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pedroshotwifey · 7 months

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Favorite Bounty Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Chapter W/C: 8.3k

Chapter tags/warnings: Nothing to warn about yet, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, canon-typical violence, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE

Chapter summary: Your day takes an unexpected---but surprisingly welcome---turn when you get caught in the crossfire of a Mandalorian fight.

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

You hear blaster fire going off outside.

Quickly, bang after bang ripples through the air and the sharp sounds travel through your window, making your ears ring.

A commotion like this is not an abnormal thing to wake up to on this planet, Jakku is known to house dangerous criminals looking to escape the New Republic. Some thugs get away with spending as many as a couple of months or so slipping around from town to town before getting caught. Even though you have grown used to the fact that there are gangsters sneaking around, you don’t feel comfortable going out without your blaster. You’re not the best shot, but you’re also not the worst by any means.

At least you don't have to worry about Jakku getting super overrun. It seems as though criminals are always being plucked from dark corners and alleyways to be brought in. Despite their best efforts, they always get caught eventually. If the New Republic can’t get to them, it’s likely they will get tracked down by a bounty hunter and hauled off the desert planet imprisoned in carbonite. In your opinion, the better option would be to let the Republic get to you first. You've seen firsthand the fates of crooks after being handled by a bounty hunter and decided it makes getting thrown into a cell by an officer look like a dream.

You don't see the need in panicking about the blaster fire just yet, it seems to be pretty far off. You just pray silently that it won't get any closer. It's still a bit dark outside. You glance at the clock and scowl when you realize it's only about 6:40. You have work today but you don't have to get up until 8:00. You contemplate trying to go back to sleep but decide it's not worth it, you're already awake anyway. And besides, it's probably not the best time to be letting your guard down, even if the commotion seems to be a good distance away.

You sit up straight, letting your bare feet dangle off the bed, and stretch your hands above your head with a groan. You feel your back strain and lock up. Stars, it hurts.

You’ve been picking up extra shifts at the junkyard and it's starting to show. Pulling heavy wagons full of scrap metal really takes a toll on you after a while. You roll your eyes when you remember the large load of parts that was dropped off yesterday. Today’s going to be a long one.

You sit in silence for a second, trying to fully convince yourself to get up. You contemplate getting someone to cover your shift, but you know how dirty that would be. You know you wouldn't be able to enjoy your day with a good conscience.

Suddenly, a loud crash pulls you out of your thoughts and you jump up looking for the source. You turn towards it just quick enough to see a glass shatter on your kitchen table. A blaster shot had torn through your window and by some stupid coincidence, pelted right through the cup as well.

Maker, just what I needed today, you think sarcastically. The disturbance must be happening much closer than you initially thought—either that or the fight has moved closer in the span of a couple of minutes. If that's the case, it must be moving fast, an indication that you probably need to move. You try to snap completely out of your sleepy state and scurry to pick up the glass so you don't step on the shards while you get ready.

You pick up the broom and dustpan nestled in the corner of your small house and walk back to the table. You stop in your tracks once another shot comes roaring through the now-shattered window. What the fuck?! These guys must only be a couple of yards away.

You shoot down to the floor, trying not to land on any glass, but too alarmed to care much at this point—you’ve abandoned the idea of being careful, you need to get out before you’re trapped in here. Eyes wide, you watch as yet another shot intrudes into your home. You follow the fast flash as it shoots through a closed cupboard, probably breaking more glasses as it settles.

Your head whips back around when you catch a flash of metal flying across the window in your peripheral vision. Whatever it is, it’s probably the target that's caused shots to stray into your home. Ok, the fight is right outside your house now. Great.

Your heart starts to pump with adrenaline, and you form a plan in your head in a matter of seconds and jump up. The collision seems to be inching closer and closer every second. You spot your boots sitting next to your bed and tug them on before grabbing your bag full of essentials. You always keep one under your bed just in case. It doesn't contain much, but it has enough water and rations to get you through a few days, as well as a dagger as a backup defense.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror of your open bathroom as you quickly strut towards the door three minutes later. You’re still in your sleep shirt—an old tee that has faded far too much to be worn in public. You had managed to remember to slip on a pair of pants in the midst of your panic as well. (Thank the maker for that). You also decided to slip into a light jacket last minute. Your hair is messy but you had frantically pulled it up just enough that it won't get in the way.

After taking in your disgruntled appearance for a split second, you turn towards the door, already dreading what you might come face to face with once it’s open. You put your hand on the knob and start to turn it until...

BANG!!!

The door slams open and you throw yourself to the side to avoid getting trapped underneath it. Everything seems to happen so fast. You see the same metallic flash you saw earlier, but this time it bursts into the tiny room as the door falls to the ground. Once the dust starts to settle, you can make out the shape of a body–the flash you saw is actually a… droid? No, the flash of metal you saw is a man. Just as you begin to register what's going on, you see a bundle of brown and green tumble from the stranger's grasp. You look back to the door and the heap of tin is suddenly boosted into the air and back on his feet, the jetpack strapped to his back turning off as soon as he’s stable on the ground.

As the warrior straightens, you realize two things. One; the man is a Mandalorian, no wonder he looks so shiny. You evaluate him again as he stands in place for a moment, tall and intimidating, the realization makes your stomach twist with uncertainty. You have heard a lot of stories about Mandalorian culture, some good, some… well, not so good. Recalling some of those not-so-good stories in question is enough to make you weary of his presence. You try not to judge too quickly though when you realize the second thing…

The brown and green bundle that rolled into your home upon the intrusion was a baby. He is still stumbling to a stop when you land eyes on him. Without thinking, your instincts kick in and you’re scrambling toward the child, praying he didn't hurt himself in the fall. You scoop him up and inspect him quickly but thoroughly, trying to keep in mind that he’s not the only thing you need to be worrying about right now.

You’re not sure of the ethnicity of the creature, but he is definitely young, and judging by the Mandalorian’s panicked reaction when he reaches for the child only to find an empty satchel, he seems dead set on making sure he has the baby within his grasp at all times.

Realizing the child is missing from his spot, the man looks around frantically while trying to simultaneously avoid the bullets ripping through the air. You look between him and the child in your hands a few times before you lock eyes, well, eyes and helmet at least. He looks you up and down and stops at the little green ball settling into your arms. Even though you can't see his face, you just know his eyes narrow as he snaps his head back up to look at your face. Oh shit.

If you thought he was intimidating before, it was nothing compared to the energy he is filling the air with now. You try not to seem scared but you feel your eyes betray you as they open wider and you have to swallow the lump stuck in your throat. You subconsciously bring the child closer to you even though you know you should probably be getting him back to his…father? Whatever the relation, you don't have time to figure it out right now. You just know you need to give this baby back before you get a bullet between the eyes.

You tear your vision away from the kid to look at his father as he starts to strut toward you. You feel your stomach clench into a nervous ball from the raw power the man seems to emit the closer he gets. You stagger back a bit, slamming one hand behind you on the ground, and you have to try your best not to fall on it. The man stops after the first couple of steps though, when a bullet hits him on his right shoulder, thankfully covered by what you recognize as beskar, the most robust metal in the galaxy, best known for armoring Mandalorians.

He barely falters at the impact of the blast bouncing off and instead reaches for his own blaster currently stationed in its respective holster. Within a split second, he whips around and shoots the offending crook, and then another standing beside him before turning back around before you can even blink. As quick as the gang members hit the ground, more start to file in, all seeming to have it out for the Mandalorian.

What in chaos could this guy have done to have this many people out for his throat?

Everything just seems to get more and more confusing every second. Who is this guy? Why is he carrying this baby with him? Who did he piss off this badly? Just in general: what the fuck is going on??

The gang is circling around him, trying to surround him completely. He turns every which way, landing hits every time he pulls the trigger, but they just keep coming. As tough as he seems to be, you can tell he is starting to get overwhelmed. It's got to be one to at least 20 right now. He slows for a second, probably trying to figure out the best course of action from here. He knows he only has a second to decide what he needs to do. You watch him from the ground you’re still stationed on as he appears to be weighing his choices. You peer down at the little green creature in your lap. You wonder why he hasn't come to rip the kid out of your arms yet.

“You…”

You look up, nearly snapping your neck out of shock when you hear the baritone voice coming through the Mandalorian's helmet. His head turns towards you slightly, probably to make sure you’re still there. He speaks loudly so you can hear him over the blaster fire he’s still dancing around. His tone is harsh and commanding and you listen for him to finish whatever he was going to say. For a second you think you might have imagined it.

“You need…need to run… take the kid and run… i'll find you”, he calls to you between shots as he continues dropping enemies.

You hear what the man is saying but you don't think it processes because you’re still sitting on your ass staring at him with wide eyes. Clearly, he decided to trust you enough to bring his child somewhere safe. He said he would find you, he trusts you—for now—you need to move before he changes his mind. Your brain is telling you what to do, but all adrenaline seems to have drained from your body because you find yourself unable to move.

He stumbles back a bit as another bullet hits his chestplate, probably knocking the wind out of him. The gang is getting closer. He scans his surroundings and turns to you for a split second. “GO!'' Even though it's breathier this time, the command is louder and more prominent. It's effective though because before you know it, you’re on your feet and pushing out the doorway, bag slung over one arm and the kid tucked in the other. The Mandalorian makes sure you’re going to follow his instruction before turning back to the pack of crooks surrounding him.

You dodge as a grimy hand reaches out to grab you, but the next second, he is lying lifeless at your feet. You turn your head just enough to see the kid's father spin back around, spraying more bullets as he does. You frankly have no idea what's going on right now, why you are agreeing with this man, or why you are still carrying this unknown child as you dash out of sight. Stars, you don't even know where you’re going. Seems like the best option right now, you try to reason with yourself.

You twist and wind down alleyways, praying silently that you’re not being followed. The sun is starting to rise, making it harder to blend in with the shadows as you sprint aimlessly away from the combat. Your heart feels like it's going to jump out of your chest as you start to come to your senses. You can’t hear blaster shots anymore, and you think you have been running for ten minutes or so. Your legs have started to burn, but your ears have stopped ringing, so at least there's that.

You decide that there is probably about a mile between you and the battle at this point. The thought convinces you to slow down a bit and you inhale a deep breath you didn't realize you needed. Holy shit… what the fuck. You stand in the middle of an alley, hidden by a dumpster as you crouch down to try to calm yourself. You try to regulate your breathing, you know you can't rest like this for long, so you take advantage of what time you can spare. In and out…in and out...

You look down at the child in your arms and can't help but relax a little more when you see his big black eyes staring back at you. At least he looks comfortable, You think. You feel yourself soften as you smile a bit when the child coos up at you, reaching his little three-fingered hand up to grasp a small handful of your messy hair.

You start to untangle his tiny fist from your hair when you hear something behind you. Your eyes go wide again and you are automatically back into flight mode. You have no idea what made the thump, but it sounds close enough for you to want to get out of that dark crevice as quickly as you can. The ache in your legs miraculously goes away as you stand up. You have the adrenaline to thank for that this time. Looks like it's finally working in your favor.

Clutching the kid up to your chest, you shush him as quietly as you can and start to move around the dumpster, a bit slow at first as to not alert whatever made the sound of your presence, but you pick up the pace as soon as you feel it's safe to do so. You jolt back into a full sprint, looking back over your shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure you don't see anything coming up on you.

You wind down a few more empty streets, trying to spot your next move before you reach it. Even if you panic a bit at first, you have always been good with slowing yourself down and keeping a relatively level head in stressful situations.

You’re smart, you know you can get out of here undetected if it's a member of the gang from back at your house. None of them seemed to be the sharpest tool in the shed. They seemed to be more set on landing a hit somehow than anything else—so probably not too focused on what's going on around them.

You hear another loud thump - whatever it is, it's getting closer. Your pulse strums in your ears and you could’ve sworn it stopped for a second. You gain a bit more speed, pushing yourself as fast as you can. You feel as if you are being hunted, it's an awful eerie feeling. Fear starts to crowd in your stomach again at the thought of it. “Come on…not today,” you mutter almost silently to yourself, the noise coming out slightly distorted from the tremble shooting throughout your body.

You turn your head around again and your blood runs cold when you see a shadow cast onto the building you just ran past. It looks like it's moving slowly, almost casually. It's a large figure… its fucking stalking you. You squeeze your eyes shut for a split second when the thought presents itself. Shit, shit, shit-

You try to collect your thoughts enough to figure out a plan in case it is a gang member on your trail. Some of those guys looked pretty big, and even if they are dumb as rocks, you’re honestly not sure if you would be able to take one on your own—especially while using one hand to hold the kid. You reach behind you for the extra knife you strapped to the side of your bag, but you feel nothing—you must not have grabbed it in your panic to get out of the house. A groan slips out between your closed lips, a mix of frustration and fear apparent in the sound.

You try not to hyperventilate when you begin to fully grasp the reality of your situation. You are in the middle of nowhere, being hunted by a large creature, defenseless, and with no plan in place to protect this baby.

You tell yourself to calm down, you know the creature is starting to gain on you, and you need to think clearly in order to figure out how to either hide or defend yourself. You whip your head around behind you one more time, trying to spot the shadow so you can gauge how much time you have to prepare yourself, but you don't see a shadow.

You don't know if you should be more alert or more scared. Sure, the shadow is gone, but that could mean one of two things; one: you lost him in the last few turns you took, or two: he was somewhere beyond your reach, waiting to pounce. You try to shake off the dread taking over your body as you continue to push forward.

Your frantic thoughts stop short when you run into a hard surface. Shit. Your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself unable to look up at whatever you had run into. But before you can convince yourself to, a large hand wraps around your wrist and you jolt at the sudden connection. Fuck.

Although you are still jumping out of your skin, you almost cry tears of joy when you see the familiar visor of the Mandalorian looking down at you. You may not know this man, but you do know that as long as you have his kid, you’re not going to be caught up in any kind of trouble. You sheepishly give him a half smile and he takes a step backward, releasing your arm.

As scary as he can be, you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you stare up at him. Running into him is definitely the better alternative than coming face-to-face with a gangmate. You look behind you one more time just to make sure nobody is following and your body relaxes a little once you see the coast is clear.

“Oh, thank the maker Mand-“, you start to tell him you thought you were a goner but you get cut off as he pushes his arm out towards you again.

You are a bit confused when he holds his hand out expectantly, palm towards the sky. “The kid.” the gruff voice tells you flatly. Oh, right, that. Your brain is clearly still mush from the terrifying chase. You feel your cheeks flush as you quickly reach your other arm down to pick the baby up properly, but before you can touch him, the Mandalorian's hand shoots out once again to grab your forearm.

He gives you a hard tug and turns around so your back is almost flush against him as he leans forward a bit, enclosing you into a tight space. What the fuck is he doing?? “Hey wha-”, you start to retort angrily before he cuts you off by cupping a sizable hand around the lower half of your face. Ok, now you’re pissed.

You try to squirm out of his grasp, anger bubbling up as you prepare to give him a piece of your mind. Feeling your struggle, he holds you tighter to him, and you feel a tinge of shame when you can't help the nervous flutter that appears in the bottom of your stomach when he presses you up against tight muscles. “Stop moving” he whispers harshly, somehow managing to make it sound intimidating even in such a quiet tone.

You listen to him, shocked again by hearing him say something. “Listen,” he says, helmet pressing gently against the side of your head as he hunches you down further. Wanting to struggle more but not seeing any other choice, you do as he says. You hear faint footsteps rushing in the distance, getting louder the longer you sit there. By his hurried whispers, you can tell the sound has to be more gang members, out on the search for the man above you.

“You need to listen to me”, he says suddenly. “I'm injured and there are too many of them for me to get rid of right now. You need to follow me closely so we can get out of here.” You shudder at his rushed whisper against your head. The rebellious part in you wants nothing more than to turn around and tell him to fuck off, but you know that escaping with the Mandalorian is your best chance to evade the group of criminals right now.

You know they have seen your face, and they know you took the child with you when you bolted. As dumb as they may be, they have probably put together that this man is not going anywhere without his kid. You need to get out of here, and as much as you hate it, listening to his infuriating commands is the smartest decision you can make in this scenario. You decide ultimately to comply to make your escape quick and easy.

You look up at him as much as you can and give a curt nod, letting him know you are going to follow his lead. As soon as he sees you give in, he takes his hand away from your mouth and stands up. You let him drag you back up to your feet by the wrist he still has within his grasp. You’re surprised at how effortlessly he lifts your weight, but then again, he is a Mandalorian, so it shouldn't stun you as much as it does. Maybe not stun, maybe it scares you, but you can't tell the difference right now.

