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#been wanting to start this series for months now oops
acourtofglass · a year ago
some of my (probably unpopular) acotar opinions
because I can like and enjoy a book series, but still be able to critique it :)
- acomaf is better than acowar, but they’re both better than acotar.
- i love Feyre, but she is too perfect. i feel like when she became fae, she lost any character flaws she had. it’s not as noticeable in acomaf because she’s recovering from so much trauma, but in acowar and acofas she is just too perfect and everyone treats her as such. 
- i did not like acofas (sorry!) i would give it 2.5 stars out of 5, maybe 3 if i’m being generous. the way the inner circle treated nesta was horrible and feysand was just too much sometimes, ya know?
- i don’t ship elain and lucien or elain and azriel. i just don’t really care about elain lol.
- i just want mor to be happy :( (and i don’t care what anyone says, i don’t want eris to get a redemption arc)
- i saw a post that said if nesta was a male character, everyone would be swooning over her and i couldn’t agree more. the way the inner circle treated her in acofas was terrible and she deserves to have some space and heal. (and can we please stop slut-shaming her for sleeping with other people than cassian? she obviously isn’t ready for a relationship yet).
- i hope that in the next book (acosf), nesta gets to heal on her own before she and cassian get together, like feyre and rhys in acomaf. and i hope that when she heals, she doesn’t all of sudden worship feyre and rhys like many other characters. that doesn’t mean that i don’t want them to get along, i just don’t nesta to be like “feyre and rhys were right all along and i was a horrible person” because she has a right to be upset with some of their actions, just like feyre has a right to be upset with some of nesta’s past actions.
- on a similar note, i want nesta to be able to find her own group of friends in acosf. it doesn’t mean she can’t get along with the inner circle, it’s just that i think she deserves to have some space from them too. 
- tamlin the tool is horrible and i don’t like him, but feyre and rhys were too over the top in acofas. just leave the dude alone. however, i still don’t want a redemption arc for him. 
- i’m not really excited for the feysand baby. i really liked when feyre said she just wanted to experience life with rhys for a while before starting a family, because i’ve never really wanted kids and i don’t like when books end with the main couple having kids. it just felt a bit rushed including it in acofas.
- sjm needs to be better about writing diverse characters. i’ve always pictured the illyrians as non-white, but her description of them just as “tanned” is way too ambiguous and i can definitely see how it’s confusing for people. 
- rhysand’s actions in acotar with feyre under the mountain are horrible and shouldn’t be excused. if they happened in this modern world, i would never support the romance between him and feyre. however, in the deadly world of the fae, it kind of makes sense since their morals and ethics are so different from our world. especially since “the greater good” is a pretty common ethical dilemma in many fictional novels. also i think we tend to forget that rhys went through a lot of trauma and abuse with amarantha to survive? once again, not excusing his actions, but it explains them.
however, it’s completely valid that some people don’t feel comfortable with feysand because of acotar. not everyone will like the same books as i do.
- i want to see more of viviane and kallias and the winter court. (and the court messenger foxes!!!)
- people whitewash lucien wayyyy too much.
- this is probably a popular opinion but it should be a court of silver AND flames. no. just no. there has to be the “and” or it isn’t right.
let me know what your unpopular opinions are or feel free to discuss mine! 
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no-droids · 10 months ago
Beginner’s Luck
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Part Twelve of the Rough Day Series
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 14.6K
Warnings: 👀👀👀 SMUT.  Oral sex (male receiving), cockwarming, sexual acts in public, the use of blasters and other canon-typical weaponry
A/N: Twas the night before Mando season 2, and all through the house—NO IM JUST KIDDING SDKSFKSVS anyways I am so sorry for not being here for basically all of last month but I could not miss this incredibly momentous occasion for anything. Merry season 2 my lovely baby yoditos
“Well,” a modulated voice gruffs expectantly from behind you, clearly tired of waiting.  “Turn around, let me see.”
“No.  I look ridiculous,” you sulk from the corner of the hull, refusing to do as he says.  You thought this was stupid from the very beginning and openly told him so, but you’re also a complete pushover for him with just enough backbone to be frustrated when you inevitably give in.  “And don’t you ‘sweet girl’ me, it’s not gonna work this time.”
“Sweet girl,” Din’s deep voice lulls through the helmet, raspy and soft.
Fucking fine, if he’s gonna twist your arm about it.  You spin around with a deep frown and a chrome visor stares back at you as you waddle forwards, and you don’t even need to look at the kid cradled in his forearm to know he’s smiling toothily as you clunk and rattle.  Once you’re standing directly in front of them both, you blow the stray hair out of your eyes and plant your hands on your hips, just waiting for the inevitable response.
Only, you don’t get practically any response at all from him.  He stays perfectly still and says absolutely nothing, and though the baby’s mouth falls open with happiness and he reaches for you, he doesn’t make a sound either.
“I told you,” you grumble after a few moments of pained silence.  “I look ridiculous.”
Still, nothing.  You purse your lips, shifting from side to side uncomfortably, and eventually your suspicion grows and festers until it finally bursts forth.  Oh for the love of Maker—
“I know you’re laughing under there,” you accuse with a growl.  He doesn’t move a single muscle but you don’t buy it, not for a single fucking second.
Then suddenly the helmet glances away from you and stares purposefully at the wall of the hull as the kid starts giggling, and you knew it.  You fucking knew he was laughing.
“You look great,” comes tightly through the modulator after a moment, and you pull your lip up into a snarl, vindicated in your findings but not happy about it.
“Is that how this is supposed to protect me?”  You wave your arms, hearing them squeak and clank like you’re a droid that hasn’t been maintenanced in centuries.  The rough metal jerks up and smacks your chin with the shoulder movement and you grimace.  “Make the bad guys laugh themselves to death?”
“It's bad,” Din finally turns back to you and admits with zero shame, and your cheeks burn at how stupid you must look right now.  “Way too big.”
“Too big?”  You blink at him.  “That’s your criticism?”
When he presented it to you, your first impression was some sort of brown paint—but no.  It’s fucking… rust.  It’s damaged and scraped up and it looks like it’s been through the ringer and back, and not in a way that gives it character.  There’s almost a literal hole in the fucking chestpiece and it’s dented so much that it actually creates more than enough space for your breasts, what the fuck happened—?
“You’re telling me you went from this—”  You ask pointedly, knocking your knuckles against the ill-fitting piece of metal and feeling it wobble against your chest, “—to that—” you tap the pristine, gleaming armor strapped to his body that easily costs more than probably quadruple your entire life, “—without any go-betweens?  It’s missing one of the shoulders, Din.”
He ignores you, flipping the chestpiece over your head with his free hand and letting the metallic clatter of it meeting the floor behind you ring out through the hull.  “I’d hoped at least something would fit,” comes his filtered sigh.  “This planet isn’t nice.”
That sobers you up a bit, and you feel your heart thump painfully.  “Are we on Corellia?”  You ask without thinking.
“No,” he tells you immediately, quelling your panic while pulling off your one singular pauldron.  “Tatooine.”
You’ve never heard of it, but from the grave undertone of his voice, you know the drill.  Different setting, same kind of people.  Smugglers, rogues, criminals—the type he’s used to being around and knows exactly what to expect out of them.  You always feel safe when he’s with you, but when he leaves?
“Oh,” you say, because you don’t really have anything else.  It’s quiet for a little bit, but then he continues on before you can come up with something to fill the sudden uncertainty on your end.
“I know someone here,” Din murmurs, bending his knees and sinking down to start undoing and pulling the shoddy thigh braces off your legs.  “Someone… nice.  It’ll be safe as long as nobody sees me leaving or coming back, and the kid would be happy to see her.”
Your eyebrows pull inwards, something… unfamiliar settling inside you.  Din doesn’t have friends, he’s made it clear that he doesn’t really like anyone that he knows well enough to introduce you to.  Even when he’s lowered himself in front of you and is technically undressing you, you feel a spark of… no, not jealousy, that’s crazy.  But for real, who is he talking about?
“Why can’t me and the baby just lay low somewhere remote like normal?”  You ask instead, but he shakes his head.
“No such thing,” he grunts, pulling off the other thigh brace.  “Tuskans or Jawas will find you even in the middle of the Dune Sea.”
“I like Jawas,” you blurt, having had many positive experiences trading with the little creatures on Arvala-7, but his helmet immediately tilts up to pin you in place and you shut up, feeling the tangible unamusement radiating from the thin blade of the visor even when the kid starts giggling again.  “I mean I… don’t like Jawas?”
Din sighs and rises back up to his full height, finally handing the baby over to you now that you’re not weighed down by that ridiculous getup anymore.  “You can either stay with her while I get the quarry or run the risk of pirates finding you drifting above the atmosphere,” he reasons bluntly, not mincing words.  “But it’s not a good idea to be stuck on the surface without protection, someone will find you.”
You bite your lip, hugging the kid closer to your chest for a second.  “Okay, that’s fine,” you murmur quietly after a moment.  “We can stay with your… friend.”  
You clear your throat and move to let him pass by to get to the cockpit, except Din doesn’t take a single step.  You blink up at him and after what feels like an eternity of no response, the helmet slowly tilts sideways at you and… oops.
Was that not subtle?  You didn’t know what to call her, genuinely, that’s why you hesitated.  You didn’t want to use the word acquaintance, it felt too detached for the fact that he said the kid would be happy to see her again.  That’s what’s called a friend, right?  
Maker, why are you being so weird about this?
Thankfully, you end up getting away with it.  After a few painful seconds of looking at every single thing in the hull besides him and humming a song you make up on the spot, Din slowly walks past and disappears up into the cockpit.  You take a deep breath and gently rub the baby’s ears between your fingers as the Crest powers up with a ferocious rumble beneath your feet.
It’s bright.  Fuck, it’s so bright here.  You hold the kid to your chest with one hand and shield your eyes with the other as the ramp slowly descends, dust immediately kicking up around it.  Din’s palm is resting against your lower back and his thumb gently brushes back and forth, but your heart decides to drop the very moment his hand does, and as soon as the ramp clanks against the landing platform, he’s striding down into the blazing hot desert sun without you.
Something in your chest squeezes and whispers to you that he probably doesn’t want to touch you when he’s about to see an old friend again, so you wait a few seconds of space before descending down the ramp behind him, not really knowing how you feel right now.  But you’ve barely taken a single step to follow when a woman’s voice screeches out from across a vast distance.  “Oh no, no no no—don’t you even think about it!”
Din slows to a halt at the end of the ramp and gives whoever it is a small nod, nothing beyond it, and if you weren’t purposefully looking at him for cues right now, you’d probably miss the greeting entirely.  You stand on your tippy-toes from behind his cape as a fiery little middle-aged lady in a mechanic’s jumpsuit marches up to him with an attitude that more than makes up for the height difference.
“You’re not allowed here anymore,” she pokes his chestplate brazenly with one hand and props the other on her hip, clearly not excited to see him.  “Not after the ruckus you caused last time, no sir, not on my watch.”
“That won’t happen again,” he gruffs shortly, not providing a single thing beyond it, and you blink.  What… what happened last time?
“It sure won’t!”  The strange woman agrees shrilly, crossing her arms and widening her eyes until she looks a bit like she’s been out in the suns too long.  “I’m still recovering, Mando!”
“I compensated you,” he reminds her, a quiet edge of frustration beginning to creep into his voice.
She suddenly narrows her expression at him, going from manic desert lady to sharp and discerning skeptic within a split second.  “How much do you think my life is worth?”
Din takes forever to respond, seeming to either be choosing his words very carefully or grinding his teeth under the beskar in frustration.  Probably both.  “I brought my ki—”
“You bring trouble!”  She bursts out, stomping her foot on the dusty landing platform and holding her ground.  “I don’t care how cute your little one is, go park your ship on some other poor soul’s hangar bay!”
He doesn’t say anything back, staying completely silent while you stand there awkwardly and wait for his response, and it’s almost like you… forgot.  How quiet Din can be, how unnervingly little he can choose to offer to conversations until he deems the information absolutely necessary to provide.  He allows you to forget that reserved nature of his.  He talks to you.  He never used to at the beginning, but somewhere along the way it just became increasingly common to hear his voice, both with a high-pass filter and blissfully without.  Now though, there’s just too long of a weirdly tense pause in the reunion for you to handle without doing something about it.
So you step out from behind him with the child in your arms, giving her an apologetic smile with as much friendliness as you can possibly put into an expression.
“Hello,” you greet her gently, musically, lifting the baby’s hand to give her a companionable three-fingered wave from the both of you while he coos.  “I promise I’m not trouble, but he did bring me along this time.”
Din and the woman simultaneously turn to look at you; her like you’re just as strange and jarring of a sight to see on this planet as the tiny unnamed boy in your arms and him like your voice by itself is enough to loosen his shoulders.  Though neither one of them ultimately respond to you, you can tell by the way his fists unclench that you’ve at least helped him relax, even if the frizzy-haired lazy otherwise ignores your introduction entirely.
“Now just what in Maker’s name are you doing with a poor little stowaway like that?”  She faces him and pokes his armor again.  “You runnin’ a charity out of that battered piece of junk you call a ship?”
“Three hundred credits to let them stay with you for a week,” he turns back to tell her, cutting directly to the chase.  Alright, so you don’t really understand their relationship at all at this point.  He said she was nice?  And yet he’s already bribing her that handsomely?
“Five hundred,” she immediately shoots back, and your heart sinks.  Fuck, there’s no way.  There’s no way he would spend that much, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.
