it." Gabi was now subtly holding her sides, having pushed her empty plate away to be collected. "You see, you're my dearest and oldest friend and I only want the best for you."

"I'm sure Mr DEA would be delighted to know of your crude attempts to pimp him out." Diana snarked, pushing her own plate to the side just in time to be whisked away by the waiter. "You're incorrigible. This is serious. Besides, I think he really liked you, actually."

"He liked the illusion of intimacy, like most of my clients. Lonely but with committment issues to the moon and back. It's not like I'm telling you to marry him. I'm just trying to get you properly laid for once." Gabriela scoffed. She could be so detached sometimes. In fact, one could call it downright cynical. But Diana had known her since they were both in pigtails and could detect the care behind even the most jaded words.

"Oh whatever. I request a change of topic. How's your book coming along? Any progress on that chapter that's been giving you so much trouble?" Diana asked sweetly, making the other woman glare at her over the plates with their main courses as they were being set down. Because yes, Gabriela does indeed write more than letters, and she's good, too. Also, two can play this game of being just slightly mean.

--- --- ---

Javier hated team meetings. And now that he was the boss here he couldn't even get out of them. Worse, he had to lead them. He looked over the assembled agents, glad that he had most of their names down by now. Gladder still that this was a DEA-only event and he wouldn't have to deal with any of Stechner's CIA asswads for now.

"Duffy, where are we on the shipments?" He turned to the other man expectantly. Duffy was one of the few agents here that weren't younger than him; he actually had some experience under his belt, unlike all these fucking greenhorns the higher-ups had sent him. He forced himself to pay attention to Agent Duffy's answer, making notes of important dates as he listened. Operation Cornerstone had, at this point, not yet come to full fruition, but if they continued to put in their due dilligence it was almost certain to turn up something useful. When they'd gone through all the points on his agenda, and after clearing up a few uncertainties, he dismissed the roomful of agents.

"Duffy, got another moment?" Javier stopped the other agent as he turned to leave the conference room.

"Sir?" Duffy sat back down and pulled his writing pad back out.

"Have you come up with any ideas for my informant in Calí?" Javier had mentioned this before, seeing as Duffy was one of the agents permanently stationed at the Calí field office. Now that Escobar was gone it would look suspicious if the head of the DEA in the country trekked up to Medellín every other week, and they needed a better way for Miss Rivas to hand over her collected intel. Duffy cleared his throat and caught the eye of one of his colleagues and waved him over.

"Lopez here has had a few ideas, sir. Tony, tell the boss your ideas for drop-offs."

The other agent was younger, handsome in that pretty way that made girls sigh dreamily, going by his own, admittedly remote, memory of high school and college. Lopez hadn't said much during the meeting, but had that eager glint in his eyes that said he wanted to prove himself. Javier had had that same look when he first came down here; it hadn't survived the first year.

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, so I was thinking the public library might be worth a shot." Agent Lopez pulled a notepad from his own case, squinting down at the scrawled chickenscratch. Javier nodded along, encouraging more than praise. He'd have to run these ideas by Miss Rivas anyway, and if she had concerns they were back at square one. But that was a river he intended to cross when the time came and not a second earlier.

--- --- ---

The satphone was also a good instinct because after their preliminary meetings in April, it gets irritatingly difficult to arrange another one for over a month.

"The what now?"

"The 4th International Poetry Festival. It's on from June 2nd to 8th." she explained patiently. "Orietta Lozano, Gloria Gervitz, Blanca Varela!"

"I assume those are poets."

"Obviously."

"You want me to go to a poetry festival with you?"

"No, I'm taking the week off and I'm going to the festival, and I am also free to meet you. I'm just suggesting that maybe your work hours don't all have to be spent in dreariness and drudgery." Something sizzled on the other end of the line where she was making herself dinner while talking to him, and it made Javier's stomach grumble. "A bit of culture is good for the soul, Agent Peña. You'll burn yourself out with how much you work. When was the last time you ever did anything for fun? Read a book? Hell, listened to music?"

Whenever you call me. She always had music on at home. It drifted through the receiver, a soothing background hum that was too soft to truly make out most times. Add to that the fact that he was still sitting in his office at almost half past seven in the evening, and he didn't have a proper counter-argument.

"Alright, fine. 2nd to 8th, I'll see what I can do."

