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#its a good ship full of tender looks and quiet smiles
deepouterspacecandy · 3 months
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Dancing Shadows
It’s not that you were smitten with her.  
It’s just that when she accidentally brushed her leg against yours under the table, it set your body on fire. Warmth spilled from your head to your toes with an innocent touch and it was almost adolescent. The way her very presence caused you to avert your eyes the moment it happened, an instinctual reach for the nearest plastic straw or frayed string of your hoodie.
Anything to fiddle with to distract from the jackhammer between your ribs.
“Abby!” a familiar voice rang out.
You winced and immediately regretted it. You were never good at hiding your emotions.
Maybe nobody at this godforsaken table noticed your distaste for Owen. It wasn’t reasonable—your hatred for him, and you knew as much. Your reaction to his presence was based solely on boiling, unadulterated jealousy and so what? You were only human.
“What’s up?” Abby cooed, letting herself become smothered by the man behind her.
Okay, so smothered is a tad dramatic, but come on. Get a room.
“Just thought I’d check in with my favourite girl before shipping out,” Owen said. “This might be the longest we’ve been apart since we met.”
“Good riddance,” you mumbled.
Nora snorted at your near silent outburst, giving you a gentle kick. That tender brush of ankles beneath the table set nothing on fire but your attitude. You’d have to give it to her, though. She was always looking out for your best interest.
Owen Moore was the luckiest man in the entire compound, and you envied the way his dopey demeanor always seemed to put a smile on her face. Did he know how fortunate he was?
“I’m full,” you blurted, pushing away your half-eaten burrito. “Catch you later.”
You couldn’t bear to stop and analyze the shocked expression painted on Abby’s face.
She had saved you a spot at the table, the way she did every day. Her grey jacket bunched up on the bench across from her, awaiting your arrival. Her pretty face breaking into a smirk as you fumbled with your tray and her favourite coat.
She hadn’t muttered a single complaint when you opted for laying the fabric across your lap, even after dropping a stray piece of lettuce and mayo onto the collar.
She simply grinned and continued ranting about the current book she was reading. Well, that was before Owen turned up.
Abby called out to you, but your cheeks burned, and your stomach twisted in that uncomfortable way it often seemed to do in these situations. You hurried out of the chow hall without a second glance or destination in mind.
Your feet, one in front of the other, took you away from the source of the agony, and that’s all you could stand to process.
When you collapsed onto the couch in the library, it wasn’t much of a surprise.
This was your safe place. Your sanctuary.
Within minutes, the tight ball of rope in the pit of your stomach relaxed. Dim lighting and the weathered scent of old literature, the quiet hum of passersby in the hallway. The glide of battered paper between your fingers. The comfort of knowing that a temporary slice of peace was only a chapter away.
This little nook developed into a haven to have yourself a serious nervous system override, which your body desperately needed after a hectic week on patrol, coupled with far too many sleepless nights.
Fear wove its way through the stadium as the conflict between the WLF and the Scars mounted. In a matter of weeks, the ceasefire between the two factions disappeared.
When the Seraphites crossed boundaries they ought not cross, both in land and principle, Isaac retaliated without hesitation. And when Isaac sent his soldiers into their territory intending to cause abject harm, the Scars gathered their resources and fired back in short order. A vicious cycle perpetuated by ruthless leaders at the expense of loyal, dependent lives.
To say the conflict had transformed into a bloodbath was putting it lightly. You spent many hours in your bunk over the recent weeks, staring into the abyss in sheer disbelief.
How could human beings treat each other with such careless disregard? You didn’t agree with the way they lived, but at your core, it didn’t spark a desire for violence. You understood the importance of protecting your community, and you would do so without protest. It just seemed rather counterintuitive.
Could the war between your groups meet an end before your life wound up on the front lines as the next sacrifice?
It wasn’t until you started curling up in Abby’s jacket that you realized you’d taken it hostage in your frenetic escape. Heat trickled across the bridge of your nose, pooling in your cheeks.
“It looks better on you, anyway.”
“God, you scared me,” you huffed, clutching your chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Abby’s calm tone filled your chest up with wild flutters as she slid in next to you on the couch.
Was this piece of furniture always so small?
Suddenly, there was only the hard edge of it at your heels and the overwhelming strength of the girl nestled beside you.
“It’s that brain of yours, always fretting about something. It’s bad for your health, you know,” Abby said. Her fresh breath, so close to your own, caused your insides to capsize. You tried not to fixate on her blonde braid spilling onto your shoulder. How she reminded you of an autumn forest, her skin softened by a bar of her beloved pine soap.
“I knew you were hoarding packs of chewing gum,” you said. “Show off.”
She smirked, giving you a playful nudge with a wad of minty green pressed between her teeth. “Want some?”
“Hard pass,” you said, desperate to control the giggles building in your throat. “Keep all those Owen cooties to yourself, please and thank you.”
She nibbled at the dry skin on her bottom lip before giving you a sidelong glance. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
A pang of guilt struck at your core. There was a tinge of melancholy in her voice. The last thing in the world you wanted to do was make her sad.
“He’s alright,” you said with a lazy shrug.
She grinned. “Just alright?”
“I’m indifferent to his existence.”
“That’s so much worse,” she chortled, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them back up, bright blue and glossy, it felt like she was staring into your soul.
Your heart thundered, turning your mouth bone-dry. Perhaps you should’ve accepted her gum after-all.
“What?” you rasped. If she recognized the panic in your voice, she was kind enough not to draw attention to it.
“Just you,” she whispered.
“Me?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You.”
“What about me?”
She shifted her body, and you all but froze as she moved onto her side, bracing herself to better look at you. It took all your might to muster the courage to meet her gaze. Her eyes flitted to your mouth for the briefest moment, and you swallowed hard.
“I think you’re really sweet,” she said. “Not very discreet, though.”
“Excuse you? And what exactly does that mean?” You graciously took offense, challenging her assessment. Her smile only radiated.
“It means I can read you like a book,” Abby said.
“Fat chance,” you teased. “It’s a miracle you can read at all!”
Her brow quirked, and her high spirit slipped into a tantalizing grin. “Can I take a crack at your disdain for Owen?”
Part of you wanted her to hit the nail on the head to tear your feelings for her wide open. Another part of you prayed for her to change the subject to save you from the heartache of the inevitable.
She was in a relationship. Taken. Beyond that, you were certain she was straight as an arrow, and it was nicer to exist in sheer denial of that fact for the time being.
“Well?” she pressed. “Can I?”
“Go nuts,” you said, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll give you three guesses.”
She shifted again, this time to make room for her hands to fidget. Was she nervous?
“He’s terrible at tracking,” Abby offered, as the corner of her mouth hitched. “Right?”
“I mean, yes,” you groaned. “He sucks at tracking, but that’s—that’s not why.”
She blew out a ragged breath, a sudden wash of pink highlighting her freckles. She hummed to herself and then clicked her tongue, pretending to ponder. “Gotcha. Okay. Only two more guesses. I better make them good.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” you asked, covering your face with your forearm.
“I know what it is!” she exclaimed, pausing for theatrical effect. “It’s because he interrupts everyone just before the punchline of a story, isn’t it?”
“Abby.”
“That drives me mental, too.”
“Abigail,” you grumbled. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
You hid yourself behind her crumpled jacket and the scent of this beautiful girl all around you turned your already racing thoughts into a dishevelled mess.
“Hold up,” Abby said. She reached for her jacket with such gentle intention, pulling it away from your face. “I get one more guess.”
Electricity threatened the mellow ambiance of the library, despite the adjacent hallway falling into silence. Everyone must be heading back to their duty assignments.
Everyone outside of you and Abby, of course. Surely, someone would come searching.
“A deal’s a deal,” you said.
The heat from her body prickled your skin with a million tiny beads of sweat. You wanted to swipe your sleeve across your upper lip, too conscious of drawing focus to your nerves.
Her gaze transformed into something deep and ethereal the more you squirmed. She seemed entertained by your anxious energy, and you swear you could melt into the couch with each expectant glance she sent your way.
“If I get this right, what will you give me?”
“Give you?” you scoffed. “You mean like, a prize or something? Do I look like a carnival to you, Anderson?”
“All you really need is a big red nose,” she smirked.
This is precisely why you adored her. She knew when to apply pressure and when to ease the load. It’s what made her an excellent leader.
Abby was so much more than a disciplined soldier.
“You calling me a clown?”
She wiggled closer, laying her head on your shoulder. She let out a long exhale, as if she’d been holding her breath. “Maybe.”
You struggled to piece two coherent thoughts together. This conversation had already played out in your mind a dozen times, through many daydreams. You ached for Abby. Hopelessly charmed by her wit and her magnetism. But you couldn’t fathom being a secret of hers. A sneaky affair in the shadows.
Sure, you weren’t fond of Owen, but hurting him wasn’t at the top of your priority list, either.
You wanted Abby in the daylight.
Arms wrapped around her before a patrol, as her squad loaded the Humvee and Manny called over his shoulder about how utterly corny you two were. You wanted her to pull you onto her lap in public, a bashful smile on her face.
You wanted to be hers, and you wanted it to be okay.
“You make me feel things I’ve never felt before,” Abby said.
Her confession sent you over the edge, your heart beating impossibly fast. Could she feel it?
As you scrambled to find your words, she continued.
“I think about you all the time. Probably more than I should,” she said. “It’s making me crazy.”
You heard the echo of another hard swallow. This time you weren’t sure who it belonged to.
“Is that a bad thing?” you asked.
She lifted her head from your shoulder, and let it fall to the back of the couch, her sturdy features enveloped by the amber light of a nearby lamp. She was breathtaking. Sweat caused the short hairs around her face and neck to curl, bits of frizz peeking out from her loosening braid. You’d seen nothing more gorgeous in your lifetime.
“If I do what my body is begging me to do right now, it would be a very bad thing,” Abby said. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”
You nodded with a mixture of disappointment and relief. “I understand.”
Abby rubbed her vascular hands along her thighs, seemingly absorbed in thought. “I still have one more guess.”
“That you do.”
She sucked in a breath, controlling her exhale. A gym method she no doubt applied to most stressful situations during her daily grind.
“You hate Owen because you want me to be your girl instead,” Abby said. Her eyelids became heavier as she tried to catch hold of your unfocused gaze. “You want me.”
You nodded again, unable to look her in the eye, terrified that the two of you might lose control.
“Tell me then,” she said. “Tell me how you feel. I need to hear you say it.”
You noticed her legs spreading further apart, her natural confidence rivalling the alarm bells going off inside you. She anchored herself to the couch and the sudden thought of straddling her showered you with an intense surge of heat.
“When you kiss him, I wish it was me instead,” you said. “I wish it was me you reached for whenever you crave comfort. I want to be the one you run to when you’re happy or afraid. I want to keep you safe and make you feel alive. All of it.”
“Are you sure?” she murmured.
“Beyond,” you said. “I have wanted you for so long, Abby.”
Her knuckles skimmed the outside of your thigh. Inconspicuous and so, so gentle. “Give me some time, okay?”
“Of course.”
“God, you’re so pretty,” she said, igniting you both in a bout of shy giggles. “I finally get to say it. That’s allowed for now, right? I don’t even care. You are so fucking pretty, it’s killing me.”
Before you could fall into another dangerous pull, the doors to the library cracked open. Manny poked his head inside to remind Abby of the duties she needed to tend to. There was a slew of small missions Isaac demanded she organize, some requiring her to leave the compound for the afternoon. You were grateful to be off his radar for the day.
“Will you be here when I get back?”
“I’ll be around,” you said, linking your pinky finger with hers in unison, your hands tucked between her thigh and your own.
“Good. I’ll find you,” Abby whispered.
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frenchkisstheabyss · 6 months
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♡ I Will Follow You Into The Dark ♡
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♡ Pairing: boyfriend!felix x fem!reader
♡ Genre: cotton candy fluff
♡ Summary: After a long night filled with tough emotions, an early morning bubble bath cuddled up with your boyfriend while he tells you a story is the perfect thing to ease your mind.
♡ Word Count: 1.2k-ish
♡ Warnings: It's briefly mentioned that the reader has gone through trauma in the past that led to a breakdown. You're in a bathtub together so, ya know, no clothes. You get a little flirty. Kissing. Mention of a snake bite in the story he tells you.
♡ A/N: Tonight was another "let's be all in my feelings night" so, as always, please hop into the feels with me and partake in some fluffy sweet comfort.
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It’s early enough in the morning when you slip into a warm bubble bath with Felix that it feels like you’re the last two people on Earth. The small window above the vintage clawfoot tub is cracked, allowing birdsong to float freely into the room on the coattails of a crisp autumn breeze. As you curl up between his legs, your head tucked comfortably under his chin, he brings his arms around to embrace you.
Lilac blossom scented bubbles cling to his arms, dripping down your chest and shoulders to rejoin the others that float atop the water. You haven’t turned the lights on yet, leaving you tucked in the shadows, partially hidden from the sliver of light that breaks through the pleated cotton curtains. What little light that does reach you soaks your skin in rich amber. “The sunlight,” he says, “Makes you look sweet.”
You look up at him, smiling soft as autumn leaves falling from trees when you realize he’s been staring at you this entire time. “It makes me look sweet?” “Yeah, like honey. I could just eat you up.” Kisses rain down on you, a tender yet ruthless attack that has Felix holding you still as his lips jump from your cheek to your neck to your shoulder and back to your cheek again.
It tickles something fierce, leaving you unable to do much else besides kick your feet and giggle. Water splashes onto the marbled tile floor, clusters of bubbles sailing across puddles like ships out at sea. Felix couldn’t care less about causing a small flood, every bit of his focus is on you. He only stops when he’s satisfied, kissing your cheek one last time for good measure just when you think he’s done.
Together you gradually settle into a space of quiet tranquility. There’s no awkwardness. No underlying pressure to do or say anything in particular. You’re here in this moment together. Just the two of you. Your love for each other prominent enough in its essence that words aren’t necessary. But even in the comfort of his arms, emotions from last night linger within you.
Your trauma, you do what you can to manage it, but sometimes it comes back to haunt you. When it does it clings to you like sticky pink bubblegum on a hot summer day. Last night was one of those times. You felt lost, fully incapable of holding yourself together, so you came to Felix. The safest place you’ve ever known for your broken pieces. There’s so much distance now between the brokenness that consumed you last night and the peace you feel this morning.
A distance that grows wider and wider the longer you’re with him. “No matter what you do,” he’d whispered only a few hours ago, cuddled up behind you on his couch, “I’ll always be in awe of you.” He meant it then and, watching you zone out playing with the bubbles, he hopes that, even in your daze, you know he means it now. That he’ll mean it forever.
Felix takes your hand, placing his fingers in the spaces between yours just as the universe intended, “Hey.” “Hi,” you say, sensing almost immediately that he wants to do something—anything—to ease your pain, “I could use a story.” “Ooh, a story. What kind of story?” You pet his cheek, closing your eyes in preparation for the full ASMR experience of listening to him speak. “Dealer’s choice. I’m just here to listen.”
He pokes his lips out, pushing air from one puffed up cheek to the other as the gears turn in his brain. “I’ve got one. Okay, so, there’s this story Hyunjin taught me about. A myth actually.” “Mythology. Sexy.” you tease, lightly running a nail down the side of his neck. Felix shivers when you hit that one spot that always gets him. He tilts his head to whisper in your ear, “Did you want a story or something more...active? Cause if you keep doing that—” 
One of his hands glides down your right thigh, sending the shivers from his own body straight through yours. “Fine, I’ll behave,” you pout, “Continue.” You don’t clarify what to continue. Rubbing your thigh? Telling the story? He chooses both. You’re nearly glowing, clearly pleased with his decision. And so he begins—
“There’s this ancient Greek myth about Apollo’s son Orpheus who fell in love with this really gorgeous woman named Eurydice. It was love at first sight. He saw her and just knew she was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.” 
“How romantic,” you sigh, eyes still closed, blissfully unaware of the adoration in his eyes when he speaks. He just knew. 
“Very much so,” he agrees, continuing the story, “So Orpheus and Eurydice. They were married shortly after they met. Not everyone supported it but they loved each other. That was all that mattered. And they were happy. At least until Eurydice died. There are lots of different versions of how she died. Most commonly it’s a snake bite though.” 
Felix bites your cheek a little, hissing like the cutest snake on the planet. If this is the snake bite that ends you, you’ll take it. 
“Losing her…he wasn’t able to accept it. So, with the gods’ protection, he traveled to Hades to bring her back. Once he reached the underworld he played a song for Hades that was so beautiful he was offered a deal. Eurydice could return to the world of the living but she couldn’t walk out by his side. She had to walk out behind him in her spirit form, only becoming human again when she stepped into the light. And if he looked back—” 
You open your eyes, dramatically clutching your hand to your chest, “If he looked back what?” Felix runs a finger across your neck, sticking his tongue out in his best attempt to mimic a corpse. “Dead for good. Lost forever.” “Let me guess. He looked back, didn't he?” “That’s right my smart little cookie."
"The closer they got to the world of the living, the lighter her footsteps became. He started to doubt she was following him so when they were only a few feet from the surface he looked back just in time to see the face of his love as she disappeared into the darkness.” 
Readjusting yourself in the tub, you turn to face him, your face near enough to his that the air you breathe out is what he breathes in. “If it were me would you look back?” “No,” he answers without hesitation. “Because you trust me?” He leans in closer so that his words are spoken directly onto your lips, “Because I’d never take that deal. We come out of the dark together or not at all.”
It steals your breath away to hear such a heartfelt answer. To feel him spell it out across your lips. Felix kisses you, his arms closing back around you as he fills your hollow lungs with the passion laced air of his own. It’s enough to make you cry, that he loves you so completely.
If you hadn’t woken up and asked him to take this bath with you. If you wanted to lay in bed all day with the curtains closed and the lights out. He would’ve stayed there with you in the darkness. In the underworld. Playing songs of devotion not for the pity of Hades but for the love of you, his Eurydice, until you could return to the light.
Together or not at all...
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cosmic-kaden · 2 months
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Mini drabble - waking next to him.
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ships: Ben Solo x Kaden Reese
words: 566
Notes: I just had the best dream ever and I needed to make it a mini fic because my heart is so full. I feel like crying right now in a good way!
cw: none just pure fluff.
Banner made by @/cafekitsune
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In the quiet of the ship's quarters, where the only light came from the soft glow of the control panels, Kaden laid awake. The universe outside was a silent, endless void, but inside, the world felt small and surprisingly warm. They shared the space with Ben, who seemed to be lost in the peaceful embrace of sleep. His features were relaxed, the usual intensity that danced in his eyes now smoothed over by dreams.
Kaden couldn't help but admire him in these quiet moments. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, the softness of his lips slightly parted. It was a rare sight to see him so unguarded, so serene. They couldn't help the feeling that washed over them, Kaden reached out, their fingers brushing back the stray locks of hair from his face in a feather like touch, before moving to trace the line of the scar on his face, ever so gently as to not disturb him from his slumber.
They marveled at how peaceful he looked, how the harsh lines of his face softened in sleep, making him appear unburdened by the weight he carried when awake.
As if drawn by the touch, Ben's eyelids fluttered open, revealing those deep beautiful eyes that seemed to hold entire galaxies within them. A playful smile tugged at his lips, breaking the silence that had filled the quarters. "It's rude to stare, you know." he teased, his voice low and warm, laced with amusement.
Kaden felt a flush of warmth spread across their cheeks, caught in the act.
The flush to Kaden's cheeks did not go unnoticed by Ben and he smiled a little wider, revealing a cute little dimple on the side of his cheek.
"I couldn't help it," they admitted, their voice a whisper in the quiet ship. "You just…look so beautiful…..and peaceful."
The softness that greeted this confession seemed to pull them closer, the space between them charged with an unspoken affection. Ben's hand found Kaden's, their fingers intertwining with an ease that spoke of familiarity, of countless moments shared just like this one.
"Well…" Ben murmured, shifting to close the distance between them, "Since you're so fond of staring… maybe I should get a better look at you too." His tone was playful, but beneath it lay an undercurrent of something deeper, something that made Kaden's heart beat a little faster.
The world outside the ship, with its star-studded darkness, faded away as they drew closer. What mattered was here and now—the warmth of Ben's body against theirs, the gentle pressure of his lips and the quiet sound of their shared breaths. The kiss was soft, a tender exploration that spoke volumes, a promise of unwavering connection no matter where they found themselves in the universe.
In the dim light of the ship, with no sun to mark the day, time seemed irrelevant. They lingered in each other's arms, content in the silence that followed. The kiss turned into cuddles, their bodies entwined as they sought the warmth and comfort of each other's presence. It was a rare moment of peace—a moment Kaden knew they would cherish, a memory to hold onto in the times when the universe seemed too vast and cold.
Here, in the quiet they found solace in each other's arms, a reminder that no matter how far they traveled or what challenges lay ahead, they had found a home within each other.
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If you're not a self shipper I kindly ask you dni with this post <3 i have anxiety lol
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davnittbraes · 10 months
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The Fourth Step - Chapter Thirty-Four
Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.
Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5100
Warnings, etc.: anxiety, angst, mentions of strict religious code in a negative context, fluffy fluff, silly banter because it’s these two, SMUT, Mando’s Fingering Skills™️, squirting, a good old fashioned prone bone, I’ve always wanted to use that sentence somehow and I’m delighted to have finally done so, tender afterglow moment that hurt my heart to write
Notes: this chapter is like a parfait - a layer of domesticity, a dollop of heart-to-heart conversation, a whole-ass scoop of sexytimes and a cherry on top of introspection. Enjoy and please brush your teeth afterwards.
Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.
Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.
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“Well, pfassk.” 
You press down on the lid of the storage crate again, but it still doesn’t quite close enough for the latches to catch. 
Throwing the lid open, you glare at the contents inside. “Which one of you is causing the problem?”
Quiet is the only response, the contents silent and the ship’s engines a gentle hum in the background. The kid’s soft babbling drifts down from the cockpit, and Din’s muffled reply. 
You’d taken on the task of putting away the supplies you’d bought on Nevarro while he ran diagnostics on the Crest or some other such mechanical wizardry. And since the kid had a habit of climbing into small spaces when you weren’t looking - that time he’d locked himself in a crate still makes your stomach turn with anxiety - Din had removed him from temptation.
It’s good for you, having something to keep your hands and mind busy right now. 
Those emotions that have been simmering for a couple days are close to the surface, but it’s going to take time and concentration to talk through them. Not something you want to try with a mischievous little green dude constantly pulling your attention. 
But that’s ok, you can wait until the kid goes to bed. 
You know Din will be there to listen, whenever you’re ready. 
Reaching into the crate, you move around the rations you’d just stacked inside, taking the first few off the top and sliding them into a small gap toward the back. 
Your gaze snags on something unfamiliar. 
A large, grey box underneath where you had first put the rations. 
You had somehow missed it before, but now it’s a glaring strangeness. Nervousness flutters in your stomach - given the type of people you and Din are trying to avoid, a random box showing up on the ship is probably not a good sign. 
There’s a flap or something sticking out of the top - a scrap of paper? 
Carefully, you pull it free, trying not to shift the box too much. 
It has writing on it, scrawling, uneven letters but you can read it -
You might act like teenagers but your backs definitely aren’t young anymore. Take care of yourselves, my friends.
Understanding slices through the nerves. 
Cara Dune. 
She must have snuck this in while helping you load up supplies, just before you’d left Nevarro. 
Your smile shifts into a grin as you pull the grey box out into the open, see the words printed on the side. 
Anticipation trips your heartbeat. 
Suddenly you’re looking forward to the kid’s bedtime for another reason. 
*****
Your heart keeps up its fluttering throughout the day, though its reason alternates between excitement and nervousness. 
The kid is thankfully well-behaved, and adorably grateful when you tuck his stuffed frog that you’d found into his pod. At some point in the last few weeks, the toy had ended up beneath a shelf and despite you and Din searching for the better part of an hour, it had remained there until you’d moved it while rearranging the hold. 
Now, the kid is snuggled into his hammock, stuffed frog clutched in his tiny clawed hands, breathing even and slow as sleep finally pulls him away from the world. 
Your gaze lingers on the frog. 
A flash of memory - 
Din, sifting through a small box full of trinkets, odds and ends that Cara’s recruits had gathered while they cleared the Aqualish raiders from the sewers that had once been his home. 
I know the child it belongs - belonged to. She would want you to have it.
The guilt that had dulled his voice, then his confession that he blamed himself for the deaths of so many of his people. 
You had tried to find the words to lessen the weight of his guilt, but it’s woven through his sense of obligation to his people, so firmly embedded you don’t think he’ll ever be truly free of it. 
Because he’ll never let go of that obligation.
The well of emotion you’ve been keeping just under the surface roils, threatens to break through.
“I could hear you thinking from the cockpit.”
His natural gentle rasp is obvious even through the helmet’s modulator, soothing and familiar enough that you don’t startle as you realize he’d come down the ladder without you hearing him, too lost in thought to see he’s standing right next to you until this moment. 
You smile, though it feels weak. “Sorry. I’ll try to be quieter next time.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He runs a finger gently along the edge of the hammock in a wordless goodnight to the kid, then keys the bunk door closed and takes off his gloves, tucking them into his belt. “I’ll listen, whenever it gets too loud.”
Your smile is genuine this time, gaze lingering in the curve of his helmet under the dim lights, seeking his gaze behind the black visor. “I know you will.”
His hands cup your face, warm and reassuring. You revel in his touch for a moment, breathing deep, then grasp them, press a kiss to a palm before curling your fingers around them and holding them against the place where your heart pounds at your ribcage. 
You need to feel those hands, close, steady, as you let that well of emotion rise to the forefront. 
He waits, ever patient, watching you. 
Always watching you. 
Funny how it used to make you uncomfortable. 
Now it reminds you that he sees you. 
He sees you. 
And he trusts you to be honest with him. To be in this together. 
A single deep breath, your heartbeat thudding as your lungs expand and contract. 
Talk to him. 
You meet his gaze behind the visor. “I know what I was feeling, the other day. When you said Karga had a lead on the location of other Mandalorians.” Your head shakes a little, negating your own words. “I know what I’m still feeling.”
He doesn’t speak, a soft squeeze of your hands all the encouragement you need. 
“It’s a lot of things, actually. Not just one feeling - no, wait.” You pausing, looking inward, parsing through the buzz of emotion. “I think it feels like a lot of things because it’s so much, but when I look deeper, past all the noise, I can see what it really is.”
A subtle shift, he edges closer to you, thumbs stroking over the backs of your hands. 
The noise clears, sharpens, realizes. 
You swallow past the threatening lump in your throat. “It’s fear. I’m afraid, Din.”
Tension twitches his fingers, the helmet tilts slightly. “Afraid of what?”
The words almost get stuck, snag on your tongue, it’s so tempting to push them back and say something else, something that hurts less to voice out loud but you can’t, you have to say them or they’ll eat you from the inside out, you know that now. He’s shown you that. 
Another swallow, the lump is persistent, tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Losing you.”
A pause, like he’s thinking of what to say, then his voice drifts softly between you. “Where are you afraid I’ll go?”
Kriff, he couldn’t just give some sweet reassurance, some insistence that he’s not going to leave you so you can have the excuse to turn the conversation - he cuts right to the root of it all. 
Your words shake a little despite your best efforts. “With them. With your people.”
His hands grip yours tight, as if he’s trying to emphasize the truth behind what he’s saying. “Where I go, you go.”
And you wish that was enough, the firmness in his voice enough to dull the doubt edging that ice-cold well of fear that’s rising quickly but it’s not. “But will they let me go with you? Will they let us be together?”
“They -“
It all pours from you in a rush, disjointed and sharp. “I love you, Din, just as you are, as the man and the Mandalorian. And I would never - but I’m not Mandalorian, I don’t think I can be, I can’t follow The Way like you do, it just doesn’t feel right, for me, but I don’t want to lose you and -“
“I don’t expect you to swear The Creed.” That firmness is still there but stronger, strengthened by steel-wrapped honesty. 
Even that’s not enough and fear keeps rising, bubbling out of you. “Can you say for sure that neither will they?”
Silence, thick and heavy, tension no longer just twitching but pulling his grip tight.
Damning, telling silence that says what you fear the most. 
Too late, he lessens his grip, helmet shaking side to side once. “It doesn’t matter what they say.”
Tears blur your vision and you keep going. “But it does, it has to, and that’s ok. They’re your people, they saved your life, raised you, protected you. I -“ the words actually do stick this time, you have to push them out - “I can’t ask you to choose between your people and me.”
“If I have to choose, then I’ll always -“
“Don’t.” Your hands fly free of his, press against his breastplate, desperate to stop his next words. “Don’t say it, please. You can’t possibly know what might happen in the future. Please don’t say something you might regret.”
A finger nudges your chin, you open your eyes - when had you closed them? - and he’s there, still there, with you. 
For now. 