Before you know it, you are being pulled in the direction the man seems to be set on. Judging by the confidence in each step he takes, he seems to know where he is going, which is a relief on your part because you are still in such a daze that you don't know if you would be able to tell right from left if you had to.

He steers you in between allies and around corners in complete silence, probably still listening for the crooks behind you. After a couple of minutes, he slows from his rushed pace and into a walk when he notices you struggling to keep up with the child growing heavier in your free arm.

You guess the gang is far away enough for it to be safe to slow up a bit. He lets out an annoyed sigh as he switches speeds, just quiet enough to where he probably didn't think you could hear it. You roll your eyes behind his back. He isn't the one holding this absolute boulder of a child, you thought, also getting annoyed.

You have no idea where he is taking you or how long it's going to take to get there. You want to ask him but he doesn't seem like the type to tolerate being bombarded by a million questions. He would probably leave you in the dust after the second one.

After another minute your curiosity gets the best of you and you decide to just risk the one. You open your mouth to ask where you are going, but before you can say anything, you get jerked forward by the heavy man as he unexpectedly hits the ground on one knee. He lets out a strangled grunt as a cloud of dirt is lifted up from the force in which he lands. The gang had a sniper waiting, and he had shot an unprotected spot in between pieces of heavy armor lining the man's leg.

“Shit!”, he gasps as he removes his hand from your wrist to instinctually cover his fresh wound. You found your balance as he releases his grip. You look up to where the shot came from and his eyes follow yours, looking just in time for the perp to jump down from where he had been lying prone on a rooftop, probably going to tell his fellow cutthroats your location

Groaning, the Mandalorian rises to his feet and points in the direction he had been leading you, keeping his other hand on top of the gash on his thigh. You grimace as you see the crimson blood start to pool out from under his glove and trickle over his shiny armor. You have no idea how he is standing on that right now. The child in your arms turns to face your chest, apparently having seen the small flood as well.

He was clearly unsteady on his feet because of the amount of blood draining from his body at an alarmingly quick rate. He sways a bit before yanking his head to the side, trying to snap himself out of it. Your attention is pulled to look at his helmet as he instructs you on where to go. “You see that–fuck–you see that ship over there?”

You look to where he still had his hand raised and spot the hunk of metal. It isn't too far away, you could probably make a run for it and be there in less than three minutes. You turn your head back at him and nod as he drops his hand back to his side.

“You need to get to it… ill… ill meet you there,” he tells you between heavy and distorted pants.

You hesitate, wanting to help him get there as well, but you have to remind yourself that he knows what he's doing. He’s probably done this more times than you can count.

You take off into a full sprint, determined to get to the ship as fast as your feet will carry you. You try not to look back as you hear another storm of shots fired through the air. You don't need to know who has the advantage right now, you just need to get to your destination and pray the Mandalorian comes back in one piece.

You hold the kid tighter to your body, trying to conceal him as much as possible.

You can hear your heartbeat pounding like a drum in your chest, threatening to pop out at any moment. You are running on pure adrenaline at this point, and your brain has definitely checked out. The ship grows bigger as you approach, probably only a minute away now.

Almost there…

It's old and it looks like he could have pieced it together with scraps from the junkyard, but it will have to do. You just hope it can actually get into the air, it almost looks too damn heavy to fly. He had to have gotten here somehow though, so it obviously serves its purpose.

Seconds later, you step onto the open ramp of the ship. You feel like you want to cry with relief. You’re so close to getting off of this maker-forsaken planet. Even before all this, you have always dreamed about getting away from this awful place. Now that you have an opportunity to do that, you are going to use it.

Before you can turn back around, you hear a series of clambers and then a loud thud. You quickly realize that it was the sound of the Mandalorian jumping onto the ramp behind you and rolling until he hit a crate sitting in the hull.

He must have been rushed and still in the middle of a fight judging by the amount of force he used to push himself onto the transport. The beskar-clad warrior lets a deep and distorted gasp escape through his helmet after likely having the wind knocked out of him by the harsh landing. To top it all off, it looks like he came to a stop on top of his maimed leg.

After the initial shock of being dragged onto his ass—even if it was his own doing—he puts his palms out in front of him to hoist himself back up as easily as he can manage. Even though you can't see the man’s face, you know he has to be wincing under his shiny visor. He recovers fairly quickly, but you have a feeling that the Mandalorian is rarely this clumsy. The blood loss is probably throwing him way off kilter.

As soon as he was up he limps his way to the side of the ramp and slams down on a button to bring it back up before turning back around to climb the ladder you could only assume leads to the cockpit. He struggles with not being able to put much weight on his injured leg, but he makes it up nonetheless. You can still hear shots raining onto the ship, but the metal seems sturdy enough to deflect them relatively easily.

You stand uselessly in the belly of the ship as you listen to him stumble around above you, probably trying not to grunt too much as he pushes himself through the sharp pain in his thigh. You take an educated guess when you gamble that he is definitely not the kind of person to submit to showing anyone he is in pain, no matter how much it may be affecting him.

You have to regain your balance when the ship jolts suddenly and you are sent forward as it is lifted into the air. Between all the running you had just done and the shock of having to plant your feet to avoid falling on your ass, you render your legs useless and back up until you feel a crate behind you, taking a seat. The relief you feel as you lift yourself off of your sore feet is almost instantaneous.

You let out an exasperated breath and bring the child closer to you. You feel a faint smile crawl across your face when he balls his hands into tiny fists in the air and lets out a squeaky yawn. Poor thing is probably exhausted from the long morning he's had so far. There's also no telling what he may have endured in the hours before he rolled out of his father's arms and into your house.

Realizing you will finally be able to relax a bit and have time to think, all of the doubts and emotions you should have been feeling come rushing in like a flood. You have no idea what you are going to do now. Where will you go? Surely you won't go back to the planet you just left, even if you wanted to, you get the feeling it would be too dangerous anyways.

How are you going to get back on your feet once you do settle onto another world? You only have a handful of credits stuffed into your bag. Can you trust the Mandalorian to drop you off somewhere safe enough for you to even try? Will you be able to stay alive if you get landed on another planet like Jakku? Is he still alive up in the cockpit right now?

Some of your wordless questions are answered when you hear the bulky steps of the Mandalorian climbing back down the ladder. You realize suddenly that you had been staring into nothingness for maker knows how long. You shake your head and turn towards the Mandalorian as his feet hit the ground, opting instead to stare at him as he walks across the foundation of the ship, obviously trying not to limp.

Even though you can’t see beneath his heavy helmet, you imagine him wincing and feel a tinge of empathy. Just by the way he confidently carries himself even through pain, you can tell he wouldn't dare ask anyone for help with anything if he knows he is capable of doing it himself, least likely tending to an injury.

You know the location of the wound is not ideal for him to patch up himself, and you instinctively want to offer a helping hand, but something in the back of your mind tells you he would never let his guard down long enough for you—a stranger—to touch him in such a vulnerable position, even if it may be only to help. You can't blame him though, that is an iffy situation. You frankly don't know if you would trust a stranger to help you in that way either, especially with the many enemies he seems to have. You wonder why he has so many… what in the universe could one man have done to have that many people against him?

He walks past you and you watch with curious eyes as he pries open a crate near the back of the room, pulling out a bacta patch and a few other medical supplies. He curses quietly to himself as he closes the bin back up and takes a seat on top of it. With a small thump, he leans his head to rest on the wall behind him. You picture now that he is probably trying not to close his eyes, still carefully aware of your presence mere feet away from him. With all the blood loss he's sustained and fighting he's done in the last couple of hours, you can only imagine how much he wishes he were alone to be able to do just that.

Can’t he know by now that you’re not going to try anything? You've been sitting on a bin the entire time, with his kid sleeping in your lap for maker's sake! It's so frustrating to have to sit back when you know you are able to help.

After a moment, he lazily lifts his head back up and reaches for a cleaning solution—bacta spray you can only assume—and attempts to spray it through the burnt hole in the fabric of his flight suit. The hole seems to be positioned to where it's almost covered by the plate of beskar on his lower thigh.

In order to get a good visual and make sure he's actually dousing the blaster wound, he has to cock his head to the side a significant amount. He clearly can't see well enough the first time he tries so he leans a bit more. This time, he manages to get the solution in the right spot, but he also about falls off the bin he's sitting on. He must be dizzy from the amount of blood he’s lost. He tries this tactic three times before he gives up with a frustrated groan and sets the spray back beside him.

You take your eyes off him and spot what looks like a hovering crib in the corner of the hull. Going against your instincts to stay still and quiet, you get up and walk the now sleeping child to the opened sphere. You can feel the Mandalorians' eyes following you with every step. You place the kid inside, making sure he’s comfortable, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you walk cautiously toward the already pissed-off Mandalorian. You scold yourself mentally, knowing how stupid of a decision you’ve just made.

He tenses and sits up as you approach, no doubt trying to make himself look bigger. You slow your steps and subtly raise your hands, trying to show him that you just want to help. Your heart is pumping a mile a minute and you silently pray that he can't hear it. You know he’s struggling—he knows he’s struggling—you both know that whether he gets it from you, or from a medic on the next planet you land on, he's going to need help dressing the wound.

You look up at his helmet, hoping you’re making eye contact, and nod toward him while darting your eyes toward the spray, trying to make your intentions clear. He loosens his posture a bit and you take that as an invitation to take another step forward. You keep your eyes on him as you reach for the spray. You cautiously look away from his visor and train your vision to look at his leg instead. You can tell from here, before you even try to clean it, that you won't be able to see under the fabric enough to tend to the wound.

You bite your lip and try to think of what to do. You have an idea, but you just know he’s going to hate it. You rack your brain trying to find another option, but you know there's no alternative to what you have to do. You can feel his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head as you place the bacta spray back down and reach for the pair of medical scissors sitting next to a roll of gauze.

You see him tense back up out of the corner of your eye. You try to take steady breaths as you pick up the scissors and turn toward the intimidating man in front of you. You reach out to grab the fabric of his pants, fingers almost touching when his hand bolts out from his side to catch your wrist. You gasp as the scissors fall to the floor, he seems to have snapped out of his temporary daze at the sight of your hands getting closer to his exposed skin. This man has something against wrists, you think, trying to humor yourself to calm down.

The hull is dead silent, the only sounds are your shaky breaths and his battered ones. Every breath he takes is faint and labored. You stare at each other, neither of you daring to be the first to move. You should be terrified, but something tells you he's not going to hurt you. You keep your composure and glare back at him, doing your best to show him he can’t intimidate you, which you at least know is a full-fledged lie.

You can tell he is barely conscious as it is, and if he tried to land somewhere to get a nurse to look after his injury, he probably wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough for it. This needs to happen here and now, you are his only shot.

You continue to stare, brows furrowed and your mouth screwed tightly shut as you try to ignore his grip. It’s tight and threatening, and it scares you half to death, even though you won’t let him see that. “I…you need to let me help” you manage to stutter from under his grasp. You swallow, trying to compose yourself. “I need to be able to see the area to clean it,” you say, trying again to maintain eye contact.

You’re proud of yourself for sounding more confident, you need him to think he doesn't frighten you. You wince as he slightly tightens his grip on your forearm. Ok, well maybe that didn't quite have the effect you hoped it would.

He stares at you for what seems like forever, obviously weighing his options. He grunts frustratedly but drops your wrist. It's a small victory, but you'll take it. You rub the forearm he had wrapped his hand around. He sees you do so and reaches out again, this time to make sure you're ok, but he retracts it almost before you even notice—which he probably didn't want you to do. He didn't realize how much of a grip he really had.

Taking a shaky but deep breath, you lean down, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your wrist, and pick up the fallen scissors. “I won't cut any more than I need to,” you say, looking up at him. “Promise.”

You wait for a response, not sure if you'll get one at all, but after a moment he gives you a slight nod. He seems to be more cooperative now, probably because he feels a tinge of guilt about accidentally hurting you, but you'll take what you can get. “Okay”, you say, trying to calm your breathing. No looking back now.

You kneel down facing his side and reach again for the fabric of his pants. When you look up to check for confirmation one more time, he is turned facing forward, staring at the wall in front of him.

You hate that you have to do this, you don't know a bunch about Mandalorian culture, but you do know that as long as they can help it, they never show any skin, especially to an outsider. Before you can convince yourself to stop, you carefully loop your pointer finger under the ripped material. You do your best to not touch any skin just yet.

Once you are sure the fabric is lifted away enough to make a cut without touching his thigh, you slowly glide the scissors underneath.

You make the cut as small as you can, not wanting to reveal any more than you absolutely have to.

Luckily for you, he seems to be getting drowsy and more off guard, so you shouldn't have to be too cautious. You spread the material apart and bring the bacta spray to the injury now that you have a clear view. It's still slightly hidden by the plate on his thigh, but it's definitely more accessible than it was a minute ago.

You wince at the gory sight of the blaster wound, it looks like it’s probably big enough for you to fit your thumb in. There is still a small amount of blood trickling out so you use a gauze pad to dab around the hole and then apply a bit of pressure to get it to stop as much as you can.

Now that it's at least a little clean, you spray the solution. It must sting a good deal because the Mandalorian pops back up with a hiss and you feel his fingers—you feel his fingers thread through your hair.

You want to slap yourself when you feel the warmth of arousal building in your abdomen and between your legs. Before you can stop yourself, you wonder what other circumstances might have him pulling your hair. You realize you wouldn't mind being in one of those situations at all.

Stop! What the fuck are you doing? This man is a maker-damned bounty hunter. A cold-blooded killer capable of snapping you in two where you stand.

You do your best to convince yourself the man in front of you is a monster—you should not be thinking of him in that way.

You gasp and look up at him, honestly not sure if it's from the interruption of your inappropriate thoughts or from the sting of the slight grip he has on your hair. “I-”, you sputter, not able to find the right words. You figure his action came as much of a shock to himself as it did you because he retracts his arm as quickly as he had grabbed you. “Shit I-”... “im sorry”, he apologizes quickly. You snap back to the present and frantically reassure him that it’s ok.

You could tell by the way he struggles to find the right words and that he doesn't offer an apology on a regular basis. Despite his hard and intimidating exterior, he had felt he needed to say something to you. You curse yourself again when your cheeks flush from the thought. Shit.

You shake the childish thoughts from your head and focus on the task at hand. You definitely weren't the best nurse in the galaxy, but you would have to do it. As you settle into the familiar routine of fixing up the injury, your thoughts drift to where you had first learned the technique. Your mother was a medic her whole life. It was her passion, and she wanted to pass her skills on to you. One of the first things she had taught you about was sterilizing a laceration.

You smile faintly as you recall one of your earliest memories. She had taken you to her clinic and sat you down on the counter while she sorted some meds. Afterward, as she had promised you that morning, she pulled out the supplies needed and showed you step-by-step how to disinfect an open injury. Your eyes water a bit as you recapture the moment. Stars, you miss her. You catch yourself drifting off and try to snap yourself out of it. This is not the time to think about this… you need to focus.

You work to finish cleaning and dressing the wound as fast and delicately as you can, desperate to get some space between you and the Mandalorian as soon as possible. The last thing you need right now is for this man to pick up on your flustered movements. You have been glancing up at him every minute or so, just to make sure he’s still comfortable and that he hasn't passed out. It would monumentally suck if you were stuck trying to figure out how to get this ancient hunk of metal of a ship to cooperate with you.

You put a final patch on the injury and get back on your feet. You glance hesitantly to the t-visor following your movements. You send a small smile in his direction as you begin picking up the supplies to put away. “It should be fine now as long as you don't run on it for a bit,” you tell him as you open the bin he had pulled the equipment from.

You have relaxed more since being on the ship and your voice is no longer quivering. You need to keep yourself occupied so you don't sound anxious again. You feel the need to make sure the Mandalorian knows you aren't unnerved being around him. You don't want him to think he can intimidate you so easily the way he can with others. The next time you dare yourself to look in his direction, he is still sitting in the same spot. Now that you have had the chance to calm down and take a few deep breaths, you have gained your composure and a slight bit of confidence.

“You should probably try to stand on that” you suggest. “You know, just to make sure it's not going to keep bleeding”.

You think for a moment that he's just choosing to ignore you, and then you think he might have actually passed out this time, but right before you are going to say something else, he starts to raise himself off the bin. You send your thanks to the maker for not making you have to argue with this man. He takes a step forward, testing the waters to make sure he isn’t going to collapse if he puts his full weight on it.

He takes one more cautious step before trusting it completely. Once he's sure it's stable, he walks to the crib you had set the baby in. The kid still appears to be sleeping. After he makes sure he's not injured in any way, he turns back around to climb the ladder to the cockpit. You find it kind of touching that the warrior can be so soft for a child, you can tell now how much he cares about him.