--- --- ---

She was wearing another belted shirt dress, this one pale yellow and sleeveless, the full skirt reaching to just below the knees. It reminded Javier of the style his mother used to wear when he was little. Saturday, June 4th, had him meet up with Miss Rivas at the Teatro Metropolitano in central Medellín. Her dress contrasted against the blocky red building in a way that tugged familiar, but Javier was trying to train himself to not see blood in every instance of red.

"This is quite a way from Envigado." He announced his approach as soon as he was close enough to not have to shout. She jumped a bit, clearly startled, but her lips pulled into a polite smile when she recognized him.

"Agent Peña." She greeted. "No, cultural grandeur doesn't usually make it out to the comunas." She sat back down on the bench and pulled a flyer from her (rather big) purse, thumbing it pensively. Javier sat beside her, not quite at arms' length. Trying to appear wordlessly inviting, if only to mask how at a loss for words she made him feel. He seemed to be no longer used to normal, civil human interaction.

"Right, there is one reading here at the Metropol that starts in about half an hour that I think you might like. It has a few of the international poets; a few of them will be reading in English. Then there's another one later at the Teatro Carlos Vieco that I'm keen on. It's about half an hour on foot between locations, but there's the open air exhibits that only require a small detour." She pointed it all out on the program as she spoke, Javier silently nodding along in acknowledgement. "I've planned it so there's more than enough time for a lunch break. I hate having to rush through things that are meant to be enjoyed. I brought arepas, but there are usually enough street vendors out and about to get something else, if you prefer." She really did talk a lot. That was surprisingly fine by Javier, since it meant he didn't have to. "Though of course if you'd rather just get your intel and go I understand, but I must insist on at least this first reading, Agent Peña. But otherwise I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure you have other things to do."

His lips twitched involuntarily and he held his hand out for the program flyer, silently reading it over. None of the names rung any kind of bell. Not that he was much of a poetry aficionado. "Sounds good to me."

She blinked. "Which part?"

He handed her back the flyer, which she took automatically, still eyeing him with uncertainty.

"All of it." She blinked again, looking mildly shocked, the flyer still dangling uselessly from her fingers. "Miss Rivas, I came all the way here and you went through all this trouble planning. It would be a waste to part ways after so short a time."

Truth be told it sounded ...nice. The thought of spending a day just exploring, letting work be work for even just a day (or at least part of it). Despite being an only child, he'd never liked being on his own even when he was young, cherishing every day spent with school friends or any of his numerous cousins. And it wasn't like he'd had to do far less pleasant things for information.

Her expression morphed from uncertain gaping into a wide, pleased smile that he couldn't help but mirror. Maybe she was quite a nice lady after all.

---

"...I have to ask though: What's a ...smit- ...smee-dereen?"

"Smithereens." Javier corrected gently as they exited the venue after the reading. "It means... it's all the small pieces that are left over when something is destroyed. Like with a bomb."

"Hmm," she hummed, pensive as they strolled along with the leisurely flow of the crowd, "I'll have to think a bit more about this." She fished around in her purse, producing bottled water and offering him one. He took it gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. "How did you like it, Agent Peña? Already regretting agreeing to this?"

"No." Javier found himself replying perhaps a smidgeon too quickly. "No, it's very uh... enriching." And not what he'd expected at all. Though the festival was now in its fourth year running, he'd never had the chance or the wish, really, to attend it before. He'd barely taken note of its existence, too preoccupied with chasing down leads.

"Hm, you don't have to mollify me, Agent Peña. You'll still get your intel, don't worry." Her expression slipped, from an almost serene smile back into that underlying heaviness that he could identify only now that it had been lifted for a short while.

"Miss Rivas," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm just not that good with words. That's why I'm a government agent and not a poet."

That at least made her chuckle a bit. And it was true, too. He felt lighter, in a way, like his mind had been craving a break from the frustrating work of trying to find an in to take down the cartel. Even his shoulders felt less tense here. And it was a beautiful day, too. Warm but not too hot, sunny with a mild breeze. People were out and about around them, festival goers and other citizens alike, mingling freely with a carelessness that would have been unthinkable only a year prior.

"Juan Mateo never wanted to come with me to this." She gestured vaguely at the city and its people around them. "My husband. Ex-husband. Technically still husband because he won't sign the divorce papers." Her features turned tense as she explained, a slight frown appearing between her brows. "Not that it matters now, of course. But goodness, that man had no sense for these things. He thought top shelf coffee was the height of culture. He'd act like going out to a bar one evening every few weeks was a chore beyond compare. Such a martyr!" She huffed and Javier laughed softly, offering to take her bag for a while as she adjusted it on her shoulder for the third time now.