His finger curls under your chin, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “I know how I feel about you. And I know nothing can happen that will change that.”
Your eyes squeeze shut again, you can’t look at him, already seeing him slipping away -
“Tionas.”
The word cuts through your fear, sharper, straight to your heart. 
That single word, become a term of endearment, with a deeper meaning. An identity. 
You. 
The real you, not a face you put on, not a mask you wear. 
He sees you.
He knows you. 
He loves you. 
Your lungs burn as you breathe, and you focus on it, feel the fear cracking with the movement, the warmth of his fingers on your skin thawing the doubt and flooding your chest. 
“Nothing and no one can come between us.” His voice is full of that love, the source of that firmness he’s been speaking with. “We are one when together, we are one when parted. Remember?”
You open your eyes, look into his gaze behind the familiar black visor. The light bleeds into the silver of his beskar, almost illuminating it from within, making him glow through the blur of your tears. 
A light. A star in the night sky. 
A man you love.
A man who loves you. 
Your heart stumbles, those words resonating through your body, pulling forth the memory of the Mando’a that has cemented itself in your thoughts. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome.”
He cups your face once again, fingertips brushing away the tears that have slipped down your cheeks, and steps forward, leans his forehead against yours. The cool of the beskar on your skin anchors you back in the moment, the unknown future relegated to where it should be. 
Right here, right now, with him - is where you should be. 
Your smile is full of a sudden lightness, weight of emotion letting go. “Thank you. For listening. And for reminding me that I’m safe with you.”
His breath catches, barely heard through the modulator, but there. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
All that emotion finally melts away, leaving you to feel his hands on your face, the nearness of his broad frame. 
And the knowledge of what you have waiting for him in the hold. 
Excitement finally wins out as the last of the dark thoughts fades, bolstered by the need to be close to him after letting your emotions scrape so raw. 
Your hands slip down his breastplate, skim up his sides. “Take me to bed?”
“Gladly.” He lets his fingers trail down your neck as he pulls away, a wordless promise of more when he gets to his destination. 
Anticipation makes you bite your lip, feet light as you move to the corner of the hold where your shared blankets used to be, him close behind. 
You can hear the moment he sees it, bootsteps faltering, stopping. 
His modulated voice, lilting with surprise, floats over your shoulder as you continue on. “What is this?”
You can’t stop the little bubble of laughter from slipping past your lips as you dramatically throw yourself onto the bed. “A gift from our good friend, Cara Dune. Our best friend now, actually. I’m sure you agree.”
The mattress bounces just slightly underneath you, not by any means plush and luxurious, but far better than a few blankets on durasteel. Those same blankets you’d made up the bed with, so the scent of both you and Din already permeates this new nest of sorts. 
Your hands smooth out a wrinkle in the blankets. “It’s a travel bed, barely big enough for two but, in fact, big enough, and that’s all that matters. Plus, it folds back into the box it had came in, which is convenient if we ever do need the extra room in the hold.”
He moves toward you, bootsteps now steady and sure, helmet tilting as he examines the bed frame. “Looks sturdy enough.”
You look at him, catching the deepening rasp in his voice. “Only one way to find out.”
Two more steps and he’s kneeling on the bed, casually sliding his hands up your legs to push them apart, settle on his knees between them. “And what way would that be?”
Want tingles down your thighs and across your hips, lifting them slightly, seeking more of his touch, and you raise an eyebrow as you look up at him. “Playing coy? Is this something you picked up watching those HoloNet dramas you love?”
It’s a blur of motion and suddenly you’re pressed front down into the bed and he’s straddling your thighs. “Mir’sheb.”
You arch your back into his grip as large hands cup your ass. “You love my sheb.”
He groans, a low vibration that shoots straight to your core. “I do. And I love these pants you wear, let me see everything. Love to watch you walk in front of me, climb the ladder to the cockpit, bend over to get one of the kid’s toys -“
“Crikking hells, Din.” Heat swarms over your skin, his words burning a path straight to your core, inner walls clenching hard around nothing and clit throbbing at the emptiness. 
One hand slides down in-between your thighs, cups your already wet heat through your clothes. “Love this pussy, too, always ready for me.”
His fingers press over your clit and you gasp for air, pleasure sparking up your spine. “Pfassk, need you, please -“
“You don’t want to tease me some more?”
A faint laugh pushes past your racing heartbeat, head swimming with building lust, hips rolling to find that friction against his fingers. “Sick of teasing, too much of that going on right now.”
He clicks his tongue. “Mir’sheb again.”
You look at him over your shoulder, all broad shoulders and shining beskar and helmet tilted playfully and you want him so bad it hurts. “Well, you know what to do about that.”
His hand slips from between your thighs and despite knowing what’s coming next you moan at the loss, forehead falling to press against the blankets. 
He hooks his fingers over the waistband of your leggings and underwear, tugging them down in one smooth motion, stopping at your boots to yank off the whole tangle of clothing. 
Your pulse flutters so hard in anticipation that you can feel it pressing against the delicate skin of your throat. A twist of something else sends goosebumps rippling down your bare legs. 
He’s seen you like this before, but not often - your intimacy is usually shared in the dark of the night cycle, the day to day motions of life not allowing for much else. 
Being laid out this way, now, even with your torso still covered by your shirt - something about the vulnerability of letting him see you like this, exposed, amplifies the growing throb between your thighs. 
The thunk of your clothes and boots hitting the floor is followed by the whisk of cloth being pulled free, then he’s guiding your hips up with one hand while pushing his bunched up cowl under them. 
Your thighs twitch with the gentle scrape of the fabric, again when his hands trace the movement up the back of your legs, long fingers grasping the curve of your hips to settle you in place. 
It’s endearing, a little frisson of sweetness and caring that curls into your growing arousal, flares with the knowledge that he always considers your comfort. 
Then he’s back on you, not between your thighs as you thought he would be but straddling them again, pressing them tight together between his own as he slides a finger through your slick folds and all your musings of endearing sweetness fizzle out in the rush of heat that courses through your veins. 
He presses his finger into your clenching entrance, his groan of satisfaction mingling with your whimper as it sinks deep. 
Oh pfassk -
The calloused fingertip slowly drags along your inner walls and pleasure surges as he grazes over that spot, the one that he seems to find every time he buries his fingers inside you and your hands clutch at the blankets, your hips arching sharply into his touch. 
Another thick finger slips in alongside the first and you keen into the blankets. Your voice cracks as you rock back into him. “More, please, need more -“
He smoothes his free hand over the curve of your ass. “Mmm, you know I love to hear you beg, mesh’la.”
Pleasure sparks as his thumb swipes over your clit with each thrust, steadily pushing you closer to the edge. “Yes, like that, please, pfassk so good -“
Over and over his fingers drag along your inner walls, his thumb circles your clit so perfectly and you can feel it, tightening your core. 
He shifts but doesn’t let up his rhythm, the hard length of his cloth-covered cock pressing into the sensitive skin of your thighs. “Fuck, you’re going to come for me already, aren’t you?”
The feeling of his hard cock grinding over your thigh, evidence of his pleasure simply from watching you take your own shoves you right to the brink. “Yes please don’t stop gedet’ye - “
His fingers twist and push and your entire body shudders as they hook right over that spot and pulse in time with your racing heartbeat, shoving waves of heat through your core -
The intensity tears a cry from your throat and it’s so much a hot blinding wall of pleasure that’s pushing you further and further -
Your hands scrabble at the blankets as the pressure builds. “Din -“
“Let go, cyar’ika, come for me.”
The squelch around his fingers grows louder, filling your ears, layering into the steady stream of nonsensical sounds that’s falling from your lips and wet heat floods your core -
Crikking hells -
A burst of pleasure so bright it whites out your vision -
It screams through your body and you fall. 
Bright hot wet -
Lungs gasp for air, aching, the release shuddering every muscle.
His fingers pull out in a rush of slick and your pussy clenches at the loss, clit throbbing as the wet heat engulfs it. 
The hand on your ass squeezes, fingertips digging. “Fuck, kar’ta, I need to be inside you -“
Your head turns instinctively, mouth pulling free of the blankets. “Yes fill me up, gedet’ye, Din.”
He groans at your words, hands leaving you, the rustle of fabric reaching through your pleasure-soaked awareness and want instantly starts building again, rippling through your core. 
A shift and his weight is moving up the backs of your thighs, a thumb pulling apart your slick folds and -
The smooth head of his cock presses to your fluttering entrance -
A push -
Oh pfassk -
His hands grasp desperately at your waist. “So tight, I -“
He cuts off as his cock sinks another inch into your slick heat, and your eyes roll back with the slow thrust, the stretch is incredible with your legs pressed together like this and you can’t breathe it’s so good. 
A roll of his hips shoves him deeper and every muscle in your body goes slack, all focus directed to the thick of his cock shoving your tight cunt open for him.
Pleasure burns in your core with the throb of an ache and air finally rushes into your lungs as his hips press against your ass. 
Your cunt instinctively squeezes, body pleading for more and he rocks into you, his own instincts obviously driving him to move and yes you want that -
His weight presses you down into the mattress and you can’t move but a tilt of your hips shifts him inside you and the growl that cracks through the modulator makes you whimper with need.
The hands on your waist smooth down your back, catching on the fabric of your shirt. “Easy, cyar’ika, you’re so tight like this, need to let you adjust -“
Your inner walls suddenly clench, so tight it almost hurts but feels so good and you keen into the blankets, rocking back into him. 
Words spill from your lips, muffled and rough with pleasure. “It’s ok move please need you to move -“
He thrusts deep, a sharp snap of his hips that almost feels involuntary and your pussy clenches around his cock and the tension breaks -
His hands leave your back and he plants them on either side of your head, steadying as he pulls back and shoves deep again -
Yes yes yes -
Again and again -
The cowl shifts slightly underneath your hips and a fold of cloth grazes your clit and your voice wavers with cry of pleasure. “Right there yes right there -“
His grunt cracks through the modulator as your orgasm looms, cunt pulses around his cock. “Fuck -“
The bed creaks as he steadies his pace to deep, driving thrusts that slam against that spot every time and grind the cowl against your clit and crikking hells -
Pleasure so big and heavy it’s intimidating builds in your core and you’re swept away in it. Your hands grab at his, grip his wrists, hold on tight.
Din -
His voice rasps in your ear, cool steel of his helmet brushing your cheek. “Come for me, soak my cock, please -“
Pleasure cracks and spills and -
Wet hot heat erupts down your spine and trembles through your thighs and tightens your core and gushes from your spasming pussy. 
He growls, the sound stuttering as he picks up his pace. “So good, does it feel good, love?”
You murmur something in response but the words aren’t clear to your own ears, static noise of overwhelming pleasure drowning out everything except the sharp grunts punching through the modulator with every snap of his hips, the squelch of his cock pulling more and more slick from your pulsing cunt, the wet slap of his soaked flightsuit smacking against the bare skin of your ass. 
Waves of pleasure crash over your body again and again, it won’t stop, relentless, and it’s so good tears squeeze from the corner of your eyes and a sob catches in your throat and he thrusts again once twice more -
Then he’s slowing, cock pulsing against your still-fluttering walls, warmth of his spend flooding your hot core and finally it breaks -
You gasp as your body wrings a last wave from your orgasm, squeezing around his cock once more before releasing you from the grip of pleasure. 
He pants for breath above you, arms trembling, helmet dipping to rest on your shoulder for a moment before he’s pulling away. 
Hands smooth down your back in a silent apology - he knows how much you love keeping him inside you after, he loves it just as much - and you know you’d normally whine in protest but you can’t find the focus to do that right now, too blissed out to do anything but lie there. 
He moves behind you, a different kind of groan vibrating deep in his chest as he falls onto his side next to you, bouncing lightly on the mattress. 
Your smile is immediate, seeing that familiar black visor come into view, and you work up the energy to wriggle closer to rest your forehead against his, sighing in contentment when he slides a hand down your back to soothe already pleasantly sore muscles.
A long moment passes, just you and him, breaths steadying and heartbeats falling into sync. Your fingers inch toward him to bump against the helmet, fingertips tracing the beskar over where his mouth is. 
The urge to kiss him, taste him, feel his lips on yours is a deep ache in your bones, but you don’t want to ask him to take off the helmet, never want to push him to do something that holds so much meaning for him. 
Instead, you let yourself bask in the quiet, the softness of the bed and how it molds to your body, the scent of the two of you filling your lungs, and the solid nearness of Din. Let this moment soothe the rawness that emotion had left behind, fill those cracks and gaps until there was something solid to lean on. 
Cool air swirls against your bare skin and you can’t stop the shiver that runs through your body. 
He follows the movement, dipping between your thighs to glide his fingertips through the mess there. “Should get cleaned up.”
A soft snort of laughter slips out, words finally coming back into focus. “That’s a project I’m not feeling up to at the moment.”
His fingers drag over the plush flesh of your ass, leaving a trail of wet slick and come as he hums in agreement. “Think my cowl caught most of it anyway.”
“Worth it?” The twinge of embarrassment and guilt that twists in your stomach fades almost immediately, his huff of laughter brushing it away. 
“Yes, tionas. Definitely worth it.”
*****
He wishes there were words for it. 
For how he feels about you. 
‘Love’ just isn’t quite… enough. It’s too light, too small of a word for the depth of this ache in his chest. 
Though it does sound much bigger when you say it. 
I love you, Din. 
You’d murmured the words as sleep took you, soft lips brushing his hand that you’d tucked under your cheek. 
Those words had tripped his heartbeat, guided him to pull you closer into the curve of his body. The way your ribs had expanded in a contented sigh under his arm as you’d settle back against him had sent a tremor of emotion through his chest. 
He had pressed a kiss to your neck, letting you feel the words as he repeated them back to you. 
I love you, too. 
No, those words are not enough. 
He’s given you so much already - his secrets, his trust. The privacy that he’d held so close for all of his adult life. 
And yes, his heart. 
Still, not enough. 
He would give you everything.
His eyelids flutter open, staring unseeing into the darkness of the hold. 
Everything. 
There’s that word again. 
Everything is different with you. 
And it has been, since the day he first saw you. 
The world had been dark and dull, endless days of struggle and pain and guilt. 
And then it wasn’t. Because you were in it. 
As if a light had suddenly shone directly on him, warm and bright.
That light gleams in your gaze when you look at him. 
Everything is different with you. 
No. 
Some things are the same. 
He’s still Mandalorian. He still follows The Way of the Mandalore. 
A thought catches on the outskirts of his mind, itching, worming deeper. 
The Way has always been his fate, the path he must walk. 
It would have him dedicating his life to his people, foregoing all else in service to the true Mandalorians. 
It would have him walk his path alone. 
Because he knows - he knows, with absolute certainty, he will never find another like you, let alone one who follows The Way. 
Someone who sees him, his guilt and his shame and his inner torment, torn between the ideals that had saved his life and the love that had shown him how to live. 
Someone who loves all of him. 
There’s only you. 
And if given the choice between that which would resign him to a path of solitude and darkness simply because of a few words spoken when he was too young to know what he was giving up or the one who would sacrifice her own happiness before forcing that choice on him…
Well. 
His path is now brightly lit and clear before him. 
Nothing will pull him from it. No one will. 
His thoughts shift, some part of him seemingly satisfied with that conclusion. 
The memory of your eyes, wide with fear, tears blurring that gleaming light. 
He sighs, catching the movement at the last minute so as not to wake you. 
He’s tired of seeing fear and doubt in your eyes. 
It makes sense, he knows why it’s so often there. 
You’ve lost everything you’ve ever had, whether directly by someone else’s hand or by your own, twisted into action by thoughts planted in your mind by the hatred of others. 
He understands why you doubt. Question. 
Expect loss even when it doesn’t come. 
He knows you need reassurance. 
More than just his simple, too-small words. 
Realization washes over him, chilled and warm at the same time. 
He stops breathing.
There are words for it. To describe how he feels about you. 
To show you, and his people, and the entire galaxy what you mean to him. To each other. 
To protect the two of you from anyone who would try to come between you.
Yes, there are words for exactly that purpose.
The memory of your lips forming the first part of those words pins the thought to the forefront of his mind. 
You don’t know their context.
But he’ll give it to you. 
He would give you everything. 
***** Mando’a translations:
Tionas - question 
Mesh’la - beautiful
Cyar’ika - sweetheart
Kar’ta - heart 
***** Previous Chapter Next Chapter
19 notes · View notes
thicc-kirk · 5 years
Text
I see quite a bit of Gwaine x Percival content but have you considered....
Percival x Elyan
16 notes · View notes
whirlybirbs · 3 years
Text
FEVER-DREAM    ;    echo/reader 
summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.
word count: 3k
pairing: echo / f!reader
tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star
a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.
i reference character redesigns by @nibeul​ in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough. 
“How does it feel?”
The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway. 
His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use. 
When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.
For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet. 
He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.
There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives. 
Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing. 
No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika. 
In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.
This makes him feel... good. 
He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.
Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.
(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky. 
Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.
The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)
“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”
Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.
You wince.
You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.
“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.
Echo feels small under your gaze.
Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.
In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin. 
His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.
That damn thing.
A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough. 
It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.
Echo catches it.
His eyes narrow playfully.
He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.
You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.
You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto. 
It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.
“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.
“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.
“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.
The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.
Then:
“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”
You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”
“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.
A baited trick. He’s smiling. 
The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.
“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.
The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.
“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.
His laugh is warm.
“Maybe not.”
“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”
There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.
Then, you remember the task at hand.
You clear your throat.
“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”
Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized. 
Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.
Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now. 
“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep. 
Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin. 
In his lap, both his hands twitch.
He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.
You don’t press him on the details. 
In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.  
In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.
Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.
You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link. 
After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.
“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”
Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”
“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile. 
Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.
There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.
You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”
Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak. 
“...Same as before.”
You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”
It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.
He can feel. 
His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.
Your breath catches at the touch. 
Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed. 
The closeness itself is making you dizzy.
Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.
Your skin is hot. 
“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.
You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.
He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.
The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you. 
You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation. 
Your mouth is moving before you realize it. 
“What does it mean?”
Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.
“What does what mean?” 
“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”
The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.
You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.
“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.
It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.
His nose brushes yours.
Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.
You want to kiss him.
He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.
And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...
Enter Omega.
“Echo, we’re back—!”
The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way. 
You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.
“Hi.”
You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”
“...Whatcha guys doin’?”
Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”
“...Riiiiiight.” 
You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact. 
“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”
“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”
Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right. 
“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.
You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”
Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.
“...What the kriff was that?”
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Of Constellations & Creeds
Chapter 21: Fire of Devotion 
Summary/Author’s Note: Din presents you with a gift that he has had for while. You start exploring what it means to work as a team and meet a fiery mechanic that takes a shine to you. 
There is a note at the end for what something looks like if you guys are having a hard time picturing it. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading! 
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Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Alpha/Omega/soulmates AU) Word Count:  5k Warnings/Promises: Mature/18+ - language, sexual themes, weapons/shooting
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--
This is what dreaming felt like. 
You were the perfect temperature of warm bodies and crisp blankets. Sprawled among the sheets, you lucidly stretched your body as your mind slowly woke up the rest of your limbs. You started by wiggling your toes while you listened to the birds chitter in the trees outside the barn, your ankles, your back, and lastly your arms. You quietly popped your fingers as you brought them up to rub gently at the back of your sore neck with a groan. 
"Shit."
You winced as you stretched your arms and suddenly remembered why your shoulder was so tender. Rotating the cuff much slower, you worked the stiffness out of the muscle until you could move it more freely. That was at least a little better. 
Before falling into bed last night, Din had ravished you against the wall, then again on the ground, neither one of you able to stop long enough to tear yourselves apart. The idea of moving into the comfort of your bed never came up, due to not wanting to wake the kid and once again...that required you to stop touching each other. Whatever discomfort you felt had absolutely been worth it. 
The morning sun was warm on your face and you opened your eyes to find the Mandalorian facing you...still helmetless. You had worried the moment you fell asleep everything would have ceased to have happened. You really wouldn't have seen his face. You really wouldn't have received his mark. But he had sleepily assured you that closing your eyes erased nothing and he promised to be here when you woke up. Everything you had done last night was no dream. It had been very, very real. 
“Din?” you whispered almost inaudible, as if to test him. 
His eyes were closed and his mouth open ever so slightly as he continued to sleep with his arm bent behind his head against his pillow. He looked younger in the sunlight. The gentle rays tinting his already light brown skin to a warm sienna, it did the same to his hair, finding the small strands of molten gold throughout the tousled dark curls. He was so handsome and you had yet to tell him, but something told you he wouldn't believe you even if you did. 
Did Mandalorians have a concept of beauty? When you spent your entire adolescence with a helmet on, you couldn’t imagine it mattered much what the person underneath looked like. It leveled the playing field so to speak. While society squabbled over such trivial attributes, you imagined Mandalore was more concerned with your ability to win a fight, to negotiate, to contribute to your clan.
It used to be easy to look at him with disdain. Then that disdain turned to something little more than convenient indifference. It was easy to blame him for the destruction of your home world, for the loss of your old life. Anger was always easier. And yet as you looked at him now, and fought the desperate urge to trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger, you knew you felt something else towards him. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time. Something that felt a lot like affection...a lot like love.
Yes, to you Din was beautiful. But then again when you loved someone, weren’t they always? There was that word again. It made you smile quietly to yourself as you mulled it over in your mind. 
Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, a chaste kiss that caused a soft groan to come from somewhere deep in his chest as his arm slid around your middle. 
"Good morning," you whispered against his mouth and he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes. 
"Ten more minutes."
You smiled, kissing him again as he pulled you closer. You reached down and grabbed the blanket before pulling it up over the both of you more securely. For a man that never took a break, he loved sleep more than anyone you had ever met. 
"Alright, ten more minutes," you said quietly as you moved to kiss his cheek before tucking your head under his chin against his chest and closing your eyes. 
--
Saying goodbye to Omera and Sorgan was more painful than you imagined it would be. She was the first person who understood your struggle. If it weren't for her who knew how long it would take you and the Mandalorian to find one another. But no matter how you felt, you couldn't stay here and she couldn't come with you. It seemed everywhere you went there was something new to lose, a new heartache to experience, and as you hugged her tightly and held back your tears she was added to the long list of loss in your life.
"You'll always have a place here," she said quietly as you squeezed her tighter. It's as if she knew you were trying not to fall apart. She felt the soft cloth that you had used to bandage your shoulder and she leaned back to see your face and give you a knowing grin. “But you are now right where you’re supposed to be.”
"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes as she fixed the shawl around your shoulders and gave your arms a pat. 
“Keep up with your meditations. They’ll help.”
“I know.”
"Take care of them," she nodded to the man behind you who was holding the child and waiting patiently for you by the cart. "But don't forget to take care of yourself."
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The trip back through the woods to the Razor Crest was a somber one and you watched as the child stood at the back of the cart and waved its tiny three-fingered hand at the group of children who were waving in return. You leaned forward and rubbed the space between its massive ears gently. However you were feeling was probably nothing compared to the little guy. He didn't know what was going on, or that there were people hunting him, or why you couldn't stay in such a beautiful place where he had made so many friends. It was tough being a kid in such a big world. Maker, it was tough being an adult in such a big world. 
You looked back as you felt Din put his hand on the small of your back and lean his helmet against your temple for the briefest of moments. You lowered your walls ever so slightly and accepted the comfort that he sent your way. Maybe Omera had been right, maybe he had wanted to stay too. 
--
Being back on the Razor Crest came pretty naturally to the three of you and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Fresh supplies from Sorgan filled the storage bunker and with more variety to eat than prepackaged rations, your spirits were much higher than they had been previously. 
“Come on, kid,” you said, gently as you picked up the child and straightened his burlap cloak. “Nap time.” 
“Ba-to!” he squeaked, raising his arms up and giving you a two-toothed smile that warmed your heart. 
“Just for a little bit,” you assured him. “Then you can come up front and help pilot. Sound good?” 
“Ah-yo!”
“No, no, I promise,” you answered him like you were having a full conversation. “I’ll make him let you. You’re plenty old enough,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You just need a few phone books to sit on.”
He gave another happy squeak as you sat him in the hammock hanging above Din’s bed and tucked him in. You dug out the small stuffed frog that Winta had made for him back on Sorgan, with it’s bright blue felt skin and lopsided eyes, and helped him nestle it under his chin. You gave him a soft pat on the head and waited for him to close his eyes before pressing the button on the panel that closed the door with a quiet hiss. 
You heard your name being said from above you and you went to the ladder that led to the cockpit, looking up to see the Mandalorian looking down. He had brought the ship out of hyperdrive for the time being as you researched a plan of action. Without coordinates, it was pointless to travel in circles and waste precious fuel.
“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked and you nodded. 
Taking one rung at a time, you hauled yourself up into the main hull and gratefully accepted his help in order to plop your butt on the floor with a smile. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling back. 
There had been precious little time for him to take off his helmet once you were back on the ship. Somehow the ship was less private than the bed you had shared in the barn. Although you were disappointed not to be able to look over and see his face whenever you wanted, you understood. This was a new experience for him in a way you would never understand, a type of vulnerability that you would never know, but how you longed to kiss him properly again. You wanted to feel his lips on the back of your neck as he curled himself behind you for sleep. All selfish reasons, of course, but that didn’t diminish them in any capacity. 
“What’s up?” you asked as you leaned back on your hands and looked at him where he stooped beside the captain’s chair. 
“I got you something.”
“Me?” You leaned up with widening eyes as you put a hand to your chest in question. 
“Is there someone else I’m traveling with?” he asked and you glared at him before realizing it was his poor attempt at dry humor. “Yes, you.”
He moved under the chair and dragged a medium sized trunk out from the alcove created by the dashboard and the control panel. You recognized it as the trunk he had received from the armorer back on Nevarro. It was a dark slate colored material and he popped the latches before 
beckoning you closer.
“I hope you like them.”
“Whatever it is,” you encouraged him. “I’m sure I will.”
“You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to--”
“Din, just show me.”
“Alright, okay,” he let out a heavy breath and lifted the lid before spinning the entire thing slowly around to show you.  
“You didn’t have to get me anyth--oh, goddess,” you said softly in amazement. 
Inside, carefully protected by a velvet type of lining, were crafted pieces of a silver metal. You hesitated, reaching out to touch one of them and thinking better of it before looking at him as if you needed permission. With a careful nod of his helmet, you picked up one of the cylindrical pieces and brought it closer for inspection. 
“Is it--?”
“Beskar,” he nodded. “It’s yours.”
“Din, I--”
He held up a gloved hand to stop any argument you may have had and helped you take the pieces out one by one. Two bracers that fit perfectly over your wrists and protected your forearms about two inches from your elbows. He took them gently and slipped them over your tender skin before locking them into place and letting you get used to the feeling. You made a fist with both of your hands a few times, opening and squeezing, testing how they felt.
“They lock like this,” he said after completing the motion. “They’ll deflect anything. Blaster-proof. Just hold your arm like you would defensively,” he instructed, pulling your arm up to protect your face and tapping it once with his finger. “Ping. Right off the beskar. We can practice.”
“Handy,” you nodded and he dove back into the box for the next piece. 
“This,” he offered the single pauldron to you, moving around your body slightly to fit it to your non-dominant shoulder. “Protects your dominant side by sitting opposite it.”
“Because I turn my body away from the blow?”
“Exactly.” He put it over your shoulder and clamped it down around your bicep. Hooking it securely across your torso. “Plus, the added weight on your dominant arm would slow you down if you’re using your staff.”
“Makes sense.”
“Move your arm,” he said and when you did, he adjusted it slightly. “How’s that?”
“It’s extremely generous and useful but--”
“No buts.”
“I--”
“You’re my Omega,” he interrupted you gently. “You have the right to wear it. And it’ll help keep you safe--and if you’re safe, I’m focused.” His hand came down to rest gently over your shoulder blade, covering the still tender skin of where he had marked you. 
He had a point but it still made your ears burn with embarrassment. You knew he didn’t mean it as an insult to your abilities. You had more than proven you could handle your own when you first met, but the knowledge that your safety proved a distraction to him still made you feel guilty. You felt the sudden need to apologize but you knew Din wouldn’t want to hear it, let alone entertain such an idea.
“There’s one more piece,” he said gently. He held it out gently and when you looked at him in confusion he offered his hands forward. “Can I?”
You nodded and sat still with your hands in your lap as he made sure any stray pieces of your hair were out of the way. Even with the gloves and his armor, he was always so gentle, so careful. When he was satisfied he held out the silver circlet and slipped it around the front of your forehead and over your temples. The blocky beskar came to a strong point between your brows and the edges came down in front of your ears to frame the sides of your face. Each subtle point that mirrored the larger one turned what would have been an ordinary face guard into something much more symbolic. 
“I feel ridiculous,” you said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also having a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that such a piece of finery was really necessary. 