He strides past you and reaches for the first rung. He clasps his hand around it and stops, turning his head slightly in your direction. “Thank you,” he says, his voice softer now that he's sure everything is settled. You are taken aback by the gratitude and stand there looking like an idiot for a moment. He starts to turn his head back once you give him a small nod.

“You’re welcome.”

****

Thank you for reading! Taglist is open!

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nighterwriter · 2 years

Note

A friends to lovers with Jason Todd. Pretty please 🙏

A/N: Thank you for the ask! This seems kind of off-topic, but if you'd like, I could write a sequel. Enjoy! :)

Update: Here's the sequel

To say it was weird would be an understatement. Dick was so used to seeing Jason and you glued to the hip, doing everything together, never growing tired of each other's presence. It drove him and the rest of the family crazy because it was so fucking obvious to everyone but the two of you how much you cared for and loved each other. The two of you were too clouded by your respective insecurities to understand.

So it was weird seeing Jason without you during his trip back to Gotham. He wanted to ask, but Damian had given a small shake of his head when Dick asked, stating that the situation was so trivial, that he wanted it to come out of Jason's mouth so he could see how childish it was.

He was able to find him in the greenhouse, occupied with Alfred's latest hobby that would entice him to visit the manor more. He'd seen Jason work with the plants; he was usually meticulous and gentle, sometimes talking to them as he repotted them and separated stubborn roots from the soil. The person he was staring at, however, was a terrible substitute; soil was strewn everywhere, and broken pots lay on the table as Jason harshly repotted some monsteras.

"Alfred's not gonna be too happy." Dick ignored the sweat rolling down his neck. He was never too fond of the stifling humidity.

"I'll buy him new ones," Jason grumbled, grunting when he finally got the monstera into its pot.

"Okay, okay, put the poor plant down before I call Ivy," He sighed when the pot was placed on the table, "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

It was Jason's turn to sigh as he tugged his gloves off. "It's nothing."

"You sure?" Jason nodded. "Then where's Y/N?"

"Fine, it's something." His brother sighed again. "You remember the new museum exhibit?"

"The mythology one? I remember you said Y/N and you were supposed to go yesterday." Dick paused, his eyes widening in realization. "Jason!"

"I know, I know! Okay, I'm an ass, but Black Mask had a last-minute shipment coming in. I had to be there."

"What did you tell them?"

Jason lowered his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. "That I didn't wanna waste my time."

"Jason!"

"I panicked, okay?! They called me right when the shipment ended and I needed to get down there," He groaned, "I've been trying to call, but I'm pretty sure I've been blocked."

"What'd you expect? Hey Jason, you were an ass to me, but that's okay."

"You're not making it any better."

"Why didn't you tell them what you were actually doing?"

Jason shook his head. "No, no. I can't. I can't- if they get hurt because of me, I'll never forgive myself. I can't-"

"Jay," Dick spoke softly to soothe his brother's worries. "Y/N deserves to know. Hell, out of everyone we've brought to the manor, they're at the top of the list. You've known them for ages and you trust each other. I'll be damned if you let your friendship end because you're scared."

Jason was quiet as he thought.

"I can't lose them, Dick."

The last time Dick heard Jason so vulnerable and honest was when he told him about his mom, about what happened to her. It had been ages since he let his guard down and Dick knew it was difficult for him, but he also knew how much Y/N meant to him, even if he didn't sometimes.

"You won't," He insisted, "Y/N's stubborn, they can handle themselves. I've seen them physically and verbally hand people's asses to them. If anything, any goon who tries to hurt them will probably leave once they start cussing out their haircut."

Jason snorted. "I think they'll start with their life choices 'fore going for the looks."

"True." Dick looked at Jason with a small smile. "So, what's the plan?"

"First, figure out where they are. I called their work and they said they called off. Second, apologize endlessly until they accept. Then... then I'll tell them. And after, if they still wanna be around me, we'll go to the exhibit."

Dick clapped him on the shoulder. "Sounds like a plan. I can call them, say something about needing help finding something for my apartment."

"Alright, 007. Let me know what they say." Jason reached for the gloves again. "I have some cleaning up to do."

Dick nodded and started towards the door. Jason didn't trust easily. He said he'd learned his lesson with his mom in Ethiopia. It took Dick months, if not years, after his death to regain the sliver of trust he'd been given when Jason first came to the manor. He sees it when he interacts with Bruce and when Alfred calls him for holidays and family dinners. But there was never a moment of hesitation with you.

The two of you met on the streets when you protected Jason from being attacked by the older kids after he managed to steal some groceries from the supermarket. He disappeared and came back with a chocolate bar, which you shared in the corner of Gotham Library while you tucked into your respective groups. Since then, the two of you were inseparable. You knew everything about each other and it disturbed Bruce and Alfred the first time they met you. After Jason was adopted (you were offered the same deal, but refused), he'd swing by every minute he could, bringing you food, new clothes, small knickknacks for your hidey hole, whatever to make you more comfortable. Dick would say that in times of separation, your bond was stronger than ever. That's why he couldn't let Jason give you up. Both of you meant too much to each other.

"Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"If you trust them this much, I think it's time to tell them the truth."

And by the look on his brother's face, Dick knew he understood what he meant.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd drabble

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 years

Text

The Bond Between Us ~ 12

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,580ish

Summary: You and Yoda have a chat. The Clone Wars rages through the galaxy. You are asked to help Obi-Wan and Anakin stopped Grievous and his ship.

Notes: This is the first of the Clone Wars part of the story. This is based on season 1 episode 4. I will definitely not be doing every episode, but I already have a list of the ones I do want to use. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

Obi-Wan woke up first. Opening his eyes, he was confused as he looked around. This wasn’t his room. Something on top of him move. He looked down to see you laying on top of him. You were asleep, the top half of you laying on his torso while your legs were in between his. You were so beautiful, lying there on top of him. Obi-Wan felt like he could stay in that moment forever. Unfortunately, his commutator on his wrist buzzed and he knew he was needed in the Council Chambers.

Using his signature against yours, Obi-Wan kept you asleep. Slowly, he moved out from underneath you. He stood up and looked down at where you lay on the couch. He knew he couldn’t just leave you there. Quickly and quietly, he entered your bedroom and pulled down the covers. Obi-Wan then went back and carefully picked you up from the couch and took you into your room. He gently laid you on your bed and placed the covers over you. Before he left, Obi-Wan placed a kiss on your temple.

Obi-Wan stopped by his room to change before heading to the Chambers. He caught a look at himself in the refresher mirror, causing him to pause. His hand ran back through his mullet and down into his beard. Obi-Wan didn’t feel like his look was very Jedi Council-worthy.

“Perhaps I need a haircut,” he muttered to himself.

His mind wandered to what you might think. Would you agree with him getting a haircut? What do you think would look good on him? Obi-Wan shook his head. This wasn’t Jedi-like at all. Your opinion on his hair shouldn’t matter to him. Yet, it was at the forefront of his mind. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan quickly pushed the thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t allow the Council to sense his untamed thoughts. He was better than that. At least, he had to pretend to be now that he was on the Council.

Leaving his room, Obi-Wan shot a glance at your door. His signature was sill wrapped around yours but he had to slowly pull it away. He needed to be able to focus on the meeting and Anakin’s trials, and not bring the Council’s attention to him.

~~~

You almost panicked upon waking up. You didn’t know whose bed you were in. Propping yourself up using your arms, you looked around the room. You quickly determined that you were in your new bed. But you couldn’t remember how you had gotten there. The last thing you remember was asking Obi-Wan to stay with you and then… you had fallen asleep on him.

You looked around again, also using the Force to sense around you. Obi-Wan wasn’t in your room. You couldn’t even feel him in his own room. There wasn’t even a note or message anywhere that might tell you what happened. Had he put you in bed and ran off? Had you made Obi-Wan feel uncomfortable? You really hadn’t wanted that. Did you just ruin your friendship with Obi-Wan? You don’t know if you could handle it if you had. Yes, he had told you that he worried for you yesterday but he could have very well been telling you that to help ease your fears. He hadn’t actually meant it, had he?

Getting out of bed, you knew that you needed to immediately go clear your mind. After changing for the day, you quickly went to the gardens to meditate underneath your favorite waterfall. Slowly coming into the Force, you began to levitate off the ground. You began using the Force to filter through your emotions toward Obi-Wan. Your emotions were completely against the Code, hat you knew without a doubt. But how to get rid of them completely without severing your bond was a whole other ordeal. Severing a Force bond had the potential to be deadly. And you couldn’t live with yourself knowing if you had done something to Obi-Wan.

“Troubled, I sense my Padawan is,” Yoda stated, coming under the waterfall.

You lost your concentration and fell to the ground with a hard thud, causing Yoda to chuckle. “Master Yoda,” you responded. “If my memory serves me, I am no longer your Padawan.”

“Until I die, my Padawan you will be.” Yoda sat down in front of you. “Now, what troubles you?” You sighed, quickly trying to determine how honest you wanted to be. “Know about your bond with Master Obi-Wan, I do.”

“What?”

“Mhmm. Found out on Geonosis, I did.”

“I am sorry for keeping it a secret, Master. Truly.”

“Understand why you hid it, I do. This bond is both a danger and a strength.”

“Do you know what this bond entails, Master?”

“Only time will tell. Been separated a lot, both of you have. The bond between you is still forming.”

You nodded, staying silent for a moment. “Master, do you know how dangerous this bond can get?”

“Depends, it does.”

“Depends on what?”

“The two of you.” Yoda huffed as he thought on it more. “Tricky is the Code with a Force bond. Lines can be quickly crossed. Do your best to not cross them, you must.”

You nodded. “I… I will try, Master.”

“Know that, I do. Still, be careful, you must… Feel, I do, this bond will help with these clone wars.”

“You do?”

“Mhmm. As long as careful steps you and Obi-Wan take.”

“I will do my best.”

~~~

The clone wars raged the galaxy. This caused you to be pulled from one mission to the next. As you did so, you had heard that Master Yoda and Obi-Wan had given Anakin a Padawan named Ashoka Tano. You thought it funny that he had received a Padawan before you did and you couldn’t wait to meet her.

You and your battalion were on your star cruiser when you received word from Master Windu that Master Plo and Master Kenobi needed reinforcements. It had been months since you had seen Obi-Wan, barely even feeling him in your bond, so a small part of you was excited to finally see him again. Another part of you was still uneasy about how he left you alone. Your star cruiser caught up with the other’s, joining in at firing at General Grievous’ ship the Malevolence.

“Crak!” You called to your clone commander. “I’m going to take a starfighter and board the main ship. Keep shooting at the Malevolence and await my orders.”

“Yes, General,” Crak responded.

You smiled at him before heading to your starfighter. You flew it out of your ship and to the main ship in front of the fleet. Climbing out of your ship, you heard a familiar voice. You turned around to see Anakin walking out of the hanger with whom you could only assume was his Padawan.

“Ani!” You called, running toward him.

He turned around a large smile on his face. “Y/N!” He met up with you and pulled you into a hug.

“It’s been too long.”

“It has.”

You pulled away. “Congratulations on passing your trials and earning a Padawan.”

“Obi-Wan said that it was thanks to you the Council agreed to let me go through them. Thank you.”

“Of course.” You turned to his Padawan. “You must be Ahsoka.” You reached out your hand for her to shake. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ahsoka excitedly replied as she shook your hand. “Master Anakin has told me so much about you.”

“He has?” You pulled your hand away as you sent Anakin a questioning glance.

“Yes, I know that your relationship as siblings is supposed to remain a secret. Do not worry, I will not tell anyone.”

“Thank you, Ahsoka.”

Anakin, Ahsoka, and yourself made your way to the command deck. Obi-Wan and Master Plo were already there with Admiral Yularen. You almost lost your breath at the sight of Obi-Wan. His armor fit him so well, almost too well. And he had gotten a haircut. His mullet was no more and his beard was sharply groomed. Your fingers twitched at the thought of running your hand rough his beard and hair.

“We must summon reinforcements,” Master Plo stated.

“That’s why we’re here, Master Plo,” Anakin said, pulling the attention onto you, Anakin, and Ahsoka.

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan gasped.

The Jedi Master had thought he felt you, but he had chalked it up to wishful thinking. The last time he saw you, he had been tucking you in to your bed as you slept peacefully. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Your war armor sat over your Jedi attire in such a way that it added to his respect for you. Obi-Wan had heard that you were being a successful General, but you clearly looked the part too. He tried to reach out to your signature but came up short when he noticed that you were blocking him. His brows furrowed.

“Master Kenobi, Master Plo,” you greeted with a slight head bow.

Obi-Wan had to force himself to stop staring at you. “Anakin. Were you able to contact Master Luminara?”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin responded. “She’s busy with a fleet of Separatist reinforcements nearby. She wouldn’t be able to give us support until she’s turned them away.”

“That is why I am here,” you added. “Master Windu said that you guys needed some help. My battalion has begun firing and is just waiting for orders.”

“Even with the additional troops, it’s not enough. We will have to make do with what we have,” Obi-Wan said. The group turned to watch the attack from the window. “Admiral, status report.”

“They’re not attempting to jump to hyperspace,” Admiral Yularen replied. “Their hyperdrive must be damaged.”

“This is our chance. All ships target the bridge. Maximum firepower!”

You put your wrist near your mouth. “You hear that Crak?” You asked.

“Following orders as we speak, General,” he responded.

“Master, I’m picking up a signal near the enemy vessel,” Ahsoka exclaimed. “Something just came out of hyperspace.”

“Enemy reinforcements?” Anakin wondered.

“No. It looks like a Naboo ship.”

You and Obi-Wan shared a worried look.

“Gunners! Stand down!” / “Stop shooting!” You both ordered the crew at the same time.

“What in blazes are they doing out here?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Ashoka, contact that ship!” Anakin instructed.

“Naboo cruiser!” Ahsoka called over the communication lines. “Identify yourself.”

“This is Senator Amidala,” came the response, a hologram of Padme at the controls appeared.

“Padme? What are you doing out here?” Anakin questioned. You could feel his panic set in.

“I was sent on a special mission,” she answered. “The Senate was told the Banking Clan wanted to negotiate a treaty.”

“Get out of there as fast as you can!”

“Have we been hit?” You heard C3PO ask.

“I’m afraid it’s much worse than that,” Padme replied.

“Padme, what’s happening?” Anakin asked.

“I’m being pulled inside the droid cruiser by a tractor beam. I will not be made a Separatist bargaining chip. Continue your attack! You must destroy this monstrous ship!”

Anakin closed his eyes and clenched a fist before turning back. “Admiral, order our ships to stop firing.”

“Anakin—“ You tried to argue.

“Padme is on that ship,” Anakin snapped at you. “We will cease firing.”

You jolted back slightly, seeing the anger in his eyes. Obi-Wan came to your side protectively. The firing halted and Anakin headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Obi-Wan asked, following Anakin.

“Somebody has to save her skin,” Anakin replied.

“I thought you might say that.”

“There he goes again, craving adventure and excitement,” Master Plo commented.

“You get used to it,” Ahsoka said, shrugging it off. She looked to you. “You going?”