But… he doesn’t respond.  Which you now remember with a jolt of surprise, means confirmation.  Not wasting words agreeing, he’d say something back to her if he had an issue.  Maker, five hundred credits.  You’re starting to wonder if he’s really able to make any money at all doing this, or if the job is just… fitting for him, so he continues to do it.  He’s spending more and more credits on you every single time you turn around, and while you don’t feel great about it, you know Din well enough to know he’s stable and independent enough to make the decisions he wants to make.
So you just stand there and hold the baby to your chest, unsure of your place, while Din eventually turns around to face you.
Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you almost find yourself wanting to… do soft things with him that you know you shouldn’t while other people are around.  Granted, he’s never told you not to, but the last thing you want to do is undermine his reputation by unintentionally revealing his gentler side.  You want to give him a hug and maybe hand him the baby to say goodbye, but you don’t know if that’s how he wants to present himself to company right now.  Unfortunately, that ends up translating into you just looking at him and awkwardly waiting to see what he does.  Your feelings won’t be hurt if he just takes off without another word now that you know that that’s his intent—you promise, they weren’t hurt the first fifty or so times he’s done it.  You understand him, it’s alright, he doesn’t need to—
But then he leans in and lowers his voice until only you can hear it.
“I’ll be back soon,” he tells you, and you feel warmth creep into your chest.
You understand him.  Which is why you feel like you could almost burst with how much he didn’t have to say that but chose to do so anyway.  You already have a solid time frame—a week—which is more information than you usually get, and it’s such a small thing.  It’s insane; if you made a list, you’d have 1) talking to you, 2) knowing his first name, and 3) seeing a glimpse of his forehead as your top reasons why he might care just as much about you as you care for him.  That’s insane.
He takes a second to reach a glove out and rub the baby’s ear as he makes his adorable little baby noises up at him, before the helmet tilts back up just slightly to look at you.  
“Be safe,” he waits for you to whisper back.
And you think now is finally the time to go, right?  Except he waits just a few precious seconds more, just holding there, silently.  Maker, you don’t want to miss him, why is he doing this to you?  You’re trying to play it cool, see-you-later’s have been commonplace between you for nearing a full year now, so why does it feel like now is the first time he truly doesn’t want to go?
You hold the kid with one hand and start to reach for him the split second he turns to walk away, and you quickly drop it as the dry wind snaps through his cape.  He leaves and doesn’t look back.
Still, you watch him disappear, until eventually you’re reminded of your host’s presence with the tap of a wrench against your shoulder.
“Hope you know your way around a hyperdrive,” the woman says with a smirk.  Maker, Din didn’t even give you her name, you’re going to have to ask.  “Gotta repair at least two of ‘em by sundown.”
You catch the hefty tool with your free hand and turn to her.  “Pre-Imperial or post?  Never done a restoration, but I’m a quick learner.”
She blinks at you like that was probably the last thing she expected you to say, but you give her the same friendly smile from before and look towards the entrance of the hangar for the ships needing maintenance.
So Peli is… a character.
She’s quick and entertaining and whip-smart, but you worry that if she had a whip, she might actually use it.  She’s nice—she is, but she damn near works you to the bone once you prove yourself capable.  You don’t think she expected the extent of your practical knowledge of mechanics, she went into it assuming you were going to be useless and did a hard U-turn that very first night.  You both worked together to fix two malfunctioning hyperdrives by sundown, just like she told you she needed, but then she looked vaguely surprised and nobody showed to pick up until two days later.
The second day is more hectic, and the third day is worse.  You cradle the kid on your hip while you work one-handed, smudged grease all over your forehead and sweat sticking your hair to your neck.  Using Peli’s sonic shower never leaves you feeling clean no matter how many times a day you find yourself wanting to wash the dust and grime from your body, the same way yours used to back on Arvala-7, and you immediately get why her dark hair seems so frizzy and dry whenever you step out of the stall and catch sight of the similar rat’s nest on your head in the small mirror.  Hypersonic waves dry it out more than the blazing hot suns on this planet—you look the same exact way you’ve looked for decades and while you don’t mind hard work, you can’t stand the complete lack of water on this forsaken rock.
Din was right, though.  She is nice, but in a way that she never wants anybody else to find out about.  She cooks you food every night but expects you to clean the whole kitchen after, she lets you have free reign over the caf maker as long as you remember to make enough for her, and she allows you and the kid to pass out on the beat-up sofa in one of the secluded back rooms for the time being.  On more than one occasion, when she assigns you chores that require two hands and a steady focus to complete, you overhear her babytalk behind the control panel as she bounces the kid in one arm and plays with his ears.  It fills your chest with a quiet, subtle kind of warmth, and you understand why Din trusts her with him.
At least you stay busy—which, understatement.  She works you so hard that eventually she starts handing you tasks that don’t really seem… pressing.  Replacing the spherical joints on her three pit droids, hand-scrubbing the grime off the pots and pans she uses to cook the same two meals everyday, polishing the dusty windows overlooking the landing platform even though they’re caked over with dirt not even an hour later.  You realize soon enough that she doesn’t have nearly the workload here as she claims, periodically catching her playing cards with the droids while you’re busting your ass doing chores once all the real work has clearly been accomplished, but you’re not upset.  You like being busy, it’s how you’ve lived most of your life.  However, at some point, you actually end up running out of things to do.  After that, it’s like she has to actively look for tasks she still needs completed.
One morning you find her in the parked Crest, ripping open the guidance systems paneling and talking to herself.  You sip your caf and watch silently from the landing bay, hair pulled up in a messy bun and the baby on your hip as the suns rise on your shoulders and she mutters, whole sheets of metal being tossed out from the insides of the Razor Crest.
You've also learned she responds incredibly well to the prospect of credits, so you don’t spend too much time wondering what her goal is—find something in the ship for you to fix and then charge Mando extra for the materials whenever he comes back.
Hilarious though, as if there’s anything in your ship that actually needs fixing.
You spin around with a sigh and walk back into the hangar, knowing today will probably be the first slow day in awhile.
A few hours later, you’re invited to play a game of Sabacc for the first time in your life.
There are so many rules—so many suits and names to keep track of, so many values to memorize, only to be forced to choose one card after every round to keep just in case the rest of them happen to shuffle at random, which occurs at least once or twice every game.  There’s too much luck involved to figure out any sort of strategy; you feel like sometimes you’re hopelessly lost and end up winning anyways or you wager nearly your entire stack of bolts on a perfect hand and then you lose the entire thing regardless.
It’s an unpredictable nightmare.  But it’s something to do, and you’ve learned that playing just as stupidly as you bet allows you to easily stay in the game.  The baby sits in your lap and plays with one of your rusty metal gambling pieces while your leg bounces, and Peli grumbles under her breath once it appears you get ahead of her in winnings.
“Beginner’s luck,” she tells her favorite pit droid quietly, who focuses its singular eye at you in a way that somehow feels unfriendly and nods on a brand new swivel, courtesy of yours truly.
You don’t argue, because there’s no point.  The whole fucking thing is luck, but there’s no point.  You know enough about this game to know that you might give something away if you speak, so you keep your mouth shut and let her fill the void.  You know how to stay silent, you’ve learned from the best.  Wordlessly drawing a card from the deck and tucking it in between two others of the same value, you decide to trade one of your other cards at complete random and hope it all just works out.
“Ship looks like it’s brand spankin’ new on the inside,” Peli mutters into her mug out of nowhere, and you pause for a moment, before silently nodding at the offhanded comment and trying not to show how pleased you are by it.  “Was falling apart the last time I saw it.”
You keep bouncing the kid on your knee and fan out the cards in front of you, hoping his big black eyes aren’t reflective enough to reveal your hand.  “I have a lot of free time.”
“I can tell,” she acknowledges, crossing her legs and leaning back into her chair.  Peli sets the mug down and sighs.  “You’re a good mechanic.  I’d offer you a job here, but something tells me you wouldn’t even consider it.”
Now, you do smile.  But it’s a hidden one.  A fond one.  One you find impossible to fight when you’re reminded of him.  You miss him and ache for him and all those collectively angsty things, yes—but mostly you’re just… able to find a bone-deep solace in even thinking about him.  Your heart tightens, but it’s far less constricting than it is a comfort, a firm embrace.  It surrounds you in its safety; Din’s mere existence is your protection, wrapping around you the same way the beskar protects him.  Nothing can touch you.  You’re safe, from all the things you used to fear and all the new things you’ve learned to fear.
No, you’d never consider it.  This planet is too much like Arvala-7, just slightly more populated and dangerous.  You love the baby.  You love him.  You’d never consider it.
“Don’t you get bored?”  She asks you with a raised eyebrow, and your smile admittedly drops the slightest bit.  “Just waiting around for him to come back?”
You don’t have to think about your answer.  Of course you do.  If you’re being honest, it does feel a bit like your life is split between worlds—one with him, and one without.  Whenever he’s not here, you’re thinking about how much you want him to come back, and whenever he is here, you’re thinking about how much you don’t want him to go.  You’ve never experienced anything like that before.  There were a few local farmers scattered far across the arid landscape of the place you used to call home, and three of your neighbors all had kids around your age.  So you experimented when you were younger, since you never had much else to do in your spare time, but you never loved any of them.  You’d always go back home and continue to do chores, continue to look up at the sky and wonder what you were missing.
“Yes,” you admit quietly.
But what you don’t tell her is that in exchange, you get to see the galaxy.  You get to have experiences you’ve only dreamed about, take care of the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen and become part of a family.  You don’t know of anything you could want more.  Adventure, companionship, pleasure, and fulfillment.  Sure, you get restless, and sure, you don’t necessarily feel good about the fact that Din seems to be your driving force even when he’s away, but you know independence.  You know what it means to live for yourself.  You’ve done it long enough that you’ll never forget how to, you’ve experienced it more than enough to know you’re happy about throwing yourself off the cliff and falling into something different.  As much as it’s new and terrifying, it’s better.  Now you have other people to live for, too.  
You marvel at the change—not just from a year ago, but from a handful of months ago.  He used to terrify you.  You used to keep your mouth purposefully shut around him because you were scared of overstaying your welcome and being dropped off somewhere equally as remote as the place you grew up.  Never could you have imagined that the fiercest guardian the galaxy has ever seen would decide you’re also worth protecting.
No, you figure, you just need to… find something in addition.  Something else to also commit to, give yourself something to do.  You can practice the new self-defense maneuvers he taught you, that’s a good idea.  But maybe you can also…
You eventually decide to prompt Peli in a change in conversation.  “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“What do you want now?”  She takes another sip of her caf as if you’ve been bothering her about this all day long, and… well, it’s times like these that you wish you had a helmet, too, if only so you could roll your eyes.
“I’ve got a few pieces of rusted metal in the Crest,” you eventually tell her, careful with your phrasing and not sure how much you want to reveal.  “They’re in bad shape, but I want to keep them.  Could I use some of your tools here to hammer out some of the dents, dissolve whatever crud is on the surface?  I saw you have a forge back there that’s barely been used, just need the metal hot enough to be pliable without sacrificing its integrity.”
She furrows her eyebrows at you.  “But I still need your help with…”
You wait, but she’s got nothing and you both know it.  Still, you keep a pointed silence and wait for it, wondering if this’ll actually work.  This is what Din does, right?  Just refuse to say anything and make the other person crumble under the crushing quiet?  Miraculously, it proves to be successful—you watch her flounder for a response, her will wavering the longer you sit there and stare expectantly at her.
“Fine,” Peli finally acquiesces, and you grin.  “But only if you win this round.  What d’you got?”
You set down your cards to reveal your hand.  A perfect twenty-three if you’ve been counting right, unbeatable unless she or any of the droids managed to get the same, and you know it didn’t happen as soon as she takes a few seconds for mental math and then scoffs.
“Beginner’s luck,” you tell her kindly, pushing all your winnings back over to her side of the table with one hand and scooping the kid up with the other, before turning around and heading towards the Crest in search of Din’s old armor.
It’s late afternoon on day five and you’re on your back on a creeper seat, sweat dripping down your neck as you reach up to fiddle with the engine of a T-16, a Skyhopper similar to one you built yourself on Arvala-7.  They're not space-faring vehicles, they’re only capable of reaching the upper troposphere, but owning one allowed you to develop solid flight skills without ever truly being able to leave.  Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever despised a ship more.
You know you’ve got engine grease all over and you feel like you’re boiling in your own sweat, but you’re almost done.  After this, you’ll be able to go back to working on your side project.
As soon as you’d been granted Peli’s direct permission to do so, you mixed the chemicals necessary to eat away at everything besides the basic structure underneath, and then spent all day yesterday manipulating the metal to better fit someone your size and shape.  You slaved over the wickedly hot forge and developed a whole new muscle in your arm from hammering and reheating, hammering and reheating.  You had to repair the way the chestpiece was tapered into a concave point by folding the thin metal back in on itself multiple times, strengthening it without flattening it back into its original shape too much, and then you ended up melting down some of the extra material from the needlessly large shoulder and thigh pieces to fill in the gaps.
Granted, you still have a ways to go on replacing the crushed magnetics box that was falling off the chestpiece and filing down the rough scrapes and sharp edges, but you’re now left with almost a full set of armor that’s a uniform dull silver in color and molds way better to your general figure than before.  You’re not a blacksmith or armorer by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re good with your hands and did what you could in the time allotted.  It looks better than you ever thought it would, and without access to Peli’s enormous collection of tools and machinery, you know it would’ve been better off in the trash.
Still, you have to finish this engine first before you can rip apart the control unit wiring on the armor to see how the whole set fits together and what else needs to be repaired.  You’ve been working on it for a few hours before you hear the door to the hangar open.  Yet, when you don’t immediately hear Peli’s voice calling out to you, or anyone else’s voice for that matter, your heart thuds in your chest with sudden excitement.