"No, that's alright. It's not heavy. This way." Her hand naturally slipped into the crook of his elbow to steer him down the side of the road and Javier faltered for a moment, cursing himself for wearing a short-sleeved shirt even though it was comfortably warm. He just didn't want to get separated in the bustle of activity, he reasoned. This was a perfectly tame and non-offensive gesture and it would be rude to flinch away, he reasoned. She initiated it, after all. No harm no foul. This was still a professional alliance.

"You think very loudly, Agent Peña." She remarked, lightly squeezing his elbow. "It better not be about work."

"Technically I am at work right now." He countered, covering her hand on his arm with his much larger one and giving it an awkward pat.

"Lucky you." She teased, lightly nudging his side with her elbow.

"Beats paperwork, that's for sure."

They ambled along, weaving through the crowds where they gathered in front of street performers and makeshift stages. Javier couldn't deny that it felt good to feel the sun on his skin, un-recycled air in his lungs; most of all being far away from Stechner and his legion of CIA goons was almost rejuvenating. They fell into a languid rhythm, walking leisurely and stopping every so often to linger a bit where music was being played or more poetry recited, in front of the stalls of local artisans or to look at the sculptures that had been put up as an open air exhibit throughout the city. Every so often, Miss Rivas would tell him some little anecdote, be it about any of the previous festivals or just the city itself. He barely felt the time pass.

By the time they'd made it across the river and to the park wherein the open-air theatre was situated, it was time for a late lunch and Javier felt his stomach start to protest, all that walking serving to work up an appetite.

"...and after school Gabi and I would trek across town to the library and hide by the shelves in the back, the ones with the old classics, and we'd read all the scandalous 19th-century novels about adulteresses and other fallen women. You know, Anna Karenina, Thérèse Raquin, Madame Bovary, Tess of the d'Urbervilles..." Miss Rivas set her bag down and produced a fairly big plastic container from within, setting it on the bench between them. "Perhaps not the most appropriate fare for a couple of fifteen-year-old girls, but it wasn't like we had a whole lot of supervision, you know? It definitely wasn't appropriate to read to a five-year-old, so I guess it's good that Maritza never really paid attention much- Stop my prattling any time, Agent Peña. I know I talk too much; Juan Mateo always used to say so."

Javier paused, an abundantly filled arepa inches from his mouth. "He what now?"

She flushed, looking down and picking at the wrapping paper she'd bundled the food up in. "It's fine, it's not a big deal, really."

"It's not fine." Javier insisted. Told her to shut up, told his own wife that she talked to much! What an ass. He started tearing into the arepa with a glower. They sat in silence for a while, chewing tensely in this little corner of the park at the foot of Cerro Nutibara, in a spot that was fairly hidden among the greenery while still affording a decent view of the city streets below. Javier didn't even know why it irked him so much. There were worse things out there than insensitive husbands. Ex-husbands at that. Still, he seethed quietly in his righteous wrath.

"Wanna see something funny?" She was already digging through her purse, so he didn't see much sense in replying. She pulled a photo from some deep compartment in her wallet, looking down at it thoughtfully for a moment before passing it to him. In his defence, Javier hadn't meant to laugh. It just came out, snorty and half-aborted.

"Hey, at least I managed to evade the poofy sleeves, okay? My mother was dead set on them. She wanted me to look like the English lady… uh, Princess Diana. I think she might have taken the name as a sign."

"That's a.. that's a lot of satin."  And tulle. Javier pressed out, still suppressing his laughter and barely succeeding. He could have pointed out that the mass of ruffles negated any absence of actual puff sleeves, but thought it better to refrain. And it wasn't like she hadn't looked beautiful as a bride, it was more that in that ruffled satin-and-tulle concoction she looked like an unwilling dress-up doll, despite the tasteful off-the-shoulder cut and flattering waistline. It was just... there were a lot of ruffles. There was a lot of dress, period. Paired with an expression that was better suited to a funeral, the effect was almost morbidly comedic.

"Wait till I show you the cake; we were basically identical." It was the dryness of her tone that set him off. There was no suppressing it now, Javier was bellowing, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It didn't help that the dress fashion hadn't really strayed very far from the 'bigger and more style' in the years since. All things considered, this was a comparatively simple gown, lacking the mass of sparkly appliqués and abundance of bows and flowers that had been popular in the latter years of the previous decade. It just wasn't a style that suited her personality in any way, at all. Her slender figure was absolutely drowned in the sheer volume of the skirt alone. Hell, it completely overshadowed the already forgettable man standing by her side in the photo. Though 'by her side' was a generous descriptor. There was definitely enough space for the Holy Spirit and then some between the couple.