“Guess I can give you a day off of babysitting them,” you teasingly responded.

~~~

You caught up with Obi-Wan as he headed into Anakin’s ship. Anakin was in the cockpit, reading it for flight, with R2D2.

“I trust you’ve already formulated a brilliant plan to rescue the Senator?” Obi-Wan said as he took the seat next to Anakin.

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Anakin replied.

“But do we have a plan B? Every operation needs a backup, Anakin.”

“From what I’ve heard, you two seem to never have a backup plan,” you commented.

“I don’t have a backup. Yet,” Anakin admitted. “But I do have a plan for getting on that ship.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan questioned.

“The enemy’s sensors are obviously damaged, so we’ll sneak in behind them and dock at the emergency airlock.”

“That’s your plan? Just fly there, land, hope they don’t spot us, and walk in the door?”

“Basically.”

“Oh, brilliant. Let’s get going.”

“You can’t be serious?” You asked. “Is this really how you two go about doing things?”

“Unfortunately.” / “Yes.” They responded in unison.

Anakin flew his ship out of the star cruiser and toward the Malevolence. You stood behind the two as they piloted carefully.

“If they spot us, we’ll be pulverized,” Obi-Wan said.

“They’re too busy repairing the ship,” Anakin responded. “They don’t have time to notice us.”

“Subtlety has never been one of your strong points, Anakin.”

“Everything I know I learned from you, Master.”

“Oh, if only that were true.”

“You’re going to want to buckle up, Y/N.”

“I’ll be fine,” you responded, arms crossed over your chest.

“I would trust him on this,” said Obi-Wan.

“I told you two, I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself,” Anakin commented with a shrug.

Anakin began turning the ship to the side. Obi-Wan looked back to surprisingly see you floating above the ground. He shook his head.

“Your abilities with the Force constantly amaze me, Y/N,” Obi-Wan commented.

Your heart beat faster at what you took as a compliment. You shot him a small smile before he focused back on the front view. Anakin flew up to the Malevolence and docked them on the side with a hatch in the ship. You set yourself down on the new floor before helping Obi-Wan and Anakin. The three of you, plus R2, went through the hatch.

“Anakin, you’re crazy,” Obi-Wan commented. “Spinning is not flying.”

“But it’s a good trick,” Anakin replied, pressing the button to open the door.

“We do not want to be spotted.”

The doors opened to reveal two battle droids.

“I knew it!” One of them exclaimed. “It’s them!”

“Too late,” you muttered.

You ignited your lightsaber before the other two could. With a Force jump toward the droids, you quickly cut them both in half. Anakin stared at your saber.

“I didn’t know you had a yellow saber,” he stated.

“I did,” Obi-Wan smirked, walking to meet you.

Anakin rolled his eyes and turned back to his droid. “You stay here R2.”

R2 chirped a response before the three of you began running down the hall. Anakin’s comlink buzzed as you ran.

“Yes?” He responded, keeping the pace.

“Master,” it was Ahsoka, “we’ve found the Senator. I’m patching her through.”

Anakin stopped, forcing you and Obi-Wan to do the same. “Padme?”

“Anakin,” the Senator replied.

“Are you alright? Where are you?”

“On the lower levels. I’m fine, but I don’t know for how long. Droids are everywhere.”

“Obi-Wan, Y/N, and I are on board, too.”

“What? What are you doing here?”

“We came to get you off this ship. Ahsoka, how can we get to the Senator?”

“According to our scans, there seems to be a large open area in the center of the ship,” Ahsoka explained. “It should be halfway between the two of you.”

“We’re on our way. Did you hear that, Padme?”

“I’ll be there,” Padme confirmed.

Anakin began running down the hallway again. You and Obi-Wan followed behind.

“Little star,” Obi-Wan softly said from beside you. You glanced his way in acknowledgment. “I know that this might not be the time, but why are you blocking me?”

“You’re right, it’s not the time,” you responded.

You came to a sudden stop with Anakin. There was an open doorway in the wall, leading to the large open room with trains running in opposite directions. Looking around, you tried to see and sense Padme.

“I don’t see her, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said.

“She’s here, Master,” Anakin said. “I sense it.”

“As do I,” you added.

You furrowed your brows as you heard blasting not too far away. Looking down and across the way, you noticed Padme and C3PO getting shot at with Padme firing back.

“There!” Anakin exclaimed.

The three of you ignited your sabers and jumped down onto one of the trains. You leapt onto another train, going in the direction you needed.

“Look! Jedi!” A droid exclaimed from another opening along the wall.

Three droids began firing at the three of you. With a simple move of your sabers, the three of you blocked the shots. The blasts flew back and each hit a droid, destroying them. You turned to see Padme pushing C3PO and then jumping onto the lower train going the other direction. Anakin jumped off the train your group was on, going to the Senator. He landed on a train on the same level as Padme, going the same direction as hers.

“Now that I’ve got you—“

“Really, Obi-Wan?” You retorted. You jumped down onto the lower track.

Obi-Wan followed. “I just would like to know what I’ve done so that I may try to fix it.”

“Nothing to fix. We’re fine.”

“We’re fine?” You began to walk along the top of the train to be able to see Anakin. “Then why are you blocking me?”

Your focus changed from Obi-Wan to the blast that wrecked the track Padme’s train was on.

“Jump to me!” Anakin shouted to Padme. “I’ll use the Force. You have to trust me!”

Padme jumped, trusting Anakin to catch her. Thankfully, he did. He guided her into his arms.

“Nice catch,” Obi-Wan commented from where you and him were on the track above. “We’ll fetch the droid!” You followed Obi-Wan back down the train and down another level. “Will you please just tell me what I’ve done? I’m sure I deserved it.”

“Will you just drop it, Obi-Wan?” You retorted, getting annoyed.

“Not until you just tell me!”

“Stop me! Please!” You heard 3PO cry out.

You and Obi-Wan stopped. Obi-Wan quickly put out his arm and closed his eyes. Using the Force, he started to raise the droid from where he had landed on the other train. C3PO was about halfway to you when another train came running down the train, ramming into the droid, and taking him with it.

“Blast!” Obi-Wan exclaimed. “That’s not good.” He brought his wrist up to his mouth. “Anakin, we got separated from your droid.”

“3PO!” Padme said.

“Ugh, I’ll take care of it,” Anakin replied. “We’ll meet you back at The Twilight,” he told Padme.

“No! We can’t leave yet. I overheard Grievous. Their hyperdrive is almost repaired.”

“We’re already headed in that direction,” you responded. “We’ll make certain that the hyperdrive stays offline.”

You jumped into a flip as you jumped off the train and onto one of the wall openings. Obi-Wan followed behind you. Using the Force and your knowledge of ships, you led the way to where the hyperdrive should be. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Obi-Wan smirk at the sight of just two droids in front of you.

“Don’t get too excited,” you warned, the Force telling you to prepare.

Before Obi-Wan could respond, lines of droids marched and rolled out toward you in three directions. Taking a deep breath, you slowly began to lower the blockers that prevented Obi-Wan from reaching your signature. You had a feeling you would need all the strength you could get. From behind you, you felt a dark presence and heard a maniacal laugh. You and Obi-Wan turned to see General Grievous jump down onto the level you were on.

“Hello there,” he laughed. Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest. “General Kenobi, did you really think I would leave the hyperdrive unguarded?”

“Anything is possible,” Obi-Wan replied, his hand going up to stroke his beard. “You haven’t exactly impressed me today. How about you, Y/N?”

“Nothing to be impressed about,” you responded.

Grievous laughed. “Kill them,” he ordered.

The droids around you aimed at you. Both you and Obi-Wan sent each other a smile before jumping up and flipping into the air as the droids began firing. You both landed behind the shielded, roller droids, using the Force to roll them into the lines of other droids. Igniting your lightsaber, just in case, you continued to use the shield droids to protect yourself and take out the other droids. Obi-Wan smiled as he used the last one to aim at Grievous. Grievous caught it as you and Obi-Wan ran out, using your sabers to block other oncoming shots.

“Since I can feel your signature again, can I assume that all is forgiven?” Obi-Wan asked as you both ran down the hall.

“This is really not the time to talk about this Obi,” you retorted. “It’s more—“

“Obi-Wan! Y/N!” Anakin called over the comlink. “Come in!”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan replied. “I’m afraid Grievous is on to us!”

“Yeah, we noticed.”

“We’ll rendezvous back at The Twilight. The fleet must engage—“ A beep sounded over the comlink. “Anakin? Anakin! Blast!”

“They must be jamming the signal,” you stated. “Let’s hurry to The Twilight. We need— Woah!” You suddenly stopped as Obi-Wan grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him. “What are you doing?”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What? Now is really not the time, Obi-Wan! Grievous is probably following us.”

“Then tell me quickly.”

You scoffed, looking away. “It’s not that simple.”

Obi-Wan used one of his gloved hands to gently move your chin so that you were looking at him again. “Try me.”

“I just… you… last time…” you sighed. “Did I…. The last time I saw you, I asked you to help me sleep. When I woke, you… you weren’t there and there wasn’t a note. It’s not like there really needed to be one but I just have feared that maybe my request made you uncomfortable. And I just wanted to apologize for doing so.”

“You wanted to apologize?”

“Yes. I never wanted to overstep any boundary or make you uncomfortable in any way. You’re my friend and I just don’t want to lose that and I—“

“Slow down, little star.” Obi-Wan rested a hand on your shoulder. “You didn’t overstep or make me uncomfortable. I actually fell asleep on the couch too. I really only woke because my comlink buzzed and the Council had called a meeting.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t leave a message. I didn’t mean for you to worry about it this much. Next time, I will.”

“Next time?”

“Well, yeah—you know what I mean.”

“Yeah…” you slowly nodded, believing you did know what he meant. Your heads snapped in the direction of the way you came, hearing Grievous’ grunts and groans.

Obi-Wan grabbed your hand. “We’ve got to go!”

He led you back to where the trains were. The two of you kept your hands together as you jumped down onto one of the moving trains. You could hear Grievous following you. Using lightsabers he had stolen from Jedi’s he had fought, Grievous broke through the packages on the train between him and the pair of you.

“Forgive me, little star,” he said.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Letting go of your hand, Obi-Wan pushed you off the train and onto the lower one before he jumped up onto one of the cranes and turned it, allowing him to land in front of Grievous with his lightsaber drawn.

“Obi-Wan!” You screamed in frustration.

You stomped the ground like a child as you looked up and watched him and Grievous fight briefly before Obi-Wan joined you below. You stormed up to him, pushing against his chest harshly.

“What was that?!” You yelled.

“I had a plan and you need to be safe,” Obi-Wan replied.

“I am not some young, helpless girl, Obi-Wan. I can fight the battles, too.”

“I am very well aware of that, little star. I just—“

“You just, what? Felt like my help wasn’t needed?”

“That’s not what I said. Is that what I said?”

“It’s what your actions said.”

The train reached your stopping point and you jumped off. Obi-Wan followed your jump and then broke into a run beside you. Two roller-shield droids caught up to you. With your lightsabers drawn, Obi-Wan and yourself kept running forward, using the Force to help sense when you needed to block an oncoming shot. You turned a corner to see Anakin, Padme, C3PO, and R2 boarding the ship.

“Hold the ship!” Obi-Wan called.

Anakin used the Force to block the shots as you and Obi-Wan reached them.

“I’ll contact the fleet,” Obi-Wan stated as your group reached the cockpit.

“R2, release the docking clamp,” Anakin ordered as he prepared the ship for take off.

Anakin pulled the ship off of Grievous’ ship and turned it back to the Republic fleet. They were about halfway back when they began to be fired on.

“Time for some clever tricks, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Anakin agreed. “Everyone buckle down.”

This time, you took that advice and found one of the side seats. Padme and C3PO quickly followed. Anakin spun the ship to try and avoid being hit.

“You know, we have guns,” Anakin told Obi-Wan. “You can shoot back anytime.”

“I was just about to—“

“I got it!” Padme cut off Obi-Wan.

Padme pulled down the gun sensor and began targeting the smaller ships attacking them.

“She seems to know her way around,” Obi-Wan commented. Padme quickly shot down one of the ships. “Nice shot, Senator.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Padme replied.

You looked at Padme, curious. You felt that something was off her knowledge of Anakin’s ship. If you really wanted to, you knew that you could use the Force to get the information from her easily. But you didn’t want to betray her trust. You would just have to ask Padme about it once you were safe aboard one of the Republic ships. You already knew that you couldn’t ask Anakin, he wouldn’t react well to any assumptions you may be conjuring up. R2 let out a beep.

“Pardon me, sir,” C3PO cut in, “but R2’s scan of the enemy’s ship indicates their hyperdrive is activating.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Anakin said.

“What?” Obi-Wan questioned.

You removed yourself from your seat and stood behind Obi-Wan. You watched as the Malevolence flew into the nearby moon and exploded.

“I imagine you had something to do with that,” Obi-Wan said to Anakin.

“All part of the plan, Master,” Anakin replied.

You shook your head. “You guys are just as chaotic as the stories say,” you muttered.

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

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cloudsrust · 4 years

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(Lowkey rant to feel better idk;;)

#tw guns mention #Hhh- this morning the little comments of the shooting range's teacher/coach just came back to me #and ngl they're highly frustrating and upsetting for me #yesterday I was too focused on aiming and balancing that I just didnt give 'em much thought but today- ugh #Just the fact that when I wasn't able to keep the carabina (shotgun) aimed for long due the weight and said so to the istructor #them going ah sure we will give you something to support your arm- just cause you're a girl #mind you I had already done like- 10 rounds (5 bullets each) with the smaller guns so my not trained at all arms were already tired #but?? What does?? What does my biological sex have to do with it???#Especially when right next to me a woman was doing her rounds with no problem and no support???#Dude just tell me I'm rightfully weak as all hell and it's gonna hurt less geez-#hell thank god I was already panicked about handling a real gun for the first time and didn't register this stuff-#sigh- I just regret not standing up to it- I don't care if it was lowkey joking- it's still a frustrating kind of humor #like- it's also hurtful the other way around like- what if a man asks you for a support you don't give it to 'em?#Ya just let them hurt their arm because they're a man?#Ugh I'm overthinking this stuff as always but agh;;#I hate being reminded of who I biologically am and how many see it #it's deeply saddening #I hate this kind of labels- they're flawed and can easily hurt someone if you don't know them #oh geez what a long rant #I whine a lot uh? sorry-

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espresseo-cafe · 2 years

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coming home | johnny | oneshot

pairing: dad!johnny x mom!reader

genre: syrup-y latte

bean count: 1.6k+

a/n: here’s a cute dad!johnny fluff for you! i missed writing fluff 🙈 hope you enjoy reading this as much i did writing it ☕️

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as time struck 4pm, johnny quickly glanced around the staff room and swiftly shoved his files and papers in his bag. his colleagues perked up at the hustle he had been recently doing whenever the day came at this certain time, only to shake their heads playfully as the door slammed of their quiet workspace.

“he’s coping up, isn’t he?” kun fixed his glasses, smiling as his dimples indented his cheeks because johnny’s little habit reminded of himself before.

jaehyun laughed, agreeing with him. stretching as the day came into an end, he realized, “oh right, how long has it been already? seems like he’s still struggling at it.”

kun slung his shoulder bag, gesturing jaehyun to leave the office together, “just two days! hahah amateur.”

almost tripping on the way, johnny rushed down the stairs and caught the bus before it left. he panted as he sat down, checking his phone for any updates. a text message from his cousin- seo hyelin, popped out on his notification center.

[hyelin-noona] : couzie bean where are you? i gotta go for my night shift in a bit! 😅

[john] : just got on the bus! will be there soon 🙇🏻‍♂️ how’s the little one?

[hyelin-noona] : adorable! he didn’t give me a hard time! 🤗

[john] : i’m glad 😮‍💨 thanks for looking after him!

[hyelin-noona] : anytime! it’s the summer break, he’s all yours! you sure you can handle him later? 👀

[john] : i survived yesterday, so it’ll be a piece of cake 👍🏻

boy was he so wrong.

when johnny was preparing dinner in the kitchen, he couldn’t even count the times he had to leave the stove to go and check on his crying, seven month old son, who couldn’t stand a minute without him.

he sipped the soup he was cooking and almost burnt his tongue when the baby started to wail a little. unfortunately leaving the television on play wasn’t a solution to keep him occupied.

when he decided to carry him while he fried the chicken, however, his son made a sour face hearing the sizzle of the hot oil. johnny sighed and put him down on his high chair and gave him a cracker.

that’ll settle him, for now. he thought.

dinner went by smoothly.. barely. changing diapers was a hassle as the little one kelt rolling over, ended up peeing on the bedsheet that johnny rubbed his eyes thinking he’d have to wash that first thing in the morning tomorrow.

even worse, the panicked him lifted up the baby and peed on him as well. johnny was dumbfounded but it was shortlived as the baby smiled at him as if he gave him a gift.

johnny thought he’d be able to put him to sleep right after. preparing his bottle of milk, he took the milk formula and warm water. then it struck him, “ah, how to do this again?” he sighed, looking at his son, “i don’t suppose you know how to make this, jesse.”

jesse looked at his dad, giving him a teethless smile. johnny snickered out loud, shaking his head and followed his instincts by putting warm water in the bottle and shaking it with the amount of tablespoons according to the can. shaking several droplets of milk onto his skin, he tasted it and concluded it was okay for jesse to drink.

his heart beated slightly, waiting to see jesse’s reaction. he puffed out a relieved sigh when the baby continued to drink as he laid on johnny’s arms.

“this isn’t so bad at all, huh jesse?” johnny shook him gently while jesse just looked at him with his long lashes. “we’re a good team.”

usually babies sleep around 8pm or so, and johnny thought he’d have some alone time after this. but nope! johnny let out a soft grunt when jesse started to cry nonstop, so he checked for any filled diapers or maybe he wasn’t feeling well.