“You look breathtaking,” he argued and it made you smile. “You’re an Omega, an Ursa at that--people deserve to know.” He swallowed hard and nodded to the box. “If we find more beskar I can have a proper helmet made instead of--”
“A tiara?” you asked with a bite of wit and he chuckled. 
“It has more purpose than that, I promise.” He touched the sides that came down almost level with your jaw line. “These protect your peripherals--keeps light from obscuring your view for long range weapons.”
“Smart.”
“And this,” he touched higher, closer to your ear and a soft static hum came before you heard his next words twice, almost overlapping one another. “Has a direct com line to me.”
“That,” you put your hand over his and spoke into the mic as if to test it the other way. “Is incredibly useful.”
He gave a nod to signal that it had worked and he dropped his hand from your face to rest comfortably on your thigh. You put your hand over his and held in gently. It was beautifully crafted and you were having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that he had spent any of the rarest metal in the world on something for you. But that wasn’t the only issue, no, there was something else. An issue of the timeline. 
“When did you have this made?” you asked, tracing the metal etching that lined the outside of the bracer. 
“When we got the bounty on the kid--I had it made along with mine.”
“But that was before I agreed to be your Omega,” you said carefully, watching his body for any sign of tension. There wasn’t any. 
“I know.”
You bit your lip and looked down. With a shake of your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. “What if I would have left? What if I never agreed to this? You--”
“But you didn’t.”
“But I could have,” you argued. “And then all of this would have been for nothing. You--”
“I had a feeling.”
You looked at him in awe and realized how much he had staked on you making the right decision. He would have sooner sold his beskar than taken away your freedom, the freedom to choose what you wanted. He had hoped against all hope that you would eventually want him, but there was no guarantee. To Din it was all left up to faith. Faith in his creed, faith in his people, faith in you. It was hard not to feel undeserving of such things, but it only confirmed that perhaps it was time that you had a little faith in him. 
Going up on your knees, you moved the metal storage box out of the way and grabbed him by the front of his chestplate. He said your name softly as you slid into his lap and his hands came around to rest on the swell of your hips. You tilted his helmet back just enough to kiss his lips, drawing a soft sound from them as he tasted you. 
“Thank you,” you said quietly and you were glad you could see his mouth move up in a genuine smile. 
“You’re very welcome.”
The more moments like this that you had, the easier it became to realize just how ‘all in’ you were when it came to the bounty hunter. When he had stepped off of his ship and chased you through the woods now flight like a lifetime ago and in a way it was. That was a different life completely. And you were okay with that. The world seemed a lot less scary now that you were on the same team. 
You leaned in to kiss him again but there was a loud bang and whoosh of energy as something dropped out of hyperspace and the Razor Crest rocked slowly. Din lowered his helmet and the two of you looked around before you slowly climbed out of his lap and to your feet. 
“What was that?”
“I’m not sure.” 
He moved to the pilot’s chair and leaned over the control board, inspecting the map and waiting for the radar to ping something back. Nearly the exact moment a blip showed up on the neon green screen, a blast screamed passed your vessel and struck the ship, rocking it back and forth. 
“Buckle in,” he barked and the two of you moved to your respective places. 
You fell into the co-pilot bucket seat to the right of the Mandalorian and placed your feet up on the footrest to brace yourself. As soon as you clicked your seat belt, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the control stick in front of you and reached up to flip the buttons on your side of the dash. Your side of the ship whirred to life as you shared control of the panel with Din, making it easier for him to focus on flying. Like you had told him before, if he handled the fancy maneuvering, you could squeeze a trigger.
Another wave of fire lit up the dark atmosphere around you and Din turned the ship to try and find the culprit behind the attack. 
“If the kid sleeps through this, I’ll be impressed,” Din said as he swiveled his own chair around and jammed the buttons for the back up thrusters. 
“I’m pretty sure he could sleep through anything,” you agreed.
“Pa-too!” 
The two of you both whipped around to see the small, green thing standing in the doorway with its arms in the air and a wide smile. 
“You were saying?” the bounty hunter chuckled and the child stumbled its way to you as the ship took a nosedive. You barely had time to grab him by the tiny cloak and haul him into your lap. 
“Got ya!” you said and he squealed with laughter. At least someone found your current predicament funny. You tucked him on your lap securely as a series of blaster fire whizzed passed the sides of the ship.  
“Hand over the Child, Mando.” A deep voice said through the com-system and when the child in question squealed again you clapped your hand over his mouth. Another round of shots pinged around you and the crest gave a jolt as one of the engines took a hit. “I might let you live.”
“Guild?” you asked and Mando nodded before grabbing a large lever to his right and yanking it down quickly. 
“You got both hands on the blaster cannons?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “When I say fire, let ‘em have it.”
Another hit rocked the ship as the engine on the left started to sputter and burst into flames before it powered down. Din cursed quietly under his helmet and pulled another lever to quickly power down both engines. “Hold on!” he yelled over the roar of the enemy ship as he rolled the crest out of the way of another round of fire. Stars streaked passed the windows as you both stared upwards and the other ship came directly into view. 
“I can bring you in warm,” the enemy bounty hunter said flatly, “...or I can bring you in cold.”
“That's my line,” Din said in a deadly tone before he hit the thrusters and pointed at you and the kid. “Fire!”
You squeezed the trigger on the gun leavers and shots fired from the front of the razor crest, exploding the smaller ship into a wave of orange fire and metal debris. You flinched away from the bright light and the child clapped its tiny hands as Din gave you an approving nod. 
“Oh-ah!”
“Not bad, little one,” you laughed softly, kissing the top of his green head between his ears. “Not bad.” Din clicked on a few of the switches above his head and the dashboard lit up in a series of red and orange lights. You watched him carefully and waited until he stopped before you spoke. “How bad is it?” 
“We’re losing fuel,” he said, pulling up the map and thumbing through a few different screens. He thumbed through a few of the nearby planets before double tapping the screen and bringing up one of the larger orbs. “Mos Eisley is the closest place where we could dock and get some repairs.”
“Will we make it?”
“Of course.” He pulled another leaver and the ship gave a lurch forward before it evened out. “We have enough in the power reserves to get us there--don’t worry.” 
“I’m not worried,” you said, biting your lip to keep a soft smile from gracing your features. The truth was, with Din, you were never worried. 
--
Mos Eisley was the largest spaceport on the planet of Tatooine. Din explained that what it lacked in a centralized docking bay, they made up for in the fact that they had hundreds of hangars that were each maintained by individual workers and mechanics. It sounded impressive but to you it looked like little more than a patch of dust and poorly refined sandcastles. 
The control tower told you to head for bay three-five and the Mandalorian copied as he steered the ship in that direction. The Crest had definitely seen better days as it sputtered and landed with jerky movements before finally touching down in a puff of sand and a clang of metal. 
As you drifted through the vast emptiness of space before entering the atmosphere, the child had somehow lulled himself back to sleep. It was actually pretty impressive the amount of naps he managed to squeeze in in a day. 
You carefully tucked him back into the sleeping compartment and put on the rest of the clothing you had from Arvala-7. It was still breathable but it wasn’t nearly as light as the cloth you had sported back on Sorgan. The leather riding pants and bantha hide boots would keep the sand out of your more intimate places, while the tan corded top and matching cloak kept your skin protected from the harsh sun without absorbing much of the light. 
The beskar looked out of place with the rest of your attire, but something told you it was just the fact that you weren’t used to it. What was your favorite mantra as of late? One thing at a time. 
You stopped in the doorway to the refresher and couldn’t help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. The metal of the headpiece that Din had tucked gingerly into your hairline. You had spent most of your life running from what you were: an Omega, an Ursa, a royal lineage of some kind that you had no desire to uphold. And yet, the tangible evidence was glittering on your forehead. Had Din designed such a thing or had it been at the behest of the Armorer? Somehow you felt you knew the answer to that. 
You saw Din appear behind you in the mirror before you ever heard him and you prided yourself on not nearly jumping out of your skin. 
"Good to go?"
When you nodded, he hit the button that started to lower the ramp on the main hull and you squinted against the bright sun. As you walked down the ramp a group of rust colored droids popped up from their current task and scurried towards the Mandalorian. Their saucer-shaped heads bobbed in place making them look like mushrooms on stilts as they surveyed the ship and chipped back and forth to one another.
Din pushed back his cloak and drew his blaster, firing one shot from the hip into the dirt. The droid squealed and jumped into the air before clamming up into a tiny ball. 
“Mando!” you jumped and looked at him in surprise before looking back to the shivering droid. 
“Hey!” a woman’s voice screeched from inside the building connected to the hangar. She pointed at the two of you through the window of what looked to be a very dusty office. “HEY!” she yelled again, scrambling out the door and stomping over to you. 
Next to the Mandalorian she was incredibly short, but her demeanor was so incredibly scrappy that you weren’t entirely sure who you would bet on if the two of them were in a fight. Her grey mechanic’s jumpsuit was dusty and oil stained from no doubt thousands of ship repairs. Her hair was incredibly curly, poofing out in tight ringlets all around her head to her shoulders and seemed to be growing by the second as she jabbed her finger at Din’s chest.
“You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”
“Just keep them away from my ship,” Din said flatly, pointed his own gloved finger to the fear-filled robot.
“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest before looking at you. “Blink twice if this brute is holding you hostage, honey. Though by the looks of ya, I’d say you can handle your own.”
“I’m sorry,” you apologized on Din’s behalf before you introduced yourself and stepped in front of him. “We just need some repairs.”
“The name’s Peli,” she returned the politeness and shook your hand with strong, jerky movements. “He always this grumpy?” she nodded at the bounty hunter.
“Actually you caught him on a good day,” you smiled and she chuckled. Din sighed.
“Alright, well, let's look at your ship.” She picked up a clipboard and walked over to the crest. Looking it up and down slowly, she made a fist and knocked twice on the main hull and listened to the klonk that came from the inside.
“Is it bad?” you asked.  
“Oof…” she winced as she wrote some things down. “Look at that.” She looked over her shoulder at you before gesturing to the sides of the ship. “Bad? You got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. Ya know--If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout.”
“Well…” you started and Din cleared his throat.
“Can you fix it?”
“Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that…” She mumbled. Peli ignored you both as she continued to poke and prod the undercarriage of the ship before pulling down a side panel and coughing at the smoke that it produced. “You got a fuel leak! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.”
Din looked down at her as she walked back up to him and he tossed over a coin purse that jingled when she caught it. “I've got 500 Imperial Credits.”
“That all you got? Well…” she weighed the money in her hand and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to the droids who were slowly approaching again now that she was there to protect them. “What do you guys think? I mean-- that should at least cover the hangar.”
“I'll get you your money,” Din reassured her.
“Ha! I've heard that before,” she rolled her eyes.
“I promise, we’ll pay you somehow,” you interjected and Peli looked you over again before waggling her finger at you. 
“Now, you I believe.” 
That made you smile and she returned it. 
“Just remember--” Din started.
“Yeah. Yeah. No droids. I heard ya.” She stuffed the credits in her pocket. “You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat.” She mumbled the last under her breath as the two of you took her dismissal as a sign you were free to leave. 
You waited until you and Din were out of earshot before you glared at him in disappointment. “We have got to work on your people skills.”
--
Note: When imagining the headpiece Din had made for you, I was drawing heavy inspiration off of Queen Hippolyta’s crown. Something that keeps your hair out of the way, looks futuristic and strong. 
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Hey guys, as always there is always room on the tag lists! That being said there are about 300+ of you that want to be tagged in this fic and that is totally cool, but I am human and I miss names and forget tags, SO–if your tag didn’t work, I forgot it, or you want to be moved to another group, please message me or send me an ask. Even if you have already sent me one reminding me, I PROMISE it was not on purpose. A lot of times I wont answer until I have PHYSICALLY put you on the tag list that way I don’t forget! Thank you so much. - K
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dissociativesworld · 3 years
Text
Patience
Pairing: Wrecker x reader
Tags: little bit of angst, dom!Wrecker, cock warming, sex in the pilot seat (sorry tech), overstimulation, implied squirting, probably some other stuff I'm not thinking of
A/N: I had no idea how to end this so it's a little hasty at the end hope ya'll don't mind. Also no idea if I'm tagging people correctly
Taglist: @4rosydreams @kesshou-otome @cobiwanbanobi
NSFW below the cut
A shower had never felt so good. You didn’t even care that it was cold, after months on that godforsaken planet you were finally home. As one of the few females on base, you got your own room but you also knew that more than likely Wrecker would probably be passed out on your bed once you opened the ‘fresher door.
He hadn’t followed you to your room after the mission like he normally did. Hopefully, it was just because he wanted a shower just as badly as you did. But you also couldn’t help but think it probably had to do with your behavior on the mission which you still needed to genuinely apologize for. You’d lost your temper when he made a risky decision, not following the plan.
“Why can’t you be patient for once?!” You’d shouted at him.
In the few years, you’d known the Batch, you’d never raised your voice to any of them. And definitely not Wrecker even in the past year you’d been dating. It was out of character for you and it startled the entire team. Even Crosshair was shocked. And the look your boyfriend gave you broke your heart. But you didn’t want to admit you were in the wrong in front of them. You just wanted them to be safe and if they thought they’d piss you off by doing stupid shit, then you’d be the bad guy.
You turned the water off before wrapping yourself in a towel, the standard-issue military towel almost too small to cover you properly. Walking through your room to grab your blacks you were disappointed to see that Wrecker wasn’t there. Well, you needed sleep anyway. As you crawled into bed, it felt wrong. Too empty without being snuggled up to the large trooper. Maybe things would be back to normal in the morning.
~~~
The next morning you wandered down the halls of Kamino looking for your squad. Peeking into their barracks you were disappointed to see all of them, minus Wrecker.
“If you’re looking for Wrecker he slept in the Marauder last night.” Crosshair all but growled at you.
You made a face, “what? Why?”
“You really have to ask?” He scowled at you, normally he was pretty neutral toward you but he obviously didn’t appreciate that you hurt his brother’s feeling.
Sighing you doubled back to the hangar. You could see him sitting in the cockpit, a pout on his lips as he stared into space. You walked quietly onto the ship, quiet enough that he didn’t look up as you walked up behind him.
“Is it okay if I join you?” You asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Wrecker glanced up, suddenly having his trademark smile on his face. “Mesh’la, I was just thinking about you.”
He pulled you down into his lap, his half-hard erection emphasizing his words.
“I came to apologize.” You smiled up at him.
He chuckled darkly, “I have a way you can make it up to me.”
You quirked an eyebrow, wondering where he was going with this. His sudden change in attitude with your appearance had you wondering what he was thinking. Granted his smile was a welcome change.
“What did you have in mind handsome?” You asked.
Wrecker pulled you back against him, his cock hard against your ass. He kissed your neck, the other hand pulling your shirt up.
“You realize that anyone can walk into the hangar and see us?” You whispered, now wanting to admit that the thought went straight to your core.
He just hummed in response, his wandering hand moving up to your breasts, squeezing your breast none too gently. You gasped in response, grinding yourself against him.
“I’m going to test your patience sweet girl.” He growled low in your ear.
Your heart was in your throat. Wrecker was one of the most kind-hearted people you knew but since getting to know him a little more intimately you’d learned he wasn’t all soft and sweet. And since he learned you weren’t as fragile as you seemed, he’d enjoyed pushing your limits quite a bit.
“I was plenty patient during that mission mesh’la, considering I wanted nothing more than to lean you over the closest surface and fuck you.” His voice was a low grumble.
You whimpered in response, you could feel your slick soaking your panties.
“Look at you all quiet now, where’s my angry girl?” Wrecker asked as he nibbled on your ear.
Your face was uncomfortably flushed, your cunt was throbbing. Not thinking you moved your hand down to touch yourself through your blacks. Wrecker hooked his chin over your shoulder, watching your movements for a moment before putting his hand over your own.
“I haven’t even started yet cyare, are you sure I’m the impatient one?” His hot breath fanned down your neck before kissing your pulse point.
“Maybe not.” You murmured, leaning back allowing the hand up your shirt to pull it up over your head.
“No bra mesh’la? Naughty girl.” He chuckled, pulling his own shirt off before pulling your back against his chest.
Despite being together for so long you’d never get tired of feeling his muscle-bound body against yours. You could feel every movement against you as he wrapped his arms around you, pinning your arms to your sides, a hand dipping between your legs. His touch was teasingly light, kissing your bare shoulders before biting down on the junction of your shoulder and neck, sucking a bruise there.
You whimpered again, squirming in his lap, desperate for more friction.
Wrecker paused his actions. “Don’t draw too much attention to us cyare, you don’t want anyone to see us do you?”
Instead of responding you ground your ass against his cock earning a growl from him.
“Or maybe you do, naughty girl. You want one of my vod to see how riled up I get you? See how good I fuck you?” He bit another spot on your shoulder.
“Please Wrecker.” You whined.
“Pants off, now.” Wrecker all but pushed you off his lap roughly, pulling the waistband of his pants down enough for his cock to spring free.
You pulled your pants down, you’d just barely gotten it below your ass when Wrecker pull you back down onto his lap.
“Giving the rest of them a show mesh’la? Why not just walk the halls naked?” Wrecker growled, hand grabbing your thighs roughly, pulling them apart so that they were hooked over his own.
He pushed your shoulders forward so that your ass lifted off of his lap, with his other hand grabbing his cock and rubbing its head through your folds. You knew you were dripping already, his quiet moans indicating he was enjoying the sight. He pulled you down onto his cock, the thick length spreading you open.
“Take it cyare, such a good girl.” His voice was deep as he reached around you to wrap a hand around your neck just below your chin.
He filled you more than you’d ever been before, you couldn’t move without his cock pressing against a sensitive spot inside you. His free hand went down to your clit rubbing lazy circles. You moved your hips, wanting movement but he stopped you, the grip on your neck tightening and pulling you back roughly. When you swallowed you could feel the strength of his hold.
Again you started squirming, the full feeling of his cock inside you building tension especially as he applies more pressure to your clit. He again tightened his grip, this time pulling your head back to his shoulder.
“I can sit here buried in your pussy all day cyare. I don’t think you deserve to cum after the attitude you gave me on that mission.” His voice was low but you could detect a smirk from him before he kissed your cheek before tilting your mouth to press against his.
“Please Wrecker. I want to feel you cum inside me.” You begged.
“Nice try mesh’la.” He chuckled, fingers against your clit pressing against you roughly.
The building tension was threatening to snap, arched your back, pressing yourself into his hand desperate for release. Wet heat radiated from inside your cunt, you could feel your wetness dripped down his cock and thighs as pleasure shook your core.
“Look at that cyare, squirting everywhere making a mess. You like my fingers and cock that much?” He teased. “Let’s see if you can do that again.”
His hand returned to your clit, now even more tender than before. The crescendo of pleasure building quickly again still riding on the pleasure of your last orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whimpered a chant under your breath as you felt yourself tighten around his cock again.
“That a girl, let go.” He moaned, kissing your neck.
Your second orgasm was more intense than the first, your vision blurring as pleasure flooded your body with the snap. Wrecker’s hips thrust into you with a few shallow thrusts before he moaned loudly, his cock twitching inside you as he came.
You stood on shaky legs to lean against the control panel, needing to get away from the stimulation but unable to stand on your own.
“You okay mesh’la?” Wrecker asked, concern evident in his voice as he gently touched your thigh.
You laughed, trying to brush off his concern. “Yeah, that was just a lot.”
You could hear him shifting behind you, assumably pulling his pants back up.
“C’mere cyare, let me hold you.” He murmured, pulling you back onto his lap, gentler this time.
You snuggled against him, his warm body gone from rigid to soft and comforting. His arms wrapped around you, cradling you to his chest. You two stayed like that for a few moments before you dressed and both of you made your way back to your room before you both passed out in each other’s arms.
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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years
Text
(The Bad Batch) Crosshair x Reader: Absence
(Author’s Note:  I usually steer clear of angst, but this sort of just happened.  Y’all are going to hate me after this.  Oh whaaale)
warnings: some angst, Bad Batch episode 1 spoilers.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
   You released a sigh into the air, the sound breaking the lonely silence that had settled since you decided to lay down for a while.  You half-expected to hear some sort of response- a mumble from Tech, a laugh from Wrecker, chatter from Omega, or a sigh from Hunter- but the room fell into stillness once more.
   As you lay on your side, arms encircling a familiar pillow, you gazed at the opposing wall.  This was the first moment you had to yourself since the events that transpired on Kamino.  You’d been busy at the front of the ship assisting the others or simply surrounding yourself with them to keep certain feelings at bay.
   But just for a little while, you finally decided to let yourself have the time to process and to just feel.  Without the company of the others to keep you occupied, Crosshair’s absence was more jarring.  It wasn’t something you’d been able to ignore in the first place, of course.  Even in a room full of your squad, you found yourself searching for him or expecting him to be hovering nearby only to remember that wouldn’t be the case.
   Another sigh rose into the air, and you shifted to lay on your other side facing the wall of the bunk.  The pillow still held stale traces of his scent, and you hungrily breathed in what was left and hoped with each inhale that it wouldn’t fade.  You thought back to the last time you were near him before things went from bad to worse.
   Crosshair placed himself on the bench, rubbing his head in frustration.  You watched him with worry.  He hadn’t been himself since this Order 66 was given.  You’d seen him at odds with Hunter and growing increasingly agitated as time went by.
   Omega slid onto the bench beside him, her eyes mirroring your concern.  Although somehow, her look was more sympathetic, as if she knew what was happening to him.  She rested a hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly.  You decided to remain at a small distance for another moment before going over to talk to him.
   Moments later, a shock trooper approached the cell.  “CT-9904, you’re coming with us.”
   Your eyes widened as the cell shield went down.  Hunter quickly placed himself in front of the sharpshooter in protest.  “Oh, no, no, no,” he said, holding his hands up.  “We stay together.”
   The trooper wasted no time in hitting Hunter in the stomach with the butt of his blaster, evoking a grunt as the sergeant crumbled to his knees.
   “Hey!” you shouted, darting forward.  “Cut it out!  No one is leaving this cell alone.  If he goes,” you gestured to Crosshair.  “I go.”
   “CT-9904 was summoned, not you.  Now stand down!”  The trooper raised his blaster to strike you this time, and you readied yourself to fight back when you felt a firm hand grasp your wrist.
   You looked to see Hunter standing to his feet, giving you a warning look.  For a moment, you thought that maybe it would be better to stand down and not cause more trouble, so you relaxed your shoulders.  However, that changed the second Crosshair stood from the bench and started walking toward the troopers without so much of a glance or word to any of his comrades.
   “Wait!  No, I can’t just stand here and-” you caught Hunter off-guard and tore your arm free to hurry after Crosshair.  “What are you doing?”
   “I’ve been summoned, _________.  Good soldiers follow orders.”
   “But Cross,” you murmured, hot tears spilling down your cheeks as you reached for his gloved hand.  “I’m scared.  Don’t leave.”
   At the use of his nickname, his face changed.  The bridge of his nose scrunched slightly in confusion before his eyes softened and replaced the challenging gaze with a tender regard that he usually saved for you.  It was like whatever was clouding his mind was shaken away for a moment.
   “I don’t have much of a choice,” he told you, shooting a wary glance at the troopers that surprisingly were paused at the entrance to the cell.  Then, his expression hardened once more as he released your hand and walked into their custody.
   “No!  Crosshair, wait!  You lunged forward, but a large hand grabbed your shoulder.  “Wrecker, let me go!”
   “__________,” he said, his voice low and broken at your distress.  “It’s not gonna’ change anything.”  As Crosshair was led away, you jabbed a finger at the guards.  
   “He’s not their guinea pig!  You hear me?”
   They were out of sight, door sliding shut behind them, and you were left standing there breathing heavily.  You slammed a fist against the wall and turned to see the others watching with pained expressions.  Omega still covered her mouth with her hands in shock.
   “I’m sorry,” you told them, ducking your head.  “Sorry to make a scene.  I didn’t mean to make things worse, but...”
   “No,” Hunter said.  “I understand.  We…” he gestured to the rest of the group.  “ we understand.  We just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
   Things quieted down after that.  You placed yourself on the bench where Crosshair had previously been seated and waited.
   You rolled onto your back, staring at the top of the bunk as the memory came to a conclusion in your mind.  That was the last time you’d seen the real Crosshair.  The one that you’d seen in the hangar on Kamino was not your love.  Your teary eyes met his cold ones, and though he didn’t fire at you, you didn’t see much of a reaction in his expression.
   A knock on the door caused you to stir again.  You turned your head to call whoever was at the door inside the quarters.  The door slid open to reveal a form much shorter than you expected.  
    “_________?”
   “Omega,” you said, putting on a soft smile to let her know she was welcome.  “Do you need something?”
   She gazed at you sympathetically, returning your smile kindly.  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
    “I’m alright,” you replied.  “I just…”
   She approached the bunk, eyeing the small signs of Crosshair all around including the pillow in your arms.  “You miss him.”
   You tucked your nose back into the pillow to breathe in his scent once more.  It was nearly gone.  Your eyes watered a little at the realization.  “Yeah, I guess I do.”
   She rested a hand on your shoulder, much like she’d done to him in the prison cell at Kamino.  “The Crosshair you know is in there somewhere.  It’s that chip.  We’re going to get him back.”
   You looked to her as her smile grew, looking less concerned and more hopeful.  It was contagious because you were starting to feel that glimmer of hope in your chest and smile in return.  “I’m sure you’re right.”
   “In the meantime, I know it’s hard.”
   You hummed in agreement, a new memory coming to mind.  Your smile turned into a chuckle, earning an intrigued look from Omega.  “I was just thinking about this one time.  Before we got together, Crosshair and I went to a market for a supply run…”
   “Oh hey, that place looks like it’s got some decent stuff,” you said.  Crosshair’s eyes followed your gesturing hand to a fruit stand, the toothpick between his lips twirling idly.  He didn’t give a verbal response, only following you as you veered off the main path to approach.  An elderly woman with a large sun hat smiled as you paused to get a good look at everything.
    “Well hello there,” she greeted you.  “Can I help you with anything?”
   “Hello!  And yes, could I get a dozen of these?”  you gestured to the baskets of fruit.  “And a dozen of those?”
   “Most certainly, dear,” she nodded.  As she bagged up the product, you turned to see Crosshair hovering less than a foot behind you.  He surveyed your surroundings with those keen eyes of his before he noticed you looking at him.
   “What?”
   “Nothing.”  You grinned.  “See anything?  Any separatist droids perhaps?”
   He plucked the toothpick from his mouth to reply.  “Very amusing, ________.  I haven’t seen anything except for some shady pirate staring at you.”
   “Really?”  your grin quickly faded into a grimace as your eyes flickered to the side.  “Where?”
   “Behind me.”  Crosshair returned the toothpick to the spot between his teeth.  “I’m blocking you from his view.”
   “Oh.”  You straightened up.  “Thanks.”
   “Here you are,” the elderly woman stated, handing you one bag of fruit and Crosshair the other. You handed her the credits. “I also just wanted to say what an adorable couple you two make!”  She plucked a single flower from a nearby bouquet and handed it to Crosshair.  “For the young lady!”
   You wanted to duck your head in embarrassment while Crosshair rolled his eyes. Still, to your surprise he didn’t even bother to correct her.  He merely accepted the flower in silence and turned to you, his hand hovering for a moment before he settled on tucking the flower behind your ear. 
   “Bye!” You waved at the lady as the two of you walked away.
    “...Later on, I caught him looking at me when I had the flower tucked behind my ear.  I knew then that he had feelings for me, just like I did for him.”
   “So he’s always been a little...difficult?” Omega ventured.
   You laughed.  “Oh yes, but it was always an act.  Sometimes, he made it easy to see past that to the big heart underneath.”  You scooted off the bunk, releasing your hold on the pillow so it fell back in its spot, and proceeded to smooth out the blanket.  “Thank you, Omega.”
   She looked confused.  “  For what?”
   “The talk.  It really helped.”
   “Oh, yeah, no problem.”  She smiled.  “I’ve come to think of the squad as family, and...I don’t like to see my family hurting.”
   “I think of this squad as family too,” you agreed.  “ And I’m glad you’re a part of it, kid.  Let’s see if Tech needs anything up front.”
   The two of you became lost in chatter as you headed for the doorway.  You paused to take one final look at the empty quarters and at Crosshair’s bunk that you’d left as neat as he had.  A genuine smile spread across your face as you turned off the light and let the door close behind you.
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venushasvixens · 3 years
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Let’s Stay Together - Spike Spiegel x Reader One-Shot
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[A/N] Shout out to @nathaslosttheirshit for this request, EVERYBODY LOVES A LOVERS REUNITED TROPE IT WORKS EVERYTIME 🪐🌙✨
WARNING: some suggestive material (references to 18+ material BUT nothing happens)
“Hello you.”
“Long time no see.”