“You’re back early,” you tell the engine suspended over your head, knowing he must’ve already thrown the quarry into the Crest parked outside before coming to see you.  Right on time, footsteps approach and then a boot carefully catches the flat platform between your legs, slowly rolling your seat out from under the ship until the rest of the sunlit hangar is revealed to you.
You know you must look a hot mess right now.  Your hair is a disaster and there’s not a clean spot to be found on your body—sweat glistens and pools along every curve you have and you’re probably drenching the spare jumpsuit Peli let you borrow, but Maker, there he is.  Every time you see him is like the first time all over again, except this time the Mandalorian is looming like a giant over you, the helmet tilted down and silently taking you in.
Instead of settling you, his daunting presence gets you hotter than dual suns in the sky ever could.  Fuck, he hasn’t said a word to greet you, and yet you’re already wondering if you can entice him to shove you back under here and join you.
You slowly push yourself upright and he steps back just enough to allow it, but not an inch more than that.  You have to crane your neck up to keep looking at him, and he stands close enough over you that you wouldn’t have to reach far at all if you wanted to touch him.
And it’s crazy to think that… you absolutely could touch him, if you wanted.  He radiates danger, he hunts and tracks for his continued survival, he’s probably got fresh blood staining the dark fabric of his cape and he’s so fucking intimidating—and if you wanted to, you could touch him.  
Maybe you can partially blame your sore muscles as to why you immediately drop your head back down, but mostly you just want to stare at a part of his body that happens to align perfectly at eye level.  And fuck, nothing stops you from looking.  He doesn’t help you up, but he also doesn’t move so you can haul yourself to your feet, either.  He just holds perfectly still with his body standing tall over yours, content to stay exactly like this while your hand slowly reaches out to wrap around one of his ankles.
He’s so warm, his muscles flex strong under your palm as you let it drift upwards, biting your lip as you flick your gaze back up to the chrome visor and then down again to the apex of his thighs.  Your other hand comes up to scale the beskar strapped to his leg and you roll yourself forward slightly, wondering if he’d let you…
The black fabric stretching over his crotch just barely touches your fingertips before his hand is suddenly whipping out and grabbing hold of your wrist.
You gasp and jerk your head up to look at him, somehow equally hoping that you’re both in trouble and not in it at the same time.  Din’s abruptly chest raises with a large, labored inhale, as if he wasn’t breathing at all that entire time, as if he just now remembered the setting, the fact that he’s not alone on the Crest with you right now.  Peli and the kid have to be somewhere in the hangar, you know that, but…
“We’re leaving tonight,” he breathes out through the modulator, and you have absolutely no fucking problem with that at all.  “But… shit, but…”
“But…?”  You prompt, wanting nothing more than to let your hands reach back up to his pants again, but you settle for slowly dragging one palm up his forearm as his grip on your wrist tightens.
“Fuck, I wanted to take you somewhere first,” he groans like your feather-soft touch is actually hurting him, his hands suddenly dropping yours and pushing you away to clench into fists at his sides.  “Maker—why do you always f-fucking do this to me…”
You raise an eyebrow at him this time, the curiosity starting to mix with the heat simmering down low, the kind that you'd feel even on a frozen wasteland of a planet as long as you were with him.  All at once, you decide to channel him and his trademarked silence, enthralled by the incredibly slim chance that it will work equally as well on its creator.
“…Distract me,” he finally growls out an answer to the question you never asked him, sounding frustrated with you for reasons you still haven’t figured out, and your mouth is drier than the desert outside.  Oh stars, you feel… fucking powerful.  “From everything,” he goes on, talking honestly and openly, more words given to you in thirty seconds than he’s probably offered to anyone all week long.  “Fuck, I feel like I can barely do fucking anything anymore, I’m losing my fucking mind.”
Your heart slams in your chest, wondering if he possibly feels the exact same way about you as you feel about him.  Missing you whenever he’s gone, dreading the moment he needs to leave again whenever he’s with you.  The thought alone is enough to set off fireworks through your veins, pumping hope and excitement from your fingers to your toes.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, biting your lip in a way that doesn’t look or feel sorry at all.
“No, you’re not,” Din grunts, before reaching out and hauling you to your feet, and even if there wasn’t a flat seat under you with wheels, it’d still be awkward and uncoordinated as fuck.  “Shit.  I… I need to clean up.  Grab your things, go tell…”
Din trails off after a second, suddenly sounding at a complete loss.  You catch your footing and stare at him as he falters.  “Uh.  Go tell…”  He gestures with a sense of finality to the control room, as if he’s actually successfully communicating with you by doing so.  “Her.  That we’re leaving tonight.”
“What?”  You ask him, thoroughly fucking confused.  “What are you saying right now?”
“The woman,” he clarifies, clearing his throat.  “The mechanic, with the… droids.  Tell her I’ll pay her before we leave, but we’re g—”
“Peli?”  You blurt, completely flabbergasted at this point.  “Did you forget her name, Mando?”
“I…” he shakes his head slightly at you, like you should already know him better than that.  “Never asked.”
“But you—?”  You blink at him.  “But you said she was your friend?”
“You said she was my friend,” he immediately points out, with—oh Maker, just biting accuracy.  It wasn’t necessarily a jab or anything, but you still feel dizzy with how fucking spot on he is about it.  Yikes, you absolutely did say that.  You forgot.
“Oh…” you mumble, at a stunning loss for a response.  “Ha.  Oh.  Yeah, huh.”
There’s too many beats of awkward silence after that, probably because he’s just so blown away by your way with words that he’s just attempting to analyze the wisdom.  Stars, you’re making a complete fool of yourself in front of him, aren’t you?
“Were you jealous?”  He suddenly asks, and you jerk upright, your heart kicking up to a gallop in your chest at the question.
“I’ll go tell Peli we’re leaving soon,” you quickly agree and go to scurry away in abrupt panic, but he catches your wrist and hauls you back before you can get far.  You run into him with a gasp and immediately start to repeat your explanation for why you very suddenly need to depart, but the tips of Din’s fingers catch your chin and force you to look up at him.
“Hey,” he cuts your rambling short with a hushed murmur and the pad of his thumb brushes down your jaw.  “Tell me the truth.”
You don’t have an answer that won’t be incriminating, and you don’t think you can get the delivery right on a lie, not to him and especially not when he’s got you so cornered.  So you just keep completely silent and look up at him like a scolded child would.  Innocent, wide-eyed and scared shitless about the unknown consequences of your actions.
His helmet slowly tilts as he studies you, watching you look up at him for help.  His fingers gradually spread out across your jaw, flattening under the curve of your throat but so gentle, so careful that you’re almost worried he actually is mad.
“I’m sorry,” you immediately offer before he can say anything, your eyebrows pulling up in the middle.  “I’m so sorry, it’s just—I just…”
His thumb carefully stretches up to brush your bottom lip, and you…  Mind blank, no thoughts.  Stars, you’ve got fucking nothing.
“I’ve got nothing,” you admit, giving up before you can even try.  “There’s no reason.  I was jealous.  It’s stupid and I wasn’t going to say anything because I know it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t feel possessive over you but I do, and it’s stupid.  I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you, and I’m really sorry if that makes you feel weird, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have—”
Your chin lifts slightly with the gentlest movement of his hand and the subtle pressure is enough to cut your mindless oversharing off.  Din’s voice lowers until it’s throaty and quiet.
“See that wall?”  He asks, keeping the visor pinned to you while carefully turning his hand to the right, and your whole head easily follows the movement as he guides it.  You have to blink your eyes into focus a few times, but then you immediately see what he’s talking about.  It’s a partition separating the welding room from the rest of the hangar.  He waits until you nod in the cradle of his palm, before leaning in and murmuring to you.  “If we were alone, I’d take you around behind it and show you exactly how that makes me feel.”
You pull back from him with a startled gasp just as a voice calls out from the entrance of the hangar.  “Well, look who finally decided to come back!”
Din slowly drops his arms and stares at you for just long enough to make you seriously worry that he’s going to say fuck it all and do it anyways, before finally turning around and greeting Peli with another silent nod.
She plants one hand on her hip once she’s standing right in front of him, cradling the kid on with her other arm, and you have to take a second to collect yourself now that you’re not at the direct center of his attention anymore.  “Sure did take you long enough, didn’t it?”
“I’m two days early,” he grunts in his immediate defense, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him.
“You’re leaving soon I hope,” she drawls while handing the baby over to him, who makes an adorable little happy squeak at seeing his dad again.  “You owe me five hundred credits.”
“It was five hundred for the full week,” he reminds her, and… he has a point.  Though it was never part of the agreement, you wonder if she’ll be willing to accept less compensation for having the burden of your company be lifted early.
“Five days count as a full week, far as I’m concerned,” she shoots back, and your heart suddenly sinks when Din’s shoulders tighten and he doesn’t respond.
“Peli…” you sigh from behind him before you even realize you’ve spoken aloud.
Your host quickly sidesteps your bodyguard to eye you dubiously, and at the same time, you also jolt and wonder what your goal is here exactly.  You’re ultimately just attempting to diffuse any tension sparking between them, you figure, knowing you’re probably the best mediator here.  She looks at you up and down for a long time, hard and judging, before the baby babbles something wordlessly and she sighs.
“I suppose we can just call it even,” she finally huffs, turning back to him.  “You’re lucky your girlfriend earned her keep, Mando.”
And then your jaw drops.  Holy shit, is she serious?  You assumed Peli valued credits above almost anything else, you never expected her to just… turn down the entire offer like that, so willingly.  Clearly Din didn’t either, because you both just stand there for a moment in front of her in a baffled silence.
Also… girlfriend?
Is that what you are to him?  Admittedly you haven’t talked to him about what to call your relationship, but then again, you’re a practical person and you never really saw a specific need to do so.  You care about him, he cares about you—what else is important?  You don’t need a title to recognize your value to him, and for some odd reason, calling yourself his “girlfriend” just feels like you’re a teenager again.  If you were actually looking for a different word to use instead, you wouldn’t be able to find it, but you know that one just feels… not enough.  Not old enough, not encompassing enough, not complex enough.  It’s an elementary school version of what this is.  And to refer to someone like Din as your boyfriend?  Maker, just saying it aloud would probably make his eye twitch.
“Uh.”  He stands there awkwardly, and you’re so blown away by both the sentiment and specific verbiage she used that you’re practically useless at this point.  Shit, what’s beyond girlfriend, you wonder?  Lover?  No, not good enough.  Partner?  No.  No, not wife, definitely fucking not—  “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peli waves him away and spins around to leave, but not before throwing one final thing over her shoulder.  “That ain’t an open invitation to come back, by the way.”
All of a sudden, you just can’t stop yourself from breaking out into a wide grin, tucking your chin in hopes that she won’t see it with her back turned and decide to pounce on the display of weakness.  The three of you watch her stride out of the room and immediately bark an order at one of her droids to get back to work, who starts looking around in desperate search of something to do, and Din’s palm finds its usual place on your lower back as she disappears.
“What a nice lady,” you offer to him, and he gives you a wordless grumble in response.
So it’s a couple hours later and you think the kid might actually have the right idea this time.
You find yourself wishing you had a little hover pod of your own that followed Din around, one you could close the lid on and hide in while blaster fire whistles through the air around you like the baby is currently doing.  You’re trying to listen to instructions—you’re trying, but there’s a lot going on here.  Voices chatting, guns firing, targets being pinged, a lively little band playing in the cantina next door.  
When Din first led you through Mos Eisley and inside this specific adobe hut, if you’re being completely honest, you had hoped for food.  A comparatively large restaurant, perhaps?  Peli didn’t starve you by any stretch of the imagination, but her dinners were the exact same every single night, and you’ve learned to thrive on new things.  While you didn’t necessarily think he was going to take you on a… a date, or anything, you certainly didn’t expect him to take you to a shooting range.
Well.  Now that you think about it, this might actually be a date.
Luckily you’re hidden away in the furthest firing partition from the door, but even without the near-constant barrage of gunfire to your left, the distractions are still plentiful.  The kid actually reached down and pressed the button to close his crib himself as soon as the bright beams of plasma started zooming past and reflecting in his large black eyes, and oh how you wish that were you.  You don’t necessarily feel like you’re in danger or anything, but you’ve also never seen so many guns in one place before and you’re worried you’re accidentally going to hurt someone else.
So far Din has taught you the fundamentals for any firearm—always keep the safety on until you’re ready to fire, never point at anything unless you’re a hundred percent willing to shoot it, yada yada yada—and also the safety fundamentals for blasters specifically.  So, making sure there’s no leaks in the gas cylinder when you first load it, never letting a strong magnet get near the power pack, checking the surface of your target for deflection curves if you want to prevent a ricochet, or maybe in his case, inspire one.  He’s taught you your stance, he’s taught you how to read your sights, now all that’s left is just to… shoot.
Your arms raise up in front of you and the metal feels too heavy and awkward in your hands, and you have to hold the handle in your left and creep your right index finger all the up the side of the barrel until you feel the indented safety switch.  It clicks and you reset your grip to slowly ease your finger onto the trigger, staring down the sight, right at the bullseye.  Din is standing directly behind you next to the kid’s tightly closed hovering pod, arms crossed and just waiting for you to pull it.
Come on beginner’s luck, come on beginner’s luck—
You fire, and… well.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen a shot miss its target that spectacularly in your entire life.  You’re almost surprised the beam of plasma didn’t somehow ricochet back into the booth you’re both standing in, that’s how spectacularly you missed.