he placed jesse facing him as he patted his back for some comfort. sighing when he finally leaned on his shoulder and hugged him, having hiccups here and there. he sung a lullaby his mom used to sing to him, five minutes passed and his son was sound asleep and he placed a kiss on his head as he turned off the bedroom lights and kept the baby light on.

opening the door to the bathroom, he turned on the showerhead to wash himself all the dirt he received from jesse: soup stain that splashed on his newly bought shirt, pee stain from the diaper disaster after dinner, milk vomit he got by the neck and shoulder, and the difficult phase of putting him to sleep.

he wondered how you were able to do this so flawlessly, and singlehandedly. being a mother was a 24/7 job, tirelessly working around the clock just to provide jesse’s needs. sometimes he was your big baby too, giving him a good dinner after a stressful day at work or giving him sweet embraces and massages to ease his mind.

that was why he wanted to work harder for his little family. and now that you were away, he had to work much harder since it was just him and jesse right now. gosh, how much he missed you.

24/7 during those seven months of love and care you gave was nothing compared to the two days he did. that was a huge difference.

the knob of the showerhead squeaked and johnny tried his hardest not to make a noise as he exited the bathroom. his fingers running through his wet hair made him so refreshed that he felt like he hadn’t showered for ages.

his computer rang, receiving a video call request from you. it was the first time you both have been apart since jesse was born and it was your first week back after maternity leave so johnny quickly clicked the button and answered it. “hi babe.”

he saw you shuffling through your things before you look at the screen, “give me a sec- a whole lotta things here.”

felt like forever, but seeing you made him so relaxed. “cool, take your time.”

you scratched your eyebrow and you swore you could’ve dropped your phone at the sight of your husband, fresh out from the shower with nothing on but a towel wrapped around his hips. “whoa hey,” you smiled, “how’s everything over there? our house hasn’t burn into bits just yet?”

johnny scoffed, taking a seat on his desktop chair and continued to dry his wet locks. “pfft, what do you take me for?” your laugh was contagious for johnny he nearly made a loud snort, “sigh, it’s manageable. our son is a handful, makes me appreciate you more by the second.”

you pouted in joy hearing that, johnny has a way with sweet words that it warmed your heart. even if he was tired from work, he still tried his best to make you smile by his actions. he’d kiss you passionately until jesse cried, give you warm hugs during movie nights, and listened to your complaints.

“i love you, but i know you know that already.” you chuckled, and for a second johnny paused before smirking at you. “what?”

“of course i know, just that it’s the first time you initiated saying it.” johnny smiled, agh i really miss you. “i love you more. when will you be back?”

his raspy voice was so attractive to you that you almost forgot to mention something. “by the way, my flight’s been rescheduled from next monday to tomorrow. work has been quick. your miserable days are soon to be over.”

you almost snorted seeing johnny’s reaction, he was obviously happy yet he attempted to hide it. “that’s.. that’s great! i’m happy for you. earlier the better.”

“i could tell you’re having a great time with jesse that your bags are showing.” you joked and johnny pretended to be hurt.

“hey, jesse is a sweetheart but he could be a terror.” johnny defended, remembering his cute little smile.

“wonder where he got that from.” you sarcastically pinpointed, earning a chuckle from him.

“i swear when you get back-“ he turned his head to the side and heard jesse making a fuss in the next room, sighing a bit before leaving and that made you giggle.

“oh you woke him up.” you teased as you waited a minute or two until he entered your shared bedroom with your son in his arms. “hi baby! how’s my little bear?”

the sound of your voice and your face on the computer screen made your son let out a gurgle and you were glad you were coming home the next day. you missed your boys so you could say you were homesick.

“baby look, mama’s there.” johnny took his little hand waved it at you.

“papa bear hasn’t given you a tough time, has he?” you continued to tease him, seeing him glare at you playfully. “mama misses you my little jesse bear, i’ll see you soon.”

johnny patted jesse’s bottom as he began to rub his eyes, “alright, he’s sleepy again. i gotta hit the sack too. it’s 1:30am here.”

you nodded, “mhm alright, i’m gonna go for lunch and walk around the city. i’m meeting eomma and appa after this.”

he smiled as he heard this, “okay. send my regards to them. we have to visit chicago this december, it’ll be jesse’s first christmas with them.”

“will do.” you gave a flying kiss and wave a goodbye to your boys. “love you both, see you in a bit.”

johnny mirrored your gesture before turning off the pc and readied himself for bed.

“love you too babe. goodnight.”

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thethreebroomsticksficfest · 2 years

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Today we're very excited to host @welsh-green authorial debut! Find it on AO3 here

Title: A Christmas Wish

Author: WelshGreen

Characters: Ron Weasley, Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour

Pairing: Bill Weasley / Fleur Delacour

Warnings: None

Prompt: 12. A Christmas wish

The cosy cottage on the cliff top was the only place Ron had considered coming to, and although Bill hadn’t been vocal in his disappointment, the stilted pauses and hushed conversations in the days following Ron’s arrival at Shell Cottage had left him in little doubt of Bill and Fleur’s thoughts on what he’d done.

After his initial panicked arrival, when Fleur had staunched the blood flowing from his splinched fingernails, he’d sat with Bill in the living room, shaken and nursing a firewhisky. He’d explained what had happened as much as he could but, without being able to reveal the whole extent of the Horcrux hunt, he feared he came away looking like a coward who couldn't handle cold weather and a rumbling stomach. Ron had found it hard to look Bill in the eye after that, and so, with Bill’s blessing, he’d hidden himself away at Shell Cottage, seconsced in the smallest bedroom, avoiding visitors and Floo calls, especially those from other members of the family.

Those first long days turned into weeks, and the weeks into a month. Ron spent much of his time hunched next to the wireless in the living room, listening to increasingly mad reports on Harry’s whereabouts ("Undesirable Number One was last seen yesterday, shepherding goats in the Austrian Alps") and thanking Merlin that no news was good news. Time slipped away in monotonous boredom, and before he knew it, the nights had drawn in and the autumn leaves had all blown away in a storm - Christmas loomed like a dementor.

Bill and Fleur told Mum and Dad that they wouldn't be making an appearance this Christmas, their first as husband and wife, and for this Ron was grateful. Instead, they had decided to celebrate by mashing together French and British traditions. In line with French tradition, they planned to celebrate on Christmas Eve but with all the food and trimmings of British tradition. He did his best to help preparations, offering to make the Christmas pudding to show his appreciation for their hospitality, and all the while praying to Merlin that he’d somehow find a way to get back to Harry and Hermione before celebrating Christmas at all.

And so, one frosty morning in late November, Ron awoke early to make the pudding. He threw back his duvet, pulled on a jumper, and picked up Dumbledore's Deluminator from the bedside table and put it in his trouser pocket. He liked to keep it on him, occasionally flicking the switch on the top. The cold weight of it was like an anchor grounding him in reality and stopping his near constant anxiety about Harry and Hermione climbing up his throat and out his mouth.

Opening the bedroom door, he saw that Bill and Fleur's door was still firmly shut. So, being careful not to disturb them, he padded softly along the landing and down the stairs. Pushing open the kitchen door, he found the kettle heating on the stove and Fleur placing two mugs on a tray. She jumped when Ron entered the room. He almost jumped himself.

"Mon dieu! You scared me!" she breathed, clutching her hand to her chest. Her silvery hair hung in a sheet down her back, her blue eyes round.

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. The longer he lived at Shell Cottage, the more he felt like a gooseberry in Bill and Fleur's marriage. "I thought I'd come down early to make the Christmas pudding - the recipe says it's got to steam for eight hours once I've made it. I really didn't mean to startle you."

“Non, non,'' she said, removing her hand from her chest and moving to the cold cupboard to take out a large jug of milk. “I thought I was alone, that’s all."

As she spoke, a beam of sunshine reached around the window frame, illuminating the steam now billowing from the kettle. Aiming her wand at it, Fleur murmured, "Finite," and poured the boiling water into a glass coffee press. She put the press on the tray, then poured milk into a smaller jug and put it next to the press.

“I'll leave you,” she said apologetically, picking up the tray. She carefully carried it from the room, and Ron heard her light tread on the stairs.

Shutting the door behind her, he moved to pick up the Christmas pudding recipe lying on the kitchen table. It was in Mum's handwriting.

When he was little, it'd been a sure sign that Christmas was just around the corner when Mum dug the steamer out from the back of the cupboard and charmed the knife to chop the dried fruit and candied peel. Now, seeing her curling script there on the parchment made him miss her nagging letters and smothering hugs more than he cared to admit. He shuddered to think how ashamed she'd be of him, if she knew. And Fred, George, and Ginny. He groaned. Ginny. She would hex him into tomorrow when she found out.

A swirl of hot shame coiled in his stomach.

Distracting himself, he crossed to the pantry, ran his finger down the recipe, and selected the pudding ingredients. He weighed out almonds and candied peel, chopped them, and pushed them into a large mixing bowl. Next he measured flour, sugar and dried fruit, adjusting the balance weights to match the quantities needed. He then added breadcrumbs and egg, suet and spice, and poured in milk. Finally, he stuck a wooden spoon in the bowl and tapped it with his wand. The spoon sprung to life and began to mix.

Ron looked over the recipe once more. "Grate one apple into the bowl," he muttered to himself. Plucking an apple from the fruit bowl on the table, he began rummaging in a drawer for a potato peeler.

"You know you have to actually hold the spoon to make a wish, don’t you? Charming the spoon doesn't count."

Bill.

Straightening, Ron saw that Bill was in his dressing gown, his red hair not yet pulled into a ponytail. In one hand he held the coffee tray with now empty mugs, and his other hand grasped the open door handle.

Ron looked down at the heavy fruit mixture in the bowl, gently turning over as the spoon made its circular path.

"I know."

Mum had always encouraged them to take it in turns to stir the pudding and make a Christmas wish. He remembered the excitement of it, and fighting with Ginny over who could place the silver sickle in the middle. In truth, he hadn't planned on making a wish at all. It was like that childish well of anticipation had matured into a dark abyss of despair.

He looked up at Bill. "Are you?"

"Well, according to tradition, we should all make a wish, shouldn't we? So yes, I think I will. I'll go and get Fleur, this is a good tradition to share." Bill disappeared upstairs, returning a minute later with Fleur in tow. She and Bill each took it in turns to take hold of the spoon, close their eyes, and stir the pudding east to west, making their Christmas wish.

"What did you wish for?" Ron asked Bill.

“Well, strictly I shouldn’t say, because then it won’t come true, but since it’s you, my youngest brother, I’ll let you in on the secret,” teased Bill.

“Which is?” prompted Ron.

“Well, I can’t deny, I wished that you get a new pair of pyjamas for Christmas, because if I have to look at your hairy ankles poking out of those ones for much longer, I might have to tell Mum that you’re here, just to get rid of you.” Bill grinned, and Fleur laughed.

Ron smiled wryly. “Long haired git.”

Laughing, Bill handed the spoon back to Ron. "Make it count," he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Ron stuck the spoon in the pudding and wrapped his fingers around the handle. When he was little he'd always wished for a brand new broom, or the Chudley Cannons to win the British League cup. But this year... there were so many things that he could or should wish for, and yet, when it came down to it, he could only think of one wish he wanted to make this Christmas.

Closing his eyes, he folded the wooden spoon through the pudding east to west, and wished that he'd never left.

***

On Christmas Eve they spent the evening preparing for dinner. Fleur laid a red cloth on the dining table, and Bill conjured holly sprigs to adorn a candelabra at its centre.

At midnight they sat down to eat Le Réveillon de Noël, which Fleur explained was a dinner to celebrate the very beginning of Christmas Day. A lobster starter (“good escargot is impossiblé to find in England”) was followed by a succulent turkey crown. Ron piled his plate with roast potatoes, parsnips, carrots, spouts, and peas, to which he added a healthy portion of stuffing next to a pile of pigs in blankets, before drowning the lot in gravy.

They drank French wine, and pulled crackers - a motley jester's hat for Bill, a night cap adorned with a moon and stars for Fleur, and a bright red bowler hat for Ron that clashed horribly with his hair. They laughed at the awful cracker jokes, Fleur tuned the wireless into the Continental Wireless Network, and French carols filled the air.

Once they'd stuffed themselves silly with turkey, Ron quietly slipped out to the kitchen, dowsed the Christmas pudding in brandy and set it alight with a spark from his wand. Re-entering the dining room, he proudly presented the flaming pudding to the table. Bill and Fleur clapped and cheered.

After dinner, once the dishes were gently washing themselves in the kitchen sink, they collapsed by the fire in the living room, glasses of Firewhiskey in hand. Bill reclined on the sofa, his jester’s hat slipping sideways, with Fleur curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. The fire cracked and popped, its warm glow nudging them towards sleep. Ron felt like an intruder into a private moment.

Making up his mind, he set his glass down with a clunk, stretched his arms wide and yawned. “I think I’ll call it a night.” The clock on the mantelpiece said that the time was half past one in the morning.

Fleur looked at him. “Non, non! You must stay awake until morning!” she exclaimed, albeit sleepily, "it's tradition!"

“Honestly, I really don’t think I can keep my eyes open any longer, I might fall asleep right here, and no one needs to hear that."

Bill nodded in agreement. “To be fair, love, he does snore like a troll - you won’t have heard it because I charmed his bedroom door so that we didn’t have to hear him.”

“You did what?!” Ron tried to sound indignant, but even he had to laugh.

“You can’t blame me! It was the only way I was going to be able to put up with you staying here. Really, you should be grateful that I’m so thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful my arse, self-serving more like!” Ron retorted.

“Hey, watch it - I’m very caring, I even got you a Christmas present - here, catch!”

Aiming his wand at the Christmas tree in the corner, Bill made a small box wrapped in gold paper hurtle out from under it, and zoom towards Ron. He caught it easily.

“Glad to see my quidditch skills are still sharp” he muttered to himself, and immediately ripped off the paper. Inside was a small wooden wireless radio.

“Oh wow! Bill, Fleur, this is perfect - thank you!”

“It’s so that you can listen to it in your room - you’ve been driving us crazy having it on every waking hour-”

“I don’t believe it!" Interrupted Ron, standing up "a self-serving present as well!” He scrunched up the discarded wrapping paper and threw it at Bill’s head.

“Right!” shouted Bill, rising to his feet too, “you’ve asked for it now-”

Except Ron didn't find out how Bill was planning to take revenge, because at that moment something silver flew through the red curtains drawn across the living room window. A wolf, gleaming and ethereal halted before them. When it opened its mouth, Remus Lupin’s voice spoke to them.

“There’s been an explosion in Godric’s Hollow. Come quickly. I’ll meet you at Bathilda’s cottage."

The wolf dissolved into mist, gone as swiftly as it had come.

"Godric's Hollow?" Ron repeated.

His heart thudded in his chest, hopefully. He knew that Harry had wanted to visit Godric's Hollow and this could be the first piece of real news he'd had since he’d left them. He glanced at Bill, but he wasn't paying Ron any attention.

“I’ll go,” Bill was saying to Fleur, flinging his jester's hat on the sofa, “it’s my turn.” He strode from the living room and into the front hall, and Ron could see him taking his cloak down from the cloak rack on the wall.

“Be safe,” said Fleur, who had followed Bill, “send me a message if you need me.” She rose on tip toe and kissed Bill. Ron looked away.

“I’ll be as quick as I can," and then, more quietly, "Joyeux Noël, petite Fleur." Ron heard the front door open and close, Bill’s quick footsteps on the path, and then a faint pop as he Dissapparated.

Fleur walked slowly back through to the living room, pulled off her hat and dropped it down next to Bill’s. “I’m going to stay awake and wait for him - please, go to bed if you want." She swished her wand at the log basket, and levitated a log towards the fire, where it gently nestled itself amongst the flames. She then sank back down on the sofa.

Turning to Fleur, Ron asked, "Do you think Harry and Hermione could be there, in Godric’s Hollow? We've had an inkling that they might go there, haven't we?"

He hoped he didn't sound too desperate. Harry had mentioned ages ago that he wanted to visit, but Ron couldn’t think what purpose it would serve to go, especially now. It would be so risky, so why do it? However, almost as soon as he thought it, another voice in Ron’s head told him that this was Harry, and risk didn't really come into it. His heart gave a traitorous beat of despair.

Fleur sighed, and pulled a blanket over her knees. “We won’t know anything more until Bill comes home."

***

That night the wind howled off the sea, and snow skittered against the window panes.

Ron slept fitfully, his slumber filled with fevered dreams. He was chasing Hermione’s voice through Godric’s Hollow as she sobbed “Ron! Ron!” over and over, but he could never quite reach her, no matter how many corners he turned. Then the dream twisted, to Harry standing by an exploded house bellowing “My parents are dead!”, his face hollow and his expression wild, the locket glittering maliciously around his neck.

Just before dawn he gave up on sleep.

Flicking on his new radio, he pulled on a jumper and shoved the Deluminator into his pocket. He curled up in the window seat and looked out. He could just make out the coastal trees bending and weaving against the wind, and the white horses breaking relentlessly on the surface of the dark sea. How could the world be so wild and beautiful, he thought, when his head and heart were so torn.

Shivering in the cool air falling from the glass, he tugged his sleeves down over his hands, and buried his face into the scratchy maroon wool. It felt comforting and familiar, like Christmas at The Burrow and Hogwarts rolled into one. How many happy Christmases had Mum made him a jumper just like this? He'd hated them all, and now he couldn't think of anything he wanted more. What a fool he was.