On your to-do list today was going to the grocery store, grabbing more supplies for your ship and weapons, and treating yourself to a little self-care. It did not involve seeing your ex for the first time since you both parted ways so long ago. Usually for the other partners in your life, the conversation following would be so awkward and stressful. You never felt this way about Spike.
“You know her?” A violet-haired woman questioned, her hand resting on her hip.
Spike nodded. “Old flame.”
“I’d say the best of them all.” You replied, your grip on your groceries loosening.
“Well I mean-“ Spike smirked, shrugging. You punched him in his shoulder playfully, giggling. Just like old times.
“I always will be, admit it. Spike and I used to have so much fun together. Didn’t we?” You said, smiling up at him.
“Her definition of fun was sleeping in all day.” Spike stated.
“Sounds like my kind of girl.” The woman joked. “I think I’m going to leave you two to it.”
As she walked away, you turned back to Spike. Catching his gaze, you can tell by the look in his eyes how much he missed you. The feeling was completely mutual. So long ago was Spike the biggest love of your life. Everyday was spent together, every second was so full of kindness and affection. Sure you guys slept in a lot, but there were other things you both did that made this relationship so special. Telling each other’s deepest fears and secrets, dreams and nightmares, the level of trust was off the charts. Above all, he was your best friend.
For the life of you, you couldn’t even remember why you went your separate ways. Carrying only happy memories and extremely positive fondness for Spike, it was only best to remember the good.
“What is it?” You asked, blushing.
He shook his head. “God, you’re still so gorgeous.”
Nodding slowly, you patted his chest. “Don’t flatter me.”
Spike felt the shockwaves of your touch revinate throughout his chest, warming his cold heart immediately. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“I thought you would never ask.”
-
Spike sipped on his drink slowly as you told him about the last few years of your life. From near death experiences to the worst hardships you ever had to face, it certainly kept him interested. As you told your story, you could not help but notice how intently Spike was listening. Really paying attention and communicating with past lovers was a difficult task to keep up with on both ends, but with him was different.
Remembering the times when he would stay over at your ship, eating take-out and watching crummy television on your holo computer. Doing all of that by yourself is great, but its somehow feels better when someone is doing it with you as well.
“How about you?” You asked, facing Spike.
Setting his drink down, he smirked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. Anytime he gave you that look, it sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Jesus fuck, this man still did things to you that were deliciously sinful.
“Give a guess.” He said.
Smiling, you leaned back into your chair. “Still on the Bebop?”
“You guessed correctly. Have been since we split.” He replied.
“That was such a long time ago. I thought that by now you would have settled down and gave up this dangerous life we live.” You admitted. “Not with a wife and kids, but to wind down for some peace and quiet.”
“I don’t think I know any other life than this. I've played this game for so long I don’t think I know how to quit.” Spike shrugged.
He was right. When you both were together, you came to the conclusion rather quickly that Spike would never settle, even for himself. The same went for you. You loved to travel, explore new places and meet new people, but the thought was always in the back of your mind. Staying in one place, with your other half, in happiness for the remainder of your lives.
“Hmm.” You hummed. “I do have one question though.”
“And that is?”
“That girl that you were with, you like her?” You teased, taking a sip from your drink.
A scowl splayed across Spike’s face. “Faye? Please.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. Evening turned to night, an hour turned into multiple. Not once was someone not talking. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a conversation so invigorating, or a conversation that lasted this long. It was like you both had never broken up. By now, you and Spike were scooted up side by side, feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies. Your head laid on his shoulder, and his on your head. The one question that you both had been dreading this whole time was on the tip of your tongue, now spilling out to either break or bond this tender moment.
“What happened to us?”
Silence.
It suddenly grew very tense between you both. Thinking the distance was getting wider, your heart began to drop. That was until finally, after his moment of clarity, Spike held out his hand, motioning for you to take it. Interlocking your fingers through his, you breathed a sigh of relief.
“Right person, wrong time.” Spike mumbled against your hair as he pecked a kiss on your head.
“I loved you so much.” You whispered softly into Spike’s ear.
“I still do.” He admitted, his finger lifting your chin to meet his gaze. As your eyes met, you were brought back to the night of your first date, your first kiss, the first time you both made love. That same face you saw each time was still here, the fire that was smothered in the past was now refueling back, bigger than ever before. His lips burned into yours, reminding you what you missed and needed. Your tongue slipped in his mouth against his own. He lost himself in you completely.
The sudden realization that you were in public snapped you back to reality. Pulling away, you reached for your drink. “Somehow you’re a better kisser than you were the last time I saw you.”
“It’s like when you eat something you haven’t had in a long time. You forget what it tastes like, and it's a whole new dish, just for you to try over and over again.” Spike chuckled, appreciating your soft shove.
Last call was announced in the bar, signaling that your time in heaven was almost up. You feared the parting of your ways, holding on tighter to Spike’s hand. You swallowed the last of your drink as you and Spike watched the patrons slowly exit the bar, with the last of you in tow.
“C’mon, it's time to go home.”he said, holding his hand out for you to scoot out of the booth.
You walked side by side out of the bar and into the street, making sure to take leisurely steps for more time with each other. You could feel that he was trying to do the same, physical touch becoming more common on you. As you reached the end of the block where you had both ran into each other, Spike’s arm snaked around your waist, making you face him.
“I have a suggestion.” Spike purred in your ear.
“What’s that?” You inquired, intrigued and excited by his new proposition.
“How about you come back to my ship and I can show you what else I’m better at?”
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i-lionheart · 3 years
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Memories | Kylo Ren x Reader
You are Kylo Ren's apprentice and second in command, ruling the galaxy and the First Order at his side. When Kylo notices you acting strange, he calls you to the throne room to investigate.
Before you read: 1.4K words, sfw, fluff, feelsy fluff, hurt/comfort but like... emotional hurt rather than physical, i guess it's technically fem!reader but its only mentioned once (when Kylo calls her "good girl") so make of that what you will
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You were surprised to see a message from Kylo Ren when you checked your wristpad. He usually only messaged you when he needed something and couldn't leave the Finalizer's bridge to speak with you face-to-face. Though you had been busy finishing up some work on your ship, he had retired to his quarters almost an hour ago for the evening meal. You opened the message.
Are you still working?
You typed a response.
No. Just finished. Why?
His answer was almost immediate.
Throne room. Now.
On my way.
You typed your final message and swiped the screen of your wristpad, which obediently went black. As you made your way from the docking bay to the throne room, you wondered what he needed so urgently right now. The fleet had spent the day at a supply outpost, gearing up in preparation for your next battle. You had just finished a successful mission and debriefed with Kylo when you had returned around midday, hours ago now. As far as you knew, the First Order was running smoothly, like the well-oiled machine you knew it to be. If something had happened, you would have heard about it.
What could he possibly want that was so urgent?
You arrived at the throne room and scanned your wristpad at the door terminal, as you had a thousand times. The door slid open with a whoosh. You stepped inside, continuing through the corridor that greeted you until it widened into the vast throne room.
The room had once belonged to Snoke, but much had changed since then. Now, walls marked the perimeter of what had once been a half - suspended platform, their previous blood red color replaced with a sleek jet black. Though unseen lights created a dim glow throughout most of the space, a spotlight cast the raised dais in the center of the room - and the figure on the dais's throne- into sharp relief.
Kylo Ren lounged lazily in the throne, legs spread, elbow resting on a thigh, head resting on his hand. He wore only the comfortable boots and simple, breathable long-sleeved shirt and pants that he preferred to his usual robes once he had retired for the day.
As you stepped forward into the room, his eyes settled upon you, taking in your appearance. He regarded you for a moment, and then spoke.
"What's bothering you?"
The question caught you off guard. You looked at him quizzically. "Can't you just read my mind and find out?"
"You're blocking me."
"Again?" you said, surprised. He nodded in confirmation.
"It's worse, today. Usually I can at least read your emotions, tell what you're feeling, how strong it is, maybe even catch a glimpse of what triggered it. Today?" He raised his eyebrows. "Nothing. I've had to surmise what I can from your body language alone."
That was unusual. Kylo was particularly gifted in using the Force to sense the thoughts of others. You were just as Force sensitive as he was, but had spend most of your life forced to hide it, and it had been causing you problems lately. At times, you unconsciously used your powers to throw up walls between your mind and the world. You and Ren had guessed that it was your unconscious way of trying to protect yourself. These mental walls helped stop your emotions from being projected outward and communicated to those around you who might wish you harm, but they also stopped Kylo from getting in, which was a problem. He needed to be able to keep tabs on you. If he couldn't, you were in danger, and you knew it. However, despite the serious nature of the situation, you couldn't pass up the chance to take a jab at him.
You let out a gasp of mock surprise. "You mean you have to read nonverbal cues? Like a normal person? How horrible!" you lamented, sarcastically feigning pity.
Kylo Ren was not a man with a great penchant for jokes, especially when they were at his expense. In fact, most officers in the First Order would probably tell you that he didn't have a comedic bone in his body. But you knew him better. Though he steepled his fingers and lowered his head to his hands, closing his eyes with a sigh of exasperation, you saw the corners of his mouth briefly twitch up into a small smile. You smirked in satisfaction. "I'm right and you know it. Behavior cues are something you have no right to complain about."
He raised his head and looked back at you with a shrewd expression. "And they are why I know that, as much as you attempt to deflect with humor, you are having difficulty. Tell me."
You blushed at the call-out. "It's nothing, really, I-"
He held out a hand, stopping you mid-sentence. "Don't lie to me, little one. Tell me what's bothering you." Though the rebuke was gentle, and his tone was tender, you avoided his gaze, choosing to observe the durasteel floor rather than let him see the shame rising in you.
"It's the memories," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
"It's your mother again, isn't it." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, I just-" you broke off, feeling a lump rise in your throat. "I just- what if she was right? What if I am broken, what if it is my own fault that I failed for so long? What if I can't keep this up, what if I fail again? I don't know, I just spent all day remembering everything she told me, and I thought..." You finally wrenched your gaze away from the floor, looking up at your Supreme Leader through eyes full of tears, praying that he would see the cry for help in your expression that you were too afraid to put into words. "What if I don't deserve this, either?"
With that final admission of insecurity, you lost what little composure you had left. Silent tears began flowing freely down your face as you sunk back into the ocean of memories that had been threatening to drown you for most of the day.
A voice with all the tenderness and softness of a spring rain cut through your thoughts, pulling you out of your daze.
"Come here, darling."
Obediently, you crossed the throne room. As you approached the dais, you looked up at him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. He had shifted in his seat, his new position an implicit invitation for you to join him on his throne. You kicked off your boots and ascended the dais, gratefully climbing into his lap and bringing your knees to your chest, melting into the body that was so familiar to you. He pulled you close to him, one arm supporting the small of your back, the other hand pressing your head to his chest despite the tears creating ever-growing dark spots on his thin shirt.
"Shhhh," he murmured. "Listen."
Obediently, you quieted your breathing, paying attention to your senses. Slowly but surely, you found the steady sound of his heart beating in his chest.
"Good girl." A pause, then he continued, impossibly gentle. "Now, match my breath." Obediently, you observed the rise and fall of his chest, then adjusted your own to match.
Inhale.
"Good." His hand stroked your hair.
Exhale.
"Just like that, darling. In..."
Inhale.
"...and out."
Exhale.
"You're doing wonderfully."
A moment of comfortable silence. No strife. No memories. No galaxy to rule. Just the two of you, breathing together.
The way you were meant to be.
He spoke again, continuing to caress you. "Remember where you are."
Inhale. Exhale.
"You are here, with me, and you are safe."
Inhale. Exhale.
"You deserve every star in the galaxy, every atom in the universe."
Inhale. Exhale.
"You deserve your place at my side."
Inhale. Exhale.
"Your mother was wrong. You deserve everything you have. And every time you are with me, I thank the Force for allowing me to rule with you by my side."
"Thank you," you murmured, words muffled from being spoken directly into his chest. God, you loved him, but managing to find the words to express that out loud was impossible.
His voice spoke inside your mind.
"Don't bother. I already know."
You felt, rather than saw, the smile that backed his words.
"If the memories ever bother you again, come find me. I'll help you."
A beat.
"You never have to face this alone again."
You sat there, pressed against him, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak. Grateful to simply be with someone who had vowed to always be by your side.
"I love you," you thought.
"I know."
-
if you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging so it can find other people who might enjoy it!
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pavo-ocell-me · 2 years
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Flufftober prompt 23: Drawing each other
Full Circle
Pls know the repetition of words is not me being lazy it was supposed to be poetic 😭
Done for @ohmykazuha's fluff event this october! No it's not late shut up shut up I was BUSY
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Sunset. Passionate strokes of sunlight stretched across the canvas of the sky, warmly painting its ardent love for Teyvat in careful flicks of color, made warmer still by its gentle gaze.
Such is where your mind went after spending too much time with Kazuha as you had that day. With his ties to Inazuma resolved, Kazuha had spent his first day of emotional freedom in Liyue and you were honored he asked you to accompany him the next day.
All was quiet where you both sat, overlooking the harbor and reveling in one another's presence. It was almost silly, really, the differences between you two. He was elegantly perched on the cliff's edge, fingers busying themselves with the enigmatic ancient zither he'd found the day before, while you sat next to him with your body unceremoniously hunched over a sketchbook. Your lax posture was a stark contrast to the confident strokes your pencil made across the paper, creating landscapes with ease and forming people you could barely make out from your vantage point above the docks.
Kazuha breathed a laugh upon glancing at your current sketch: a skillful rendition of three children watching the illustrious Traveler clean a docked ship for their entertainment. Kazuha turned his attention back to his instrument, bandaged fingers lazily strumming quiet chords as he breathed the lyrics of a song you'd never heard before. Although you could barely make out the lyrics, you could feel the romantic wistfulness in the tune. The feeling it brought about affected you more than you realized and you found yourself drawing Kazuha. 
You had no need to keep flicking your eyes between him and the page, having stared at him more than enough to conjure a strikingly accurate mental image, but you took the opportunity to admire him regardless. With a steady yet tender hand, you skillfully captured his form on the page, negative space and gentle changes in value making it look all the more like the subject it depicted. The ease of the task cleared your mind and allowed your thoughts to wander.
You always appreciated the way he made you feel. You'd developed feelings for him during his time aboard the Alcor, falling in love with his ever-rythmic cadence and the quiet bliss he carried. He steadied you when the ship tossed about on the waves, causing you to realize something about him. He never made you feel uncertain, an unpleasant gnawing in the back of your mind that reminded you of the roiling waters below. No, he made you feel safe and secure, an oak among the reeds, almost as if his embellished language was the flower field he resided in, standing strong in the face of adversity and amongst those who would falter under pressure. You felt a certain kind of joy when he was with you, one imbued with power.
Nearly done with your drawing, you no longer looked at Kazuha and hadn't realized he'd stopped playing in favor of watching his own face come into view on the page. He was glad you were so engrossed in your activity, not trusting that the pounding of his heart was truly quiet enough not to be heard by the human ear.
You were no better. As your steady hands perfected all you could of the figure you drew, your heart settled into a slow thud in your own ears, far too enamoured with the samurai for drawing him like this to be good for your health. A smile spread across your face to mirror the one you’d drawn: soft, contemplative, and perfectly reflective of the one on Kazuha’s face at that very moment given he’d taken to daydreaming as he waited.
Kazuha always appreciated the way you made him feel. He'd developed feelings for you during his time aboard the Alcor, falling in love with your quiet fulfillments and loud passions. You comforted him whenever his heart would race after a roll of thunder, causing him to realize something about you. You never made his heart beat quickly, an unpleasant fervor that reminded him of the Musou No Hitachi. No, you made his heart beat louder than any ceremonial drum, producing his own slow, rhythmic, personal kind of thunder. He felt powerful when he was with you, one imbued with a certain kind of peaceful joy.
You sat back and stretched, snapping him from his daze. He quickly became concerned when he heard your spine crack in a series of consecutive clicks as your body righted itself. Coming out of your post-sketch fogginess, you let yourself relax before slapping your sketchbook shut with a small yelp. Oh, he'd already seen, hadn't he? You flushed at his light chuckle. 
"I'm flattered," he spoke earnestly. "May I see it again?"
You grumbled an affirmation, still embarrassed as you flipped to the page you'd just filled. You did what you could to avoid showing the countless other drawings you'd made of him in similar moments, but you knew he was too perceptive to be fooled by the flicking pages.
Thankfully, he simply smiled, mentioning nothing about seeing the rest.
With careful fingers he took the book from your hands once you'd reached your destination. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was carrying something sacred. 
His white-clad digits brushed over the canvas, careful not to smudge the dark pigment.
"It is honoring you see me this way," he spoke. "The way you capture the most minute of emotions... it really is beautiful."
"Oh, it's nothing," you flushed, "I just draw things as they are. With a few liberties, of course."
“Would it be alright if I gave it a try?”
“Hm? I'm not sure how you'd draw yourself without a mirror.”
“Drawing you in turn, I mean,” he laughed in that smooth caress he called a voice.
“Oh! Go for it.”
He turned to search his pockets for his poetry notepad before you stopped him.
“If you wouldn't mind,” you called, making him pause and look to you. “Could you draw it in here? I'd like to keep it, if you'll allow me.”
“Ah, of course. However, I make no claims as to the quality of the end result,” he beamed.
“I’m not worried about the quality. It's because it's you.”
His cheeks pinked at that and your heart writhed in your chest, ready to burst. How in Teyvat was he so… you didn't even have the words.
He gingerly took the pencil and sketchbook from your outstretched hands and began drawing. You knew that while he wrote often, his hand muscles weren't geared towards drawing. It was endearing to see him figuring out how to go about this, until he flipped back to an earlier page. You didn't know what he was doing until he began blocking out shapes like you tended to do, starting with a full circle. It didn't matter that it was such a trivial matter, but his trust in your knowledge made you a bit dizzy.
He looked between you and the paper after a few minutes, but you were surprised he hadn't looked more often. He got the shape of your head and the placement of your features spot-on without so much as a glance at his subject. Had… had he memorized your face, just as you had done with his?
Before you could at all spiral into denying any possibility of him liking you, he glanced at you again. There was something there holding back a dam of self-doubt in you, and you thought on it as he turned back to the page. What was it? Your mind traced over the memory in wisps of graphite. You'd always been able to sense emotions better when you drew them, and what you found in Kazuha's eyes was both, to you, a pleasant surprise and a heartening confirmation. You were sure of what you saw when he looked at you again. 
Adoration. Passionate strokes of the pencil stretched across the canvas in his hands, warmly painting his ardent love for you in careful flicks of graphite, made warmer still by his gentle gaze.
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jamaisjoons · 4 years
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love alive ⤑ jjk | m.
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⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party. 〞post break up au. exes to lovers au.
❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: jungkook x reader
❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut
❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 17k
⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of alcohol, swearing, so much angst, pining? i guess, they’re both broken up but still love each other so there’s that lmao, reader emotionally cheats a fair amount, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, pussy eating, hair pulling, fingering, dirty talk, this was supposed to be soft sex but idk what happened, okay it’s kinda soft but also feral, tender feral sex, aka the seraphjoon vibe, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, multiple orgasms
➵ 𝑎/𝑛: YEEEHAW LOOK I DID SOMETHING !! i had sudden inspo for this fic and while it HURTS it doesn’t hurt too bad i dont think. anyway, i hope you enjoy it but its like 3am so i’m going to bed now hawyeet
⇥ part of the mixtape series
⏤ edited by my wonderful beta @shadowsremedy​
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One late Friday evening, Jungkook finds himself in his apartment. He’s currently sat on the sofa, simply staring off into space as he waits for his date to return. Jungkook doesn’t really remember much about her, they’d just been to dinner and try as he might, he just hadn’t been able to focus on the conversation. One reason being none other than it had been a completely stilted conversation - first dates were always awkward - but paired with the fact he barely knows her, and that he’d been on about seventeen different first dates in the last three months, he’d found himself unable to really keep the conversation going.
Of course, the second - and more major - reason, would be that she’s not you.
But Jungkook would rather not think about that right now.
“Do you have any wine?” Jungkook’s date calls out. Breaking out of his daze, Jungkook’s eyes come back into focus as he trains his attention back onto her. Eyebrows slightly furrowed, he scrambles for her name. Jiha? Jihyo? Jihye! That’s it. Jihye looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.
“Uh, maybe. I don’t know,” comes Jungkook’s distracted answer, “there may be some in the bottom cupboard on the left-hand side,” he continues nonchalantly - not really thinking about it. He thinks he remembers seeing an open bottle there, but again, he doesn’t drink wine all that often so he doesn’t really care. He watches Jihye rummage around in his kitchen, her short black dress riding further up the backs of her thighs - and Jungkook knows he should feel some sort of attraction towards her - she’s incredibly beautiful - not to mention her body’s practically perfect - and yet, he feels… nothing.
Why is he on a date with her again? Oh yes, because she frequented the same gym as he did and had asked him out randomly earlier in the week. Jungkook lets out a little sigh, his head falls back onto the back of the sofa. Staring up at the ceiling, his mind casts back to all the dates he’s had recently. Most of them approach him and he doesn’t really know why he keeps saying yes - but he has an inkling it’s to do with the fact that he’s still not over you. Though, that doesn’t really matter.
You’re long gone, and the last Jungkook had heard about you, was that you’d met someone else - someone willing to give you more than he could - someone willing to give you what you want. His heart constraints at the thought of you, but he shakes the thoughts out of his head. He needs to move on - it’s been long enough. Almost a year. Well, it’s been exactly seven months, twenty-three days and nine hours since you walked out on him, but who’s keeping count? Certainly not him.
“Oh! I found some. It’s already open - do you mind if I have some?” Jihye asks, and reflexively, Jungkook finds himself rolling his eyes. If he hadn’t wanted her to have some, he wouldn’t have told her where the wine was. Biting his tongue, however, Jungkook just lets out a non-committal hum. Once done pouring herself a glass of wine, Jihye returns to him while taking a sip of her wine. Suddenly, she stops, her face twisting in disgusting as she spits her wine back into her glass. Own features twisting in disgust, Jungkook regards her through guarded eyes, wondering what was going on.
“Gross! Why does this wine have pieces of cork in it? Also, I think it’s gone off - it tastes weird,” Jihye gripes as she takes her glass back into his kitchen. Barely paying attention to her words, Jungkook stares in unsettlement at the bottle. The dark green glass glints under the warm kitchen lights, his heart lurching as he recognises the bottle.
With unfocused eyes, he stares at the bottle, unmoving as his mind buzzes with what feels like static. Hazily, he registers that Jihye is speaking, but through the thick fog of his memories, Jungkook’s mind barely notices what she’s saying. Nonetheless, the exact moment Jihye begins tilting the bottle over the sink, attempting to flush its contents, Jungkook jumps to his feet.
“No! Don’t throw it out,” Jungkook’s voice thunders, his long legs carrying him into the kitchen swiftly. Jihye startles, looking at him in dumbfounded incredulity.
“What? Why? It’s got pieces of cork in it, and it tastes funny,” Jihye replies, turning back and beginning to pour the wine again. Abruptly, Jungkook snatches the bottle out of her hand, causing Jihye to jump.
“It’s not off, it just tastes like that. It’s bad wine,” Jungkook mutters as he puts the stopper back in the neck of the bottle.
“All the more reason to throw it out?” Jihye suggests, Jungkook’s jaw flexing at her words.
“I’m not throwing it out,” Jungkook replies, his voice hardened. Jihye cocks an eyebrow at him.
“Come on Jungkook, I think you should throw it out,” Jihye says coyly, a smile crawling onto her face. Imperceptibly, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. The flirtatiousness in her demeanour isn’t lost on him, nor is the fact that she likely thinks he’s joking. But Jungkook isn’t joking. He’s not throwing the wine out - whether it has pieces of cork in it, whether it tastes bad, or even if it had been off, he’s not throwing it out.
“No,” Jungkook says, his voice full of resolve. Jihye startles as she realises he’s not being playful. She raises her eyebrow once again, cocking her hip to the side.
“What’s so special about it? It’s just a bottle of wine,” Jihye points out. Of course, to anyone, it would be just a bottle of wine - but to him, it’s so much more.
It’s the last thing he has left of you.
When you’d broken up with him, ending your five-year relationship, you’d moved everything out of his apartment. The stupid cushions Jungkook hated - really, they only took up more space on the sofa, meaning he couldn’t lounge about properly - your hundred and one towels, even the sheets: the ones that had smelled like you. They’re all gone, along with all your clothes and belongings, leaving a half-empty apartment, and a hole in Jungkook’s heart. Every and any trace of you had slowly been removed from his flat and consequently his life. And now, he’s left with just this bottle of wine. - the one you’d forgotten about because it’d been hidden at the back of the cupboard.
“Jungkook? Are you listening to me? What’s so great about this bottle?” Jihye asks. Once again, however, Jungkook’s mind wanders to you. Unable to pull away from the bottle, Jihye fades from the world, her voice becoming distant and hazy as he recedes back into his memories.
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Flashback - three years ago
A knock resounding at Jungkook’s door, he takes a deep breath. Looking at himself in the mirror one last time, he brushes the non-existent lint off his blazer. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he nods at himself and leaves his bedroom. Approaching the door, he swings it open, a large smile painted on his face as he spots you.
“Hello, beautiful,” Jungkook greets the moment he spots you. However, the moment he actually sees you, he finds himself stopping. Dressed in a flowing sundress, a dazzling smile on your face and bright, twinkling eyes - you look positively radiant. A loud whoosh of air escapes his nose, his eyes softening at you, “you look gorgeous,” he breathlessly says, his voice low.
Your smile brightening, you grin up at him, “Happy third anniversary!” you call out cheerily. Jungkook bites his lip, and unable to stop himself, swoops down and presses a kiss to your lips.
“Happy anniversary,” he mutters back, his lips brushing yours with every movement. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you chew on it while giving him a smile. Even three years into your relationship, Jungkook still managed to set butterflies aflutter in the pits of your stomach with the slightest touch.
Swiftly, you step into his apartment, easily navigating your way towards his kitchen as you place the bags of food and wine onto his counter. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” you ask curiously, peering at your boyfriend through the corner of your eyes.
However, Jungkook only steps up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Nope!” he happily replies, popping the ‘p’ sound, “you said you’d rather just have a quiet night in. Besides, we went out for the cruise-ship dinner thing last year,” Jungkook continues, humming in thought at the memory. A smile curls on your own lips and you twist in his arms, winding your own around his waist as you place your head on his chest.
“Mmm, that was a good anniversary. But if I remember correctly, someone ended up being seasick from drinking too much,” you say pointedly, tilting your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his sternum. Despite his cheeks flushing a rosy shade, Jungkook scowls.
“It’s not my fault… the alcohol was stronger than I thought it was,” he mumbles under his breath. You shake your head in fondness, but then, your lips curl into a slight frown. Every anniversary, Jungkook had taken you somewhere - your first, he’d taken you on a ski trip, your second, he’d taken you on a weekend break to Jeju island, and of course, your third had been a cruise-ship dinner. This year, however, you’d been recently promoted to the department head of your company, but that had meant additional stress and weight to an already heavy workload. As a result, you’d asked Jungkook if he was okay with just a quiet night in - because there was nothing you wanted more than to just spend some time with your loving boyfriend.
“Are you sure this is okay? If you want to go out or something, we still can,” you ask. However, Jungkook only shakes his head once again while pulling you closer into him.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Honestly. I just want to spend some time with you. Whether that’s here in my apartment, or in yours, or on an expensive date, or even in a garbage dump, it doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you,” Jungkook grins before smacking a sloppy kiss on your forehead. Face twisting in disgust, your earlier doubt about Jungkook being happy with your choice of date fades away, and you playfully smack him before pushing him away.
“Ew gross! You just slobbered all over me,” you gripe, rubbing the wet spot on your forehead.
Waggling his eyebrows, “and there’s more where that came from,” Jungkook playfully teases. A light snort escapes your lips as you shake your head before turning around.
“Yeah, whatever. I bought wine and steak for dinner. It’s not much but I don’t know, I felt like being classy,” you casually shrug while turning to the bag of groceries Jungkook hadn’t noticed. Head cocked to the side, he grimaces at the bottle of wine. Suddenly, you stop, your lips curling in a frown, “Although… in hindsight, I should have bought more food - knowing your bottomless stomach,” you sigh, looking at him from the corner of your eye.
“Yeah, you probably should have,” Jungkook deadpans. Lips twisting into a pout, your shoulders deflate at his words. Jungkook sees your disappointment, his heart dropping in his chest at the thought of upsetting you. He’d meant it as a joke - really, he had - but you’d clearly taken it seriously. Stepping up to you, Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist once again, his chin resting on your shoulder and hands clasps around your belly.
“I was only joking, sweetheart,” Jungkook says lowly, his face nuzzling into your hair while he presses a kiss to the outer shell of your ear. “Wine and steak sound good. Very classy,” he continues, pressing another kiss to your flesh - this time the column of your throat.