“Try again.”
There’s no amusement in his voice, nothing mocking about it.  Pure monotone under the helmet, as if he was just naturally expecting that to happen.  
No, you think in frustration.  You want to surprise him again, impress him with how quickly you can pick things up, turn him on like last time.  You just fucking know that would get to him—seeing you easily hit the target dead center with his own blaster, you know that would get to him.
You adjust your aim and fire a few more times.  Miss, miss, wild miss, miss.  Fuck, so many distractions, plasma flying in the corner of your vision and an increasingly heavy gaze from behind you.  Another miss, a miss, yeesh that’s a miss—
Alright, so you're just embarrassing yourself at this point.
“I think it’s broken,” you shrug in defeat, taking a second to find the safety switch and toggle it before going to set the gun down on the raised adobe platform separating the line of booths from the targets—but then Din suddenly snatches the blaster from your grip and extends his arm over your shoulder, firing off six rounds in rapid succession so wickedly fast that you jump backwards into his rock solid chest in surprise.  He doesn’t give an inch under the collision and even wraps his forearm tight around your tummy as he hits the bullseye with such deadly accurate precision that even the char marks and the line of smoke left wafting from the target’s center are razor-thin.
“Works just fine,” he grunts, setting the weapon back down again before urging you forward a bit.  “Go ahead, give it another shot.”
But you’re on a remarkable delay, just trying to process his sheer speed, how fluid and seamless the entire fucking motion was.  Fucking Maker, blink and you’d miss the whole thing.  He waited to grab the gun from you until you turned the safety on, but then… then how did he fire it so insanely fucking fast?  That’s like five different things he had to do with one single hand within a split second…?
“I turned the safety on,” you blink down at the blaster, clearly just trying to process.
“Yeah,” he agrees blankly, as if he’s unsure as to what specifically you’re so stuck on right now.
“So how did you toggle so fas—?”
He picks it from the shelf gracefully and lightning quick—as if he just can’t help but go that speed around his weapon—and then he twists it on its side, flexing his wrist back until the barrel is pointed upwards and you can clearly see his index finger extend all the way up to the safety switch, flipping it up and down while his middle finger rests over the trigger guard.
“How in the f…?”  You mutter, lifting your hand up next to his and positioning your fingers in the exact same L shape, only the tip of your index finger barely stretches an inch shy of the switch.  “Psh,” you huff, dropping your arm back down again.  “Design flaw.”
“For you,” he acknowledges, using the trigger guard to flip it back to its proper position in his hand like fucking spinning it like that is just the easiest and most natural way to handle the deadly weapon.  “This gun was made for me, it’s a feature.  Yours would be smaller and lighter, have the safety towards the back of the chamber instead of along the barrel.”
The words and the casual display of ability cause a rush of stirring excitement to burst forth inside you, suddenly giddy at the very thought.
“Wait,” you draw the word out with a grin, leaning back into him and gently nudging him with your elbow to make sure he knows you’re only mostly joking.  “You gonna buy me a blaster, Mando?  I did earn my keep this week, didn’t I?”
“Have to find one that fits a big enough sight first,” he mutters while setting the gun down on the table, and you scoff at him as his hands come to rest on your hips.  They squeeze and try to guide you forwards once again.  “Prove that you can at least hit the target with mine and we’ll see.”
“You only get to make fun of me if you give me a real answer,” you rule, planting your feet and refusing to budge.
“Okay, but we both know I’ll make fun of you anyways,” he sighs, and you have to dig your heels in and push back into him to keep yourself rooted to the spot.
“You’re not being a very encouraging teacher,” you accuse without trying to hide your grin.  “In fact I feel very discouraged right now and I think that y—”
But then Din suddenly tips his helmet closer to your ear and lowers his voice, cutting you off.  “Did you know that gifting someone a weapon is considered a proposal of marriage on Mandalore?”
Your smile quickly drops and you gasp, wholly startled at the implication and immediately trying to spin around to look at him.  “Holy shit, are you serious?”
“No,” comes his modulated grunt, tightening his hold and keeping you firmly facing forwards.  “Of course not.  Pick up the gun.”
Okay, so that one gets you.
You immediately start giggling, painfully aware that this isn’t the time or place for it, but that one actually fucking got you.  Din easily guides and parks your gullible ass in front of the window carved out of dried mud before picking up the blaster himself and forcing you to hold it with your loose hands, grumbling under his breath.
Shit, okay, focus.  Focus, you can do this.  You clear the laughter from your throat and suddenly get deadly serious, staring your target down like it’s personally gone out of its way to ruin your entire life.  The blaster feels cold in your palms but not when Din’s hands wrap warm and tight around the back of yours, letting you hold the gun how it’s most comfortable for you before gently settling his fingers down over yours.  His chestpiece presses tight against your shoulder blades when he guides the gun up and out, and his arms are long enough to extend yours fully even though he’s behind you and still has some bend to his elbows.  He uses his feet to kick your ankles apart until they’re shoulder-width and then you both carefully find the trigger together.
He’s quiet and slow about it and the whole thing is one giant fucking turn-on.  Maker, chill out.  Chill out, he’s teaching you how to shoot.  This is important stuff, there are people around, chill out…
Din takes a moment to aim the barrel and his hold is so fucking steady, so unwavering and strong.  You wonder if it’d be too obvious if you pushed your hips back a little, you might be able to feel his—
“Fire,” Din murmurs next to your ear, and you pull the trigger without a second thought.
The bright red plasma beam launches from the end of the blaster and hits the target dead center.  You gasp, pulling the trigger again, and unsurprisingly, it’s another perfect shot.
He suddenly lets go of your arms and takes a small step back, but the second he removes his body from yours, the rounds start bouncing wildly off the edges of the target.  Your eyebrows furrow and you try to emulate how you think the angle felt before, but you can’t find it anymore and you’re just failing spectacularly.
When you decide to pause for a second, Din steps up close behind you and wraps his arms around you once more.  You can feel the exact moment he’s locked in his aim, and you fire wordlessly as soon as you know it’s going to hit.  Bullseye, right on the nose.
This time, he lifts just his hands away from yours, staying perfectly still otherwise and you swear you don’t move a single fucking muscle in your entire body before pulling the trigger, but it still hits the far corner of the target.
“It’s broken,” you shrug once again, and Din drops his helmet to your shoulder with a sigh.  “This gun was made for you, which means there’s obviously some mod you have installed that reads biometrics and ruins the shot no matter how good it—”
“Not even close, but that’s not a bad idea,” he tells you, watching you click the safety on and set the uncooperative blaster down.  “I can’t figure out what you’re doing wrong.   Are you just distracted?”
Uh, fuck yeah you are.  So much is going on and more than that, he’s here and he’s just… fuck, you know what he meant when he said he felt like he was losing his mind.  He’s your biggest distraction, all the time.  He’s still standing so close to you and the baby is still isolated and tucked away in his hovering sphere, and you take a moment to think about it.  
Yes, it’s… it’s possible that you may learn better by example than anything else.
“Can I watch you do it?”  You ask him, and Din shrugs before reaching around you and quickly grabbing the blaster from its mud shelf.  “Wait—” you tell him while he raises and extends his arm over your shoulder, and then you wiggle sideways as much as possible in the small booth to squeeze around behind him.  He doesn’t say anything as you swap places with him and scoot up behind him, but you can tell by his body language that he’s confused.  You wonder if he liked that position and watching you shoot his gun, even if you’re complete shit at it.
He stands in front of you for a second and you give him an encouraging, “Okay,” to let him know you’re ready, but then the helmet turns back to look at the target like he’s still unsure as to what you want specifically.  You keep your mouth shut and let him figure it out.  You meant what you said—you want to watch him shoot.  You want to watch him where he’s infamous, watch him do what he’s best at and let completely loose in front of you.
As if it finally clicks for him, Din turns to face the target and suddenly throws the blaster into his left hand while reaching down and pushing a button hidden under the hollow platform with his right.  You have to lean around his broad shoulders to watch the target slide backwards on its track easily triple the distance before squeaking and slamming to a stop.  Din stretches his non-dominant hand out and subtly tilts his helmet before firing six times, easily hitting the bullseye with just as much accuracy as before, and you frown when you notice the only shots that have actually hit the target so far have all been dead center.
He sets the gun down and stands there for a second, staring across the range like it’s nothing at all to him and it’s… remarkable.  Not that he’s a wicked shot, you’ve known that the second you laid eyes on his armor all those months ago.  No, it’s just… you would think this is where he’d thrive, if anywhere.  The entire place is full of smugglers, raiders, scavengers, mercenaries—occupations that define themselves by their grit.  They’re talking as much as they’re shooting, conversing in languages you’ve never heard but suspect Din easily understands.  But instead of fitting in, he’s just… there.  He doesn’t look comfortable, but he also doesn’t look uncomfortable, either.  He doesn’t look like he’s having any fun at all.
None of this is considered a hobby to him, you suddenly realize.  It’s not fun because he’s too good at it.  This is life.  This is going back to school for the most basic fundamentals of a job he’s excelled at for decades—it’s not interesting, he’s gaining absolutely nothing from practicing.
You try to think of the last time you’ve seen him truly in his element.  You think back on all the different settings—he looked out of place on Canto Bight, got into fights on Corellia, hated Coruscant, seemed stressed on Nevarro, and even on Naboo, even in the middle of paradise, he looked unsure if he actually deserved to be there with you.  Now here on Tatooine, where he has real people that he trusts, where he’s surrounded by like-minded individuals shooting his favorite things in the world, it’s like he’s still not able to fully let go.
Is it just you, you wonder?  Does he stand out more just because you’re the one looking?
No, you think.  No.  You have seen him relax.  You’ve seen him laugh before, you’ve seen him be himself with you.  
But… only with you.  A hardened bounty hunter that much prefers the company of a young woman and an infant to literally anyone else in the galaxy.
Fuck.  Why does that turn you on so fucking much?  It’s the display of prowess, the sheer skill he’s developed, how fucking deadly he is—and how you’ve felt him use that trigger finger to trace slow circles around your clit.  The Mandalorian standing with his blaster raised has probably been the last thing too many people have ever seen in their lifetimes, and yet watching from this angle just makes you feel protected, guarded, and… so fucking horny for him.
“Do it again,” you eventually murmur, touching both your palms to his back this time just to feel it.  You want to feel him shoot, you want to feel his muscles move with it.  You want to touch how mechanically he’s able to aim, you want to know if he’s loose or tense when he fires, you just want to… feel it.
Din grabs the gun and as he extends his arms out, you slide your hands up his back to rest under his shoulders.  He’s so broad, he feels so warm and strong, and his trigger releases are so steady that nothing above his wrists move.
Shit, before he’s even finished setting the blaster back down again, you’re already scooting up behind him as close as possible and carefully slithering your arms around his waist, hugging your body tight to his back.  Din stays completely still while your mouth presses against the fabric of his cape and your hands begin to slowly slide down his stomach.
He doesn’t say a damn thing, which makes it even hotter for some reason.  There’s no warning he gives you, no low growl of your name or sweet girl being dragged through the modulator.  He stays completely silent and holds there while blasters continue to fire from stalls to your left, and it gives you the thrill of your lifetime.  Big strong man holding perfectly still for you to touch in the middle of a crowded room.
Your hand slips under his waistband and sink down low until you can trail your fingertips along his cock, hidden from sight beneath the edge of the clay shelf.  The small sound you make at feeling it already firm and at attention for you gets lost in the noise of the shooting range, but you wrap your palm around it and give it a good, slow pull upwards, feeling Din’s back expand with a breath from the sensation.
“Do it again,” you whisper into his shoulder blade, slowly playing with his cock in his pants with one hand while keeping the other wrapped tight around his abdomen.
Din immediately snatches the blaster off the platform and fires it the very moment he takes aim, and you can feel his cock pulse in your palm as he lets off the shots.  Dead center, as always, but he clunks the metal back down with a bit more force this time and then lingers his fingertips at the sloped edge of it for a second, as if he’s considering whether or not he should hold onto it.  
You’re already wet between your legs, but it gets worse the longer he allows you to keep doing this.  His skin is furnace-hot and he throbs for you, and you trail your thumb up to check—oh, Maker, he’s leaking for you, too.  You drag the pad of your thumb over the tip and gently rub the wetness along the curve of his head, before easing back down to give the shaft another slow pull.
A quiet puff of air comes through the vocal filter, but that’s all you audibly get out of him.  Still, it’s more than enough to fill you with a wicked heat and a desperate desire for more.  So you bite your lip and glance around just to double-check that nobody else has wandered over behind you and the kid is still tucked away in his crib, probably passed out in the secluded darkness at this point.  And then you barely take a split-second to consider it before your knees are bending and you’re slowly sinking down the length of his body.
Din is a fucking statue.  He doesn’t do anything to allow your wiggling underneath the raised platform anymore than he widens his stance to prevent it.  Once you’re on your knees in front of him in the dim isolation of your hiding spot though, he takes a single step forward and pins his waist to the hardened clay above your head, and a thrill skitters through you at being completely walled in on all four sides.
You reach up to hook your fingertips in his hem of his trousers and begin pulling them down, so tight and achy between your legs that you want to shove your hand down between them already.  You don’t though, not yet, because you need two hands to be extra careful in getting his cock out.  You don’t even want the fabric of his pants to touch it, you want your mouth to be the only sensation he knows here.
At the very last second, you decide to pull the waistband down far enough to let his balls rest outside the confining clothing, getting increasingly hotter at the thought that this isn’t going to be sneaky and dirty, even if you’re in public.  Din’s wide stance and the floor-length cape hide you perfectly from any prying eyes behind his back, so it’s going to be soft and it’s going to be slow and he’s going to be comfortable while you go down on him.