"My mother spent ages on that damn dress. Her hands looked like pincushions by the time she was done; that's why she wore gloves to the wedding."

"She's a seamstress, right? Your mother?" She'd mentioned it in an offhand comment during one of their previous phone calls.

"She was." Diana confirmed, tucking the picture away again. "Didn't think you'd remember that."

"Of course. I listen to everything you tell me."

Diana chuckled, flushing lightly. "It's not even relevant to the case!"

"I listen to everything you tell me." Javier insisted and started gathering up wrapping paper and such to throw away. A quick look at his watch told him they'd have to get moving soon if they wanted to make it to the theatre on time to get decent seats.

"Right." Diana collected her things to stuff them back into her bag. "So it's a no for ruffles, but what would you have me wear, Agent Peña? What do you think suits me?"

Javier couldn't have told even the most skilled interrogation expert what exactly compelled him to answer, and so readily at that, why he had an opinion at the ready in the first place, or at least that's what he preferred to tell himself.

"I think... something soft and flowy, not a whole lot of embellishments, if any. Clear lines and a light fabric, something you can dance in and be comfortable. Definitely no more satin."

She laughed now, as well, eyes twinkling with what he thought was approval. "You are full of surprises. Should I ever get married again, I'll most certainly engage your services as designer, Agent Peña."

"I'll keep a spot open for you. First consultation is free."

---

How her hand can feel so natural there in the crook of his elbow after hardly a day, he cannot tell. All he knows is that by the time the reading at the open air theatre is done the sun has started to dip in the sky and if this was what his work was like more often he'd perhaps be happier in his workaholic ways. Though they haven't broached the topic of work in hours now, instead ambling half-aimlessly northward towards Conquistadores where he's parked his rental car at the hotel he's staying at. Because it is a long way to Envigado and he insisted on driving her home. Because even though now that Escobar is gone Medellín is much safer, but he's never been one to easily trust a good thing.

It's only when they've crossed the big main street Avenida 33 that Miss Rivas gets quieter. She's obviously  tired following their prolonged outing, but he instantly misses the pleasant hum of her voice, her clever little observations- At the same time, it's a comfortable silence, not one weighed down by expectation. She'd even let down her hair from where it had been up in a ponytail for most of the day, most likely to keep the thick curtain of it away from her neck in the heat and sun.

They're just crossing a smaller square, the edge of it lined with shops, the hole-in-the-wall kind mostly, when she suddenly pulls away with a soft instruction to wait there for just a moment, and he's left to look after her flapping skirt with what is probably not the most dignified expression. Defeated, he sat down on the broad edge of a flowerbed nearby and watched her cross to a food vendor, order, and fish around for her wallet to pay, before turning around again with a plastic cup in each hand. Fresas con crema, he can make out upon her approach, and one corner of his mouth ticks up involuntarily.

"Hungry again?" He teased when she got within earshot, handing him one cup and setting the other down beside him along with her purse.

"There's always space for this in my stomach." She retorted primly. "If you don't want any, all the better."

"Thank you for the generous offer, but no. Thanks for this." He makes a show of cupping the treat protectively, fully knowing he'll have to set it down to unwrap the plastic spoon that came with it. It makes her laugh nonetheless, which imbues him with a strange, fluttery sense of accomplishment.

She's still standing, head thrown back and grinning wide, when her gaze catches on something at the far end of the plaza, and her expression morphs from glee to astonishment to rage so quickly it gives Javier whiplash.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Ripping off her glasses and thrusting them into his hands, she began stalking off.

Two things are fortuitous: one, she had to pass Javier to get to whatever she saw and two, his reflexes are still sharp enough for him to jump up and into her path, even having managed to safely deposit the cup of strawberries and cream.

"Whoa, what the hell is it?"

"I- ...she-" Her voice is strained, her whole body taut like a livewire as she attempts to round him and resume her warpath. On instinct, Javier took a few steps backwards, keeping himself between her and her target. It's only his hands on her shoulders that stall her enough for him to be able to whip his head around and follow her eyeline. That side of the square is empty save for an older lady shuffling along, huffing and puffing and blissfully unaware of the wrathful freight train about to rush her. To say Javier was puzzled would be an understatement.

"What, her? The old woman?"