Instantly, your lips curl into a victorious smirk, “Okay, great!” you say, your shoulders immediately perking up. Jungkook blinks at your sudden change in demeanour, his nose scrunching when he realises what’s just happened.
“Hey! Did you do that on purpose?” he asks, his eyes narrowing into slits, his gaze full of accusation. Face twisting into a picture of innocence, you smile at him coyly - and if he didn’t know you as well as he did, he’d buy it - but Jungkook sees the sparkle of mischief in your eyes.
Before he can open his mouth, however, you’re already cutting him off, “Where’s your corkscrew?” you ask, rummaging through his drawers. Jungkook watches you search through the utensils, your lips curling downwards in concentration.
His own lips twisting, Jungkook approaches you, helping you look for the corkscrew. However, after a few moments, “Oh. I don’t think I have one,” Jungkook finally says. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, Jungkook wonders if he ever even bought one, but he doesn’t think he has.
“Kook! How are we supposed to drink this now?” you whine, a pout forming on your face again. Shrugging, Jungkook whips out his phone.
“I’m sure we can like, find another way,” Jungkook replies, already googling a way to open the wine bottle. Curiously, you peer over his shoulder, Jungkook’s arm instinctively wrapping around you as he scrolls with one hand. Head tilting upwards, you smile at your boyfriend, his features slightly scrunched in concentration. Unable to help yourself, you lean up and press a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. The moment your lips brush his skin, the corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch before he twists his head and presses a kiss to the temple of your head.
Arms wrapping around his waist, you lean your head on his bicep, “find anything yet?” you ask, Jungkook humming in response.
“We could use a blowtorch,” he replies casually.
“Do you have a blowtorch?”
“Fair enough. We could smack it against the wall using something to cushion it.”
“And risk breaking the bottle? No thanks.” Like that, Jungkook continues reading out suggestions: from pumping it out using a bicycle tire pump, all the way to slapping it out with a shoe, only for you to refute them. Eventually, however, with no other option, you and Jungkook eventually try using a screwdriver. Which brings you to now, almost fifteen minutes later.
“Oh my god, I think I’ve got it,” Jungkook yells in triumph. You’re currently sat on the kitchen island, your legs dangling as you watch your boyfriend struggle with the bottle. About five minutes after attempting to open the bottle, you’d conceded defeat. Your boyfriend, however, is much more competitive than you are, and he’d downright refused to let the bottle win. Thus, for the last ten minutes, you’d watched your boyfriend futilely dig, and twist, the screwdriver into the cork.
Quirking your eyebrow at your boyfriend, your eyes rove over him. He’s currently stood with a victorious grin, the apples of his cheeks bunched up around his eyes. He’s holding out the wine bottle, the metal head of the screwdriver stuck into the neck of the bottle. Hell, the cork isn’t even in one piece anymore - bits and pieces of it littered on the floor around him from where Jungkook had dug it out in an attempt to bury the screwdriver into the wood stopper.
“Have you now?” you drawl sarcastically. It certainly doesn’t look like he’s got it. For one, the cork is still in the bottle.
Sneering at your snide tone, “Watch this!” Jungkook calls out, and then, grabbing the handle of the tool, he pulls as hard as he can. A loud pop resounds through the air and you startle slightly, watching as Jungkook holds the screwdriver - with half the cork attached to it - in the air.
“Oh my god! You did it!” you call in surprise, jumping off the table and walking towards him.
Puffing out his chest, “and you didn’t believe in me! But I did it anyway,” Jungkook says proudly.
You roll your eyes before gesturing to the half-broken cork, “yeah barely.”
“Tomato, tomato. Potato, potato. The point is, I did it, and we can have wine now” Jungkook replies. With another roll of your eyes, you cross his kitchen and pull two wine glasses out of his cupboard.
“Yeah, yeah. My knight in shining suit. Now come on! I’ve literally been waiting twenty-five minutes to drink this,” you say, holding out the glasses towards him. Nodding, Jungkook pours the wine, filling the tumblers halfway before placing the bottle back on the island.
He takes the glasses from your hand, placing them on the dining table and you follow him, placing the plates of food onto the table. The two of you take seats opposite each other, Jungkook raising his glass towards you in a salute. For a few moments, the two of you tuck into your food, the muffled sounds of your joint chewing filling the air.
Then, “this steak is cold,” you grumble, a grimace settling on your face. In hindsight, after spending all that time trying to open the wine, the two of you should have heated your food - but in the triumph of actually opening the wine, you’d both forgotten.
“Yeah, and this wine is fucking gross,” Jungkook gripes, his own features twisting in disgust. Blinking owlishly, you reach for your own glass, sipping the burgundy liquid. The minute it washes over your tastebuds, you find yourself gagging. It’s sour - the acrid stench of it only burning your nasal cavity and intensifying the bitterness of the wine.
Forcibly, you swallow it down before spitting and sputtering into your hand, “yeah, and it’s got pieces of cork in it. Gross, what a waste of a hundred and fifty thousand won,” you scowl. Immediately, Jungkook baulks.
“A hundred and fifty thousand won? For that trash?” Jungkook yells in incredulity. You look at him in surprise, the two of you simply staring at each other. Then, all of a sudden, the two of you burst out laughing. Neither of you has any real reason for why you’re both laughing. Perhaps it was the ridiculous price of the incredibly poortasting wine, perhaps it was that Jungkook had spent a good fifteen minutes struggling with said wine or perhaps it was because even after all that struggle, neither of you could stomach the taste. Either way, the absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on either of you, and you both can’t help but laugh hysterically.
“Man, I can’t believe you spent that much money on that shit,” Jungkook giggles, wiping away at his tears.
Lower lip pulled between your teeth, you grin at Jungkook, “I can’t believe you spent so much time trying to open it,” you quip. Shaking your heads, you both resume eating your food, forgoing the wine.
Once the two of you are done, you help Jungkook clear the table. Jungkook watches you throw out the leftovers before placing the plates into the sink. The kitchen lights are dimmed low, the amber light reflecting off of your skin and silhouetting you in its glow. The bright walls off his kitchen only help to highlight your body, the hem of your dress swishing around your thighs with every movement. His darkened, lust-filled gaze rakes over you and he can’t help but swallow thickly when his eyes rest on the smooth curve of your ass.
Helpless against his desire for you, you feel Jungkook’s arms wrap around your body. Loosely, his hands rest on your hips, the pads of his fingertips gently digging into your flesh. “Do you wanna head to bed?” Jungkook asks, his voice breathy as he begins peppering kisses along the column of your neck. You raise your eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanour. Nevertheless, you’d be lying if you said his light, attentive touch wasn’t clouding your head in hazy lust.
“All of a sudden?” you ask, your tone light and teasing. Jungkook responds by digging his fingers harder into your hips, pulling them back so your ass is flush against his crotch.
“If I’m being honest, I’ve wanted to get you out of this dress as soon as I saw you in it. You look beautiful. I love you so much,” Jungkook rasps in response, lightly nipping at the sensitive flesh just below your earlobe. Twisting in his hold, you wind your hands around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair at the back of his nape before lightly playing with the locks.
“I love you too,” you breathe out, “take me to bed and I’ll show you how much,” you breathlessly whisper back. A shuddering exhale escaping his lips, Jungkook’s mouth descends onto yours. Instantly, the two of you lose yourselves into each other; the wine bottle long forgotten.
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“Jungkook? Are you even paying attention to me?” Jihye suddenly calls out, her hands waving in front of his face. Blinking blankly, Jungkook’s vision comes back into focus. He looks around his apartment - it’s still the same as it was two years ago. The kitchen lights are still low, and his walls are bright, and that same bottle of wine sits on his marble counter - practically mocking him - but you’re not here. It’s not you standing in his kitchen.
“I- you need to leave,” Jungkook chokes out, his voice hoarse and his throat thick with emotion. Jihye looks at him in dumbfounded bewilderment. She opens her mouth to argue, but then stops, her words dying on her lips. Taking in Jungkook’s distant gaze, Jihye notices his attention is once again on the bottle. With a scoff, she rolls her eyes before snorting. Then, grabbing her purse, she stalks out of his apartment - but not before slamming the door.
Jungkook doesn’t care.
Instead, he stares at the dark bottle of wine. His reflection glints back at him, his distorted face mirroring the despair and sadness etched onto his face. Once again, he loses himself into his memories. Memories of when the two of you were still together, memories of you smiling at him, of you kissing him, memories of the two of you, when you were both happy - and together. But not anymore. Now, those memories that he’d once cherished - once taken for granted - are tainted: bruised and tarnished with the restless memories of you leaving; of you walking out of this very same apartment and leaving him all alone.
The warm memories that had once been his saving grace, now leave him cold, with a deep ache in his chest.
With one final glance at the bottle, Jungkook buries his head in his hands, and then lets out a heartwrenching sob.
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In the comfort of your own home, you lie in your bed, staring up into nothingness. The bedroom is completely bathed in darkness, not even a single sliver of moonlight peeking in through the blackout-blinds you had installed. After your third anniversary with Jungkook, you’d moved in with him, and your ex-boyfriend had hated any and every inkling of light while he was trying to sleep. He simply couldn’t sleep unless he was in complete darkness. Of course, after two years of living with him, you’d also gotten used to it - and now, you aren’t able to sleep without complete darkness either.
Yet, you still aren’t able to sleep. There are many reasons for your lack of sleep. Many of them are to do with your ex-boyfriend. It’s been just over half a year since you and Jungkook broke up. Almost eight months now since you walked out of his life. Eight months since you reluctantly broke off your five-year relationships. But you had no choice. You and Jungkook had wanted different things in life and though heartbreaking, you knew it was best for the two of you to go your separate ways then and there.
Of course, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. Nor does it help qualm the crushing bitterness, nor the misery, you feel at Jungkook’s absence in your life.
Though, you figure, those feelings are a given. After all, the two of you had been together for five whole years. Five years is a long time to spend with someone - and for the entirety of those years, Jungkook had been your one and only - the man you had loved with your entire heart. The man you still love with all your heart. It’s not like you could just forget five years of love in a day - nor in eight months. Hell, you don’t think you could forget him, nor the love you feel for him, in your entire lifetime.
Thus, in the absolute dark of your bedroom, you stare up at the ceiling. Though, you don’t really see it. No, all you see is darkness. A low sigh escapes your lips and you shift on your bed, trying to find a comfortable position. But try as you might, you simply can’t find one. And it has every reason to do with the man occupying your bed - if you remove your residual feelings for Jungkook out of the picture. Tilting your head slightly, you turn to your side. Even in the darkness, you can make out the obscure outline of your current boyfriend’s - though you use that term loosely, because really, he’s a family friend you’ve known a while and your mother had set you up with - face as he snores lightly. With another sigh, you turn your head back to stare at the ceiling.
Other than thoughts of Jungkook, one of the main reasons you can’t sleep is: you’re on the wrong side of the bed. For as long as you’d been with Jungkook, even before you lived together, Jungkook had always slept on the left, and you’d slept on the right. It wasn’t like you’d purposely decided on that, it’s just how it had worked out. Jungkook always slept on the left, and you on the right - before the two of you had even met. And after you’d met? Well, it had just clicked - as if the two of you were made for each other.
But now, you’re on the left.
And Minhyuk is on the right.
And it’s not right. Nor does it feel right. In more than one sense of the word.
Shifting once again, you lowly groan when a sting of pain shoots through your lower abdomen, bringing you to another reason you can’t sleep. You’re on your period, and with your period, comes the cursed cramps. No matter how much you try, you simply can’t seem to find a comfortable position to lie in. That, paired with the fact that you’re on the wrong side of the bed, and the plaguing thoughts of Jungkook, has insomnia gripping at your head. Momentarily, you’d considered getting up and heating up a hot water bottle to soothe your pain, but you simply can’t find it in yourself to get out of bed - not when moving only seemed to fuel the fire in the pits of your uterus.
Once again, you turn to Minhyuk. Briefly, you consider waking him up and asking him to bring you the hot water bottle, and you even open your mouth to call him. But then, you pause, the words dying on your lips as your throat constricts. This scene is almost too familiar to you, and in the dark of your bedroom, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the past.
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Flashback - two years ago
Shifting uncomfortably, you’re woken from your sleep by the searing pain in your lower abdomen. Through the haze of your sleep, you let out quiet whimpers and continue shuffling in bed, trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep in. However, try as you might, you simply can’t seem to find one. This time, when you shift again, you feel Jungkook’s arm lazily wrap around you.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jungkook asks while shuffling closer towards him. His words cause you to still, your shoulders relaxing as you feel his warm presence surround you. Your boyfriend moves his head to just over your shoulder, his hand sluggishly rubbing circles over your stomach. He nudges your t-shirt to the side - really, it’s his - and presses a tender kiss to the skin of your shoulder that he’s just exposed. Before you can even say anything, or alert him to exactly what is wrong, “do you have bad cramps again?” he sighs out. Despite your pain, you find your face softening, a soft smile curling on your lips at the sleepy tone of his voice.
“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t wanna wake you up,” you reply lowly. Jungkook only shakes his head, his long hair tickling the flesh of your collarbone.
“Tis okay,” Jungkook slurs sleepily. Then, before you can tell him to go back to sleep, Jungkook is already crawling out of bed. You hear a loud thud, followed by a pained groan, “I’m okay. I just- didn’t see the end of the bed,” Jungkook mumbles through the haziness of his sleep. Instantly, his words cause concern to well up in your chest, however, before you can ask him if he’s okay, he’s leaving your bedroom.
Left alone, you flick the lamp on your bedside table on and sit up in bed with a wince. You take in short, deep breath, trying your best to soothe the vengeful cramps in the pit of your stomach. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think your uterus was tying itself into knots. Another sharp sting and you let out a low whimper, doubling over in pain as you clutch your stomach.
Moments later, you feel a hand soothingly rub your lower back as your boyfriend - now more awake - crouches down beside your side of the bed. Large, doe eyes stare at you in concern as he passes you your hot water bottle. “Here you go, baby,” Jungkook says softly, placing the fuzzy bottle on your lower stomach. The warm heat instantly soothes your cramps, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you feel the pain begin to subside.
“Thank you,” you rasp out, but Jungkook only shakes his head. Then, he thrusts his hand and a glass in front of your face.
When you quirk your eyebrow at him, “painkillers,” Jungkook merely responds. Your face crumples, your heart speeding up in your chest. Gratefully, you accept the pills from him, popping them in your mouth before chugging down the glass of water. When you’re done, Jungkook takes the glass from your hand and places it back onto your bedside table. Once done, he helps you shift back down into a laying position as he tucks you into bed. Then, he crawls under the sheets himself.
You feel the left side of the bed shift before Jungkook slides in. Rolling closer to you, he presses his chest against your back while throwing an arm to rest loosely over your waist. Lazily, he rubs his hand over your hips, soothingly massaging the skin while pressing tender kisses to the back of your shoulder. “Are you feeling better?” Jungkook mumbles. His voice is low, heavy with sleep, and you can’t help but shudder as it reverberates through your eardrum.
“Mmm. Much better. Thank you,” you whisper back, more than grateful at his thoughtful gestures. If there was one thing you absolutely adored about Jungkook, it would be his utter thoughtfulness. More often than not, you just wouldn’t need to tell him what was wrong; after almost four years together, he could simply read you like a book. He knew what you wanted and when you wanted it. He knew when to leave you alone, or when to help you. He could read your moods as if he was well versed in all things that surrounded you. More than anything, however, Jungkook was simply empathetic towards you - and it made you fall for him all the more.
“I love you,” you whisper, the words easily falling from your lips. You feel Jungkook’s lips curl against your shoulder, an indolent smile playing at his lips.
Without even a moment of hesitation, “I love you too,” he mumbles back. Then, the two of you fall back into silence: with you clutching the hot water bottle to your uterus, and Jungkook genially rubbing circles into the flesh of your hips.
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Another sharp pain ricochets through your uterus, pulling you out of your reverie. A low whimper escapes your throat and you shift in bed again. However, unlike Jungkook, Minhyuk stays fast asleep. Once again, you contemplate waking him up and you don’t want to, but the pain is almost too much. Before you can stop yourself, “Minhyuk?” you whimper out while gently shaking him.
Minhyuk lets out a groggy groan before, “what’s wrong, ____?” he asks, his voice heavily laden with sleep.
“C-can you go into the kitchen and get me my hot water bottle, please? I’ve got really bad cramps,” you whisper hoarsely. Minhyuk only groans in response.
“____… I’ve got to wake up for work in three hours. Can you not get it yourself?” Minhyuk asks sleepily. There’s no malice in his tone, nor upset or anger, just drowsy question - and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it - but still, you can’t help the way your stomach drops at his words. Biting your lip, you suck in a sharp breath, the movement making you whimper in pain again. Clearly, Minhyuk hears the sound escape your lips, because he’s sliding out of bed - albeit begrudgingly - and leaving your bedroom.
Five minutes later, he walks back and passes you the hot water bottle. With a small voice, you thank him, Minhyuk grunting in response. The right side of the mattress tilts and you feel Minhyuk slide back into bed. “Goodnight,” Minhyuk mumbles, though you can tell he’s already falling asleep again. Briefly, he pecks your cheek before turning his back towards you. Short moments later, his light snores fill the quiet air of the night, leaving you alone once again.
Chewing your lip, you place the hot water bottle onto your stomach, allowing the warm, soothing sensation to assuage the pain of your cramps. Your mind casts back to Jungkook, and the way he took care of you on nights like this, and then you turn to Minhyuk once again. You can still feel his lips on your cheek - from where he’d kissed you - but it’s not the same. Minhyuk is nice, and though reluctantly, he still got out of bed to get you your water bottle.
But it’s not the same.
It’s not the same when he kisses you on the cheek, or brings you your water bottle. It’s not the same when he buys you flowers, or takes you out to dinner. It’s not the same when he kisses you, or when you sleep together. It’s not the same, because while nice, all of his gestures are empty. There’s no love in them, no thoughtfulness, no passion. Minhyuk is nice - and he does things out of nicety - but he also does them out of obligation.
And it’s not the same.
Because there is no love in them.
Because he’s not Jungkook.
Because he won’t ever be.
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A month and a half later, you find yourself nervously staring at the brass-gold number plates of your brother’s apartment. You haven’t seen Hoseok in a few months - well, nine months to be exact. Nine months on this day. Wow. It’s really been nine months since you broke up with Jungkook, huh? It definitely feels like it’s been longer. If anything, it feels like an eternity. Though, you suppose, it must, since you’d gone from spending almost every day with him to suddenly not seeing him. It had been hard, and multiple times, you’ve wondered if you should just go back - but you know you can’t. You’d broken up for reasons - serious reasons - reasons that had meant a lot to you.
All these months, you’ve tried avoiding him as best as you could. Anything and everything that was within your power, you had done: from avoiding all of your friends because they reminded you too much of him, to moving to a different part of the city just to avoid running into him by chance. It had been hard, and god had it hurt - stillhurts - but you knew you had to do it. But now, standing in front of your brother’s apartment, you know you can no longer run from him anymore. Today is Hoseok’s birthday - and you know he’d be heartbroken if you didn’t turn up.
But you also know Jungkook will be here - because there’s no way Hoseok hadn’t invited him.
Funnily enough, you’d met Jungkook because of Hoseok. The two of them had met at the swimming club in your university, and the two had gotten along well. At first, you’d been fearful of admitting to Hoseok that you were seeing Jungkook - but to your utter surprise, your older brother just hadn’t cared. He liked Jungkook and he trusted Jungkook to treat you right - and he had. For five years, Jungkook had been the best, sweetest, most perfect boyfriend anyone could have asked for. Until that day. That fateful day, nine months ago, when you’d walked out of his apartment - and consequently his life.
“____? You okay?” Minhyuk asks, waving his hand in front of your space. Pulled out of your thoughts, you stare at your boyfriend - though once again, you use the term loosely. Minhyuk stares at you in confusion before gesturing to the door. The very same door you’d been blankly staring at while reminiscing about your brother and boyfriend. Looking at Minhyuk, you can’t help the way your stomach tosses at the sight of him.
Momentarily, you wonder what Hoseok would say. Hoseok absolutely adored Jungkook - to the point where you’d find your brother cuddling with your boyfriend, or kissing his forehead. You shudder just thinking about it. That had been a funny day. One day, you’d decided to surprise your boyfriend by spontaneously turning up at his apartment. However, to your utter surprise, you’d turned up just to see your boyfriend and your brother snuggling while watching Netflix. Sure, it was a cute sight, and ordinarily, you would have been touched. If it weren’t for the fact that your brother was cuddling your boyfriend.
So yes, suffice to say the least, Hoseok absolutely loved Jungkook - and throughout your entire relationship, he’d completely rooted and supported the two of you. Even when you and Jungkook would fight, even when you’d drive each other crazy, Hoseok would speak to the both of you and calm you down and make you see reason. Reason being that you both loved each other. Which is why, dread settles in your stomach as you stare blankly at Minhyuk. Once again, you wonder what Hoseok would say. You know he knows that you’re seeing Minhyuk - your mother has to have told him.
But knowing and seeing are two different things and you have no idea how he’ll react to Minhyuk. You love your brother, you really, really do - but Hoseok has a bad habit of not being able to bite his tongue - and that paired with the fact that he absolutely loved Jungkook - and still does - has trepidation settling deep within your stomach. It doesn’t help that it’s so soon after you and Jungkook broke up either. Nor does it help that Hoseok already knows Minhyuk - he is the son of your mother’s friend after all. But you’re twenty-seven now and you’re not getting any younger and you have to move on with your life. Whether that be with Jungkook or not. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely distraught that it turned out to be without your sweet boyfriend. Or well, ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself.
Once again, Minhyuk looks at you expectantly. Drawing in every ounce of courage you can muster, you take in a deep breath and then knock on your brother’s door. You don’t know how long it takes Hoseok to answer. Realistically, you know it’s only mere moments - but that doesn’t stop it feeling like an excruciating eternity.
The moment Hoseok’s door swings open, you’re met with the sight of your brother. Smiling shyly at him, you awkwardly wave, “Hey Hobi,” you greet. However, Hoseok isn’t looking at you. No, he’s looking at the taller man stood next to you. Shuffling from foot to foot, your gaze flits back and forth from your brother to Minhyuk. Minhyuk for the most of it, looks a little lost and unsure of himself or what to say. Oppositely, your brother simply stares at Minhyuk, looking him up and down, his face a picture of passiveness and his usually warm gaze completely guarded.
“H-Hobi?” you choke out, clearing your throat as you try to get your brother’s attention. Hoseok blinks for a minute and then turns to you.
Momentarily, he regards you with his passive gaze before his lips quirk, and then suddenly, he’s beaming and pulling you into a hug. “____! I’ve missed you!” you brother practically screams, and despite the slight wince as he almost bursts your eardrums, you find yourself letting out a breath of air you hadn’t even known you’d been holding. The minute your brother envelops you in his arms, you feel yourself getting choked up - you’d missed his warmth. You’d desperately craved his affection when you’d broken up with Jungkook, but you had no idea what to say to him - or even how to approach him.
“Come on in. It’s a pretty quiet thing. There’s booze and snacks in the kitchen just help yourself to it, music’s mainly in the living room if you just wanna chill but if you need somewhere more quiet, the balcony or spare bedroom are available. ____ will tell you where to hang up your coats,” Hoseok says, smiling at Minhyuk. You bite your lip at Hoseok’s tone - it may not be obvious to others, but you know your brother like the back of your hand, and you can see the stiffness in his smile, and the chilled politeness in his tone. “Let’s catch up later on, yeah?” Hoseok says, turning back to you. Stiffly, you nod at him, already knowing he wants to talk about Jungkook.
Both you and Minhyuk enter Hoseok’s apartment and you can’t help the dismay that streaks through you. Hoseok wasn’t kidding when he said it’s a pretty quiet affair. About twenty people are milling about, the low thrumming bass of Hoseok’s music vibrating through the air. It’s loud enough to be heard throughout the apartment; not enough to cause the neighbours to complain, but more than enough to not really be able to have a decent conversation with someone.
Scattered about the crowd are a few people you recognise - Namjoon: Hoseok’s best friend from high school, and of course, Seokjin and Yoongi - his other best friends from college. Momentarily, you spot Jimin and you find yourself reeling at the familiar face. He’d been Hoseok’s friend from dance school when your brother was still in middle school. Your eyes continue scanning over the crowd before you find yourself stopping.
A rush of heat courses through your veins, the rushing of blood resounding through your eardrums when you spot Kim Taehyung - Hoseok and Jungkook’s other friend from swim team. But it’s not Taehyung that has you stopping. No, it’s who he’s speaking to.
Jungkook.
Knees buckling at the mere sight of him, your face crumples with the weight of your emotions. It’s only been nine months, and yet he looks so different from the last day you’d seen him. His hair is much longer now - so long that it falls into his eyes and you watch how he flicks the soft strands of hair out of his face. The motion of his hair practically mesmerises you and you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. With his smooth caramel skin, soft features and gently sloping lips, he has your heart constricting between your ribcage.
Then you spot it. The black leather jacket. The same one you’d gotten him as a birthday gift four years ago. It’s still preserved beautifully, not a single piece out of place. The leather still shines like it’s brand new, and it still sits on his body as well as it did the first time you gifted it to him. Taehyung says something and Jungkook laughs in response, and the moment that he does, you let out an inaudible gasp. His head falls back, his features twisting into an expression of pure joy while his bunny-esque teeth are put on display. He looks happy - carefree - and you can’t help the sting of nostalgia that spikes through you. The music is loud, and you can barely hear anything. But somehow, his laugh resounds in your ear: ingrained in the memory of your eardrums as it plays like a record, over and over, while you watch him.
“You wanna get a drink?” Minhyuk asks. Instantly, your world comes crashing around you, and you turn to your current paramour. Blinking owlishly, you stare at him in confusion. He’s awfully close to you - a mere hair’s breadth away from you and instinctively, you find yourself backing away. Minhyuk looks at you oddly, and with a sheepish look, you nod to him. You’d gladly accept something to drink - you know you’ll need it if you wanted to survive the night.
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An hour later, you find yourself standing over the Seoul city skyline. Leant up against the glass railing of Hoseok’s balcony, you simply stare at the sunset painted across Seoul. The large skyscraper buildings obscure most of it, the artificial bright lights dimming the dusky colours of twilight - but you don’t mind so much. Even obscured by the towering modern glass buildings, the dark shades of amaranth, copper and violet vividly paint the sky enough for you to take it all in.
“You okay out here?” comes a soft voice but you don’t need to turn around to see who it is. You could recognise your brother’s voice in a heartbeat.
Humming non-committally, “fine. I just... needed some space, I guess,” you mumble out with a sigh. If you’re being completely honest, you wanted space from Minhyuk. The minute he noticed your gaze on Jungkook, something in him changed - he’d become a tad overbearing, not to mention that he hasn’t left you alone all night. His sudden attachment wouldn’t have been a problem - if it weren’t the fact that you’d been maudlin about seeing Jungkook again. Thus, while he was busy entertaining a small crowd of Hoseok’s friends, you’d slipped out from under his nose and isolated yourself onto the balcony.
A loud chorus of laughs rolls across the quiet balcony and you let out another sigh. Hoseok leans against the railing next to you as he faces his apartment. “Minhyuk seems to be doing well,” comes Hoseok’s casual voice.
Another sigh, “please don’t,” you whisper. You already know where Hoseok’s going with this. Turning his back to his apartment, Hoseok joins you in basking under the quickly setting sun.
“What happened? You never told me, and Jungkook… well, Jungkook refuses to talk about it. To talk about you,” Hoseok sighs. Through your peripheral vision, you note the almost defeated look in Hoseok’s eyes. Heart clenching at his words, you grip your beer can tighter while staring dully into the distance. You don’t blame Jungkook for not talking about you - you haven’t spoken about him either. Sure, you think about him. Every. Single. Day. But thinking about him and speaking about him are two different things - the latter of which is far too painful.
When you don’t respond to his question, Hoseok simply sighs. “Okay fine, we don’t have to talk about that. But-” he begins.
Before he can continue, however, you turn and look at him, “Hobi, can we just not speak about this?” you ask quietly. Your brother looks at you pointedly, his eyes scrutinising you. With your slumped shoulders and the desperation in your eyes, Hoseok finds his eyes softening. Instantly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing your head to his chest. Automatically, you own arms wrap around him and you bask in your brother’s comforting embrace.
“You still love him,” Hoseok breathes out. There’s not a single hint of accusation in his tone, just plain understanding. More than that, it’s not a question; it’s a statement. One that has your fists curling tighter into his shirt, your shoulders tensing. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he just holds you, letting you seek as much solace as you need from his hold. Frozen in his hug, you breathe deeply as you try to hold yourself together.