Your mouth is already watering, so you bend down just slightly and lift your chin to gently drag your tongue along the smooth skin of his balls before anything else.  Honestly—you don’t think he’s expecting you to go there first, because his whole body suddenly jerks at the velvet soft sensation between his legs and you let out a low hum in response.  He can’t reach you down here unless he tries to, so you scoot your knees up a little bit and just decide to go for it.  This way he won’t be able to get it confused, he won’t pull you out from under here halfway through when you suck on his balls before anything else.  This is what you want from him, what’s right here in your mouth.
You switch to the other one and Din twitches with a filtered breath, the skin already tightening up and responding gorgeously under your tongue.  His hand hovers somewhere near the raised platform above your head, fingers curling in his leather gloves and caught right between stopping you and letting you continue.  While he allows it, you ease your way up and make it just tantalizing enough to make him ache without providing any real stimulation, slowly trailing your tongue up the length of his cock and pressing plush lips to the flared head.
Din exhales a shakily while you take your time, tasting the precum as his body produces it, just kissing and licking and purposefully refusing to touch him with anything besides your mouth.  Without being able to see the rest of him from this angle, you're left to your own devices—you’re so gentle and soft about the pleasure that you start to separate the man from the throbbing erection you’re currently playing with.  You begin to enjoy yourself without thinking too much about the struggle he must be withstanding right now, you moan softly against his heated skin even though you know you’re being a tease at the worst possible moment, but no matter how you decide to take your time with it, Din continues to allow it.  He endures.  Silent, perfectly still, until you eventually decide to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and flutter your tongue up underneath it.
But then he jumps and your eyes open when a deep, unkind voice from the stall to your left calls out, “Hey, Mando!  Gonna fuckin’ shoot or just stand there, huh?”
You can hear his immediate frustration in the blaster scraping against the shelf over your head, and you moan softly around his cock the second you feel him tense and start firing.  The smooth skin pulses on your tongue and you slide your fingers around the backs of his knees, opening your throat and slowly taking him deeper.  
And, for a man that has repeatedly fired six perfect shots every single time he picks up his gun, he falters after just three this time.
The heat of your mouth must be too overwhelming.  Too fucking good, too detrimental to his focus and composure to even perform the most basic tasks he typically excels at.  Like a seasoned mathematician that suddenly struggles to count to ten, a renowned author that can’t recite their ABC’s—Mando can’t even fire a weapon right now and it’s all because of you.  
He has to keep trying though, he has to make an actual effort now that you both know someone nearby is paying at least some sort of attention to his performance.  The sound of more plasma arcing through the air over your head slowly disappears into the background in a way that it never could while you were the one firing—you’re completely hidden and safe down here, you can moan low in your throat while keeping your hands around his knees and begin to bob your head without another thought or worry whatsoever.  Handling it is all on him.  He just needs to stay quiet, be still, and shoot his gun.  It should be the simplest thing in the galaxy for him, right?
Wrong.  So wrong.  You hear the way the bolts are pinging off the sides of the target now, you listen to him grunt and let off a few more shots that also sound like they miss.  Your soft palate lifts and you’re practically drenching yourself at how wide he stretches your throat while you take him down as far as you can, and there’s a moment where you’re holding there and you think about doing something about the dull ache throbbing between your legs.  But once you pull off him for air and automatically touch your drooling tongue to your palm, you decide this is what you want more.
Your slick hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly jerk him off while your mouth moves down to attach to his balls once more, your touch gliding strong and wet along his entire length.  Din almost doubles over into the platform, his hips stuttering up for the first time at the hard stimulation you’re finally giving him.  His skin swells and tightens in your mouth—you can feel the tension locking his thighs down, you can hear the shots above you start to decrease in frequency, and you know he’s already close.
So you move back up to suck on the head of his cock again and slowly swirl your tongue around it, continuing to use your hand to pull steady and firm on the rest of his shaft, and you just close your eyes and wait for him to give you what you want.  His firing soon stops altogether and you squeeze your finger between your thighs and press hard against your clit, just needing to relieve some of the ache.  You keep doing that, you keep drawing circles with your tongue while slowly jerking the rest of him off into your mouth, and at some point, it all just becomes too much for him.
“Shit,” Din gasps, along with the sudden sound of metal skittering against the clay above you, and your eyes pop open in surprise.  “Ah, sh—shhhhh—”
Maker, did he just drop his fucking gun?
You start to pull back, but then suddenly a trembling hand shoots down and clutches tight under your throat, hooking hard behind your jaw to make sure you stay right there.
His cock starts throbbing and he shudders, slamming his other palm on the shelf and cumming hard in your mouth.  You’re already swallowing before he even gives you anything but Maker, you’re fucking desperate for it that your hand moves to curl your fingers against the exposed skin at his hips as if that’ll somehow help you get it sooner.  The first taste of him comes as soon as you dig in and drag your nails down his flesh, and Din is helpless to do anything else besides clutch your jaw tight and gasp raggedly while emptying himself down your throat.
He shakes and shudders and you don’t spill a single drop, clutching his hips and pulling him close to keep him in your mouth, and as he slowly comes down from that plateau, you lick every inch of him clean.  His fingers gradually lose their rigidity around your jaw and eventually, his fingers drop down to press gently against your throat while his hips pull back.
He slips from your mouth and you wipe the wetness from your chin, staring up at his cock wistfully and almost wanting to keep going.  Is that fucked up, you wonder?  What would he think?
He hasn’t moved yet, why isn’t he moving?  Your job is clearly finished here, no matter what kind of way you may feel about that.  The coast must not be clear, you have to assume.  Perhaps someone is wandering around behind him, maybe he’s still being cautious about the nosy person next door—all you know is that you can tell he wants to move but he isn’t, which likely means he can’t.  You know his cock must be so unbelievably sensitive right now, but he’s not easing his body back far enough away from the shelf to tuck it into his pants.  He’s keeping it right in front of your face and expecting you to stay there until he deems it appropriate for you to get up.
The longer you wait for him to step back and let you out from under here, the more your need sparks and grows.  What would he think?  That you’re so desperate for his cock that you still want it in your mouth even when it’s soft and spent?  Maker, he’d be fucking right on the money.
At some point, you can’t stop yourself.  You lean back up to slowly take his soft cock back in your mouth, and Din nearly spasms while you slip your hand under your waistband and widen your knees.
You don’t do anything spectacular to it—you’re not that cruel—but you do hold him on the heat of your tongue and keep him there, fluttering your eyes closed as your finger finally touches your clit.  Air puffs shakily through your nostrils and you think Din is actually shaking harder than you are, his body fighting oversensitivity while yours starts the race towards bliss.  He doesn’t stop you but it also feels like he’s purposefully trying not to, like everything in him is rebelling against the wet heat of your mouth but knowing you’re only doing this because you’re so painfully turned on.  You’re doing this because you need it, in spite of the electric shocks of wicked sensation it seems to be inspiring in him.
Your finger speeds up and you start gently sucking on the warm, giving flesh, and his hand trembles as it grabs at your hair.  Fuck, you don’t care if he thinks you’re desperate—you want him to recognize it, you want him to know exactly how much you love his cock—
That thought sends a dark thrill down your spine and pleasure burns bright and needy where you’re still rubbing your clit, dropping your hips and rolling them forwards against your hand.  And oh, your only lament is that you wish he was the one doing this.  You wish Din was building your pleasure instead of letting you use his body in search of your own, you wish it was his hand working between your legs and about to shove you over that ledge, but then again.  Something about this whole fucking scene is just so… undignified.  Debased.  And you’re getting off on it, quicker than you ever thought possible.
When you cum, you’re good and you don’t make a single sound when you cum.  You squeeze your eyes shut and your entire body jolts with every single shattering wave of ecstasy, and Din tugs a handful of your hair and slowly rocks his hips once, twice, fucking your mouth while you endure wildfire burning through your veins.  By the time you finish convulsing on the fucking floor of a Tatooinian gun range, you know you can go for another and probably get it equally as quick as that one, but Din is already pulling his cock out of your mouth and shoving it back into his pants.  You’re like jelly as your elbow is immediately caught in his arm and you’re hauled up from your hiding spot, dazed and disoriented.
The chrome visor stares you down and you want to shrink in on yourself, thinking he’s going to take your happy ass back to the Crest.  You should be in trouble, you know you should be in trouble.  Leaving the recesses of your dark cubby and coming face to face with your surroundings brings a brand new clarity to light—you totally should not have done any of that.  He was trying to teach you, for Maker’s sake.  He was taking the time to show you the valuable knowledge he’s gained regarding weaponry and self-defense.  Fuck, you even told him on Naboo that you wanted to shoot a gun, and he brought you here to do just that.
Except then he just spins you around and picks up the blaster from the adobe ledge in front of you, placing it firmly in your hands.
“Okay,” he pants quietly next to your ear, breathing hard and shallow through the helmet.  “Now you should be able to focus, right?”
Fuck…  Fuck, is he serious?  You can barely hold the damn thing, you’re shaking so hard.  How does this work again?  What does this do?
“Wh-What?”  You croak—fuck, your voice is gone.  “I… I can’t—”
“Try,” he encourages, helping your comparatively tiny hands flip off the safety but other than that, stepping back and leaving you to it.  Completely and hopelessly lost, you weakly twist around to watch him stand next to the kid’s closed metallic shield.  “Hit the target,” Din reiterates with a nod, trying to catch his breath.  “You can do it.”
You look back out with unfocused eyes to see it still all the way on the far end of its track, and there’s just absolutely no fucking way.  “I… can’t.”
“Hit the target and we can go home,” he tells you, and while you don’t exactly know what home is anymore, something tells you it’s somewhere in hyperspace.  A resting baby, a metal floor, a pitch black hull, and your cheek pressed against a warm chest.
It sounds… wonderful.
Inspiring a newfound kind of desire in you, you lift your arms as best you can and work so, so hard to keep them steady.  The target is in your sights and you do your absolute best—fuck, you really do, but you pull the trigger and the shot sadly bounces off the edge.
You drop your hands, already defeated and drained.  “I can’t.”
“Hit the target and I’ll buy you a blaster,” he ups the ante, and you instantly lift your dead arms again.  Fuck, come on, come on, you can do this.
You shoot.  Nope.  So you shoot again.  And then you shoot again, and again, minutely adjusting your wrists purely based on where the bright red plasma is landing and ignoring the scope entirely.
“A nice one,” he continues over the pew pew pew of you just continuing to fucking miss, fucking miserably, over and over again.  “Expensive.  Hand-crafted, one of a kind…”
Miss, miss, miss, and—no.  Just, no.  There’s only so much glaring failure you can take before you snap.  You finally stop shooting and growl in frustration, going to slam the metal down on its resting place.  “Mando, I ca—”
“Hit the target and I’ll marry you,” he says quietly, and you freeze just before impact.
… What?  N… No…
Miraculously, you somehow manage to calmly switch the safety on and set the blaster down before turning back to see the helmet staring at you, unmoving.
You… you know it must just be a joke, right?  Just a stupid extension to the one he made earlier, it must be.  You blink dumbly at him and flick your gaze between the visor and two large black eyes staring at you from the crib, wondering if you glitched or if you’re just hallucinating.
“Uh…” you hear yourself say, even though you’ve got absolutely nothing, but Din doesn’t offer anything else to fill in the gaps of your startled misunderstanding.  If you didn’t have such a wild fucking reaction to the words, you'd probably wonder if he actually said them or not—that’s how much he gives away.  Silent, so unbelievably silent when you’re begging him to give you at least something.  Is he messing with you again?  Is he just that confident that you’re going to fail?
It takes forever for you to turn back around and face the target, but you eventually do when he refuses to elaborate.  Your heart slams in your chest and you wonder what you’re doing even attempting this.
The moment you lift your trembling arms is the moment you know your heart is pounding too fast—your finger twitches with the wild rush of blood flow and you end up pulling the trigger way before you’re ready.  You fire before you’ve checked your sights, you fire before you’ve taken any sort of aim whatsoever, you fire spontaneously enough to surprise even yourself and it—
—it hits dead center.
Your stomach drops and a jolt of some rabid feeling punches through you, you have no idea what it is.  You whip around so fast that you get dizzy, seeing him standing there, completely still.
“That was just beginner’s luck,” you quickly reassure him, suddenly feeling faint.  Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck just happened?  “Listen—hey, no, listen, I can’t get it again,” you explain shrilly to the utterly dead silence from him.  “Look, watch this, double or nothing.”
You spin back around, well aware that absolutely nothing about what you just said or what just happened made any fucking sense at all.  Beginner’s luck when you’ve been consistently awful at this, telling him repeatedly to listen when you’re very, very fucking aware he hasn’t said anything, double or nothing on a literal proposal as if double marriage is something that actually exists?
No.  Shut up.  Don’t even think that word, don’t think about fucking anything.  Fire, fire without thinking, just lift the gun and pull the trigger—
You do, and oh.  Oh, no.
“Uh?!”  Your voice comes out on a squeak, now in a complete fucking panic.  What the fuck?  No fucking way.  Perfect, perfect, the odds are fucking astronomical—another deadly accurate shot.  “Ah, um, okay, scratch everything I said—th-third time’s a charm?”
Wide-eyed and having absolutely no clue what you’re doing at this point, you fail to see Din slowly turn his helmet down and to the right as he stands behind you.  You go to lift your arms and pull the trigger, but then he suddenly reaches out lightning-quick and bumps your elbow upwards at the very last second.  