"That's Hermilda Escobar!" She's shaking so much he has trouble keeping a grip on her. "Look at her! The nerve of that woman to show her face here-" She winds out from under his hands, rounding him with a quick sidestep, and he can only match her speed because his legs are longer.

"Hey!" Javier whisper-shouts to be met with flashing eyes, then repeats it more softly. "Hey. What exactly are you planning to do here, huh?"

"I'm gonna give that self-righteous bitch a piece of my mind is what I'm gonna do!" She retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It's cowing, the single-minded purpose rolling off of her. She's strumming with it, her seething damn near tangible. In her rage, she is ruthless. Javier had no doubt, in that moment, that once let go she might well maul the woman with more than words.

It's instinctive, the way his arm wraps around her. Like the few times he's had to restrain Steve and yet not like that at all. For one Javier doesn't have to go for a near chokehold, though energy-wise her wrath is at least as fierce. So, he wraps one long arm around her waist, hauling her much slighter body against his with a half-turn, her forearms colliding sharply with his chest.

"Easy." He rumbles, his other arm coming up to fold across her shoulders. "Easy. Calm down. Calm down!"

Palms smack against his pectorals and it stings. "Hey!" He tightens his hold around her trembling body, her angry, anguished squirming. Softens his voice. "Hey. Calm down, okay? What're you gonna do, beat up that old woman in the street? Come on, breathe."

The sound that comes out of her is something very closely related to a snarl, and he feels the bite of her nails even through his shirt, but holds fast, continuing to ramble empty phrases with the intent to soothe, or at least distract.

"If you tell me to calm down one more time I will get violent." She promised, hands pushing into his chest in an effort to break his hold. The old woman has almost passed by completely by now, seeming blissfully unaware of the savaging she's escaping. Javier held fast, as tight as he dared, the hand still pinching the pair of glasses between two fingers awkwardly patting at her shoulder while he sways them both, rocking from foot to foot.

By the time Diana has calmed down enough that he feels comfortable loosening his hold, the old woman is long gone from view. He feels her slump in his grip, reflexively tightening his arms again to hold her up.

"Hey," he gentles, lightly nudging the side of her head and thinking, distantly, that all but burying his nose into her soft hair is far too intimate a position for any of this. "Hey, it's alright, I've got you, okay? I've got you."

They're still swaying on the spot, a gentle see-saw motion, and then he felt the hands that had been clenching and unclenching on his chest lose all tension and drop down to the side. She's still shaking, her whole ribcage jumping with the hiccup of suppressed sobs. Somehow, he maneuvers them both around and back the few steps from where their snack and her purse still wait beside the flowerbed.

"Why'd you hand me these, anyway?" It's but a cheap distraction tactic, Javier handed her the glasses back as soon as she sat nevertheless.

"I'm not blind without them." Diana responded tersely, snatching the glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her dress. When she doesn't deign to elaborate, he sighs and stretches from where he'd sat back on his haunches in front of her, resuming his earlier seat and finally unwrapping the spoon. It's a tense silence for a long moment, her aggravation like a pulse around them. Certainly it gives Javier a good bit to think on.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Don't condescend to me. You may have been closer to the action, but I've lived here all my life." She ripped open her own packet with a vengeance, digging the spoon into her own portion with such force that the sliced strawberries bleed into the white cream. Javier sighed. Took a moment to order his words before they leave his tongue.

"I just need to know if this," he gestured between her and the edge of the square, "is going to be something that has to be taken into account. I need to know that you're not just in this for revenge. I need to know where you're at mentally. I need to be sure, both for your own safety and the integrity of this operation, that you're not just going to snap one day and try to claw Miguel Rodríguez' eyes out, okay?"

She chews angrily a moment, eyes flashing at him before she stares straight ahead again. The wrath is still rolling off of her in waves, perhaps dipping a bit in its intensity, but far from dulling just yet.

"You want to know my motivations, is that it? Well, let me lay it out for you, Agent Peña: of my entire class, a third never even made it to graduation, for one reason or another. I spent my youth plotting routes around gunfights in the street, with just enough success to still be alive, somehow. My mother was caught in the crossfire of a raid and was afraid to leave the house for years afterwards. My father was on that Avianca flight. My baby cousin Maritza is dead and her baby will grow up without her mother. And throughout it all, I took the coward's way out, moved cities, for university, for work, for marriage, for myself even, and everywhere I went they were, too. The narcos have spun their spider's web across the whole damn country and beyond and sooner or later everyone gets stuck in it. I got stuck in it despite my best efforts, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having to flee and turning up in dead ends. Somehow I have landed in this unique position, and I refuse to join them. Is that enough motivation for you, Agent Peña?"