Eventually, you find the strength to pull away. Hoseok looks at you with gentle eyes. “Are you happy, at least? With Minhyuk?” Hoseok asks. Opening your mouth, you move to reply, but find yourself stopping. Eyebrows furrowed, your face contorts marginally as you consider Hoseok’s question. Are you happy? Honestly? You have no idea. You haven’t felt any real happiness since you walked out on Jungkook - but you’d chalked it up to the fact that you were still getting over him.
Hesitancy evident in every fibre of your being, Hoseok looks at you pointedly. “Alright. You don’t have to reply because I already know the answer to that,” Hoseok  sighs. He pauses for a moment, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Yet, he continues anyway, “I know mom pushed you towards Minhyuk,” Hoseok begins, causing your eyes to widen. You open your mouth to reply, however, he cuts you off once again, “But I trust you to do the right thing. Not for anyone, but for yourself. You’re strong, ____, but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want,” Hoseok finishes. Before you can reply to him, however, you hear the balcony doors sliding open.
The two of you turn around to the newcomer, your heart fluttering when you see Jungkook. “Oh. Sorry, I’ll leave,” Jungkook quickly says, already turning around. Abruptly, however, Hoseok walks up to Jungkook before clapping him on the back.
“Nah it’s okay. I was just heading inside. You can keep ____ company if you want,” Hoseok says brightly. Internally, you despair at your brother’s words. What the fuck was he thinking? Nonetheless, before either of you can say anything, Hoseok disappears back into his apartment, consequently leaving you and Jungkook alone.
Jungkook turns to you nervously, and you can practically feel the hesitancy exuding off of him in thick waves. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you send him an awkward smile before gesturing for him to join you. Jungkook looks at you in a mix of worry and trepidation, but ultimately, takes Hoseok’s space beside you. The two of you stand in silence, facing the Seoul city skyline as you stare at nothing. Frazzled by his presence, you internally grasp for something to say, anything to break the thick awkward tension that surrounds the two of you.
Then, all of a sudden: “How have you been?”, “So, what’s up?”, you and Jungkook ask at the same time. You stare at each other in surprise for a couple of moments. Then, all of a sudden, you both burst out laughing.
“God, this is so weird,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair. Biting your lip, you nod in agreement before turning back to look at the cityscape.
With the tension broken, “so, how have you been?” you find yourself asking. From the corner of your eye, you notice Jungkook shrug listlessly.
“I’ve been… okay, I guess. How about you?”
“Fine. Alright. I guess,” you reply, mirroring his previous sentiment. They’re simple niceties - and you both know there’s a hint of deception in both your words - but neither of you says anything about it. Once again, the two of you fall into silence. Though, this time, the atmosphere isn’t thick with floundering awkwardness. Rather, it’s thick with confusion and uncertainty. Where do you go from here? What do you even say to your ex-boyfriend - one you still have feelings for?
Deciding to take a chance, “how’s work? I saw that your company released a new game,” you finally say. Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, his eyebrow rising at your question.
“You keep up to date with my company?” he asks. The incredulity in his voice surprises you and you look at him pointedly.
“Of course I do. That company means a big deal to you,” you reply easily. Despite the situation, Jungkook finds himself chuckling, even as his heart constraints at the thought of you checking up on him - even if it’s from afar.
“Yeah. It’s doing really well. Made me a lot of money. How about you? Dohyun from your department still being an ass because you’re the one who got promoted or?” Jungkook questions casually, causing you to laugh.
“Ah, man. Gotta love Dohyun. No, yeah. He’s still being an ass - but at least he doesn’t openly question my authority anymore,” you reply with an easy smile. Then, “actually, I have you to thank for that,” you softly say.
Jungkook looks at you in surprise, “me?”
Nodding, “yeah. I took your advice and threatened to fire him if he ever publicly undermined me again. That shut him up pretty quickly,” you chuckle. Jungkook snorts, the two of you laughing.
“Good! He deserves it. I know he has a problem working under a woman, but man, you deserved that promotion. You were far better qualified than him,” Jungkook compliments. Ducking shyly, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears before smiling gently at him.
“Thanks. It means a lot,” you mumble under your breath, making Jungkook shake his head.
“No. ____, I’m serious. No one deserved it more than you. You worked so hard for it. There were days I was even worried about the stress you were under because you’d forget to eat, or you wouldn’t sleep. But I guess it was worth it in the end, because you got the promotion,” Jungkook responds. Then, he pauses, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips, “even if it meant there were days you’d ignore me,” Jungkook sighs dramatically. That causes you to snort, and before you can stop yourself, you playfully smack his arm.
“Hey! I gave you lots of attention. Or did you forget that time when I skipped work just so we could play hooky and go snowboarding?” you ask. Jungkook bites his lips, a tinkling giggle escaping his lips at the memory.
“Oh, that was good. You were terrible, and you fell so much I was worried you’d break something,” Jungkook reminisces, a soft sigh following his words.
Giggling to yourself, “Yeah, well we can’t all just pick up a sport and instinctively be good at them,” you snort in response.
“You’re right. Really, it’s a curse being perfect at everything,” Jungkook nods sagely in agreement. Jaw dropping, you look at him in amazement before the two of you burst out laughing.
Suddenly, a new voice breaks “What’s going on here?”
Turning around, you freeze at the sight of Minhyuk. Alternating between looking at you and Jungkook, Minhyuk’s face is a picture of passiveness, his lips set in a thin, grim line. At the sight of Minhyuk, you sense Jungkook deflate, the easy atmosphere once again thickening with tension.
“Minhyuk… this is-” you begin, ready to introduce the two. However, Minhyuk snorts.
“Yes. This is Jungkook, your ex-boyfriend. I know. Which begs the question, why are you alone out here with your ex while I’m inside?” Minhyuk asks. You reel at the accusatory tone in his voice as you double-take.
“Excuse me? We’re just out here speaking,” you exclaim and once again, Minhyuk snorts.
“It looked a little more than that,” he points out. Jaw dropping in bewilderment, you scoff at him, your eyes narrowing into thin slits.
“Uh, I think I should leave the two of you alone,” Jungkook says quietly as he begins making his way towards the balcony door.
Seeing him walk away breaks your heart, and you want to tell him to stay. Nevertheless, you know you have no right to. Not now anyway, when you have bigger problems at hand. Bigger problems namely being Minhyuk. “What’s your problem?” you ask, directing your attention to your boyfriend.
“My problem is that despite the fact that you’re going to be marrying me, you’re out here with the ex that you were seeing for five years. How do you think that makes me look?” Minhyuk argues back. At Minhyuk’s words, Jungkook finds his blood freezing as he’s brought to an abrupt halt - just before he can escape the balcony. You, yourself, are at a loss of something to say.
“We’ve barely been seeing each other for two months! Why are you bringing that up now?” you cry in astonishment. Really, where had the come from?
“But isn’t that why our mother’s set us up? Because we’re both looking to get married? Isn’t that where this is supposed to be going? Yet, here you are. With your ex-boyfriend. Who you’ve paid more attention to than me this entire night, by the way,” Minhyuk points out. Spluttering at his words, your cheeks heat as you know you’ve been caught. The hairs on your arms stand erect, and immediately, you know that Jungkook is staring at you - but you refuse to look at him. You don’t want to see the expression on his face right now.
Instead, you decide to keep your attention directly on Minhyuk, “yes, this is where it’s supposed to be going, but-” you reply, only for Minhyuk to cut you off once again.
“But nothing. I like you, a lot. And I know we’ve only known each other two months, but I can see us having a life together. Is that not what you want? Isn’t that the reason we’re together in the first place? Do you not want to marry me? Say you’ll marry me and I’ll drop this right now,” Minhyuk finally says, his previous anger and insecurity at seeing you and Jungkook together dissipating. He levels you with his sincere gaze, the unanswered ultimatum heavy in the air.
Unable to help yourself any longer, you momentarily shift your gaze to Jungkook. It’s brief - barely a second - but it’s all you need. The utter look of despair is clearly evident on his face, a mixture of heartbreak and anguish painted so very clearly across his features. It reminds you of the day you’d broken up with him; reminds you of how he’d looked when you’d walked out on him.
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Flashback - nine months ago
One lazy Sunday, you find yourself in the apartment you share with your boyfriend. The two of you are sprawled on the couch, barely dressed: Jungkook with only his boxers and socks, and you in his large t-shirt and panties. You’d both considered getting dressed, but had decided against it - especially since neither of you had any plans to leave the house. Hence, you find yourself pressed against Jungkook, your back comfortably flush against his strong chest, your head easily finding the perfect resting spot in the crook where his collarbone meets his neck.
Absentmindedly, Jungkook plays with the hem of your underwear, fiddling with elasticated lace as you scroll through Netflix. The film titles pass in a blur as you look for something to watch. Catching the attention of one title, you can't help but fixate on it for a bit. "Kook?" you call out to your boyfriend softly. You angle your head to look up at him while shifting your head onto his shoulder, so you can see him clearly. Jungkook hums non-committally as he glances at you from the corner of his eyes.
"What's up, sweetheart? Wait- if this is just to ask me if we can watch Zootropolis again, you know my answer is always yes," Jungkook says, his eyes twinkling in excitement. A light giggle escapes your lips but you shake your head.
"No. I just- we've been together five years now, yes?" you ask, turning your head back to stare at the TV. Jungkook's eyebrows furrow slightly, and he moves his head so he can better look at you.
"Yes? What about it?"
"Well-" you begin. Briefly you pause, worrying your lower lip, "do you think we'll get married?" you breathe out. Jungkook stills, the hand that had been mindlessly playing with the lace material of your underwear coming to a halt.
"What?" he asks, his chest rumbling under you.
"Well, have you thought about us getting married? Like, we've been together a while now, but I don't think we've ever really spoken about it," you sigh out. Ideally, you wanted to marry Jungkook - because, after five years, you're sure he's the one for you.
"Honestly?" Jungkook asks. Anxiousness pools in the pits of your stomach as you hear the slight trepidation in his voice. It's barely there - but you know Jungkook well enough to spot the tell-tale sign of his worriment.
"Honestly," you reiterate his statement, letting him know you want nothing but the truth.
Jungkook sighs, "honestly, I've never really thought about it," he breathes out. Immediately, you jerk, sitting up as you twist to look at him. Shifting so you're in a more comfortable position, you sit on his stomach, your thighs straddling his waist. Instinctively, Jungkook's hands fall onto your thighs. You look at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief, Jungkook returning his own expectant gaze.
"You've never thought about us getting married?" you sputter out, completely baffled by his words. How has he not thought about it? You've been together five years now. That's an awfully long time - surely, he's thought about it at some point. Not to mention, you're both twenty-seven now, almost thirty. So how has he not thought about it? You know you have. In fact, you dream about the day you walk down the aisle, Jungkook on the other side. Hell, you dream about a life with him; a family - because you know he's all you want.
"Sweetheart-" Jungkook starts, and you look pointedly at him, "listen- it's nothing to do with you. It's just, we're still young. I do love you, you know that, but I just never really thought about it," he continues. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you cock your head in question.
"Never?" you enquire. Jungkook simply shrugging.
"Not really," comes his simple reply.
“How?” you question, looking at him in confusion. Distinctly, you remember having light conversations with Jungkook. Conversations where you’d joke about being married, conversations about your wedding or your future together.
“What do you mean how?” Jungkook asks dumbly, causing you to frown.
“I mean- I know we’ve joked about it before. I’ve mentioned wanting to get married before, I know I have,” you point out.
“Yeah… but I thought you were joking and other than that, I’ve never seriously thought about it,” Jungkook says casually. You suck in a sharp breath at his words. He hadn’t ever seriously considered it? Fear settles in your stomach at his words. You’d always just assumed you and Jungkook would eventually get married - but he hadn’t ever seriously thought about it?
"Well... do you want to get married?" you ask plainly. Jungkook smirks at you, the corners of his lips twisting into a teasing, lop-sided smile.
"Are you asking?" he jokes. However, you're in no mood to play games. This is important to you - because your boyfriend of five years just admitted that he hadn't ever considered a future with the two of you together.
"Jungkook, I'm being serious," you say - your voice is soft, yet firm. Sensing the seriousness to your tone, the smile on Jungkook's face falls and he sits up. His movement displaces you from his stomach, and you find yourself moving to sit on the couch while looking at him expressionlessly.
"____, I don't know. As I said, I've never really thought about it," Jungkook reiterates.
"Well think about it now! Do you want to get married or no?" you ask, anxiousness bubbling in your veins. This conversation certainly hasn't gone the way you had expected it to. When you'd first asked Jungkook, it had just been an off-handed question, because really, why wouldn't he have thought about getting married. Now? You're not so sure.
"I- I don't know," Jungkook mutters. Face falling in despair, you get up off of the couch and walk into your bedroom. What did he mean he didn't know? Five years. You've been together five years, and he still doesn't know? Without a second thought, Jungkook follows you into your bedroom, watching in confusion as you begin getting dressed.
"Sweetheart? Are you mad at me?" he asks, causing you to snort derisively.
"Are you really asking me that right now?" you snap in response. Jungkook reels back at the irritation in your voice.
"Why? Because I said I don't know if I want to get married? Why is that a problem? I still love you- you know that," your boyfriend argues.
"The problem isn't that you love me Jungkook. It's that you just admitted you haven't thought about our future together," you cry back. Sensing your upset, Jungkook quickly walks up to you. He places his hands on your arms, gently rubbing up and down as he cooes gently at you.
"Baby, that's not what I meant. It's just, we're still young you know? And it's not like we have to get married to each other to prove anything. I love you, and you love me, isn't that enough?" Jungkook asks softly, trying his best to placate you. Tears forming in your eyes, you shake your head and push his hands away.
"But I want to get married Jungkook. But you don't even know if you want to get married," you reply back, your bottom lip quivering. You take in a deep breath in an attempt to hold yourself together.
"But I could... maybe," Jungkook replies. Though, you both hear the clear uncertainty in his voice. His words, paired with his tone, only has your heart breaking.
"Do you? It doesn't have to be now, but do you see us getting married? A simple yes or no. That's all I'm asking for," you breathe out.
Through tear-filled eyes, you watch your boyfriend contemplate your question. One minute passes. Then two. But he's no closer to giving you your answer. With every second that passes, your anguish grows into grief-stricken distress. Multiple times, Jungkook opens and closes his mouth, and each time, hope blooms in your chest, only to die when he closes his mouth. Long, excruciating moments pass, and you all but abandon hope, when finally he says something.
"I don't know," Jungkook replies. The very moment his words ring in your ears, that small inkling of hope within your chest in crushes. A sob escapes your lips and you feel your knees buckle. Distress painted on Jungkook's face, he reaches out to comfort you, but you back away from him, causing your boyfriend to flinch.
"Will you ever know?" you whisper hopelessly.
"I don't know," comes Jungkook's answer once again.
"Then I don't know if I can do this," you whisper back. Jungkook's head snaps up to you, his eyes wide as he looks at you in disbelief.
"What? What do you mean?" he chokes out, barely able to get the words out. Throat constricting, you swallow thickly as you choke back a sob.
"I don't know if I can still do this. Jungkook, I want to get married. I want to marry you. I dream about walking down the aisle to you, I dream about children - our children. I dream about a life with you. But you-" you stop as your voice cracks with emotion. Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself together once again, "but you don't know if you even want to get married and that... that just tells me you haven't thought about our future together," you finally manage to say, your voice strained.
"We're still young. We have so much time to think about that," Jungkook argues, causing you to shake your head.
"We're twenty-seven Jungkook. We've been together for five years. That's a long time, so why haven't you ever considered us getting married? Not even moments ago you admitted that you've never thought about it. How do you think that makes me feel?" you cry.
"I don't know! It wasn't on my mind. I think about you but I- I just don't know if I want to get married. Why is that a big deal?" Jungkook asks, even as anguish colours his veins at the sight of your heartbreak.
"It's a big deal to me! It's a big deal because like I said, that's what I want!" you practically yell. Taking another deep breath, you sniffle, "I don't think I can do this," you repeat once again. Again, your voice cracks, but Jungkook despairs at the resolution in it.
"What are you saying?" he chokes out, not wanting to believe it. You can't mean it. You can't be saying what he thinks you're saying.
"I'm saying- I'm saying we should break up," you finally say. You practically have to force the words out of your mouth - because, despite everything, every fibre of your being is still in love with Jungkook - still wants to be with Jungkook. But this isn't something you think you can compromise on.
"No," Jungkook blurts out. "N-no. Please, no," he practically begs. Once again he steps up to you, and once again, you step away from him - desperately needing the distance between you. "W-why? Why can't we wait until I know? Please, why can't we wait until I'm ready?" Jungkook pleads. Sucking in a deep breath, you shake your head as you look away. You want to. You desperately want to take his word for it, want to fall into his arms and forget this conversation. But you just can't.
"I c-can't," you express, "because what if we continue for another two, or three or five years, only for you to tell me you still don't want to get married? I don't want to start all over again in my thirties, Jungkook. I don't want to be in love with your a few more years, only for you to eventually decide you still don't want to get married," you reply softly.
"But we don't know if that'll happen!" Jungkook tries arguing and this time, you turn to him. Jungkook freezes at your face, the resolute sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. His heart constricts in his chest as he sees unwavering stubbornness, mixed with heartache and sorrow, in your eyes.
"Exactly Jungkook. We don't know. If you don't know now, after five years of being together, I don't know if you'll know in another few years. And I can't take that chance," you finally utter.
"____, please don't do this. I love you," Jungkook sobs brokenly. Unable to look him in the eyes anymore - unable to stand the utter devastation written on his face - you look away.
"I'm sorry," you whisper softly.
And then, you walk away.
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By the time you’re drawn out of your reverie, Jungkook is long gone. In his stead, stands Minhyuk, who looks at you expectantly. ‘Say you’ll marry me.’ Minhyuk’s voice once again rings through your head and you can’t help but feel queasy at the statement. You had broken up with Jungkook because you wanted to get married - and you do. But, is Minhyuk who you want to marry? As harsh as it is, marrying Minhyuk feels like… you’re settling - and that doesn’t sit well with you. But what do you do now? What if this was your only chance? You’re twenty-seven now and you hadn’t lied to Jungkook when you said you didn’t want to wait another five years only for things to fall apart if he decided he still didn’t want to get married.
But this doesn’t feel right.
You and Minhyuk stare at each other, Minhyuk patiently waiting for your answer. Except, you have no idea what you want to say. Your skin flushes with heat and you feel panic set into your bones while your stomach flips. Blood rushes through your ears, the sound drowning out everything else as you simply stare at Minhyuk. Though, you’re not really looking at him. No, because even now, with Minhyuk standing in front of you and Jungkook long gone, there’s only one person on your mind.
The same person who’s been on your mind the entire night.
Abruptly, Hoseok’s words ring through your head. ‘You’re strong - but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want.’ Your brother’s voice plays over and over in your head - like a broken vinyl - until it’s all you can hear. Then, a spark of epiphany courses through your head, and the dawning of revelation washes over you.
You do know what you want - more than anything.
And you know what you have to do now.
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It's almost two in the morning when Jungkook finds himself outside of your apartment. He doesn't know how long he's sat there, back against the wall and knees up to his chest as he stares at your flat door. After he'd left Hoseok's apartment, he found his feet walking to a bar, and after about an hour of drinking, he'd walked home. Well, he'd meant to walk home. But, somehow, in his tipsy-fogged mind, he'd automatically walked to your building and then up to your flat. A while after that, he'd just sat outside your door, contemplating whether he should knock or not. The largest part of him desperately wanted to knock - and multiple times, fueled by the courage of the alcohol - he almost had. However, each time, the smaller part of him would stop himself, unable to actually follow through. What if you'd said yes to Minhyuk? What if you didn't want to see him? What if you're with Minhyuk? Jungkook doesn't know what he'd do if he knocks, only to find Minhyuk on the other side of the door.
Head repeatedly banging against the wall behind him, Jungkook stares at the gold plated numbers of your door. With every second that passes, the alcohol in his system slowly fades away and Jungkook finds himself sobering. But still, he doesn't leave. He can't bring himself to get up and walk away. It's late enough that sleep should begin fogging his mind, but again, not knowing whether you said yes or no to Minhyuk would eat away at him - and he knows he'd be restless and unable to sleep until he finds out. Yet, he just cannot bring himself to knock. So, instead, he just sits outside your apartment. Waiting for something. Anything.
For you.
Another hour passes and you still don't come. Jungkook lets out a shuddering breath, his head falling into his hands. Mentally, he draws up a pros and cons list of knocking - and yet, each time, he scraps them all. Even with all the cons: you could be engaged to Minhyuk, you could be with Minhyuk, you could be moving on with Minhyuk; Jungkook can't help but consider the pros: you could have said no, you could be alone, you could be waiting for him. It's that last one that he dreads. There's a small chance you couldbe waiting for him and that has hope flaring in his chest. But in this situation, hope is the most crushing thing in existence - because it's only a small chance - and his hope could be crushed the minute you answer the door.
A part of him believes you had to have said to yes - you just had to have - because that's what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted to get married. So, what reason would you have to say no? But that small, niggling voice in Jungkook head won't stop speaking - won't stop telling him that he's a reason you would have said no. Nevertheless, Jungkook knows that voice comes from his hope - and as he's mentioned - hope is the worst thing he has right now.
"You can't keep doing this, Jungkook. It's been nine months. You should move on- like she is," Jungkook mutters to himself out loud. He has no doubt that if anyone sees him, they'd think he was some sort of crazy person, but Jungkook also doesn't care. Over and over, he repeats the sentences to himself and eventually, he gets up, ready to leave.
But then he stops.
Turning back to your door, he takes in a shuddering breath, and before he can stop himself - or even rethink his spontaneous decision - he finds himself knocking. Because he desperately needs to know if he's lost you once and for all. Then, he waits again.
And still waits.
Time moves excruciatingly slowly - the seconds agonisingly passing away. Momentarily, Jungkook considers knocking again - maybe you're asleep, maybe you didn't hear him. But the adrenaline-induced courage has long since faded after he knocked, and once again he finds himself turning away.
However, then, he hears it: the clinking of a chain.
The door creaks open slowly, Jungkook sucking in a sharp breath as he spots you. You're dressed in a large hoodie - and hope flares in his chest as he recognises it. It's hishoodie. He thought he'd misplaced it a while ago - but no, apparently it was just with you. But why? Why hadn't you returned it to him?
As soon as the door is wide open, you stare in disbelief at the sight in front of you. Rubbing your blood-shot eyes, your mouth drops slightly as you realise you're not imagining it. Jungkook is standing in front of you. Why is Jungkook standing in front of you?
"J-Jungkook?" you stutter out, bewilderment heavy in your voice.
"I'm sorry," Jungkook blurts out. Taken aback by his sudden apology, your eyebrow furrows.
"W-What? Why are you sorry?" you ask, unsure of what's happening. You'd just been crying in bed - desperately wishing for Jungkook - so, when you'd opened your door only to see him, you'd thought you were dreaming. And now? Well, now you're just confused. What does he have to be sorry about?
"I made a mistake. You were right- I didn't- I never thought about our future together. I never considered getting married, or whether we'd have a family together and it's because I was comfortable. I grew comfortable in our relationship and I took it for granted. I took you for granted," Jungkook breathes out. His words fall so quickly from his lips, he practically rambles, and you really have to strain to understand his words. "After five years together, I just got so used to us. I thought I'd always have you, and so, marriage or a family didn't even cross my mind - but it should have. I should have thought about our future together. I'm sorry that I didn't, and I'm sorry that I thought about it too late," Jungkook continues. Once again, he pauses, taking a deep breath as he thinks about what to say next. But if he's being honest, he doesn't really know what else to say.
Shoulders deflating, Jungkook runs a weary hand through his hair, and suddenly, he looks more harried than you've seen him in a long time. "I'm just- I'm sorry I didn't think about it back then. I'm just sorry," Jungkook finishes lamely. There's more on the tip of his tongue: I miss you, I want you, I love you; but he can't bring himself to say them. Not when you could be happy with Minhyuk. He can't do that to you - he'd broken your heart that day - when he'd openly admitted he'd never thought about a future with you - and now, you have a chance with someone else. And he can't take that away from you, even if it breaks his heart to let you go. Left reeling by his words, they play over and over in your mind, and it takes all your brainpower to reallyunderstand them - but in your stunned daze, you don't say anything - and Jungkook doesn't know what to make of it.
So, instead, "I guess, that's what I wanted to say. I- I hope you're happy with Minhyuk," he chokes out. Sluggishly, you realise that Jungkook is walking away - and that's all it takes to restart your brain.
"W-what if I'm not happy? What would you do if I wasn't happy?" you rasp, your voice straining. Jungkook freezes at your words, his blood running cold. Then, he whips around so quickly, you fear he'd get whiplash. However, Jungkook doesn't care. Rather, his eyes swiftly rake over your face, searching for something, anything to confirm what'd he'd just heard. He finds it in your eyes; in the way they silently beg him to continue, plead with him to say everything on his mind.
Helpless under your imploring gaze, Jungkook finds his tongue unravelling as he lays his feelings at your feet. "I'd ask for a second chance. A chance to make you happy and give you what you want," Jungkook breathes out. Your eyes widen in the slightest at his proclamation.
Is he saying what you think he is?
Incredulity painted as clear as day on your face and sliver of hope evident in your eyes, Jungkook's face softens slightly. He wasn't lying - when Minhyuk had proposed the ultimatum, Jungkook had felt his heartbreak - and when he'd sat in the bar, all he could think about was you. More importantly, all he could think about was the missed opportunity. He imagined what you'd look like on your wedding day. How happy would you be? Would you look as radiantly beautiful as he imaged you to be? Would you smile in that carefree, captivating way that you did? But then, he grew maudlin - because he realised that if you did, it wouldn't be for him - and that broke his heart. It broke his heart to imagine you marrying someone that wasn't him, smiling for someone who wasn't him, creating a family with someone that wasn't him.
Nothing but sincerity in his voice, Jungkook continues, "I'd ask for you to take me back and to marry you. Because that's what I want - as long as it's with you," Jungkook finishes.
Throat clogged up with the heavy weight of your emotions, you swallow thickly, "then ask," you choke out. Your words are simple - and practically inaudible - but in the stillness of the empty corridor, and the quiet of the night, Jungkook hears it as clear as day.
"But- But what about Minhyuk?" Jungkook asks, unsure about whether he should or not. Hope flares in his chest at your words - but he doesn't want to believe them. Not yet, at least.
"Ask anyway," you simply say.
"Will you-" Jungkook begins, but the instant he opens his mouth, you're cutting him off.
"Yes," you reply - not even waiting for him to finish. It doesn't matter what he said. It doesn't matter if the words to follow are 'give me a second chance' or 'marry me' because all that matters is that he's back. All that matters is that he's willing to think about your future together - and right now, that's enough for you.
"You don't even know what I'm going to say-mpf," Jungkook begins, only to be stopped short when you pull him in for a kiss.
The instant his lips touch yours, you feel your entire body become electrified. Your veins are set afire with love, Jungkook's soft lips pressed against yours in a sweet kiss. Instinctively, Jungkook's arms wrap around your waist, his hands pulling your body flush against his as he feels you for the first time in months. You taste the same as you always have - temptingly sweet - and your body against his feels exquisite: your curves and contours fitting perfectly against his body. Sinking into this kiss, and consequently Jungkook, you sigh against his lips while you let your hands wander across his broad shoulder, before carding them into his hair.
Brief moments later, Jungkook breaks off your kiss; his forehead falling to rest against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. His hands move to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly as he lazily peppers soft kisses against your lips. Despite the softness of the moment, Jungkook can't stop wondering about Minhyuk - a sentiment he expresses to you in concern.
"I couldn't do it. I couldn't say yes," you reply, your eyes holding nothing but the truth. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together, and you find yourself giggling at the adorable expression. After a light peck against his lips, you move to rest your head against his chest, your eyes slipping shut as you feel his steady heartbeat under your ear. "I couldn't do it, because even then, you were all I could think about. I thought I wanted to get married, and I did - I do - but I realised, I didn't want to marry just anyone. I wanted to marry you," you confess. Jungkook's heart soars in his chest and helpless under your spell, he finds himself pulling you in for another kiss.
However, this time, it's different. This time, your kiss isn't slow, or soft. No, it's needier - Jungkook’s pouring out his entire heart into your kiss as he bruises his lips against you. Gasping against his lips, your fists clench around Jungkook’s leather jacket - using the material to pull him closer into you. You pull away from Jungkook’s lips, breathing heavily against his lips as you stare up at him through the thick of your eyelashes.
“Do you want to come in?” you breathily ask. Jungkook pauses for a moment.
“Are you sure? We don’t have to-” he begins refuting. However, you’re already pressing kisses against his jaw - lightly nipping the sensitive spot just above his Adam’s apple.
“I’m sure. I’ve missed you,” you rasp out, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated. Jungkook’s eyes dilate at your words, and before you know what’s happening, he’s leading you into your apartment.