The abrupt push causes your shot to be angled off course spectacularly and you can’t do anything but look up and gasp in horror, worried it’s going to ricochet off the ceiling and land somewhere this building isn’t architecturally designed to absorb.  There’s just enough time to wildly wonder why the fuck he did that—
—but then, like pure magic before your eyes… the beam of plasma adjusts itself in midair.  
It fucking bends.  Across the length of your entire firing lane, it curves in a downward trajectory and hits the target with absolutely impossible physics.
Your jaw fucking drops and you whip your body around in dumb shock to see Din staring hard at the closed shield next to him.
… that’s not closed.
The baby tilts his head at you and coos happily, one ear tipping up while the other tips down, and you’re completely blown away.  Not only at the entirely unexpected demon-power display, but what specifically he was hoping to get out of it.  You’re still stuck, blinking down at the adorable little goof with abilities you’ll never understand.
Only, a hand suddenly grabs yours and drags you back to yourself.
“We need to leave,” Din says quietly, switching the lid shut on the hovering crib and pushing it towards the booth’s exit while tugging you along behind him.  “I don’t know how many people saw that, we need to leave.”
Sure enough, voices in the next partition over start picking up, likely the only ones in here who had a good enough angle to watch the physically unthinkable shot somehow meet its target, and your adrenaline quickly begins pumping while you keep your head down and power-walk your ass to the door.  You don’t know the kind of consequences that could potentially arise from others witnessing the kid’s literal sorcery, but you know you’d rather not take the chance.  The voices start growing louder as you three make your quick escape, beginning to ask others around them if they just saw that, but you’re already out of the rectangular adobe structure and long gone by the time anybody steps out of their panels to hear the uproarious accusations of cheating beginning to fly.
Stay tuned for the next part!
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skyeet-the-writer · 11 months ago
The Love Among Us
Chapter 1-- I’d Never Snitch On Daddy
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so i haven’t seen many corpse husband x reader stories on here, so i decided to upload one myself. i’ve been watching jacksepticeye’s among us videos and when i heard corpse talk for the first time, i was like, “hol up” and now i’ve been obsessed with him. also, go stream his music on spotify, it’s amazing. enjoy! x. 
 corpse husband x female!reader
summary: while playing among us, y/n watches corpse kill felix in o2. when his body is reported, however, she doesn’t tell who killed him. 
 word count: ~3.6k
warnings: swearing, mentions of death (not real death), mentions of murder (not real murder)
EDIT: before i wrote this and after i published it, i did not know that corpse did not like to be referred to as “daddy”. had i known this, i would have not even thought of posting this. and since i know now, i won’t refer to him as such in the future. thank you. (10/19/2020)
EDIT 2: this is the first part to my corpse x reader series. i will be adding chapters as we go!
4 rounds before the incident
“I was in coms with PJ!” Sean exclaims. 
“He is doing the liar voice!” Felix shouts with a laugh. 
“I’m not,” Sean tries to say, but everyone talks over him and the voting time ends. Everyone left alive, though it was only four people, had all voted for him and he yells at them as he gets ejected. 
stinky was not the imposter
2 imposters remain
The round ends and everyone unmutes themselves. 
“Lizzie, you saw Felix kill me and you did nothing!” Roomie yells as soon as the round ends and the imposters are revealed. 
“Yeah, because I was the other imposter.”
“Oh. Okay, well that makes sense.”
Everyone laughs and Ken starts the round again. 
“Wait, can I invite y/n to play? She’s doing her twenty-four-hour stream and she just finished playing Monopoly with Mark, Bob, and Wade,” says Lizzie, looking down at her phone as they all appear back in the waiting room. 
“Yes,” Corpse blurts out and there are a few laughs and chuckles. 
“You were quick to answer, Corpse,” Sean teases. 
“Shut up,” Corpse mumbles and there are even more laughs. 
Lizzie smiles and taps into her phone. “I’m gonna invite her.”
“I can’t believe that you actually made that deal, y/n,” Wade is telling you after ending the second round of Monopoly that you’ve played with them. 
You smile and cross your legs on your chair. “Look, I was going bankrupt and it seemed good at the time. Besides, Mark was going to win anyway, he owned half of the board.” Your phone buzzes beside you on your desk and you pick it up. “Lizzie texted me.” There’s a sound effect that plays in your headset and you look up at your screen and smile. “Thanks to _lorieplays _for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot. Thank you so much.”
“Do you want to play another round?” Marks asks. 
You shake your head, reading the text from your friend in England. “No, I don’t want to lose to you again.” You laugh. “Nah, Lizzie wants me to play Among Us with her and a few others. It was fun playing with you guys.”
“It was even though you took all of my money,” Bob snaps. 
You laugh. “Yeah, yeah. See you guys later.”
“Bye,” says Mark.
“See y--” Wade begins but you cut him off when you disconnect from the call. 
“Oops.” You put a hand over your mouth and laugh. “Sorry, Wade. Okay.” You straighten up and glance over everything, making sure it’s all working properly. “I have to pee and I think my roommate ordered pizza, so we’ll be back after this short break. Enjoy this live feed of my pet rats.” You giggle and switch the stream over to a view of your two rats in their cage where you have a camera set up. You take your headset off and head out of your recording room. 
Every two months, you have a twenty-four-hour livestream where you play games with your friends from all around the world. Despite being only twenty-five, your Youtube channel had grown exponentially in the past three years and you’ve had the chance to meet lots of other Youtubers like Markiplier, PewDiePie, and your close friend, LDShadowLady. 
Currently, you’re on hour twenty of twenty-four and you’re beginning to feel the effects of not sleeping for a whole day. You had been drinking coffee and energy drinks for the past four hours and that seemed to perk you up for two hours max. But your roommate had ordered pizza and that would hopefully wake you up. 
After going to the bathroom and grabbing an entire box of pizza, you return to your recording room and sit down. You put your headset back on and eat a slice of pizza before switching the views back to you. “And we’re back. I hope you guys enjoyed my rats because I don’t. They keep me up at night.”
You read a comment while loading up Among Us and laugh. “No, they’re not dead. They’re sleeping. They do that a lot when they’re not fighting.” 
When you finally get into the game and entire the code, you spawn in. You also quickly join the Discord chat and wince when nearly ten voices hit you at once. 
“y/n!” exclaims Lizzie and the other voices die down for a moment before rising to greet you. 
You wince again but laugh. “Jesus, you guys are loud. Hey, Lizzie.” You move your character to the customize tab and go to try and switch your color. But then you frown and realize that you’re stuck with being dark blue. “Damn, I wanted to be white.”
“Do you want to switch?” Corpse asks. 
Your eyes widen you your stomach flips. You hadn’t noticed Corpse was in this game. Immediately, your chat became flooded with keyboard smashing and lots of “omg my shipp” and “y/n rlly said ‘anna oop-’” 
“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind,” you manage to stutter out and take a bite of pizza as Corpse’s player comes over and the white option becomes available. You select it and also select the goggles in the hats menu. 
“How’s your stream going?” asks Sean. 
You shrug. “Pretty good. I’m super tired, though. I literally almost fell asleep while playing Monopoly with Mark, Wade, and Bob.”
“You went to college, right?” You’re pretty sure that’s Roomie. 
“Yep,” you affirm with a nod even though they can’t see you. “You’d think that those all-nighters writing papers and studying for finals would make me able to do this.”
There’s a laugh in the group and the round starts.
3 rounds before the incident
You scratch your eyebrow and sigh in relief when you’re the crewmate. You mute yourself and slide up in your chair. 
“I like being the crewmate,” you say, heading towards admin as a habit. “It’s a lot less stressful than being imposter.”
After doing your tasks in admin and fueling the engines, you stumble across a dead body in the lower engine and a vent closing. 
“Oh,” you say, and press the report button. You unmute yourself and begin with, “So I saw a vent close but I didn’t see who went in.”
“Who died?” asks Lizzie. 
“Felix,” says Sean. 
You smirk. “It’s always yellow that dies first.”
“Where was the body?” Ken asks. 
“Lower engine,” you reply. 
“I was in medbay with Corpse doing the scan so it wasn’t him,” PJ says and Corpse makes a noise of confirmation. 
This makes your cheeks heat up and you smack a hand over your mouth. Your chat explodes again but you decide to ignore it. 
“And I was doing wires in cafeteria,” Lizzie says. 
“Sean, where were you?” 
“I was in reactor doing the simon says thing,” he answers. 
You sigh. “I hate that one. What about you, Ken?”
“I was with Roomie in electrical doing the power thing. You know, the one where you have to divert it somewhere else.”
“So do we skip then?” asks Lizzie. 
“No one is super sus, so I’m going to skip,” you answer. 
When no one is ejected, you mute yourself again. “I dunno why, but Sean seems pretty sus. Because I didn’t see him on the way down from upper engine. But I guess he could have gotten there in time.” You shrug and run over to the trash chute in the cafeteria. “RIP to Felix, though.”
After doing the trash there, you head down to storage, running into Corpse doing the wires in there. You wait there to clear him and once you do, you run a few circles around him to get his attention and he follows you over to the trash in storage and watches you do that. After that, the two of you head over to electric together and do wires there. 
Suddenly, there’s a body reported and you unmute yourself. 
“Sean just killed Lizzie in front of me!” exclaims PJ. 
“PJ killed Lizzie,” Sean retorts, flipping the blame. “I watched it, he didn’t realize I was there and murdered her.”
“I watched PJ do the scan in medbay, he’s cleared,” Corpse says and you find yourself smiling for no reason. “Sean, you killed Lizzie.”
“I knew he was sus,” you say, grabbing another piece of pizza. You look at the box and your eyes widen. Had you really already eaten half of it?
“Wait wait, how am I sus?” Sean asks. 
You take a moment to swallow. “Because when I was doing fuel earlier, I was running down from upper engine and didn’t see you in reactor. Sure, maybe you could have gotten there earlier, but it was super weird.” 
The discussion time ends and PJ immediately goes to vote for Sean as well as you, Corpse, and everyone else still alive. Sean ends up getting ejected. 
stinky was an imposter 
1 imposter remains
“You’re such a detective, y/n,” Sean says when he gets ejected. 
You laugh. “I just play this game too much.” You then mute yourself and smile. “I am a genius.” 
You end up finishing your tasks quickly after that and then stand in the cafeteria and eat another piece of pizza and read some of the chat. 
“’ What am I going to do after this?’ I don’t know. I might play some Minecraft. Should I have a poll on Twitter? I’m stuck between public Among Us games, Minecraft, and taking random quizzes on Buzzfeed.” You smile and hear another sound effect and something pops up on the screen. “Thank you to coochie man for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot.” You laugh at their name. “I love your name, by the way.” 
There’s some rattling in the cage behind you and you turn around to see one of your rats drinking water. You turn back to the chat and read another comment. “’ Do you have a crush on Corpse?’” You blush and smile, biting your lip. “I mean, his voice is hot. I’ve never met him since he lives in San Diego and I live in h/t, but yeah, I guess I do. I’ve been listening to his music for the past few days and it’s really good, you guys should go check it out.”
You look up and unmute yourself when a body is reported. “Who died?” you ask. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Are you already done with your tasks, y/n?” Corpse asks. 
God, even the way he says your name is making you blush. “Yeah, I get them done quick.”
“She does that,” says Lizzie, “She always gets her tasks done quick.”
“Ken is dead by the way,” says Roomie and your snort, smacking a hand over your mouth. “I found him in the hallway by navigation. Where was everyone else?”
“I was in cafeteria doing nothing,” you say, leaning back in your chair and spinning around just a little. “I think I saw PJ downloading while I was in there, but I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Yeah, I was downloading,” says Ken. 
After more discussion, Corpse points out that Jaiden had been following him and it looked like she had been faking tasks. 
“No I haven’t,” she says. 
“That sounds like something the imposter would say,” you hum with a smirk. “That’s pretty sus, Jaiden.”
Everyone else agrees and you all end up voting Jaiden out. 
jaiden was the imposter
0 imposters remain
You cheer as the round ends and a blue victory screen pops up for the crewmates. “Good game, guys,” you say and play again, waiting for the host. 
1 round before the incident 
“Oh my god, I’m imposter again?” you groan and sigh when you spawn back in. “I was just imposter, I don’t want to be it again. I’m so bad at it,”
After another short round of you and Felix losing to the crewmates, you all agreed to play two more rounds before Sean had to leave. So you move your character to admin where PJ is and fake the card swipe before moving over to the admin security thing where you could see who was around where. Luckily, no one appeared to be near admin, so you quickly kill PJ and escape through the vent and come out through medbay. 
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper over and over, running down to storage. “That was clean.” You fake getting fuel and go back up to the upper engine. 
When PJ’s body is reported, you see that your fellow imposter, Sean, had reported it. You stay silent for most of the round and only say that you were in the fuel area when it was reported. 
“Yeah, I saw her run past electrical earlier,” Corpse says. You blush and glance at your exploding chat and shake your head. 
After everyone skips the round, you mute yourself once more and head towards navigation. “I hate this.” You drag the last syllable and watch Lizzie enter the room. You wait a moment before walking towards her and killing her, jumping into one of the vents. You let out a sigh and flex your fingers. “I’m so stressed.” You exit out of the vent into shields and your heart stops when you see someone else in there but you realize that it’s the other imposter, Sean, and you relax. 
You run past him and go to the trash compartments and pretend to unload those. And that’s how the rest of the round goes. You kill someone, someone reports it and you vote someone off. Eventually, you and Sean do a double kill and end up winning the round.
You unmute yourself. 
“Let’s go!” Sean exclaims and you smile. 