She held his gaze, a challenge in fire, and he wondered how much longer that adrenaline surge would sustain her before she crashed. Wordlessly, he nodded his affirmation.

It's more tense silence after that, thick like stew or the humidity out in the jungle. She doesn't reach for him again as they resume the walk up to his hotel, doesn't casually link their arms like before, choosing instead to fidget with the handles of her bag. He hates it, misses the lightness the day had before. These narcos, they really do poison even the most mundane of things with their long, bloodied shadows. When they get to the hotel's underground garage, she's gone even more quiet, almost deflated. There are no more words exchanged, save for the clipped directions to her aunt's house. At one point, Javier was almost certain she'd dozed off.

---

"Do you ever think you should have been there? When they finally got him?" He'd just parked the car opposite of the house. It's almost completely dark outside by now.

"...Yes." Of course he did. He'd wanted, even needed to. The temporary suspension had not been near as effective a punishment as denying him that. The fruits of his labor, of years spent chasing after shadows and getting himself mired deeper and deeper, until he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. He'd wanted it, sure, but perhaps he hadn't deserved it.

"Why did they send you home?" It's not that Javier is in a particularly obstinate mood, it's just that after the incident earlier, he's reluctant to bring up his own involvement with the cartels of Calí and Medellín, much less Los Pepes, so he gives a non-committal grunt in response. He should have known that wouldn't deter her. "When I first called, Agent Murphy said you had been recalled to the States. I only found out later that that was before they finally got Escobar. Why would a top agent on a case of this magnitude be pulled off and sent back before that?"

"You mean what did I do?" She nodded. There was no getting out of it now. He didn't want to lie to her either. Javier sighed, scratching his thumbnail across his brow. "You're going to look at me differently."

"Perhaps, yes." She took a deep breath, rummaging through her purse and producing a folded up paper. "These are the names of some American banks that I'm very certain help funnel and launder Calí's money. Sorry it's nothing more specific." She placed the paper in his hand, gently closing his fingers over it. "Whatever you tell me, we're in this together, right? We both want to bring them down. I trust you, alright?"

Javier gulped, his fingers tingling under her touch. He pockets the paper to buy time, if only to swallow through his suddenly-too-dry throat. And then he tells her. The dead ends and the crippling bureaucracy, Don Berna, the Castaño brothers and Judy Moncada and Pacho Herrera. His desperate grasping at straws to find a way, any way to throw a wrench in the escalating violence and catch Escobar, how that backfired so spectacurlarly. How he tried to get out, despite knowing that these people do not allow outs. How he'd been played by the fucking CIA because he'd been an idiot falsely believing that the two agencies were operating under even remotely the same objectives. How he'd gone down, almost taking his partner with him, definitely tanking his boss' career. He hasn't spoken to anybody about this in such depth, not even his father. By the end of it, he's exhausted.

"So you're the one Carlos Castaño wanted to feed to the crocodiles."

"What?" He'd expected judgement, even disgust. Certainly not this.

"I overheard Gilberto mentioning it on the phone. I think he must have just learned that you'd be the DEA's man in charge. 'Maybe I should have let you feed that damn DEA agent to the crocodiles after all, Carlos.'  The door wasn't all the way closed, that's how I heard it. I think that was the moment I realized I couldn't wind my way out of this. That either they were going down, or they were going to find out that I was already talking to Agent Murphy and have me... vanished."

"I won't let that happen." Javier promised instinctively, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Crocodiles though? Really?" Not how he thought he'd end, that was for certain.

"Yeah, they're very uh... charming, huh?"

Javier grimaced. "If I never see any of them again, it'll be too soon."

"Knock on wood." Diana replied and unbuckled herself, pushing open the door.

"I'll walk you. It's dark."

"It's only across the street." She protested, and was that the ghost of a smile on her lips? Javier's hands stilled on his own seatbelt.

"You sure?"

"If my aunt catches me coming home with a man I'll never hear the end of it." Diana slipped out of the car, then bent to grab her purse. "Good night, Agent Peña. Until next time."

"Good night, Miss Rivas."

He waited until she was inside, the door securely locked behind her, before starting the drive back.

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Chapter 3

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Author’s note cont’d: if you wanna know what I had in mind, approximately, for the wedding gown see here

The International Poetry Festival of Medellín is a real thing, too. They have a youtube channel