The both of you barely make it into your apartment, before Jungkook is slamming the door shut and pushing you up against the hard wood. Caging you between his arms, Jungkook’s lips fall upon yours again, his lips moving in a frenzied fashion this time. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer into you. Jungkook lets out a soft growl against your lips before pulling away. Peppering kisses along your jaw, he trails down the column of your throat before nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder.
“God- I’ve missed you,” Jungkook whispers as he breathes in your calming scent. Own hands threading into his hair, you lazily play with the locks at the nape of his neck.
“I missed you too. A lot,” you moan out as Jungkook begins to suckle bruises onto the tender flesh of your throat.
“Is that why you’re wearing my hoodie?” Jungkook asks, curiosity winning out on him. Not that you don’t look good in it - in fact, seeing you dressed in his clothing is one of Jungkook’s favourite things.
“Maybe,” you reply coyly, “what are you going to do about it?” you continue. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath at the teasing lilt to your voice and immediately, drops to his knees. You jerk at the sudden movement, your eyes widening marginally at the sight of Jungkook on his knees.
“If this was any other time, I’d teach you a lesson. But right now, I’ve missed you too much, and you look good enough to eat,” Jungkook groans out as he runs his nose along the exposed flesh of your inner thigh. Your breath hitches at his words, Jungkook’s large hands slowly wrapping around your thighs before he parts your legs. Tenderly, his hands run up the back of your thighs, and gripping the flesh of your ass, he pulls your hips further into him.
Running his nose against the cotton of your panties, Jungkook takes in a deep breath before groaning as the heady scent of your arousal runs through his nose. He pushes his hoodie further up your hips, his lips gently tracing his way up the length of your thigh. Positioned just over your hip, Jungkook places a tender kiss above where your bone is. Then, he bites down on the waistband of your panties before slowly sliding it down your legs. When he gets to the crooks of your thighs, he lets go of it, letting the material drop to the floor.
You step out of your underwear and spread your legs - making more room for Jungkook. Gripping one of your thighs, he pulls it to rest over his shoulder, exposing your pussy to his gaze. Dark, lust-filled eyes rove over your folds, Jungkook shuddering as the scent of your arousal deepens. Your sex is slightly dewy, glistening in the low lighting of your living room. Biting his lip, Jungkook edges closer to your folds before tentatively licking a line: all the way from your core to your clit.
“Oh fuck,” you groan out, your head lolling back while one of your hands shoots out to tangle into his thick hair. Hearing your low groan, Jungkook smirks against your pussy before repeating the action. Spikes of pleasure run up and down your spine, your eyelids fluttering as you lose yourself into the pleasure he brings upon your body.
Moving one hand, Jungkook presses two fingers against the petals of your sex before parting his digits in a ‘V’ shape and consequently your folds. With your pussy exposed, Jungkook once again licks a thick line from your dripping, honeyed entrance, all the way to your engorged bud. He licks harder this time, his tongue lapping in a broad line as he gathers your heady essence onto his tongue. Your arousal bathes his tastebuds, and with his nose pressed against the hood of your clit - all he can taste, all he can breathe is you.
Soft lips wrap around your clit, Jungkook pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth before lightly suckling on it. His ministrations cause you to gasp - the sound quickly morphing into a heavy moan when his nips your throbbing clit. Tangling your fingers further into his hair, you slowly undulate your hips, pushing them further into Jungkook as you tug on his hair, trying to get him to move fast.
Sensing the urgency in your movements, Jungkook rakes his teeth over your clit in warning once again. Then, breaking away with a pop, “Be patient, darling,” Jungkook breathes out. The lusty fog of your desire rolls thickly into your head, clouding your mind and setting your flesh aflame with want and through your wanton need, you barely hear Jungkook’s words. Instead, the feel of Jungkook’s warm breath wafting over your wet folds has you shuddering in pleasure.
“Kook,” you whine needily, desperation heavy in the high pitch of your voice.
With his face buried between your thighs, you can’t see his face. But you don’t have to. You can feel the smirk on his lips. Not that you really care - because he’s currently swirling his tongue around your clit tantalisingly and subsequently driving you to the brink of insanity. Lightly, he moves the two fingers that have you spread open. You shudder at the featherlight touch, feeling him softly ghost his fingertips over the outline of your folds before circling your entrance. His touch has your core clenching, your pussy walls fluttering around his fingertips.
“Fuck- I forgot how fucking sensitive your pussy is,” Jungkook moans against your clit. His words are slightly muffled, and the vibration of his voice shoots straight from your clit to the pits of your belly. Loins heating with pleasure, you feel your stomach twist and knot as Jungkook laps kittenish licks against your clit. Teasingly, Jungkook continues circling his fingertip against your entrance, feeling the way strings of your sticky wetness drip out of you before they cling to his digit.
Drawing away from your clit, Jungkook slowly pulls his finger away; his throat drying as he watches the thin, filmy strings of your arousal drip from your pussy and onto his finger. The thick rivulets stretch as he pulls away - and the moment one of them snaps - Jungkook is unable to stop himself from pressing his head back between your thighs. Tongue plunging into your core, his swirls his wet appendage around your cunt, groaning as thick streams of arousal drip onto his tongue.
“Oh fuck- Kook,” you mewl, your head falling back and hitting the door with a light thud. The pain barely registers in your mind, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your pussy flutters around his tongue. Helpless against your needy whine, Jungkook pushes two fingers into your depths, your body jerking at the sudden intrusion as you tug at his hair reflexively. Twisting his fingers into you, Jungkook pumps his digits in and out, relishing in the feel of your silken, pulsating walls around his appendages as he continues eating you out - almost ravenously.
Gripping his locks tightly, you gyrate harder into his mouth. Waves of pleasure flit over your skin, your blood boiling with ecstasy as you feel the warmth in your belly begin to heat up. When Jungkook spreads your entrance using his fingers, his tongue plunging deeper into you, you let out a cry of pleasure. God, you’d forgotten just howgood Jungkook’s mouth was. Mouth and throat running dry, you swallow thickly before panting out his name over and over again. The once dull warmth begins burning your loins; searing, white-hot pleasure running up and down your flesh, your skin prickling with goosebumps as you feel your orgasm approaching.
“Please-” you groan out, the guttural sound intermingling with the wet, sloppy sounds of Jungkook eating you out. Thighs quivering against his ears, Jungkook pushes his fingers deeper into you. Expertly, he finds the sweet spot inside you, his fingers crooking at the knuckle as he strokes the spongy spot. Reflexively, your hand tugs his hair harshly while your knees buckle under the euphoria of your approaching orgasm.
“Are you cumming, baby? You wanna cum on my tongue?” Jungkook taunts, a teasing lilt to his voice. Swallowing thickly, it’s all you can do to simply rasp out his name. Knowing he has you on the verge of ecstasy, Jungkook doubles his efforts - his fingers pistoning inside you quicker as he wraps his wet lips around your clit.
“God, your pussy tastes so fucking good. I missed you - missed the way your pretty little pussy feels around my tongue,” Jungkook grunts out. Another whine of pleasure escapes your lips, your hips jolting into his face when the pads of his finger stroke your g-spot.
“Cumming-” you gasp out, your voice cracking under the pleasure.
“Then cum baby- cum all over my tongue. I wanna taste you- wanna drink you up,” Jungkook urges. The filthiness of his words, paired with the way he harshly sucks your clit, instantly has you cumming.
A loud mewl escaping your lip, you whine out his name. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your visions filled with white spots as your orgasm ricochets through you. Feeling you come undone above him, Jungkook rips his fingers out of you, his hands gripping your flesh and fingers digging into your skin as he holds your violently trembling thighs. The scent of your arousal thickens deeply, and Jungkook watches with dilated eyes as thick ropes of cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs.
Placing his lips against your entrance, Jungkook slurps at your cum, swallowing it thickly and relishing in your taste. You whine out his name, your knees buckling from the power of your orgasm - and if it weren’t for Jungkook’s strong grip, you’re sure you’d drop to the floor. Gasping for air, you slowly come down from the high of your orgasm, Jungkook patiently waiting for you to descend down to reality.
Tenderly, your boyfriend places affectionate kisses along the length of your thigh, softly cooing at you while he whispers sweet nothings against your flesh. A soft smile tugs at your lips and you untangle your fingers from their vice-like grip on his locks. Instead, you softly play with the strands, marvelling at their silk-like texture. Jungkook always had beautiful hair, but with how long it is currently, you can reallyadmire it.
“Kook- want you,” you mew. Jungkook chuckles at the soft neediness in your voice.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Jungkook says before he gathers you in his arms. Gently, he brings you to the floor with him. Still swimming in the haziness of your orgasm, you feel Jungkook swiftly divest himself off his clothing, until he’s left naked. Once done, Jungkook gathers you into his arms once again. He shifts you so your thighs are straddling his, your body propped against his strong chest as his back rests against the door to your apartment.
Unable to help yourself, you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands indolently running over his skin as you finally feel him under your touch. You trace every muscle of his upper body - from the corded flesh of his biceps, to the taut skin of his abdomen; and then towards his broad, defined shoulders. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, his hands running up the hem of his hoodie and flitting up your skin before he divests you off the article of clothing - leaving you both naked.
Shuddering at the feel of the night’s crisp air against your skin, you snuggle closer into Jungkook’s warmth, letting his presence wash over you. “I missed you,” you mumble against his skin. Jungkook’s face softens and he nods, his head dropping so he can press a kiss to your shoulder. His long hair tickles your skin and you relish in the featherlight touch.
Not wanting to wait any longer - and more than desperate to feel him inside of you - you flex your thighs, picking yourself up. One hand feels out for Jungkook’s cock, and easily finding the shaft, you grip the base before pressing it against your entrance. Feeling the bulbous head push against your entrance, you let out a soft whine before slowly descending down onto him. Slowly, he spreads out your walls, his thick girth stretching you out for the first time in months. It’s been a while since you’ve had Jungkook and the sheer size of him has a dull pain stinging at your pussy walls - but you don’t mind so much. No, in fact, you cherish it - because you’d sorely missed how transcendent he’d felt stretching out your pussy to its brim.
“Oh fuck- God, you’re so fucking tight. You feel so good,” Jungkook groans out, his cock twitching with every inch he sinks into you. Jungkook’s arms wrap around you, holding your naked chest flush against his as you continue your descent onto his cock. When he finally bottoms out, his balls resting just under your ass, you let out a little whimper, your fingers clawing into his shoulder.
“You good, baby?” Jungkook asks, his lips skimming the outline of your collarbone.
“Yeah- you feel- so good,” you gasp out. Jungkook gives you a couple of moments to adjust to the feel of him - and then, he’s gripping your hips before lifting them up for you. You cry out in pleasure as you feel his cock retreat out of you, only for Jungkook to thrust upwards, plunging the entire length of his shaft.
The two of you begin moving in tandem with each other: Jungkook helping you move on top of him while simultaneously impaling his cock into you. With every one of his movements, you feel pleasure run through your veins. Every time he plunges the entirety of his cock inside of you, you let out short gasps, your toes curling in pleasure. Moving slowly, you take the time to simply feel each other - the ardent fire of your lust and love burning bright in the pits of both your bellies as you sink into unadulterated pleasure.
Your slow, sensual pace continues for a little while longer - but you can slowly feel Jungkook’s desperation increasing with each thrust. His hands begin wandering over your hips and around to hold your ass. Fingers digging into the soft flesh, he grips your ass tightly before bouncing you harder ontop of him. Need fills his every movement - Jungkook’s thrusts becoming rougher. You bounce on top of him, your entire body shaking as Jungkook thrusts harder and harder into you. Changing the angle of his hips, Jungkook plunges his cock against your sweet spot, the head of his cock brushing it with every impalement of his hips.
“I’m cumming, baby,” Jungkook warns. Not that he really needs to, you can feel his cock throb erratically inside you, twitching every now and then as your walls clench rhythmically around his shaft - massaging his entire length.
“Cum, baby. Cum in me. Wanna feel you deep in me,” you say softly, your hands softly massaging his shoulders. Jungkook lets out a little groan, pulling your hips harder down onto him as he tries to push his cock as deep as he can into you.
“Cum with me. Play with yourself. Wanna feel you cum around my cock,” Jungkook urgers, and you find yourself growing wetter at the authority present in his voice. Unable to deny him anything, you twist one arm between your body and begin expertly playing with your clit. The additional pleasure has you crying out in ecstasy. All of a sudden, you feel heat rush through your veins, your lips parting in a silent scream as you cum for a second time.
Feeling your walls clamp around him tightly, paired with the gushing of your cum around his cock, Jungkook let’s out a little groan. “Oh fuck,” he moans. Then with two stilted thrusts, he plunges his cock as deep as he can into you before cumming with a soft roar. His cock twitches inside your walls before he shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside you. You groan at the feel of his warmth, your toes curling in pleasure as the base of your spine tingles.
Jungkook holds you to him tightly, clutching your body to his as you both gasp and pant for air. The haziness of your euphoric high slowly abates, until you’re both left clinging to each other. Eventually, the white spots in your vision clear and you slowly pull away from him. You take in the sight of Jungkook, completely spent and sweat-soaked locks clinging to his forehead. Hearing you giggle, Jungkook opens one eye to peek at you.
“Stop laughing at me,” he pouts. Once again, you giggle at him, and then let yourself fall against him. Exhaustion weighs down your muscles and you find yourself snuggling into Jungkook’s chest, sleep already replacing the lust-filled fog that clouds your head.
“I can’t help it if you’re so cute,” you mumble sleepily. Jungkook bites his lips, lightly snorting through his nose. However, he simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with you. Instead, he sits quietly while attempting to catch his breath.
Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of a rest - but when he turns to you, you’re already deeply asleep, a small smile on your lips. Tenderly, Jungkook tuts, but there’s no real ire in it. Gathering you in his arms, he picks you up, wincing when his muscles protest the movement. Ignoring the pain, he carries you into your bedroom before gently depositing under the cover.
Fatigue quickly overcomes him, and it’s all Jungkook can do to not collapse beside you. Holding off, however, he manages to sluggishly pull himself under the cover. Once under the thick sheets, Jungkook shifts closer to you before he pulls you into his arms. You’re both sticky - your skin covered in a light sheen of perspiration - and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but Jungkook doesn’t care.
He’d be damned if he spent one more night without you in his arms.
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a/n: owo i hope you enjoyed it! please don’t forget to tell me what you thought 🥺
⇥ Masterlist
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robinrunsfiction · 3 years
Note
CAN I GET A FRANK X READER FIC WHERE THE BAND GOES OUT FOR LUNCH AND Y/N STAYS AT THE BUS AND SLEEPS IN FRANKS BUNK AND THEY GET BACK AND FRANK SEES HER AND JUST GETS INTO BED WITH HER AHD HOLDS HER AND ITS ALL FLUFFY
Hold You Here
Pairing: Frank Iero x Female Reader Rating: General Requested By: Anons Word Count: 2,000 Author’s Note: I’m combining this with another similar request, which resulted in a longer story! I hope everyone enjoys! TW for a brief mention of Gerard’s addiction struggles in 2004
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To be in a band meant that your bandmates were your most intimate friends. Hours, days, weeks spent cramped together in small confined spaces meant that everyone saw each other at their best, worst, and everything in between. Platonic physical affection wasn’t an unusual occurrence and neither was sharing beds so that the fewest number of hotel rooms could be reserved to save money, curling up under a blanket together while watching a movie on the bus, not to mention all the on-stage antics, it was all taken in stride. 
It also helped that everyone looked out for each other, but it seemed as if Frank looked out for you more than the others. When things became hectic, or when you were suffering from one of your migraines, he’d always be the one checking up on you to make sure you were okay. Spending hours up late at night talking with him was one of your favorite ways to pass time on the bus. You’d developed quite the soft spot for the chaotic guitarist.
The band had been touring what felt like non-stop for ages, but especially now that Three Cheers was out. It had been a very long, hot summer full of meeting fans, rocking out, and if you were being honest with yourself, way too much partying on everyone’s part. You were feeling pretty burnt out, but the success of the band made it worth it.
Now it was the last week of Warped Tour 2004 and you could tell summer was ending by how quickly the nights were cooling down. As usual when the tour was stopped over for a couple nights, both a bonfire, and most of the bands, were lit. You were standing as close to the fire as you could without melting the rubber on your chucks trying to keep warm.
“Hey,” Frank said, walking over to stand next to you.
“Hey, how’s it goin?” You asked
“Good. Cold?”
“Yea,” you rolled your eyes. “I decided to dress cute, and now I’m freezing my ass off.”
“Who were you dressing up for?” Frank asked, unzipping his hoodie.
“No one really,” you replied, watching as he took off the sweatshirt. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping you warm,” he replied.
“You don’t have to,” you started as he put it over your shoulders.
“Too late,” he replied with a smirk that faded into a soft smile.
You looked up at him, in the dim light of the bonfire and you felt your heart skip, like a switch had been flipped. That soft spot you held in your heart for him suddenly felt overwhelmed, like the quiet feelings were now screaming in your ears.
“I bet it’s warmer on the bus,” you suggested, deciding to lean into the moment. You just hoped you were gauging the situation correctly.
His eyebrows went up in surprise, but he nodded. “I bet you’re right, wanna go back?”
“Yea.”
The walk across the parking lot was silent, as your hands brushed against each other’s, shoulders bumping occasionally. Climbing into the bus, you wandered to the back and confirmed no one else was around, and when you turned back to Frank he seemed a little nervous.
“Ya know you do look really cute. Like not just tonight, like all the time,” he said.
“Thanks,” you replied, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously. You were in your 20s, why were you suddenly feeling like a middle schooler talking to their crush?
“Wanna watch a movie or something?” He offered after an awkward silence hung between you.
“Sure. Nothing scary though, I’m tired of horror.”
“How can you be tired of horror?” Frank asked with feigned shock.
“Because that’s all we watch and we’ve watched almost every movie we have 100 times over.”
Frank started flipping through the stack of DVDs that the band had accumulated through countless tours. “What about ‘10 Things I Hate About You’?” he asked. 
“Yes,” you nodded eagerly, plopping down on the couch and pulling off your shoes.
Frank put the movie in the DVD player and turned off the lights, sitting next to you. You glanced over, trying to gauge what he was thinking. He glanced back and you snapped your eyes back to the tv. As the movie progressed, Frank casually put his arm over the back of the couch and you settled into his side. 
“I wanna go play paintball, like real paintball, some time,” you said, watching Kat and Patrick’s date on the screen.
“We should go then,” Frank replied.
“Just us? Or,” you trailed off.
“Yea, I mean unless you wanna invite other people.”
You looked up at him, and he was looking back down at you. "No, just us," you said softly.
"Cool," he said with a goofy smile.
You had to bite your lip to keep from giggling, but in that moment, the energy between you shifted. Frank started to lean in and you closed your eyes as his lips met yours. At first the kiss was soft and tender, almost tentative. But then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer and your hand ran through his hair as he deepened the kiss. 
When you finally came up for air, you couldn't help the smile on your face when you saw how happy Frank looked. "That was fun," you laughed.
"I've been wanting to do that forever," he said, running a hand through his hair, smoothing it down.
"Well we should do it again sometime," you replied.
Just then, loud, drunken voices could be heard outside the door to the bus and you both jumped apart.
"They're in here makin' out or something," Ray shouted over his shoulder with a giggle. You knew there was no way they could have seen you two just minutes before, but the joke still rattled you.
"No they weren't," Mikey said disbelievingly, as he and Gerard followed.
You glanced at Frank who was shaking his head at your bandmates before he changed the subject to something totally random. Things had literally just started with him, and it felt fragile. The last thing you wanted was to have it all fall apart like nothing happened, and be left wondering forever what could have been.
The next day, nothing about the prior night was discussed between you and Frank, but it had been a busy day of press, playing, and meeting fans. When you were climbing back into your bunk, completely exhausted, you spotted a folded up piece of paper on your pillow. You closed the curtain behind you and turned on the small light above your bed. When you unfolded the note, you immediately recognized Frank's scrawling handwriting. 
(YN), all I've been able to think about today is how your lips felt on mine and wondering when I can feel it again. I can't remember anything that was said to me because I was thinking about how I'd rather just be talking to you. I hope sometime before the end of this tour we can hang out alone together again.
XO, frnk
You bit your lip to keep from squealing with delight.
~
The last few days of Warped Tour were just as much of a blur, and when that tour was over, you were quickly shipped off to another one. Gerard was struggling and the whole band was impacted. Everyone dealt with it in their own way, and luckily you had Frank to brush away the worried tears when your brain wouldn't quiet enough to let you sleep at night. 
Soon after, Gerard got the help he needed and when he rejoined the band, you were immediately sent back out on the road. Everything felt a little brighter that fall.
You and Frank were as good as ever, but still keeping your relationship quiet. His hand would find yours when no one else was around. You'd each sneak into each other's bunks and spend the nights cuddled together. Then there was the series of excuses as to why you two should share hotel rooms, which included Mikey texting too much, Ray talking too much, and Gerard keeping the light on all night drawing, among others.
So when you were blindsided with a migraine one morning, you were not at all pleased. The pain throbbed through your head as nausea rolled through your stomach. You groaned as you slid out of your bunk and stumbled to the front of the bus, which was obnoxiously bright, to the cabinet holding the medicine. 
"There's sleeping beauty," you heard Ray laugh, but you just grunted in response. You grabbed the bottle of Excedrin and silently prayed they'd do their job quickly as you took a dose.
"You ok?" Frank asked as you slumped down on the couch.
"No, migraine."
Your bandmates groaned, knowing how much of a pain, literally and figuratively, they were for you.
"So you don't wanna go grab lunch?" Mikey asked.
"Please don't make me think about food or I might get sick."
"Do you want me to stay back with you?" Frank offered. It didn't even register how much concern he was showing toward you.
"No, I just wanna sleep and hope it goes away before we have to play tonight."
"Ok, we'll leave you alone. Come on guys," Gerard said, shooing the guys out. You glanced up and saw Frank giving you a sympathetic look before leaving the bus.
You dragged yourself back to the bunks, closing the door to the main room behind you and looked at your bunk. There was no way in hell you were climbing back up into it. Instead climbed into Frank's. 
You pulled his blanket over you as you curled up in a ball facing the wall. His pillow smelled faintly of his shampoo, but not enough to make you feel sick, or maybe the medication was finally kicking in.
It felt like no sooner you'd fallen asleep that you heard voices in the front of the bus. You wondered how long you’d been out, but didn’t care enough to check the time. Before you could drift off again you heard the door opening and closing softly. Shuffling steps stopped behind you and then you felt someone climb in the bunk behind you.
"Hey," Frank said softly, his arm wrapping around your side.
"Hi," you answered, a smile forming on your face for the first time all day, not that he could see it.
"Feeling better?"
"A bit. Not 100% yet, but better than earlier."
"Mind if I nap with you?"
"Please do," you replied.
Frank drew the curtain shut and settled in behind you. He brushed aside your hair and placed a soft kiss on the side of your neck before giving you another quick squeeze.
You drifted back to sleep for a while, and when you woke up again, your headache was mostly gone you were relieved that you'd be able to play that night without feeling awful. As you stretched your legs out, Frank shifted, pulling you tighter against him.
"Better yet?" He murmured sleepily.
"Yea," you said, not moving more, afraid of disturbing the comfortable cocoon you two were in.
“So at lunch the guys were talking,” Frank started.
“‘Bout what?” You asked, rolling over.
“Us.”
“Oh?” Your heart rate going up.
“We went to this café for lunch and I got you a cupcake, it’s in the fridge by the way. And they were just wondering if there’s something going on between us.”
“What’d you say?”
“I just brushed it off, they were just giving me shit.”
“Oh,” you said, suddenly feeling a little dejected.
“Do you still wanna keep us a secret?” He asked.
“I dunno," you mumbled. "Do you?”
Frank intertwined his fingers with yours. "It's been kinda fun this way. But I also kinda wanna tell everyone I know that I'm the luckiest dude in the world BECAUSE I'm with you."
“Let's decide later,” you replied. “For right this moment, let’s just enjoy this.”
"Good idea," he replied with a soft smile before leaning in and kissing you lovingly.
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littlemisspascal · 3 years
Text
Death and an Angel part 3
Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader
Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,500
Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)
Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them. 
Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher​​ for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!
Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4
Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)
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There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.
Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.
When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.
That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”
You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.
But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.
The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.
You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.
Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.
You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.
If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.
“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.
“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.
“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”
“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”
Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.
“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.
You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.
“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”
He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.
“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”
“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”
“Love conquers all.”
You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”
His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”
You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.
“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.
He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.
You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”
“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.
The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.
It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.
You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.
Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.
“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?
“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.
You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”
Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​
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britishboystm · 3 years
Text
The Goodbye Prank | The Day We Met: A Fred Weasley Mini Series
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Inspired by:
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader
Warnings: NSFW 18+ (minors dni), oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration, swearing, lots and lots of crying, deep hand cuts, angst!!
WC: 7k+
Chapter Summary: The boys are ready to move on to bigger and better things. What happens when Y/N finds out?
Series Masterlist
***
March 13th, 1996
“Hold still.” Y/N spoke sternly as Fred jerked his hand away from her, wincing in pain.
George was pacing back and forth in the background, glancing over at the couple every so often, anger filling his entire being.
She had really gone and done it this time. That poor excuse for a professor.
“Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.” Y/N seethed through gritted teeth as she concentrated on the task at hand.
“It really isn’t that big of a deal Y/N. It’ll heal on its own.” Fred cried out, not wanting his brother and girlfriend to worry about him.
“No, Fred you don’t understand! That bitch has gone too far this time. Detention is one thing... but this,” She placed a drop of alcohol on the plethora of cuts, making Fred cry in pain. Tears welled his eyes and he kept his lower lip beneath his teeth to quiet himself.
He didn’t want to be a bother.
“This is abuse, she can’t keep getting away with this!” She continued to rant.
“Y/N darling,” He spoke assuringly, slipping his hand away from her tending grasp and placing it on her cheek to calm her down. His eyes were soft and pleading for her to settle.
“She will never hurt me. This is temporary, but she will never truly hurt me.” A tear slipped out of her eye. She couldn’t help but feel that this was all her fault, that she was the reason he had gotten detention in the first place.
The day before, Y/N and Fred had been snogging in a dark corner near the restricted section in the library, and while she was doing her daily lurking, Umbridge came across the couple, threatening punishment immediately.
Before she could get a hold of both of them, Fred pushed Y/N away, demanding for her to run back to her dorm.
He himself hadn’t had the time to escape which led to him getting captured by Umbridge’s evil clutches, even if she only stood at a whopping four foot eleven.
So here he was, bleeding from the hand, all thanks to that pink toad's “special” quill.
In Fred’s chicken scratch writing, his hand read;
I will not coerce with mudbloods.
It had been speculated since she began “teaching” at Hogwarts that she was secretly a death eater. This was strong evidence to support said claim.
“This is all my fault.” Y/N murmured, making both twins shoot their heads up in surprise.
“Godric no! Y/N never say that again! I don’t care what it takes to keep you safe. And I also don’t care about your blood status. You are kind and smart and beautiful and a brilliant witch.” His words were full of hurt, hurt that she would think that of herself.
Fred knew Y/N was self conscious of the fact that she wasn’t raised in a wizarding household. That she had to work twice as hard to be where she was in terms of her studies, all because she had to play catch up with her classmates. It took a toll on her and Fred knew this. George knew this. Everyone knew this.
“I’m sorry Freddie I ju-,” He quickly grabbed her cheeks and kissed her to shut her up.
“Just heal my hand love.” He muttered against her lips.
George looked away, feeling like an intruder during a very personal moment.
“Alright.” She sighed out with a soft giggle and sniffle, resting her forehead against his. He soothed her further with a tender caress of her hands. Something she had grown to appreciate deeply.
“Vulnera Sanentur.” She finally spoke, slightly moving her wand and watching as the venomous words began to vanish from his skin.
“Thank you.” He sighed in relief, feeling the pain dissipate with every passing second.
“You’re welcome Freddie.”
April 2nd, 1996
It was the day of the OWL examinations and Fred and George had only one thing on their mind.
Revenge.
After a quidditch incident in which they knocked Malfoy off of his broom for speaking badly about their mother, Umbridge had made the biased decision to ban the twins from ever playing again. And then on top of that, she confiscated their brooms.
Then it was detention for Dumbledore’s Army along with two of his brothers, his sister, his girlfriend and a bunch of his friends and classmates.
Then he and George got in trouble with Umbridge once again for consoling a crying first year who had been a victim to her cruel and unethical detention practices.
Expulsion was a given for what they were about to do. But they didn’t care.
The boys had decided that after Umbridge ruined everything that was good about Hogwarts (e.g, Dumbledore's Army and Quidditch), education was no longer a beneficial part of their lives. Instead, using the money Harry had so graciously given them from his Triwizard earnings, they decided to finally jump ship and start a joke shop in Diagon Alley. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes they would call it.