“I can’t believe you killed me, y/n!” shouts Lizzie. “I thought we were friends.”
You laugh. “There are no friends in this game. I’m not loyal to anyone in this game. You could be my best friend and I would fucking murder you.”
“That’s cold,” says Roomie as everyone else spawns back in. 
“Yeah,” you nod. 
“Wait, PJ disconnected,” says Sean, and you all end up waiting for him to rejoin. 
In that time, you look at your chat and say, “Hey, do you guys have any questions for who I’m playing with. I’m asking you, chat.”
“I swear if someone asks about my hands, I’m leaving,” Corpse says and everyone laughs. 
You laugh louder when you read a comment and read it aloud, “_Ironlady _says that you should be a hand model, Corpse.”
“Okay, I’m leaving,” you hear Corpse say over everyone laughing. 
“No, stay!” you exclaim, trying not to laugh. “C’mon, don’t leave.”
He sighs deeply and your brain goes fuzzy. “Fine. I’ll stay for you.”
You beam and your tummy turns. You ignore the whistles and remarks from everyone else and stand beside Corpse. You suddenly wish that the little bean characters could hold hands. 
When PJ joins the server again, Ken starts the round and you cross your fingers, hoping to get crewmate. 
0 rounds before the incident
You mute yourself and sigh when you’re a crewmate. “Thank god.” You let out a breath and go over to admin with everyone else. You swipe your card and go to the cafeteria to do some wires there. 
The game turns out to be rather uneventful. A few people die and two people are voted off before the game gets truly interesting. And that happens when you walk in on Corpse and Felix. 
“I’ve had this song stuck in my head for days,” you’re saying, walking from electrical over to O2. “And I can’t get it out of my head. Maybe singing it will help.” You hum the first part. “Don't go in there, you'll become one. Freaky creatures, monster party. Eyes of yellow, scales and feathers, tails in tethers. Turn the lights off. Bend the nightmare, you control it. Artful dodger, easy does it. Shut the closet, get under the covers. Snakes and lovers. Turn the lights off.” You do a little dance for a moment and continue hum the song, glancing at the chat as you go towards O2 after doing wires in storage. 
“Like, I know the song, it’s just been stuck in my head,” you explain. “And it kind of annoys me--”
But you stop as you enter O2 and watch Corpse murder Felix. Neither one of you move and you don’t know what to do. “Uhhh.” 
Then, without thinking, you turn straight around and make your way away from the scene of the murder. “I didn’t see anything!” you shout to no one. “I suddenly can’t see who murdered Felix.” You smack a hand over your mouth and stand in the middle of a hallway. “Oh my god, what do I do? I don’t want to snitch on Corpse, he’s hot.” You scratch the back of your neck and shrug, continuing on to reactor. “I didn’t see anything.”
You’re in the middle of doing the simon says in reactor when Felix’s body is reported. You unmute yourself and fidget with the sleeve of your hoodie. You know exactly who killed Felix. 
“--was in O2,” says Jaiden and you focus back into the conversation. “And I didn’t see anyone around.”
“I saw you heading that way, y/n, but I know it wasn’t you because I saw you do the trash in storage.”
You look at the screen when Sean talks to you and you chew your lip. “I know who killed Felix.”
“Who?” asks almost everyone at the same time. 
You close your eyes and swallow. It’s just a game, why are you taking this so seriously? Suddenly, a song lyric pops into your head and your stomach flips. You imagine yourself saying it and no one knows who you mean except for him. 
You open your eyes. “I’d never snitch on daddy.”
There’s a laugh in the chat and you blush fiercely, your livestream chat blowing up once again.
“I think we know who it is, then,” says Sean, laughing. 
“Yeah,” agrees Lizzie and your eyes widen. 
“Wait, what?” you ask, watching everyone vote almost as soon as the discussion time ends. “Wait, hang on, who--”
“We know who you’re talking about, y/n,” PJ tells you. 
You vote for yourself and your brain goes blank as you see that everyone voted for Corpse. He even voted for himself. They knew. They all _knew _about your feelings for Corpse. 
The round ends with Corpse being voted out and the crewmates win. There’s some talking, but you stay on the victory screen. You’re trying to decide if your mad or embarrassed or both. 
“I didn’t know you’d say that, y/n,” Corpse says, effectively breaking you out of your trance. “I thought you were gonna snitch on me.”
“You heard her,” teases Lizzie and you can tell she’s grinning. “She’d never snitch on you, Corpse.”
He laughs and you feel something in a certain place. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die of embarrassment.” You put your face in your hands, listening to your friends tease you in the chat. You suddenly want to jump out your window and run into traffic. 
“Don’t die,” comes Corpse’s voice through the onslaught of teasing. “I’ll be sad.”
“Fuck!” you shout and slam your hand on your desk, shaking your equipment and scaring your rats. “I’m so sorry, Corpse, that was really weird, I--”
“Stop.” He interrupts you and the chat goes silent and you look up at the screen even though you can’t see him. “It’s okay. It was funny.”
Your eyes widen and then narrow. Funny? He thought what you said was funny? How could he think it was funny?
But then he speaks again and he sounds oddly flustered. “Uh, I gotta go. Um, it was fun playing with you guys. Bye, y/n.”
“Bye Cor--” but then he disconnects and you’re left talking to no one. “--pse.”
There’s a long moment of silence until Felix breaks it. “I can’t believe you just watched me die and didn’t do anything about it.”
There are some laughs and you smile faintly, rejoining the game. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”
“Are you okay, y/n?” asks Lizzie. 
You blush and swallow. “I don’t know. God, I’m so weird.” You run a hand through your hair and adjust your headphones
“No, you’re not,” Roomie assures you. “He has a crush on you, too.”
Your eyes widen and you scoot up in your chair. “He does?”
“I mean, he called you pretty once during a game and said that he watches your videos a lot, so maybe.”
You groan and sink in your chair. “I’m gonna go, I need to run into traffic now.”
A few people laugh or chuckle and Lizzie asks you if you’re actually going to leave. 
“Yeah,” you tell her. “But not to run into traffic. I’m going to go play Minecraft to soothe myself.”
“Aw.” You can practically hear her frown. “Okay. Bye, y/n.”
“Good luck with your stream,” Ken tells you. 
You grin. “Okay, thanks, bye.”
When you exit the game and leave the chat, you scream. You actually scream and it’s loud. Your roommate even knocks on your door, asking if you’re okay. 
You look at them and nod. “Yeah, totally fine. Probably about to have a mental breakdown, but I’m fine.”
“Okay,” they say and lean on the doorframe. “But I’m not cutting bangs for you again.”
You laugh and nod. “Yeah, okay, fine.” They leave and you turn back to your stream, feeling like you’re about to cry. Corpse knows you have a crush on him. And it seems like he has one on you as well, but now you’re embarrassed because you called him ‘daddy’ on stream.
You rub your eyes. “Well, now I know what’ll be streaming on Twitter tonight,” you tell the chat. 
5K notes · View notes
jikookiekosmos · 4 months ago
Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait || jjk
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➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, boyfriend!jungkook/reader, artist!jungkook
➥Summary: After surprising Jungkook with his own studio room for his paintings, he couldn’t be any more over the moon. All’s well and good until he’s struggling to find inspiration...which you happily provide him with. He’s ecstatic to find his muse in you, and painting your portrait brings him so much joy. Things take a turn however, when he suddenly realizes what else he wants to paint.
➥Genre: established relationship, tiny bit of angst if you squint, fluff, smut
➥Rating: 18+
➥Words: ~7.9k (small drabbles don’t exist for me apparently, oops)
➥Content warnings: most of this at the beginning is just cute fluff domestic times (finally not much angst!), blonde jungkook, jk ties his hair up at some point (my weakness), jk puts paints on the reader, making out, slight hair pulling, cursing, shower sex times, jungkook has a big dick, oral (m. receiving), very slight mouth fucking, dirty talk, fingering (very brief), unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), biting, cumming inside, cute times in the shower, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops
A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! Their relationship will make a lot more sense though if you’ve read OFY beforehand. This fic takes place roughly around six months after the events of OFY (so in between that and the dream drabble I also posted).
Once again, thank you to @dntaewithluv​ for her endless support and always giving me feedback, I forever appreciate you and your friendship is more than I could ever ask for 💜
I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:
When I Dream of You - ~1 year after OFY
Stay With Me - a few months after the dream drabble
Also, I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~
➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)
➥Series Masterlist
➥All Works Masterlist
taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn​
⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰
You would do absolutely anything in the world for Jeon Jungkook.
Seeing him happy had to be at the top of your list of favorite things in the world, as it had been for many years as his best friend, and now in the several months since the two of you started dating. Some things just never changed, you guessed.
Which is why you took it upon yourself to change one of the spare rooms in the house you two were renting into a space where he could thrive as the artist he was. Initially, the two of you thought it would be nice to use that space as a work area for you, since your job required you to sometimes do work from home. And for a little while, that’s exactly what you did.
But ever since you found out Jungkook liked to paint – scratch that, he loved to paint, and had been doing so for longer than you thought – the gears started turning in your head.
The current space he was using to create his art was definitely less than ideal. The house had a decent sized garage area, so there was enough room for him to store his supplies and be able to paint without it being too much of an issue. The downside, though, was it was cramped and even though Jungkook said he didn’t mind it, you still couldn’t help the frown from masking your features whenever you saw him huddled up so close to his easel.
For the last few weeks, and with lots of help from internet searches, you’d been slowly converting your space into something like a studio. You didn’t have to worry about Jungkook finding out, either, since he very rarely went into that room seeing as he had no reason to. He respected your privacy the same as you respected his, so this made everything infinitely easier for you in the long run.
The day had finally arrived where you would show the new space to Jungkook. Everything was set up as perfect as you could manage it – at least you hoped so – and you were dying of excitement to show him as soon as possible.
You were also, however, incredibly nervous at the same time. What if he didn’t like it? Even worse, what if he hated it?
Of course, you knew deep down that there was no way Jungkook could hate anything you ever did, unless it was something horrible, but you worried about everything because that’s just how you were. So, when the two of you were sitting at the dinner table one night, you tried hard to swallow the lump in your throat as you listened to Jungkook talk about his newest work.
“I really think you’re gonna like how this one turns out, angel.” Jungkook was offering you a sweet smile as he went to grab another bite of food from his plate. You managed to smile back, despite the hammering of your heart against your chest. He was basically handing you the perfect opening for you to segue the conversation!
“I know I’ll love it, Koo.” You watched as his small smile turned into a full grin, his nose scrunching up in that adorable way that had you falling in love with him all over again every time you saw it.
“Speaking of your paintings,” you started off, clearing your throat while he swallowed down his food. He looked at you with his undivided attention and it made your heart skip a beat.
Ok let’s be real, every damn thing this man did made your heart skip a beat.
“Yeah? What about them?” He twirled more of the noodles around his fork while he waited on your answer.
You gulped. “Wouldn’t you like it if you had more space?”
Jungkook chuckled and placed his fork down, shaking his head as he placed on hand on top of yours that was still resting by your plate. You’d barely touched your food and he noticed.
“Baby,” he started, “as much as I would love to have a bigger space, what I have now is just fine. I know you think it’s stifling my creativity in there, but I’m still creating things and am comfortable.” He squeezed you hand gently before returning to his food.
“I get that you think the garage is fine but what if I told you that- that you could have a bigger workspace.” You finally picked up your fork and were poking around at your own food now, avoiding his gaze. You could feel his stare boring into you regardless, though.
“I mean – yeah, hypothetically I could have more space, but it’s not in the cards for us right now and that’s ok, too. Maybe one day.”
The way he always was optimistic about your future together made you feel warm all over. Jungkook liked to look on the bright side of every situation, and it’s been enough to help you keep your own wits about yourself numerous times now.
But this time you wanted to show him that the future could be closer than he realized.
“Koo, can you come with me real quick? I have something I want to show you.”
You didn’t miss the confused look that flashed across his face for a second before his calm demeanor took over again.
“Of course.” He hopped up from the table, that smile you adored now plastered on his face. “Lead the way.”
“Ok but I also need you to close your eyes.” You reached out to take his hand and were rewarded with an eyebrow raise.
He hummed thoughtfully but did as you asked, closing his eyes and grasping your hand tighter so you could lead him wherever you planned to.
You walked through the house pulling him behind you, feeling your heartbeat quicken with every step to where its pace was almost concerning. Whether or not it was mostly from excitement or nervousness, you weren’t sure.
You finally reached your destination and let go of his hand so you could open the door.
“Keep your eyes closed, ok,” you asked. Jungkook simply nodded and you saw a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had no idea what you were about to show him, but knowing you and how much he loved pretty much anything you did, he was sure it’d probably make him happy.
And he couldn’t have been more correct in his assumption.
At the quiet sound of you telling him he could open his eyes he did so, slowly at first, blinking to adjust to the light the now flooded over the both of you. It took him several seconds to register exactly what he was seeing, and when he did he couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare around the room, mouth agape.
Decorating the walls were the paintings he had given you, beautiful works of various sizes and themes. Alongside the far wall was a tall shelf that housed all his supplies (how had you managed to get them past him without him noticing?), and even some new things like paints he’d been eyeing for a while and other tools he hadn’t had a chance to get himself yet.
But in the middle of the room stood his easel and chair, set up in the similar fashion as it had been in the garage. His apron was draped across the back of the chair, and there was even tarp laid out underneath the workspace. You research had paid off because everything was set up in such a way that it created the perfect atmosphere for Jungkook’s creativity to shine through in ways it hadn’t been able to before.