On the radio, Celestina Warbeck burst into the chorus of Accio Christmas.

He wondered what Hermione and Harry were doing right now, where they were, what they were thinking. He wondered who was on watch. How cold they were, and how hungry. Were they even celebrating Christmas? He hoped they were somewhere safe. He hoped they were well.

I will find you, he thought, and at that moment a voice spoke in his pocket.

"-Ron? When he broke his wand crashing the car? It was never the same again, he had to get a new one-".

Scrabbling for his pocket, Ron pulled the Deluminator out and stared at it, aghast. The voice had sounded just like Hermione's.

Stepping down from the window, he swiped his wand from under his pillow and tapped the radio, cutting off Celestina mid warble, and then tapped the bedside lamp with a whispered, "Lumos."

Inspecting the silver instrument in his hand more closely, he asked it desperately, "Hermione? Are you there?" It didn't speak back. He gave the Deluminator a frantic shake of frustration but it remained resolutely silent.

Perhaps there was a chance he’d finally lost the plot. But no... he hadn’t imagined it.

He shook the Deluminator again and then clicked the switch on the top and, in that moment, the world seemed to pause on its axis and take a breath.

Then his bedside lamp went out with a faint chink, and an orb of light appeared in mid air just outside the window.

Ron's heart gave a lurch. Perhaps Christmas wishes really did come true.

On the horizon, the dawning sun washed the sky a deep gold.

#submission #ttb yule bash #ron weasley #dh missing moment #hp fanfic #bill weasley #fleur delacour

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 3 years

Text

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.

#jin x reader #seokjin x reader #bts #bts imagine #kim seokjin x reader #jin imagine #seokjin imagine #jin fluff #seokjin fluff #bts fic #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin #jin smut #seokjin smut #candywrites

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amidstsaltandsmoke · 3 years

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51&84 plss you drables are so cute. its like a comfort read

Anon, thank you 😭 that's sweet of you to say and I'm happy that you think so! Thus, here is my gift to you; hope you enjoy it!! 🥰 _____________________ Prompts: “I’m your husband. It’s my job.” & “Come on, baby, up to bed.”

Jon Snow was certain about approximately two things: one, that he adored and cherished and loved his wife more than any other living soul on the planet. And second, that she had to be the most bullheaded, stubborn piece of work he’d also ever come to know. He knew these things could not be, and were not, mutually exclusive.

At present, Daenerys was buzzing around the house, corner to corner, leaving not a centimeter untouched with her magic cleaning sponge, the vacuum practically an extra limb at this point, and a bucket full of various other cleaning supplies.

She had come down with a nasty case of the flu two days ago, and he could not figure out why (for the life of him) she was absolutely insistent that she do this. Actually, he did: her parents were in town, had dropped in last minute yesterday afternoon, and all but demanded they come over tomorrow to visit. Even despite Dany telling them over and over again that it wasn’t a good time right now, that she would get them sick (selflessly leaving out the bit where she was actually, completely miserable).

Jon didn’t much care for her parents, but he was able to survive their get-togethers thus far. Seven years and he hadn’t yet lost his mind in their presence. They were rich, snobby, judgmental arseholes who disapproved of every decision Dany made in her life because she had made them and went against their expectations. Even down to their house decor, or tidiness, which was why Dany was being the way she was right now.

They especially did not approve of her choice of husband, but he couldn’t bother to give any less fucks. She was his, and he was hers, and the Targaryen in-laws could quite honestly shove their phony, one-dimensional personalities right up their uptight asses.

...Maybe he was a little bitter.

Nothing he did could convince Dany to stop. She’d been going and going with barely a break, except when he could distract her enough to do so, whether by luring her into the family room to catch her favorite movie and fibbing a little by telling her it was on cable (it wasn’t, but there was something about them being on live telly that she loved so much, even despite owning the physical copies, which he had put on to convince her to sit her perky little arse down). Or, when he’d set up the extra bed in the guest room for her parents to stay (he prayed to all seven gods it wouldn’t come to that), that he really needed her to go lay on it for a few minutes and be sure it was comfortable enough (because, yes, her parents were that finicky and found no issue voicing their opinions). When she hadn’t come down ten minutes later, he found his plan had worked, and she had passed out.

It didn’t last; she had woken in a panic some thirty minutes later, half-asleep and still muttering that there was too much to do yet.

Multiple times did he attempt to intervene and take over, but she would not have it. And he understood it on a normal day when they might host something; she had certain things she was particular about, and he had his. But this was overkill, even on a normal day. He took to all the other chores, but not without keeping two eyes wide open on her, for fear she would exhaust herself into a coma.

At the rate she was scrubbing away every spec of dirt she could find, he was beginning to worry she’d burn holes in the walls and floors. He was exhausted just by watching her, and he decided he had enough. Her hair was frizzed and pulled away from her face, her skin clammy, her pallor more desaturated than normal and that was with a new golden tan after their mini vacation, and overall, she appeared too frail for his liking.

Jon set down the clothes he had bundled up before he was going to shower, padding over to where she was on her hands and knees, swiping away at the floorboards. “Dany...come on. You need rest, not to be worrying over parts of the house nobody notices.”

As soon as she halted her movements and cut him a glare, which was adorably terrifying despite her condition, he knew she was right, even without any words. Her parents did notice these things, for why he could never and would never even begin to try to understand, but to be reiterated, he gave zero shits as to what they thought.

They lived a perfectly comfortable life, organized messes and all.

Resuming her cleaning, he was shocked by how weak her voice sounded. “Would you rather they nag me about my inability to manage a house - or my life, for that matter - or listen to them ramble about their thousandth trip to the Virgin Islands?"

"If it were up to me they wouldn’t be coming at all,” he muttered, earning himself a look that, this time, read, ‘I know, me too’.

Jon sighed. “I’m goin’ to shower - if I find you down here still at it…,” he cut her his best implacable eye, brows raised.

Dany went to roll her eyes, then winced and squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers rubbing at her orbital sockets. She was so congested that she couldn’t even get snarky with him. Instead, she playfully, threw a wet rag in his direction, but it fell with a sad flop barely two feet from where she was kneeling. She burst into a snotty fit of giggles, whilst Jon simply shook his head at his wife and her heavy red eyes, clucking his tongue. “Am I to take that as you throwing in the towel?”

“Jon!” She squeaked, a nasally little sound as she doubled over, not an ounce of energy in her petite and fatigued frame to handle even that. “Augh, disgusting,” she mused after a minute, grabbing a tissue from the second box that had been attached to her hip and blowing her nose.

“I mean it, Dany - ten minutes. Consider that a warning. No arguing this time,” he jut his index at her, but she waved him off without acknowledging him as if she had the most mild case of a cold and not severe body aches, a sinus headache, chills, and fever. Because her parents had never supplied her with love and comfort as a child, her defense mechanism was to do everything herself as often as possible.

It was still a work in progress; she was better at accepting his help these days (except for now, when her parents exacerbated her need to prove herself, of which she most certainly did not need to do), and she was open to letting him pamper her with all the TLC he wanted to give her. He understood that desire for independence, he longed for it himself, but it was time to take matters into his own hands.

________________________________________

Less than ten minutes later, after a quick washing down, Jon came downstairs, and paused. He didn’t hear any sign of movement at all, and for a moment he panicked, the worst of his thoughts diving into his worst fears that she passed herself out from exertion.

However, to his (sort of) relief, he discovered her sitting and hunched over the kitchen table, her forehead on her arms. As he stepped closer, she produced a towel, the very one she’d tried to assault him with earlier, and flung it blindly across the table. “Yes, that’s meant to be literal this time,” she mumbled in the cave she was hiding herself in.

With a victorious smile, Jon made a quick job of switching off the lights, then tucked one arm under her knees and the other around her back. The deep wrinkle between his brow was immediate. “Gods, Dany, you’re soaked.”

She hummed a pitiful laugh into his neck where she nuzzled. He’d foregone a shirt, and her skin was blazing against his, even through her clothes. “Not the first time you’ve told me that.”

“Seven hells,” he grumbled good-naturedly, “and you’re delirious. Come on, baby, up to bed. Let’s get you a bath goin’ first though, love.”

________________________________________

After some careful finessing, Jon deposited Dany atop the closed toilet seat, then went off in search of clean, dry, cool clothes for her. While the bath filled, he instructed her to stay where she was so he wouldn’t need to worry about her hurting herself with how unbalanced she was at the moment.

He boiled her a cup of ginger sweet tea and water, dumped a couple of ibuprofen into his palm, and made his way back to her. Luckily, she didn’t try to move, and soon enough he was helping her peel away her sweat-ridden clothes and getting her into the bath. Nothing too hot so her fever wouldn’t spike further, but a little tepid.

As soon as her medicine was down and he handed her her tea, she turned her sleepy eyes on him where he knelt beside the tub, freeing one hand to gently scrape over his beard. “You spoil me,” she murmured, a soft smile tugging on her lips.

He took her hand and kissed the inside of her palm, scooting closer so he could do the same to her damp forehead. “I’m your husband; it’s my job,” he said, his own eyes weighing down as she played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The water had begun to cool shortly after, and a chill took over her. Jon grabbed the thickest towel in their storage closet and wrapped her up like a newborn babe, swaddling her with his arms until the quivering stopped. The medicine still had some time to kick in yet.

Clothed in a tank top and underwear, dry, and warm enough, Dany let him carry her to their bed, setting her down on her side and bringing a light sheet up to her waist. Once the lights were off, he slid in beside her, the pair of them immediately seeking out the other, her back to his front. Jon sat up to lean his head in his hand, using the miniscule light from outside to see her and brush some half dry hair away from her face, running his knuckles down her arm and back up again.

Dany rolled onto her back, her eyes adjusting until she could see him clearly enough. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispered. His heart broke, and virus be damned, he leaned down and kissed her plump lips, though she tried (and failed) to weakly push him away.

“You’ll get sick,” she said, her hand cradling his neck.

“Worth it," he declared, giving her neglected lips several more pecks before laying back on his side. "Dany…"

"Mm?" She rolled so she could face him.

“You never have to thank me for taking care of you,” he said softly, tugging her closer, but also trying to be mindful of too much shared body heat would make her fever rise.

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice slightly hoarse.

“I love you,” he whispered against her forehead.

“I love you, too. Even when I’m a disgusting snotty, sweaty, contagious mess?”

“Do you remember our first date?” He smiled into the dark room, a chuckle already bubbling up in his throat.

“I don’t think I could ever forget you trying to pretend you weren’t on your deathbed, just to go on a date with me,” she mused, and he could hear her own grin in her words, her head tilting up so that she could see him.

Ah, yes. The ultimate game of cat and mouse. Daenerys Targaryen had been convinced she would never date again, never give a man a second look for at least another twenty years. Even after Robb introduced the two of them, and Jon was ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain he’d fallen in love with her at first sight, she was reluctant. For six months. But he was patient, and he gave her space while also being conscientious that there was a balance between coming off as far too clingy and seemingly disinterested if he didn’t at least try to find a place in the back of her mind.

Naturally, as was his luck, she finally accepted...and the next morning he’d woken up with a severe bout of the stomach flu. Fate was trying to fuck with him, but despite a trip to the toilet to heave every forty-five minutes, the gods would not win that day. Unfortunately, their plans included dinner, and nothing would stay down in the time leading up to their date. They went to a movie first, and he only had to make two trips to the bathroom to throw up all of his popcorn. When dinner came, it was so physically demanding to keep everything from not reproducing onto the shared table between them, Dany noticed the sweat on his face and kept having to ask him if he was alright

Then his anxiety spiked and he knew, for sure, he would fuck up a very important day by completely freaking her out by his odd behavior. There was bowling, and then they concluded with ice cream, and that did him in. As they took a would-be romantic stroll around the nearby park, the garbage bin never looked so appealing, and that was where he, ironically, definitely fell in love with her. Because rather than run away or laugh at his humiliation, she threw out her (and his) remaining ice cream and rubbed his back as his body seemingly caught up and punished him for holding it all in for hours.

When he tried to apologize between ralphing, she shushed him and told him to stop being ridiculous. Then she took him home and doted on him like a pitiful, helpless little boy (not that he didn’t completely eat it up - not unlike tonight, but roles reversed.

“We’ve come full circle,” he snorted, running his fingers up and down her back.

“I think it was meant to be,” she giggled.

Jon hummed and pressed his forehead to hers, shutting his eyes. “I know it was.”

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerys drabble #one of my fave tropes #I think this is a record in how quickly I was able to whip this up :')#my drabbles

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my-soul-sings · 3 years

Text

kiss the girl: ch 5

Fandom: Tears of Themis Characters: Artem x Reader

Summary: Armed with a trusty book, Artem Wing attempts to win the woman of his dreams.

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 2 extra (ft. marius) | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5

***

“Surprise him with flowers.”

It all began one morning, when you went to Artem’s office to look for a case file, and stumbled across a certain incriminating book that was hiding in his drawer.

The title said it all: “The Psychology of Love”. The contents of the book were even more damning—flipping it open took you naturally to the page where a plain black bookmark had been inserted, and you found yourself reading a chapter about practical tips for wooing a woman.

As you read the book, you’d periodically look over your shoulder every now and then in case Artem arrived and caught you red-handed (although you were technically only going through his drawer because you were looking for a case file that he had told you to find in his office).

You immediately recognised the practical pointers as the things Artem had been putting into practice lately. The flowers, the compliments, the dinner… What you’d initially thought was odd behaviour on his part suddenly all made sense, and it basically confirmed your suspicions that perhaps your boss did have feelings for you, and that yours weren’t one-sided like you had thought after all.

The revelation had your cheeks warming and your lips spreading into a huge grin. All that had to be done now was for both of you to confess and then you’d officially start dating, just as you had hoped for a while now.

The next question then was how to go about doing it. You considered asking him about the book directly, but that wouldn’t be any fun at all. Sure, you might get a laugh out of seeing Artem’s ears turn red and his words coming out in a timid stutter, but you wanted to be more creative with this.

And as you scanned through the book, a brilliant plan began to formulate in your mind. One that had your smile turning from gleeful, innocent and warm, to something a little more wicked. Just a little.

With all that Artem had been doing for you lately, naturally, it was only right that you returned the favour.

***

Artem’s morning routine hasn’t changed much as far as he can remember. In the mornings, he makes breakfast, a cup of coffee, then drives to work and enters the office building. He’ll greet his colleagues who are already all set up in the office and doing their work or rushing some prep work before going to court, and then settle down in his room to check his emails.

It’s not a particularly exciting routine, but Artem has gotten used to his life as a working adult; more routines, less surprises and spontaneity.

That’s why Artem isn’t used to being surprised, or having to figure out at 10am why his colleagues keep staring at him or greeting him with vaguely suspicious smiles on their faces. With every step he takes through the office he can feel their eyes on him, like visitors eyeing an animal in a zoo exhibit.

Artem wonders if it’s something about his appearance, but he’s wearing the same thing he usually does, and he has combed his hair like always. Besides, he also subtly checked to make sure his zipper wasn’t down when he first noticed his colleagues acting strange, so that can’t be it either.

His mind runs through the many possibilities for his colleagues’ strange behaviours, but can’t think of a reasonable explanation.

Thankfully, he doesn't need to think for long. He finds that explanation placed conspicuously in the centre of his desk, which is usually left clean and neat when he leaves the office for the night.

Artem is so stunned he doesn’t even realise that someone has knocked on his door until he feels a tap on his shoulder and hears a stifled laugh coming from his left.

“Everyone’s been going crazy since the flowers came. Did you send a bouquet of roses to yourself?” Celestine asks between giggles. Artem doesn’t blame her—the sight is quite incriminating. He can’t think of anyone who would send him flowers when there is no occasion to celebrate anything. Not to mention, roses? That’s quite the choice of flowers for someone who is single…

“Did you do this?” Artem asks, turning to her, although even he thinks the accusation is absurd.

“Me? Of course not. Do you know how expensive flowers are? I’d only spend it on my darling—”