Now all that was left was what they considered to be their most brilliant prank yet.
And this was where Y/N came into the picture.
The three of them strolled down a corridor towards the great hall where Professor Umbridge was administering the OWL examination for the fifth year students.
Y/N was more than happy to help the boys with their prank, often being used as a siren for their sneaky schemes. She didn't, however, know the exact reason for this prank.
She didn’t know this was goodbye.
Fred and George drew a blank when trying to figure out how to tell Y/N about their plans for the future. It killed Fred to think that this could possibly mean leaving his girlfriend behind, even if it had been a dream of his and George’s for so long to start the biggest pranking empire the wizarding world had ever seen.
So while the twins spent weeks and weeks planning their departure, Fred also tried to think of ways to ask Y/N to go with them and leave Hogwarts for good.
Finally at the entrance of the great hall, they quickly went over the plan in secret whispers. Y/N then waited for her cue to enter the large space to create the much needed distraction.
With a tap on the shoulder, Fred and George gave Y/N the go ahead to start her one woman show. She let out a shake of nerves and ran in, coming to a complete stop at Umbridge's feet at the front of the hall.
“There are OWL examinations happening in this room. What is the meaning of this?” Umbridge spoke in a rather agitated but sickly sweet tone.
“There’s a few students playing around with banned Weasley products outside in the halls Professor. Causing a real disruption.” Umbridge clenched her fists. She couldn’t stand the twins.
All eyes were on Y/N. Most students knew she was Fred’s girlfriend so it was quite amusing to see the confusion on their faces.
Umbridge would have also seen through the act if she hadn’t been currently seething to the core.
“Right well, lead me to them Ms L/N.” She said tugging at the bottom of her pink tweed blazer. Y/N nodded, beginning to walk ahead of Umbridge towards the entrance, all the while, giving the boys the countdown for their surprise.
At one, Y/N noticed a gleam in the twins' eyes as Fred tossed a Whiz-bang right in front of Umbridge’s nose. Y/N quickly got out of the way as the Whiz-bang began to wreak its havoc. Umbridge yelped and screeched as she tried to outrun the now fully formed dragon that had emerged from the sparks. The professor was no match for Fred and George Wealsey, that was for certain.
As everything began to escalate, Fred and George mounted their confiscated brooms with conviction.
Fred took a moment to look over at his beaming girlfriend before placing a quick reassuring peck on her lips. The boys then pushed off the ground and zipped through the large room, their hoots and hollers of adrenaline trailing behind them.
Students cheered as examination papers floated about, all caused by the gusts of wind from the speed of the boys brooms. Then once enough students had gathered on to the balcony, the letter W appeared in the sky in the form of fireworks. It stood proudly amongst the clouds that it almost brought a tear to Y/N’s eye. These boys were legends.
It was quite spectacular to say the least.
———
Later that night, Y/N laid awake, feeling slightly concerned about the twins. Neither one of them had contacted her to say where they were or when they would be back.
Feeling uneasy, Y/N pushed her dark maroon sheets off of her body and headed towards the window hoping to see any sign of the twins returning.
Nothing.
She let out a shaky sigh but became startled when she heard a quiet thump behind her.
Once she quickly spinned around she noticed the outline of her boyfriend standing in the darkness, with just a splash of moonlight cascading over his face. Even in the shadow she knew which twin she was dealing with.
“Fred!” She whispered through a smile before jumping from the window seal and running over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her with a tightness that she had never felt from anyone else. It was almost as though if he were to let go she would simply slip away into nothing. She frowned over his shoulder and pushed back from the hug to look into his eyes, hoping to find all of the answers to the questions she had in them.
“Fred?” She asked, beginning to notice that sick stomach feeling again within her.
“Y/N, I need to talk to you.” His tone was stern and pointed.
She felt an inkling as to what this was all about.
“Fred don’t worry, If Umbridge tries to expel you I’m sure Dumbledore can override it, right?” His expression didn’t shift.
“Right?” She repeated with an unsure tone, starting to think that the worry of expulsion wasn’t why he was here. The flips and turns in her gut became more and more alive. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. Why wasn’t he saying anything god dammit?
“Did something happen Freddie?” Her voice was shaky, almost as if she couldn’t trust it.
“I need to talk to you about something. Something important that could change the rest of our lives.” Y/N could sense his nervousness from a mile away.
“Bloody hell Fred this doesn’t make me feel good.” He quickly placed a hand on her cheek to calm her nerves. She instinctively leaned into his calloused palm.
“Before you say anything, let me explain and then you can tell me what you think.”
“I’m thinking that the other girls will wake up if we don’t have this conversation somewhere else.” He finally looked at their surroundings noticing the other bodies sleeping soundly within the room.
“Come with me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the dark dorm and down to the undisturbed common room.
“You’re scaring me Fred. Tell me what’s going on.” She watched him closely as he paced back and forth, clearly thinking about what to say next.
“George and I are leaving.”
“Not if Dumbledore has anything to say about it.” She responded, still very much left in the dark. Fred released a sigh and sat her down on one of the couches. The crackling fire filled the tense void between the two lovers.
“No, Y/N, we are leaving tonight. Getting away from Umbridge, from Hogwarts. We have a storefront in Diagon Alley that we are going to turn into the most wicked joke shop any witch or wizard has ever seen.” Y/N’s face was unreadable.
“Freddie the prank is over now. You don’t need t-” She said with a nervous laugh which he cut off.
“Y/N I’m serious. I know it’s hard to believe, but this time I need you to trust me. We are leaving Hogwarts, for good. George and I are going to be creating one of the biggest wizarding enterprises ever…. and, I want you to come with us…. with me.”
Y/N pulled her hands away from Fred’s. The skin on her neck crawled.
“Fred I- I don’t know what to say.” Her breathing began to quicken. She was panicking. She couldn’t just leave. She had friends, an education, a life here at Hogwarts.
“You don’t have to say anything right now. I just need you to know that I love you and this doesn’t mean that I want us to end.” She shook her head repeatedly, wiping away the tears streaming down her face.
Fred grabbed her cheeks and pushed his lips against hers. He could feel the salty wetness from her eyes transfer from her skin to his, and it broke his heart into a million pieces knowing that he was the cause of it.
Y/N wanted to push him away so badly. He had made the choice to walk away from everything that they had built together. How could she ever forgive him? Instead of conveying this to him, she moved to straddle his lap. He leaned against the back of the couch and placed his hands on her hips, holding on for dear life.
“Please.” He whispered.
She didn’t respond but rather pushed herself deeper against him, slightly grinding her hips.
“I’m sorry.” Was all she said, in a soft shaky tone. They both knew what she was apologizing for.
They took a moment to just look at one another.
Y/N then spoke before she had time to think her words through,
“Show me you really mean what you say. Show me that you truly love me. Show me before you go and forget all about me.” Tears flowed between the two of them.
“I could never forget you.” He said in a hurt whisper. Her eyes trailed down to their connected laps in shame, embarrassed that she was making a huge selfish fuss over his plans of a brighter future. Fred took her face in his hands and made sure to really get a good look at her before swiftly laying her flat on her back against the couch.
“Is this alright?” He asked while softly stroking her thigh. She let out a trapped sigh and nodded as she shimmied herself further into the cushions. Fred gave her a melancholy smile before leaning in and enveloping her mouth with his.
Immediately they began to collectively moan as Fred grazed his hand up and down Y/N’s goose fleshed skin and her clothed pubic bone pushed up against his sensitive groin. Just the feeling of his light feather touch had her trembling to his every will. Once he felt that her legs had gotten enough attention, he removed his lips from hers and moved his hands from her thighs as he looked down at her with a face filled with care and worry.
“Is this okay?” He asked.
His fingers were creeping up her inner thigh and past the fabric of her cotton pyjama shorts. She nodded with a soft hum of approval. She bit down on her swollen bottom lip as he began to circle her clit with his middle and index fingers. Then her hand shot up to grab his forearm at the same time as her legs tensed up with pleasure.
“Please Freddie, m-more.” She whined while using her hand to dictate his speed and movements against her sensitive centre.
Fred watched in amazement as his girlfriend laid submissively beneath him, her hair sprawled out as she shimmed and jerked about, all because of his large strong hand that was currently between her legs.
They had never had sex before. The two of them had talked about it a great deal throughout their relationship, but because they spent so much of their time surrounded by friends during school and family during the holidays, it was difficult to ever get a moment to do so.
Fred never really cared about getting caught or the idea of a quicky. He was Fred Weasley after all. Any way he could feel her skin against his was ideal. Y/N on the other hand, had always wanted her first time to be something meaningful. She wanted it to be thought out, where they wouldn’t be distrubed and could have all the time in the world to express their love for one another.
So never once did Fred imagine that this was how the night would end. In the middle of the warmly lit common room where any insomnia stricken student could walk in unannounced.
Fred wanted her to drop everything. He wanted her to follow in his footsteps. But she was her own person, and she had to make her own choices, no matter how much it pained him. At the very least they were able to say their goodbyes by finally giving themselves to each other, whole heartedly.
“I’m going to put a finger in. Is that alright?” He asked softly in her ear, intentionally making it so his mouth hovered close to her neck. She shivered at the feeling of his breath rolling off of her skin.
“Yes Freddie, more than alright.” She was his to take, anyway he wanted.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t like it, okay love?” She nodded lightly, completely under his spell.
Fred detached his fingers from her hypersensitive bundle and slowly dragged them down to swirl around the wetness that had formed at her entrance. Once she was fully prepped by his digit, he slipped his index finger inside of her. Even with one digit, he could tell just how tight she was.
“Merlin, you’re so fucking tight.” He groaned out his inner thoughts before attacking her neck again with a plethora of horny kisses.
Her jaw slacked open in pleasure and her back arched off of the sticky fabric beneath her. His methodical breathing gave her a pace in which she could thrust herself against his finger.
Fred noticed her clench and speed up her hips movements. Not wanting her to finish so quickly, he slowly pulled his finger out of her warmth, resulting in a whine escaping her lips.
“Freddie, come back. Please!” She cried out, reaching out for him. Instead of giving in to her (no matter how badly he wanted to), he slipped off of the couch and got onto his knees in front of her. Y/N sat up and faced him, looking like the goddess Venus herself.
“Off, darling.” He finally said before tugging at the waistband of her shorts. Y/N happily obliged by lifting her hips up and letting him pull the shorts past the curvature of her bum and down her legs to the floor.
“Can you open up for me darling?’ He asked gently, caressing her knees in a circular motion. Y/N adjusted herself in her seated position, the sound of the leather couch filling their ears as she shifted her hips. She then took a deep inhale before slowly opening her legs more and planting her feet far apart from each other. The draft of the room hit her, making her clench her toes for a moment.
Fred’s face heated up as he took in her glistening inner thighs and centre.
“Absolutely stunning love, really.” He bashfully admitted while stroking her spread apart thighs.
This was not the Fred Wealsey that everyone else knew. The crazy, careless prankster who had everyone wrapped around his finger. The Fred Weasley who constantly told innapropriate jokes and boasted about his pranking achievements along with his party animal ways. As he sat there on his knees, between his girlfriends legs, he came to the conclusion that he was the one wrapped around her finger. He was nothing more than a desperate boy who was hopelessly in love with the girl above him.
“All yours Freddie.” Her voice was like sweet red velvet cake getting sliced into on a warm late spring afternoon. Fred let out a soft groan in response to her inviting words before pushing himself forward slightly, preparing himself to attach his lips to her core. He slowly tilted his head to the side, allowing himself full access. His stomach contracted and he squeezed his thighs together, trying to keep the ache in his trousers at bay.
Once he was able to somewhat pull himself together, he placed a gentle kiss to her clit, resulting in her hole clenching and her hips abruptly bucking forward. She grabbed his short red locks in the process and looked down at him through half lidded eyes.
“Look at me baby.” She whispered seductively. His soft brown irises slowly shifted up along her gorgeous welcoming figure to meet her eyes, a clouded look of lust filling them. Now giving her his full attention, Fred moved on from the light kisses he was administering to fully lapping up her arousal with a new found confidence.
“Fuck.” She groaned out while jutting her hips forward and threading her fingers through his hair harshly. He sighed in contentment as he continued to watch his girlfriend unravel above him. All because of his tongue.
And once more, right before she could finish, Fred removed his mouth from her core, wetness covering most of his lower face, chin and all. Before he could make any witty comments about how spent she looked, Y/N grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him up onto the couch to lay on top of her.
His shoulders rose and fell as he panted, still catching his breath from devouring her seconds ago. His covered torso pressed against hers and they could both feel each other's hearts racing, keeping in time with one another.
“Stay with me. Just for a bit.” She pleaded quietly, sadness evident in her voice and tears sitting in the lower waterline of her eyes. Fred immediately sat up and watched her lay deeper along the couch before straddling her waist. He then unzipped his striped sweater, throwing it behind him absentmindedly. Y/N looked up at the red headed boy on top of her with so much love and admiration, moving her hands up and down his clothed chest and stomach. Fred then pulled off his t-shirt, exposing his bare upper body.
Feeling absolutely feral from seeing his lightly freckled porcelain chest, Y/N yanked Fred down by the neck to press their lips together. Most of the time when they kissed, it would be fairly contained and sweet. Now was not one of those times. Teeth clashed and tongues swirled freely making the kiss messy, sloppy and feverish.
Wanting even more contact, Fred pulled one of his hands out from behind Y/N’s head and tucked it under the button up lounge top she had on. She let out a small gasp as he began messaging one of her breasts. He couldn’t go another second without having them exposed and ready for his tender touch.
Quickly sitting up again, Fred started to unbutton the fabric with shaky hands, prominent pants of lust coming from his throat. Noticing him struggling, Y/N anxiously placed her hands over his and started helping him with the buttons.
Once the final button was undone, Y/N’s supple breasts were finally exposed. The cool air caused her nipples to harden and once Fred had fully taken them in, he brought himself down to her chest, sucking on the flesh happily.
Needy for more of him, Y/N dragged her hand down his stomach, stopping at the buckle of his belt. With a few aggressive tugs of the hand me down leather, Fred brought his hand down to help her unbuckle it, gently grazing her hand in the process.
Once the belt was removed, Y/N feverishly pulled at the zipper of his trousers. She was able to achieve the action on her own fairly quickly and began to feel around his lower section, putting her hand past the elastic band of his striped boxers. When she felt his hardened dick, a multitude of somersaults awoken within her. She was hoping somersaults wouldn’t be the only thing she would feel her gut that night.
She took him in her hand, making sure not to grip his aching member too harshly. He bucked forward and closed his eyes, letting out the most beautiful sound that had ever graced Y/N’s ears. Seeing her effect on the older boy had her stroking him faster and faster. Precome from his red tip began to seep between her fingers.
“Yes, yes!” He let slip out with a gasp, digging his face into her neck. She then slipped her hand out from his boxers and trousers, not letting him finish. It was a small act of defiance for doing the same to her earlier.
He whined quietly, nuzzling his nose further into her skin, begging for any kind of release.
“Lift up love.’ She said sweetly, which he did with very little objection. Her arms came around his waist and she pushed his trouser and boxers down more, giving her a full view of his arse as she looked over his shoulder from where she laid. She couldn’t help but stare.
Getting frustrated with the inconvenience of the material, Fred kicked off his shoes and used his feet to push the constrictive material off his lower half completely, including his socks.
Y/N and Fred were now fully naked and exposed.
“Fred, I need you in me.” Y/N begged, desperate for the feeling of being filled up by the boy above her. Fred brought himself up further on to his elbows and tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear.
“Yeah?” He asked, needing her to be one hundred percent sure that this was what she wanted.
“Yeah.” She responded, eyes full of wonder. He couldn’t deny her what she wanted, especially when she gave him that look.
He moved his gaze down to his swollen member that was just barely hovering over her pubic bone. With a steady grip, he jerked himself a couple times to bring up a bead of precome before shifting slightly, laying the tip of his length against her lower lips.
Looking up one more time for confirmation, he was met with a soft expression on her face and her hand stroking his hair gently, giving him a sense of reassurance.
That was all he needed to continue.
He moved forward, looking down to watch his aching length disappear past the folds of her pulsing centre.
The feeling made him release a shaky breath and he laid himself flush against her naked chest, knowing deep down that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself up for much longer even if he tried. Y/N hissed when he slowly pushed himself further and further inside of her, his member dragging against her contracting walls. To ease the pain she gripped onto his toned freckles biceps. All those years of swinging his beater bat could be felt underneath her fingertips.
“Freddie,” She cooed, indicating that the pain had started to subside. Her soft words sent sharp bolts of energy through his scalp and all the way down to the soles of his feet. The sensation made him want to move instead of this agonizing stillness they were currently in.
“Ca-can I-I m-move? Fuckin’ ‘ell, can I please move?” He begged, shakiness laced within his words.
“Yeah.” She whispered, tightening her grip on the roots of his hair. He groaned at the tugging sensation and began retracting his hips, watching Y/N tense and hiss as he did so. He waited a moment and then pushed forward again, watching as she let out a prominent sigh, releasing all of the stiffness she was holding. His thrusts were small, only moving slightly back and forth so she could get used to the feeling. Every once and a while she would let out these little mewls that made him want to snap his hips. But he had to have restraint.
For her sake.
It was as if she had read his mind because as he continued his methodically shallow pace, Y/N finally spoke up through her moans.
“More Freddie. I need more.” He lifted his head from the cozy spot he had created upon her chest to look her in the eye.
“Are you sure?’ The last thing he wanted was to hurt her.
“Christ Freddie, you’re being too gentle! Please just fuck me like you mean it!”
He was dumbfounded by her words. Her begging and pleading awoke something within him and he went to grab her thigh, placing it against his hip. He then set his forehead against hers making sure their eyes stayed connected.
“Like this?” He asked confidently with a tinge of a smirk as he began to roll his hips hard against hers. She let out a loud whine and nodded before looking down to their connected bodies, biting her lip as he continued to slowly and deeply fuck into her the best way he could.
“Yeah just like that.” She responded softly, rubbing her hand along his toned and flexed upper back.
Moans and pants filled the room. Y/N was fully laid back, pulling Fred down with her. With their bodies so intimately entangled, Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing her heels against his tailbone, allowing for a new angle to emerge. He was now hitting her g-spot in this position, though she didn’t know that. To her it just felt euphoric.
It just felt right.
After a while she made it so she was fully wrapped around him when she flung her arms around his neck, clinging to him almost as though she were a koala.
“Oh my merlin, you f-f-feel so fu-fucking amazing Fred!” All he could respond with were low grunts of pleasure.
Fred began to quicken his pace when he started to feel his orgasm creep up like a distant sneeze. This had Y/N holding on to him for dear life, also feeling her own climax slowly approaching.
“I-I think I’m go-going to cum.” He spoke in broken words.
“Me too.” She replied through a gasp, gripping onto his shoulder blades that tensed up every time he pushed forward into her now overly sensitive core.
After a few more deep and needy thrusts, Fred began to pull his hips back so he could finish on Y/N’s stomach.
“No.” She breathed out, tightening the grip she had on him, digging her heels deeper into his sweaty lower back. He looked down at her with a confused but blissed out expression, still thrusting sporadically.
“Finish inside me, so I still have a part of you with me when you leave.” He stopped, completely caught off guard by her words. She wanted him to stay with her that badly. It killed him inside, especially as he watched a single tear run down her flushed cheek.
“If that’s okay.” She continued, beginning to retract into herself. She started to think that she had made him uncomfortable and had ruined the moment with her loose words. She covered her face in embarrassment, wishing she could disappear. It would be difficult though with Fred still very much buried inside of her.
Y/N was about to apologize for stepping out of line when she felt him begin to thrust into her with more vigour than before. She took her hands off of her eyes to see Fred concentrating heavily, his face turning into a light shade of red.
“ ‘m close. Gonna fill you up so well love.” Her heart swelled at his words. He was going to do it.
“Fuck, me too Freddie.” With a few more passionate and hard thrusts and a plethora of I love you’s, Fred let out a guttural groan while sloppily painting her jaw with wet, salvia ridden kisses. Then he finally spilled his seed deep inside of her. She gripped on to him roughly, jutting up against his now partly soft member as her legs shook along with her orgasm.
Fred could watch her do that all day.
They had both mostly come down at this point as Fred collapsed on top of Y/N, their sweaty bodies finding a perfect rhythm through their erratic breaths and heartbeats. No words were spoken. Instead they stared off into space, finding a sense of peacefulness in their collective blissed out state. Only the crackling fire made itself known.
Amongst all this, Y/N drew hearts over Fred’s naked back absentmindedly with her fingers. He had almost fallen asleep at her soothing touch. It was what he would miss the most. The silent recognition of love that the two of them shared.
“Freddie?”
He hummed in response, far too gone at that point to give her a coherent sentence.
“I hate that I’m asking you this but, when are you leaving?” Fred’s eyes widened and he quickly shot up to check the time.
It was one-thirty in the morning. He was supposed to meet George at the front entrance half an hour earlier.
“Shit!” He yelled as he jumped up and ran around the common room, resembling a chicken with its head cut off. He frantically collected his clothes that were scattered on the floor.
“Get dressed and grab some shoes.” He said while hopping around, attempting to get his long lower limbs through the leg holes of his trousers. Y/N didn’t ask any questions as she quickly slipped her pyjamas back on and rushed upstairs to grab an old Gryfindor sweater her aunt passed down to her, along with a pair of worn in white converse.
Once she made it back down to the common room, Fred was lacing up his shoes. He must have heard her come down because once she got to the bottom of the stairs he looked up at her from his crouched position, watching her intently as she sat on the bottom step and concentrated on getting her own shoes on.
This moment reminded him of the night of the Yule Ball and how beautiful she looked when she came down those very same steps.
She took his breath away.
Now sporting a ratty old sweater and wearing no makeup whatsoever, his breath still caught in his throat.
She had always been so beautiful.
After a moment of soaking her in for what may be the last time for a while, Fred walked over and grabbed her hand, leading her out of the common room.
“Where are we going?” Y/N whisper yelled as they stealthily ran through the dark ghostly halls of Hogwarts. The only light source they were gifted came from the full moon that could easily be seen through the plethora of archways adorning the castle’s outer walls. The only sounds being the echo of their shoes slapping against the cobblestone beneath them.
Every once in a while when they came to a turn, Fred would abruptly stop and peak around the corner to make sure Filch wasn’t creeping around in the shadows. A habit he picked up when he first became a student at Hogwarts.
“Almost there.” He stated while swiftly moving around a corner, making a non verbal announcement that the area was clear of any caretaker activity.
Y/N helplessly wanted to tug Fred backwards and have them retreat back into the common room for a second round of passionate love making. Possibly even use the Room of Requirements to spice things up. But unfortunately, things don’t always go the way you want them to. Instead she tried her best to keep up with Fred’s lanky legs as he maneuvered them through the halls of Hogwarts.
After what felt like an eternity, they finally made it to the large grand entrance of the school, surprisingly not having gotten caught in the process. Y/N could feel her legs almost give out as they stopped to look out to the vast land of grass, forest and bodies of water, partially due to the large stretch of running she had just done and partially due to the activities that took place in the common room not that long ago.
Her lungs felt cold and sore as she gasped for breath.
“What are we doing here?” She choked out, not paying much attention to her surroundings. She then stood up fully and noticed a few meters away, the other half of her lover. He turned around, travel bag in hand and Angila behind him in all her bright blue glory. The fact that the car still ran was an absolute miracle. Especially after what Harry and Ron had put her through in Ninety-Two.
Fred took her out of her thoughts as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him. George had a beaming smile on his face. He initially thought that the plan had worked and Y/N chose to go with them to help bring their dream to fruition. Then he noticed his older twin shake his head sadly. George’s smile disappeared and his shoulders dropped once he realised what his brother was trying to tell him.
This was goodbye.
“I hear you boys are dropping out?” Y/N called out to George as they got closer and closer to him, an attempt to lighten the mood. He let out a sad laugh as he stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets.
“Yeah, was thinking about it.” He responded leaning against the passenger door. Y/N snickered softly as they finally came face to face. She dropped Fred’s hand and pulled George in for a hug, rubbing his back to console him, feeling bad that she had gotten in the way of their perfect plan.
“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” He asked, words filled with hope.
“I can’t. I need to finish the year and graduate. But this isn’t goodbye Georgie Poorgie.” She said before pulling away from the embrace. He smiled at this and playfully rolled his eyes. He always hated that nickname.
“Will you write?” He didn’t want the last seven years to just go to waste. Neither did she.
“Of course I will.” She moved in closer and whispered,
“Keep an eye on him will you? You were always the more reasonable one of the two.” He chuckled lightly and nodded before leaning in for one more bone crushing hug.
“Bye Y/N.”
“Bye George.” And with that he retreated back into the dodgy Ford to make sure everything was in order for their journey to Diagon Alley.
“So.” Fred said breaking the awkward silence, kicking the stone beneath him, his hands shoved in his sweater pockets.
“So.” Y/N repeated in a light mocking tone. So much had happened in the last few hours that neither one of them really knew what to say.
“I’m never not going to love you, you know that right?” He finally said stepping closer so they were only a couple inches apart from each other.
“Yeah I know. Still wish you weren’t just going and deserting your education but it’s not my place to stomp on your dreams you know.” Y/N let out a sniffle, collecting a couple tears with her fingers.
“I’ll wait for you.” He blurted out. She looked up and gave him a sad smile, taking his hand into hers.
“No you won’t. You will work and work and one day some beautiful girl will walk in and sweep you off of your feet. She will be the perfect girlfriend and one day the perfect wife who will help you and George run the shop and raise your kids while you live out your dream. I know you love me and I love you, more than anything in the world, but Freddie, I cannot and will not hold you back from what I know you can achieve. Be great, focus on that. I’ll always be here for you. But I can’t be who you want me to be. I can’t be a shop owner's wife.” Tears began to trickle down both their faces by the time Y/N had finished her little speech.
“Is this you breaking up with me?” His voice was cracked and hoarse. He had thought about this being a possible outcome but chose to push it to the back of his mind, not wanting to face it.
“Yeah...I think it is.” She replied weakly, feeling absolutely guilty and awful. No, this was what was right. He needed to move on.
“You are the only woman I’ve ever loved! No one else!” He said, his voice raising.
Y/N flinched slightly, not used to seeing him this genuinely angry, not even on the quidditch pitch. How could she? The only other time he got this mad was when she was passed out cold.
“Freddie, please. Not here.” Her voice was quiet and shaky as tears streamed down her face. She then noticed George watching from inside the car with a face full of remorse. Under normal circumstances he would have intervened to protect her but he knew she was safe and this conversation needed to happen sooner or later.
Seeing her scared demeanor, Fred pulled back immediately. He hated to see her frightened and vulnerable.
Slowly, he walked towards her and gently brought her into his chest as she sobbed, placing a plethora of gentle kisses on the top of her head.
“I’m sorry Fred, I just can’t I-” She rambled as her small frame shook with tears.
“Shhh. It’s okay, no need to apologize. I shouldn’t have yelled”. His eyes closed with frustration as he let out a sigh. He was angry at himself for getting so cross with her.
“Fred?” She asked once her tears had finally subsided and she could gather her thoughts.
“Yes love?’ He kept his hands around her waist as he leaned back a touch to look down at her.
“One last kiss? Before you leave?” Both of their hearts broke for what felt like the millionth time that day.
“Y/N please don’t.” He felt as though he could cry now.
“Fred, I don’t want to argue. Just do it” She was tired, emotionally drained and not in the mood to negotiate. He let out a shaky exhale and gently took a hold of the back of her neck, leaning down to capture her lips with his.
It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen with desperation. It felt nice and warm, but also painful. Fred moaned into Y/N’s mouth and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. In response she placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed her thumb gently back and forth against his soft freckled skin. His hand then came up to lay gently over hers. The size difference of their hands always made his heart swell.
“I love you.” He said against her lips.
“I know. I love you too.” She muttered. And with that, they separated and embraced for a couple more seconds. Neither one of them wanted to let go, but they had to.
“Bye.” She said with a weak wave once he had finally pried himself from her grasp, backing away further and further before getting into the driver seat.
He couldn't even look her in the eye as he started up the bunged up car, it would just be too painful. Merlin knew if he did, there was a good chance he would run back out to her and forget about everything he had worked so hard for.
The headlights shawn brightly, creating a stream of yellow light against the gravel in front of it. The sound of low rumbles, occasional putters and clanks drowned out Y/N’s re-emerging sobs as she watched the boys begin to drive down the path and up into the night sky. The old beat up Ford swiftly flew further and further away. Then it rippled into oblivion.
Gone.
Y/N held her sweater tightly to her shaking body as her teeth chattered, the only sound being the chilly April wind passing by. The wetness of her fresh tears brought an extra sense of coldness to her face. She stood in place far longer than necessary, secretly hoping that piece of junk car would reappear.
It never did.
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