“Enough,” he interrupts her, pinching the bridge of his nose and releasing a vexed sigh. First things first, he needs to do something about the flowers before more people see and start gossiping about him.

“You don’t look so happy for someone who just received flowers,” Celestine says, watching as he places his things down on his chair and desk before moving to inspect the gift. He’s eyeing it about as warily as one might a ticking bomb.

“Is it a secret admirer? Or— Don’t tell me, you’ve been making moves on someone else?”

“Of course not,” he hushes her, casting a wary glance towards the window of his office, in case they’re overheard by mistake. She’s not at her desk, and the anxious beating of his heart calms down slightly when he realises she probably hasn’t arrived in the office yet. That gives him some time to dispose of the evidence.

Turning to Celestine, he says in a low voice, “Don’t be so loud. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

Celestine rolls her eyes, folding her arms. “She already saw the flowers.”

“What?” Alarmed, he looks out the window again, but there’s no one at her desk.

“She just dropped her things off on her chair and rushed to the restroom,” Celestine explains in a dismissive tone that does nothing to quell Artem’s concerns.

She’s seen the flowers. She’s going to think that he’s been flirting with someone else, or that he sent flowers to himself. Either way, it doesn’t look good.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Celestine remarks, scrutinising his expression. He supposes he does. How else should he look? Festive, now that he might have lost his chance at wooing the woman he’s had a crush on for so long?

“Get a grip, Artem. First things first, who are the flowers from?”

Right, right. He should confirm that first. There’s a small card sticking out from the side of the bouquet, and he fishes it out, reading it while keeping it out of view from the curious eyes of Celestine. She immediately fires off protests in response, but he’s taller than her and is able to keep it out of her reach by extending his arm all the way up.

I wasn’t sure what flowers you’d like, so I went with roses, because… well. You should be able to guess why. I’ll see you soon.

It’s a message straight out of a horror movie. Artem doesn’t want to see this person. He doesn’t want anyone to see him with this person, for that matter. He would be ruined beyond repair.

Unfortunately, the card isn’t signed. Not on the front or back, and there’s no other card to be found in the bouquet. So now, he has to deal with a mystery admirer who seems to know where he works or lives. Maybe both.

He briefly contemplates getting a personal protection order but immediately dismisses the thought; there’s no way. It seems his only option left is to wait for this secret admirer (or prankster; he still has his doubts) to track him down.

“Hey! I wanted to read that!” Celestine grumbles when the note is crushed in Artem’s fist and stuffed into his pocket.

“Read something else. You just told me yesterday that you’re drowning in work.”

Not sure where else he can put the bouquet, he decides to put it on the floor, in a corner of his room so it’s less conspicuous to anyone who passes by.

“From how you’re still panicking, I’m guessing the flowers weren’t from her after all?” Celestine asks, clicking her tongue.

“You thought they were from her?”

“Yeah. She saw the flowers in your office this morning and walked away looking quite happy.”

“Oh.” That’s strange, he thought she would be mad. But if she’s happy, that can mean only one of two things: either the flowers were from her, or she’s happy thinking that he has a partner now.

It looks like he’ll be playing a tedious guessing game for the rest of the day and the next couple of sleepless nights.

“I could ask her if you want?” Celestine offers, being helpful for the first time since entering his office.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll handle it,” he replies, clearing his throat and sitting down. He’s wasted enough time on this—he’ll worry about it after work.

Celestine takes that as her cue to leave, and this time, she graciously doesn’t leave a mocking remark behind when she closes the door.

continue reading on AO3 (see replies to this post)

#artem wing #tears of themis #artem wing fanfiction #tears of themis artem #tears of themis fanfiction #tears of themis fanfic #artem fanfiction #artem fanfic #kiss the girl #my writing #sorry folks i'm linking to AO3 because this chapter is fairly long and im too lazy to copy+paste and comb through the text to #manually add italics #so pls read it on ao3 i will love u hehe

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local-spoon-does-a-thing · 3 years

Text

Sickness

[(Bayverse) Optimus Prime x Reader]

A/N: Here’s some more Papa Bot fic. Should I make a bonus ending/part about them arriving at the gas station or some shit like that? Also this fic got out of hand and idk how it ended up like this. Hope you enjoy!

“Ugh...hey, Optimus? Can you roll down the window? I need some fresh air.” You mumbled out and leaned your head against the door. For some reason, you felt sick to the core. That’s probably because you were, in fact, sick. Perhaps it was something you ate for dinner yesterday? You did have a rough night trying to sleep. But at this moment, you just wanted to jump out of the moving vehicle, lay on the side of the road, and perish. Your stomach was not agreeing with you at all and begged you to purge out whatever was in it. Once the window was rolled down, you immediately poked your head out and took in a deep breath. Ah, that was much better. But that still didn’t get that sickening feeling out of your stomach. Maybe a nice bottle of water would help cure you. Your hand moved towards where the cup holders would be located and attempted to grab a bottle of water. Though, there was nothing. Looking back, you saw that you didn’t even bring water with you. Oh, right, you’ve forgotten. Earlier when Ratchet had suggested that you bring a couple bottles of water for the trip, you refused and reassured him that you were fine when in reality, you were just too lazy to carry them. In defeat, your hand flopped back down and you poked your head out once more.

Currently, you and the team were traveling to another city in a different state, as it was stated that there were some Decepticon sightings located there. This was going to be your first mission with them and after countless of merciless begging to go with them, they finally agreed to let you travel with them. Ratchet and Ironhide thought that it was a horrible idea, Bumblebee was simply ecstatic that you would get to go with them, and Optimus was just too tired to deal with your tantrums like a tired father. Who would’ve thought that out of all the members of the team, you seemed to be the closest with the Autobot leader himself. Anyone else would’ve thought that you two were polar opposites. You were a simple person that liked to joke a lot and showed some signs of arrogance while Optimus was more on the serious and wise side. Little did anyone know that you two balanced each other out. He kept you grounded to reality while you made sure that he would have fun during his time on Earth. Though your adventures with them have just merely started, you can tell that you’ve made an impact on the team. Everyone seemed more on the bright side, even the grumpy medic. They were happy and that was all you’ve ever wanted. However, your stubbornness and pride proved you not to be the easiest person to handle, like now.

“Hey, Optimus? Is there by any chance that you have some water on you? Not that I need it or anything like that. Buuuut... I might need it later.”

The old ‘Bot let out a heavy sigh and the whole truck rumbled along with him. “Didn’t Ratchet tell you earlier in the morning to bring your bottles of water? We’ve said it repeatedly that this would be a long trip-”

“Okay, okay! I get it, I was just asking in case you did have them. No need to go full on mother-mode.” You cut him off mid-sentence before crossing your arms across your chest and slumping into the seat. Moments passed by and your hands dropped down to your stomach and clutched the fabric that was in the way. Okay, you seriously needed to do something about this. You felt nauseous and each second that passed by was torturous. You wanted to tell Optimus about your condition, but c’mon, this was your first mission! You had a feeling that if you were to tell him about this, the team wouldn’t bring you to anymore future missions. And the main course hasn’t even started yet since you were still traveling to the destination. But was this really worth the trouble? I mean, even outside of these missions, you would still be seeing them.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, it’s just- I don’t think I’m doing too well. I think I might have the stomach bug or something ‘cause I feel like I’m gonna throw up at any moment.” You half heartedly confessed to him.

At this statement, Optimus had wanted to stop the trip abruptly and check if you were okay. Guess you could say that this was his “mother-mode” or at least close to it. Worried thoughts bubbled into his metal head that he had almost forgotten to respond to you, almost giving you an indication that he was irritated and ignoring you. He would have Ratchet check up on you but then again, he only knew about Cybertronian biology, not human.

“Hang in there, [Y/N]. There’s a gas station approximately three miles from here. We’ll take a rest there and examine you.”

He then went on to accelerate his speed and over the radio, went on to report the other members of the team about your condition. You could hear Bee’s worried buzzing, Ironhide’s sigh, and Ratchet’s grumpy grumbling of “I told you so” that was directed towards you. In response, you rolled your eyes and laid down across the seats, staring at the truck ceiling. The slight bumpiness on the road was somehow a bit soothing, but it wasn’t enough to put you to sleep. What you needed right now was a distraction. And what distraction was better than you annoying your guardian?

“Oppy.” No response.

“Timus.” No response.

“Hey, Boss Bot!” Finally, you got a response. He let out a surprised sound and you can practically hear the gears in his head turn.

“What is it?”

“I need you to distract me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You were met with silence once again. He was confused with what you wanted. What did you need to be distracted from? You weren’t really doing much other than trying to refrain yourself from puking on him. It didn’t take long for you to notice that he was confused by your request.

“Just...just ask me questions. They can be stupid or not or whatever. I don’t want to focus too much on my nausea.”

“I understand. Very well then. How are your grades in school?”

You groaned and smacked the palms of your hands onto your face. You wanted to answer any other question BUT that one. Okay, so maybe you were lagging a little behind on your subjects than the rest of your classmates, but you could fix it up with a snap of your fingers! Or, that was what you thought. You’ve been so caught up with your alien friends that you didn’t think that school wasn’t as important as saving civilian lives and all that.

“[Y/N]?” His deep voice pulled you away from your thoughts and you slid your hands down your face.

“It’s uh, it’s going...decent.” Wow, way to make yourself sound believable.

“[Y/N]...” Now there was a stern and serious tone in his voice.

“Don’t worry about it! I got it all under control. Go ahead and ask another question that’s not related at all to school.”

Once again, he let out another heavy sigh. He had a feeling that your reasoning for your grades being “decent” as you say, was because of him. He didn’t want to be the reasoning for you failing classes. What kind of guardian does that? Yes, he has the most fun spending time on you and picking up on your witty jokes, but he knew that if it ever came down to it, he would have to step back and let you focus on things that would matter in the long run. Even when it does break him.

“You need to take your school more seriously, please. You know what will happen if your parents were to find out about your grades dropping, correct? We won’t be able to see each other as much anymore. And as much as I want to be with you, I won’t hesitate to take a couple of steps back.”

That...hurt. You didn’t want to be constantly reminded of the consequences, but that wasn’t what hurt you. The fact that he said that he wouldn’t hesitate gave you a wake up call. You sat up from your lying position and looked at his radio with a panicked and disbelief look. You didn’t know what or how to respond to that. He was serious and you knew that. You looked away in shame and clutched your stomach once more. Optimus then moved his rearview mirror towards your face and saw how you looked. It broke his spark and he wanted to comfort you, but decided not to push further on the subject and change it.

“Is there anything you would like to ask that relates to me?”

You perked up at his question and had a surprised look. Honestly, you didn’t expect that at all and you didn’t even consider asking him questions. If you were to, you had wanted to try to avoid the more sensitive topics that related to the war on his planet and such questions like that.

“Hmm, you know how the Matrix-thingy chooses who the next Prime will be or something like that? Well, what were you like before you became a Prime?”

Like you were, he was caught off-guard by the question. It’s been a long while since he had spoken of his previous life. He felt a faint sense of nostalgia as he reflected on his past self. My, how much he has changed over time. Going from having a simple life to being one of the biggest roles in Cybertron history. If he were not in his vehicle form, he would’ve smiled fondly.

“My previous name was Orion Pax. At certain angles, you could say that I was more like Bumblebee: young and free-spirited. I used to work as a data clerk in Cybertron. My life was quite simple and ordinary before I heard of Megatron and came to a realization that I was not satisfied with what I was doing. That...is all I will tell for now.”

“Aww, what?! Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like that! What happened with you and Megatron? Pleaaase!”

“Some other time, tiny girl. Now, it is my turn to ask a question. Do you know what my favorite color is?”

Okay, now you were confused. Why would he go from asking a serious question to suddenly asking about his favorite color. Out of all the things he could’ve asked, he went for that one. Of course, it’s not like you were going to back down from something as simple as that. However, you had to take a moment to think. Did robots have favorite colors? Did they even have time to consider what color was their favorite? You couldn’t figure out what the answer was until suddenly, it hit you!

“Wait a minute, that’s a trick question! You’ve never told me what your favorite color was! You can’t fool me!” You accused as you pointed your finger at his radio. A deep chuckle came from the radio as you guessed right.

“Clever girl. Well in that case, I might as well tell what my favorite color is. It’s autumn orange. It gives off a warm feeling along with joy whenever I look at it. Just like whenever I look at you. It reminds me of you.”

Your eyes lit up at his words and your cheeks flushed. That...may or may not be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to you. Plus, it sounded very genuine. A warm feeling swirled your insides and a sincere smile danced across your lips. Who knew that an alien from outer space could be one of the most caring people (er- robot) you knew.

“Whoa, I definitely wasn’t expecting that answer. I didn’t know you had a sappy side.” You lightly joke. “But, thank you. That was really nice of you to say. And you should show your sappy side more often.”

“Heh, I’ll think about it.”

You then raised a hand to your mouth and let out a yawn. Optimus was able to catch it and moved his rear view mirror towards you once more.

“Am I boring you already?” He asked in a fake yet barely noticeable betrayed voice. There was a hint of amusement sprinkled onto there.

And you snapped out of your sleepy trance and sat up straight, all alerted. “Wha- no no no! It was just a yawn! I’m not-”

Your words were cut off when you heard laughter from him. Yeah sure, you’ve heard him chuckle before, but an actual laugh coming from him was quite rare. You laughed along with him until it died down.

“Alright, little one. Go on and get some rest. I’ll wake you up once we get to the gas station.”

You lied down along the seats on your back and closed your eyes. As your drowsiness was pulling you into slumber, you heard the radio turn on as lofi music played on a soft volume. Now this was most definitely making you sleepy. Soon enough, you were knocked out. Optimus silently hoped that they could stay like this for at least a very long time. With the both of you in peace, traveling in the middle of nowhere while relaxing lofi hip hop was playing in the background. Yet another moment that he gets to cherish for as long as he gets to live.

#transformers x reader #transformers #optimus prime x reader #bumblebee #ratchet #ironhide #oneshot #fanfic #i love mr papa bot #bayverse #autobots x reader

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qsphyxias · 3 years

Text

𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖐𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you took a reckless bullet for your ever so beloved detective/partner, and shuichi isn't too happy about it. understatement ; he was fucking devastated

warnings ; hospitals, gun violence, getting shot, inaccurate depictions of police and police negotiations, cussing, major angst, male! reader uses he/him pronouns

note ; the first one-shot of this blog, everybody dance ( the imagine isn’t based on the song, but i just thought it had the same vibe ig )

words ; 4k

⊱ ────── {⋅.𝐢𝐝𝐟𝐜 - 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫.⋅} ────── ⊰

ring, ring.

...

ring, ring.

what's that noise?

ring, ring.

why won't it stop?

ring, rin-

"hello?" gratuity washed over your body, the feeling causing you to relax as the obnoxious noise had been replaced by the gentle tone of the one you love. suddenly you didn't feel as bitter as you did before; when you had first awoken from your slumber. "ah... yes, this is... detective shuichi saihara."

your head shifted towards the sound of shuichi's voice, eyes flickering to him and back to the small dot on the ceiling you had first caught sight of.

shuichi darted his eyes over to your turned back, hands cupping the phone as he tried to muffle the authoritative tone your shared boss had been emitting. "... but he's still recovering. no, i don't think that that's-" the anxious detective's voice grew a little louder out of panic, causing him to immediately lower it back down to a whisper as his mind reminded him that you were still sleeping — or so he thought. "just... at least give him one more day. please. i'll take all his work for that day."

you blinked, brain whirling as you tried to process the information that seemed to be dripping from shuichi's lips. who's he talking about? you groaned quietly, feeling as if an anvil and a hammer had been clanging obnoxiously at your head.

shuichi whipped his head towards you, sad eyes widening as he had caught your groan, however soft it was. "s/o?" nearly dropping the phone, he tightened his grip and spoke into the receiver again, quickly wanting to end the call so he could go check on you. "oh- um, th- thank you so much, yes- okay, thank you again." without hearing his boss's reply, he abruptly ended the call and kept in mind he would have to hear the scolding later — however, it wasn't like he really cared at all in that moment.

"sh-?" you paused, shuffling to sit up from your waxy, cotton hospital bedsheets as you finally decided to announce your consciousness. fuck, how did the rest of his name go? come on brain! he just said it!

shuichi had been repeating and reversing what he had wanted to say to you the moment he saw you shuffle up and groan, as well as what you needed to hear. his head was sure to detonate, each second that passed by brought him closer to his limit.

despite shuichi's selfish desire to hear your lips say his name again, he held his greedy urges back ; he needed to talk to you first. "no, you ...you don't have to talk. actually i... need to talk to you first." that's right, shuichi. stay calm, don't scare him, he's still recovering.

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling yourself slightly perspire at his serious tone ; he was usually a pretty calm, serious guy, so you weren't sure why you had been so nervous. this was quite common, however, talks like this happened a lot at his demand ; he believed communication was key — and since then you were always at his mercy with his sweet and honest sentiments.

however cringe-worthy they may have seemed, he never failed to make you flush from his honesty ; though the embarrassment he caused you had been nothing but unintentional, or at least...you believed it to be.

laughing nervously, you opened your mouth to say a stupid joke to lighten up the mood, but the throbbing feeling of your shoulder being detached, reattached, pulled, strained, and yanked stopped you from doing...well, practically anything. wincing, you gripped your wound instinctively.

"s/o! i- i said not to talk...!" the sudden, yet the revolting sound of his chair scraping against the floor hit your ears, but shuichi's hands cradling your face distracted you from the gross sound. "s- shuichi?" his touch acted as a brain restarted, as your pupils suddenly dilated ; memories of yesterday coming back to you and hitting you like that bullet you took for him.

that bullet you took for him...

"i- i did it out of love! just- just let me go! i can't go to jail! i just fucking can't!" with blurred and fuzzed vision, there stood the perp, a small pistol held improperly in his quivering hands as he spewed out excuses and nonsense.

"listen, it's going to be okay...! just put down the gun, and i promise, we'll try and work this out ; i'll talk to the judge about your prison time, just...trust me, okay?" right...you remember now. you could remember so vividly how beautiful he looked, even as he was practically sweating out of his fancy turtleneck, he still somehow was able to keep a calm attitude.

he was...he was such a nice guy. well, that was an understatement.

despite his amazingly calm and reserved speech, the perp remained unconvinced, yet also unsure of what he was supposed to do. that much was obvious when he kept darting his eyes all over the room indecisively picking one spot to focus on.

as you held your gun firmly and pointed in your hands, you flickered your eyes back onto the perp, despite wanting to stare at the detective for hours ; you had a job to do.

you sidestepped towards the detective that had kept his golden eyes glued onto the perp carefully, leaning your head into his side as you whispered something into his ear, "you know you can't actually do that, right?" you could see his adam's apple bob in response.

"i'll... i'll figure something out." shuichi adjusted his grip on the gun he held, eyebrows furrowed in such a breathtaking way. you could feel your knees buckle.

"what are you guys- what are you guys talking about, huh? talking about- how-how i'm such a pathetic piece of shit!? huh?!" you threw your head back to the shaking, wary man, gun tightening in your grip. "we weren't. just take his offer, it's the best thing you can do." your tone had been firmer than shuichi's, not as kind, but hey ; that was your whole dynamic.

"we really weren't." shuichi agreed, sincerity was written all over his face. a small part of you felt envious of his stare.

"stop-stop lying to me!" the perp's frantic switching of his gunpoint, seemed to halt to a stop as he directed it at shuichi ; causing an unwanted panic to rise up in the both of you, but mostly you.

"hey, you seem pretty nervous there. say, when was the last time you had any contact with drugs or alcohol?" you questioned in a condescending tone, a smug smile adorning your face and irking the already unstable man. looking back at it now, you should've kept your mouth shut. even so, shuichi's life was in danger, and if you had to risk your life for his ; well, you'd take any chance to do that.

the perp seemed to take the bait and aimed it back at your chest, lucky or unlucky for you two. "shut up!" an unreasonable relief washed over you as shuichi had been put out of danger.

shuichi looked over at you, communicating with his eyes as if he was pleading for you to stop and let him handle it instead. however, there seemed to be an itty bitty miscommunication. your ego seemed to betray you, as you started spewing out things you probably shouldn't have been saying ; all so you could impress the very nervous and quite frankly, unhappy detective.

"cocaine? heroin-?"

shuichi glared at you, mistakenly taking his eyes off the perp for once. "s/o, what are you doing?! i have this under control...!" he suddenly barked at you, breaking his composure as he had gotten a tidbit angered that you had been interfering with the negotiation.

"shut up! shut up, shut up, just shut the f-fuck up!" a gunshot rang out.

"watch out!" without thinking, you had shoved the frozen detective away from you, even if the gun had already been pointed at you ; you had no business risking his life.

jesus, you were probably the most idiotic man known to humankind.

next thing you know, you've been knocked onto the floor, head throbbing and wheezing from blood loss as shuichi has to determine whether he should chase after the perp or stay with you.

the decision had been more than easy ; he took barely one second to decide that your life was more important. dialing back-up in one hand, he crouched down to assist you with the other. taking in one shaky but deep inhale, shuichi nervously fiddled with his radio, shaky eyes glued to you. "officer down, i repeat officer down."

"the hell are you doing, saihara...!? he's going to get away!"

"i-i can't just leave! what if you- no, i-! just...just here," he handed to you a handkerchief he held in his shaky hands. "press it onto the wound, okay? please?" he wasn't going to take no for an answer, one more beat and he would've been doing it for you.

grunting, "shuichi, i'm happy you're worried about me but you're being hella stupid right now-" you cut yourself off, grunting at feeling the strain of talking.

"w- why did you do that? i had the situation under control...!" he sounded upset, that much was clear.

"he...he aimed the gun at you and i guess i panicked, i don't- i don't know, look- just go, alright? back-up's coming for me, and you know you can't let him get away." you could feel the adrenaline from getting shot wearing off, and with it, the pain getting worse. sweat formed on your brow ; it felt like the more you breathed, the more the searing pain worsened.

you knew deep down you didn't want him to go, that you were scared you could actually die within moments, yet you hated yourself for that feeling. it was extremely selfish. it wasn't fair. you could remember the way he looked at you.

"i'm not going, that's final. we're going to... we're going to wait for back-up together, okay?" it was weird to hear him use his asserting tone when talking to you, it was weird to hear him so confident with you too ; yet you couldn't ignore the strange sense of pride you held.

suddenly out of the blue, a wave of exhaustion hit you, causing your eyelids to flicker shut. you knew you weren't supposed to sleep ; especially not when you were bleeding out from your shoulder, but you told yourself, hey, one 10-minute nap couldn't hurt, right? back-up would come anyway.

before shuichi could even stop you, you're already out like a light, and causing sudden arrhythmia to shuichi's chest. "s/o! w-wake up!" with his words echoing throughout your dream-like state, your smile only seemed to widen ; he may have been screaming at you to not leave him — but his voice still kept that same, soothing tone to it. it was like a lullaby, to a man seconds away from death.

comparing his tone and reaction from the incident to now, it had certainly been different. you wondered what had changed... maybe he was mad? understatement of the year it seemed ; he was probably pissed the fuck off. you did ruin the negotiation after all, and for what?

"you don't seem very sad that i got shot ; i knew you were a pretty stoic guy but i didn't peg you as cold-hearted." you teased, to which shuichi held a neutral face, eyebrows creasing as he stared you dead in the eye. for a second you worried if he could tell you were joking.

"... i cried for days, s/o." his voice broke, and you could feel your heartbreak piece by piece as he frowned at you.

blinking in response, you didn't seem to believe him ; why would he cry over you? your head was probably just fucking with you. promptly ignoring the blood bag hanging beside you wondered if it had been the blood loss. "you- you what?"

it took you a few minutes to process what he had said, and for good reason. days? had you been asleep that long-? wait, he was crying? over you?

sometimes you forget he has emotions from how calm he is ; you swear you've only ever seen three sides of him ; anxious shuichi, serious shuichi, and calm shuichi. along with the occasional happy shuichi when you make him laugh with your shitty jokes, but that's a secret you keep between the two of you. or more like for yourself.

"i was- i mean, of course, i was devastated- you're sp- i mean- look, why did you- what made- that w- s/o, you- ah-" he stammered over his words frustratingly, hand rising to fiddle with his hair out of habit.

you watched him sympathetically. "hey, where'd mister assertive go?" you grinned, tone playful as you essayed soothing his anxiety. "...listen, it's okay, just take your time ; i'd prefer it if you did anyway, you're probably just gonna scold me, right?"

shuichi took strange comfort in your words, golden eyes staring straight at your hospital-gown covered chest as he tried calming himself down. "y-yeah...thanks." something was unsettling about how you seemed to be smiling in a situation where you nearly got yourself killed — even so, it was refreshing to see it.

he missed it. he missed you.

you had been sleeping for two days, so it would make sense that you were refreshed and well-rested enough to be back to your regular self.

whilst you had been peacefully sleeping and recovering in the nasty smelling hospital, shuichi had been in agony. those two whole days had been hell for him. crushing guilt and his anxiety attacked his head 24/7 ; even when he knew you probably weren't going to die in your sleep, 'probably' wasn't very assuring when you were shuichi saihara.

he would fret for hours and cry in the shower about whether it was his fault or not ; despite it being so obviously your fault, he couldn't help but wonder what he could've done differently. he shouldn't have been so weak, he'd tell himself. this was a normal thing that happened as a police officer, getting shot in the line of duty, it was normal. but it... it was completely different when he knew it was you who had been taking the bullet.

his eyes widened as he felt your hand clasp upon his. "don't look so guilty, shuichi. you're breaking my heart." you pouted, apologetic eyes staring at his kicked-puppy-like eyes. "sorry, i just- i know you said you...you said you panicked when the perp aimed the gun at me ; who, um, thankfully got captured by one of our back-up team." he could hear you sigh in relief, which frankly, irked him a little.

you were still worried about that? he, himself was a workaholic but not to the point where he would sigh in relief as there was a large bullet wound inside his shoulder.

"but uh, i don't...i don't think i understand why? i mean, he- he wasn't going to shoot, i had it under control—"

"i know you did, and i trust you but...i just couldn't take any chances, you know? i'm...honestly i don't really regret much." you smiled sheepishly, hands gently fiddling with his cold hand that rested on the very end of your hospital bed.

"i mean, i get to see you worried about me." you chuckled, "it's cute, i have to admit." you forgot all about your wound at this point.

his guilty expression didn't change a bit ; eyebrows only furrowing deeper down as he eyed you questionably. "you think it's...cute? you almost got yourself killed, s/o. you know you can't be that reckless. to get yourself nearly killed just because you didn't want to take the chance of me in danger...s/o, i was terrified. when you fell asleep, i thought my heart was collapsing — you shouldn't have done that for me—" his worries spilled out of his mouth like fluid, the words coming to mind easier, and quicker at the cause of your hands being a good distraction.

"saihara." you snapped him out of it, tugging his arm further towards you. "don't cry, okay? i'm okay. if it makes you feel better, i'll...try not to do that again. please, just..." you swiped your thumb at his face, flushing as he instinctually leaned into your hand.

shuichi sniffed in response, hands coming up to wipe his own face as soon as he realized he was, indeed crying. "...i'm sorry."

"i know i'm too reckless for my own good, but i just didn't want for you to get hurt. you're...you mean so much to me. more than you could ever know." you confessed, eyes averting as you tried to avoid his reaction.

"um, i don't know what i'm saying — maybe it's the painkillers? they put in the right blood type for me, righ-?" you took your hand away from his and to the back of your cold neck.

"i made sure they had the right one — but um, what did you mean by that? just earlier?" shuichi stared up at you, pouting as you only seemed to look away from his detecting stare.

you knew one look in your eyes would show everything you felt for him ; and you weren't sure if he even wanted to see that emotion. so you settled for a temporary solution.

"um, is- is that a bee outside? i like bees, though they are going instinct — haha, the human race is fucked-"

"s/o, why are you avoiding the question?" he dealt with many guilty perps, thus knowing when someone was guilty ; and that right now, had been you.

you grunted underneath his stare, sinking further down into your sheets as you sighed defeatedly. it's not like you could hide from a detective for long. "i- uh, i just meant like," your confidence seemed to deter ; and for a second shuichi almost felt bad. almost.

his job as a detective meant he wouldn't stop until he got answers ; and that applied to his daily life as well, his daily life that included so much of you.

damn him and his adorable crying. "i think i...since the gun thing, and i don't know if this will comfort you in anyway but this has been seriously e-eating at my brain and i finally know- i finally know what this feeling is. i feel kind of dumb for not knowing earlier ; i mean, was my career as a detective nothing?" you gazed at him from underneath the 'comfort' of your uncomfortable paper-thin sheets.

"getting off-track, i just meant that i-i think that i really really like you." your voice had been slightly muffled by the sheets, but shuichi heard you clearly nonetheless. he made sure he did.

"you- me? r- romantically?" he flushed bright red as you nodded in confirmation.

you hoped he was as embarrassed as you were because you felt like you would dissolve into the sheets from the pure humiliation if he wasn't. "youdon'thavetosayanything,ijustthoughti'dletyoukno-"

"n-no, that's not it! i- i like you too! i...haha, to be honest, i thought this would go differently." he chuckled, scratching his cheek awkwardly as he eyes your shoulder wound.

jerking up, you briefly ignored the searing pain in your shoulder as you leaned way too close to him for comfort, a look of pure devastation and worry on your face. "you already knew?"

he couldn't help but think your worried pout was nothing but adorable, unsuccessfully stifling a goofy smile. "no, i..." honestly he kind of did already know, but he never thought it was something possible ; thus clouding his judgment.

"i planned to confess, actually...i was planning to-to talk to you about it during one of our-"

you made an 'o' shape with your mouth, a thoughtful look in your eyes as you nodded understandingly. "-talks, of course."

huffing quietly, he sent you a worried look. "what, are they bad? communication is key, you know-" his informative, but light-hearted scolding had been cut off as you reached to tussle with his hair, erupting a hiccup out of him.

"they're not bad ; you're just...you're a real saint."

"a-ah, i wouldn't say that..." you laughed at his nervous reaction, retracting your hand to his dismay.

"that's what a saint would say." he pouted at your teasing tone, grabbing your arm gently with his hand as he kept in mind your disability.

you cut him off as he opened his mouth, seemingly about to defend himself. "don't worry too much about it ; i actually sometimes like our talks...though i spend most of my time staring at you as you talk, it's still pretty fun." oops.

"s-s/o..." he squeaked, looking at you pleadingly for a reason you hadn't been aware of yet.

"what? i didn't say anything wrong, did i?" blinking at him, you tilted your head.

"n-no, but- um." he wasn't sure how to tell you how much he wanted to kiss you right now. those talks proved to be nothing but useless as he couldn't find the words he desperately wanted to speak.

it was only then had you noticed he had leaned half his body over you, nearly climbing into the hospital bed with you. the sudden realization caused you to widen your eyes, as you awkwardly hovered your hands in the air. it was like your body had been telling you to touch him, cradle his head but you didn't know how, or where.

the awkwardness had caused a small, nervous chuckle to erupt from your throat ; prompting shuichi's worried glances. were you laughing at him?

you felt him shrink away, and out of panic, you let your heart act before your brain could. your hands cupped his face, a quiet clapping noise echoing throughout the white hospital room walls and only seeming to make everything more strange than it had been.

shuichi held a shocked expression on his face, as you had practically been melting from how much you were sweating. fuck, did i mess this up?

no words had been exchanged, both of you, too bewildered and too nervous to say or do anything — the situation grew so bizarre that it literally left them speechless. with both pairs of eyes glued onto the others, neither of you moved — no matter how sore shuichi's arms had been getting from holding himself up not to crush you, and how with each agonizing second, you weren't sure whether or not to tighten your grip on his jaw.

"a-are you going to kiss me? or just stand there?"

"i-i can do that? really?" shuichi watched you closely for confirmation ; and you swore you felt him lean in closer to you — not that you were complaining. in any way. whatsoever.

"um, y-yeah. i-i consent, ha— mmf-!" shuichi hadn't bothered to hide his eagerness, lips already pressing and moving against yours like it was instinct, like it was something he had been waiting for for years.

your fingers ultimately tightened around his jaw, and you made the move to bring him further down onto you — to which wasn't a very good choice.

"w-wah! s/o, w-wait a second!" he muffled through your lips, golden eyes revealing themselves as he lifted his eyelids in a panic as you started pulling him down to you. he was unreasonably afraid of accidentally putting you in more pain ; but the electrifying feeling you had felt from his lips on yours had had the same cause and feeling as 10 million painkillers — you felt like you were in cloud 9 with a million tiny shuichi angels swimming and flying around you.

you promptly ignored him, craving more as you used one of your arms to hug him close to you — the position probably looked like you were trying to strangle him, but your lips on his said otherwise.

you two probably spent 30 minutes making out in your assigned hospital bed, but hey, it's not like anyone was waiting.

...i mean, just ignore the nurse awkwardly standing at the doorway and you're fine.

⊱───── ❝ thank you for reading! ❞ ─────⊰

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