You weren’t aware of this yet, however, because you were still watching Jungkook’s reaction. He still hadn’t said anything, and as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, you started to wonder if this was the right call-
Strong arms were pulling you up from the ground and spinning you around before you could process it, making you squeal with delight as Jungkook twirled you before bringing you back down to pepper kisses all over you face.
“Angel, I can’t believe this, you did all this for me?” He was still holding onto your hips tightly, beaming as he looked down at you. Your nod and giggle was all the confirmation he needed before he pulled you into another kiss, this one slightly more heated than the ones before.
“Do you like it,” you questioned when the both of you pulled away to breathe. Jungkook laughed before taking your face in his hands and brushing his nose along yours.
“Do I like it? Baby, I love it. It’s perfect! Thank you so much.” Another kiss. “I love it and I love you, I love you so fucking much.”
His happiness made your heart soar and you definitely knew that you’d do something like this an infinite amount of times if it meant he’d keep that smile on his face.
⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰
A few weeks passed by and Jungkook had been using his new studio nearly everyday at this point. His creations had been increasing in numbers and he was starting to receive commissions from others thanks to his small online shop he’d set up with your help. He still worked at the bar as his primary job, but he was also grateful to have a hobby on the side that could potentially yield something lucrative.
Of course, Jungkook’s increase in his time spent on his art still didn’t take away from his time with you. If anything, it gave the both of you another way to spend time together, since now there was enough space for you to sit in and observe him paint when you couldn’t before. You often sat quietly and either did some of your own work or engaged in your own hobbies while he painted, and it was always peaceful.
There came a day, though, that you never thought you’d experience: Jungkook had run out of inspiration. He’d hit his first real artist’s block and it was taking a bigger toll on him than he would’ve liked.
You rubbed his shoulders as he sat in front of his easel one night, groaning in frustration about his current work. “It’s not turning out at all like I want it to. I’ve been struggling with finding new inspiration and it clearly shows in whatever this is.” He vaguely gestured to the canvas, prompting you to place a kiss on his cheek as you ran your hand through his pretty blonde hair. You knew that always helped to calm him down and this case was no exception.
Jungkook sighed heavily, turning to place a kiss on your palm that was still lingering around his face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get worked up. It just sucks, you know? I’d been on this really good streak of creating things and now I just…can’t. It’s weird and I don’t like it.” He pouted slightly and the sight made you giggle.
“I know, baby, but you’ll figure something out. You always do.” You placed a kiss on top of his head before you walked around to sit on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and one of his hands cradled your waist to steady you.
He was humming thoughtfully as he looked you up and down, your hands now playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“What are you thinking about?”
He smiled slyly. “You.”
You rolled you eyes before returning the smile. “Ok, what about me? I’m curious.”
His hand was rubbing up and down your side. “Nothing in particular, just usually looking at you can help me with inspiration.”
His confession made you gasp. “Really?”
He nodded and smiled wider. “Really. You inspire me a lot.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before sighing again. “This time though it’s not really working like I’d hoped.”
You watched his eyes close and his brows furrow before an idea popped into your head. “Hey,” you reached down to tilt his chin up so he’d look at you, “It might be a long shot, but: have you ever considered painting portraits?”
He pursed his lips as he thought about it. The simple act made you want to kiss him but now wasn’t the time.
“Honestly…no. I’ve never thought about it before because I usually prefer to paint scenery.”
You searched his eyes as you asked your next question. “Well, if you want to try, maybe you could paint me? Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, maybe it can help spark a new idea or something?”
You watched as his eyes slowly lit up at your suggestion, his face morphing into a smile that you mirrored.
“That’s a great idea! It’s something new and it also includes you, so I already love it.” You chuckled in his lap as he hugged you closer, placing a small kiss on your neck. “Thank you.”
You ran your hands through his hair again before leaning back. “Anything for you. Do you want to start now?”
He thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, we can do that. Is there, uh – was there something specific you wanted to wear for it?”
You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. “Are you suggesting you want to paint a nude portrait?”
Even though Jungkook knew your body better than you did at this point, your words still managed to make him blush as he groaned. “No, I wasn’t thinking that- not that I’d mind of course just you know, whatever makes you comfortable-”
You laughed at his flustered nature before hopping off his lap. “You’re so cute. I’ll go find something to change into, it shouldn’t take long.”
“R-right,” he stuttered, still clearly somewhat affected by what you had said. You shook your head with amusement as you went to your bedroom to find something to wear. You settled for a purple dress that you knew Jungkook loved, and considering a lot of his paintings involved shades of purple and blue, you figured it would be perfect.
You knew you made the right choice when you stepped back into the room and saw Jungkook’s face when his eyes fell on you. He looked like he’d never seen someone so beautiful (he looked at you like that a lot and it always did something to you) and your lips curled upwards into a smile before you could realize it.
You stopped in the doorway and twirled, giving him a full view of the dress. “Is this ok?”
You already knew the answer, but it was always nice to hear him say it.
He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s perfect. You can, uh, you can take a seat whenever you’re ready.”
While you were changing, Jungkook had pulled one of the loveseats from the living room into the space so you’d have somewhere to sit or lay while he painted you. The loveseat was a dark blue color and it contrasted beautifully against the color of your dress. You decided to lay on it in a comfortable pose, and you couldn’t help the small giggle you let out at Jungkook’s reaction to your choice.
You had laid an arm behind your head, turning your face so you were looking at him while the rest of your body was sprawled out on the loveseat. One of your legs dangled over the side, making the skirt of your dress hike up somewhat. You were very comfortable, and Jungkook was very happy with your pose.
“Make it pretty, ok,” you joked with him. He smirked at your comment.
“You know I will. I’ll use my best colors, just for you.”
“Wow, I feel special,” you quipped back. You were rewarded with the sound of his beautiful laughter as it echoed off the walls.
“You’re the most special,” he admitted honestly. You gave him a brilliant smile and he felt his heart stutter.
With the way you were looking at him, Jungkook thought that if he didn’t start painting, he may never start. So, he forced himself to tear his eyes away from you so he could find the paints he needed to get started. He tied up his hair, a few of the blonde strands escaped and framed his face but he didn’t seem to mind it too much as he got to work.
Thankfully, since you’d chosen a good position, the process was easier than you thought it would be. You just had to lie there and watch him work, which you happily did. You enjoyed watching his face scrunch up in concentration before relaxing again as he brushed stroke after stroke onto the canvas.
You were so beyond proud of him that it made your heart swell inside your chest.
Jungkook had been painting for a little over half an hour before he announced it was time to take a break. He could paint for hours on end without stopping, but that was when he didn’t have a live subject he was working with. He walked over to you with a bottle of water so you could sip from it without having to disturb your position too much.
You sat up slightly so you could drink, and while you did so, one of your dress straps started falling down your arm. Jungkook immediately went to move it back into place, but as he did, he couldn’t help but stare at the dark contrast of the purple satin against your skin. He thought it was so pretty, and his mind started wandering to how the paint itself might look-
He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He may have been covered in paint himself, but that didn’t mean he needed to go putting paint on you.
When you were re-situated on the loveseat once more, Jungkook strolled back over to this easel. Unfortunately, since that thought of you covered in paint first took up residence inside his head, he now found it hard to focus on anything else. While he stared at you to try and resume your portrait, he just kept picturing you with painted streaks covering your skin instead.
You must have noticed he was distracted because soon you were calling over to him. “Kook? Is something wrong?”
He gulped and shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong! You’re doing great, baby.”
“Do you need me some other way?”
Such a simple statement and yet it was stirring something inside of him. Asking him if he needed you a certain way ignited that desire to once again paint you and he found himself unable to hold back from asking anymore.
“Yeah, I uh, I wanted to try something.” You were confused when he got up and started walking toward you, only carrying his paint supplies. At first you thought maybe he just wanted to get closer, but he didn’t bring the easel with him.
“What are you wanting to try,” your voice was laced with curiosity. He gave you a shy smile.
“I was just thinking about how pretty it would be,” he looked down at the floor then back up at your face before he continued, “if I used you as a canvas instead.”
You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the request. Jungkook was asking to paint you, not paint you on a portrait, but to paint you. The suggestion intrigued you a lot more than you thought it would, which is ultimately what led to you nodding your agreement. “I think I’d like to try that, too.”
Jungkook’s face broke into such a dazzling smile that excited you to no end. You watched as he pulled his chair close to you, as well as some tarp to place around the area. When he was situated where he wanted to be, he dipped his brush into some of the purple paint on his palette and gently lifted your arm. The feeling of the paint as it brushed along your arm was foreign but not unwelcome. There was something about it that was almost calming.
You were now also recalling all the times you’d told Jungkook how pretty he looked even covered in paint. The pretty colors contrasting with his beautiful, golden skin tone never failed to take your breath away no matter how many times you saw it. You wondered briefly if this is what he was experiencing now as he took his time painting your skin.
He was focusing on your with such intensity and taking great care to only get the paint where he wanted it, so as to not stain certain parts of you or your dress. The sight of his caution made that familiar warmth bloom in your chest again.
He took his time painting beautiful designs along your arm before moving down to paint on your thighs and legs. He was alternating between purple and blue hues now, and the swirling patterns reminded you a lot of his tattoos that you adored. You had spent many nights lying next to him in bed, tracing the lines of his tattoos until you were too sleepy to keep it up. Seeing the patterns against your own skin briefly made you think about if you would ever want to get a tattoo. Before you put too much thought into it, your attention was pulled back to Jungkook who was sitting up now and admiring his work.
The time had passed by much quicker than you anticipated, and it was starting to get dark outside as the light was no longer filtering in through the windows of the room.
He seemed satisfied as he nodded and smiled. “Wait here, I’ll be right back. Stay just like this,” he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. When he returned, he had his coveted polaroid camera in his hands. Jungkook was also big into photography, and every one of his hobbies suited him perfectly in some way.
“Is it ok if I take a photo of you, baby?”
You grinned and nodded, being careful not to move too much from your current position. He snapped the photo and the polaroid was printing immediately after. When he pulled it from the camera, he laid it down on the table next to his easel so it could develop properly.
Jungkook wiped his hands off on his apron before taking it off and drawing his attention back to you. He could stare at you like this all day, but he knew it would probably be best to get you both cleaned up and paint-free.
He offered a hand for you so he could help pull you off the loveseat. When you were up fully, he wrapped his arms around you, careful to not get any of his exposed, paint-covered skin on your dress.
“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured softly, brushing some of your hair out of your face as his eyes scanned up and down your body to admire his creation. “And as much as I love seeing it, we should probably get this paint off soon. When it dries too much, it can be a bitch to scrub off, and I don’t want that for you.”
You chuckled at that and simply nodded your head. You’d been lying there for nearly 2 hours at this point, so you were pretty tired and ready to just relax for the night.
The two of you hopped into the shower shortly after, helping each other rid your bodies of the remnants of paint covering you both. You always loved taking showers with Jungkook, because whether or not it was a short, regular shower, or one shared after a night of intimacy, these moments were some that you cherished the most and wouldn’t change for the world.
You got lost in the feeling of Jungkook scrubbing shampoo into your hair, letting out soft noises as your eyes slipped closed.
Your noises always threatened to drive Jungkook crazy, and this time was no exception. He couldn’t deny the stirring of his cock as he listened to the little moans slipping from your mouth at such a simple action.
Of course, since he was so close to you, there was no way you didn’t feel him. His cock was hardening against your thigh, and the fact that you were turning him on by not doing much turned you on.
You could feel the wetness start to slip past your folds, but you decided to not make any moves yet, wondering how far you could take this before either of you snapped. You knew that teasing him was one of the quickest ways to get Jungkook riled up.
“Feels so good, Koo,” you shamelessly moaned out as he kept massaging the shampoo into your hair. You heard him let out a small grunt at your deliberate words, feeling him twitch against your thigh as he got harder.
You leaned your head back to give him a better view of your neck, since you knew he loved to mark you up there. His hands were starting to tangle in your hair, but he took care to not pull too hard as he brought his attention back to the task(s) at hand.
He was currently focusing on two things: 1) getting the rest of the shampoo out of your hair, and 2) not fucking you up against the shower wall. Doing the first thing was currently keeping him from acting on the second, but you certainly weren’t helping with that.
Your head lolled around on your neck, your eyes still closed as your sounds got louder. He knew you were messing with him now, so as retaliation he pulled on your hair a little tighter, making you gasp.
“You’re doing this on purpose, angel,” you could hear the dark tone of his voice over the waterfall in the shower clearly, and it just made you more aroused. You chanced opening your eyes to look at him, and the sight you were met with made you moan louder, this time without trying.
Jungkook was staring at you, mouth slightly parted as he let out pants of his own, his blonde, soaked tresses falling in his face and covering his eyes. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he tugged on your hair again, making you reach out to place your hands on his chest.
“You’re teasing me to get me worked up, hm?” All you could do was nod, his husky voice and the feeling of his hand wrapped in your hair making you wetter by the second. There was no use in playing coy any longer. You wanted him, and he wanted you.
The question now was: who would make the first move?
You realized that you wanted to be the one to make the first move, so you did.
“So, what if I am,” you asked sweetly, wrapping your hand around his length and pumping him slowly. His eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against your shoulder, fingers now digging into your waist.
“You know what happens when you do that,” Jungkook warned. You absolutely knew what happened, and you definitely wanted it to happen.
“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe you should enlighten me.” You teased him as you gently nibbled on his earlobe, increasing your pace as you continued to stroke him. You heard him let out a soft moan against your shoulder as he placed a kiss there.
With no more hesitation, you turned him slightly and sank down to your knees in front of him, delighted by how his cock jerked in your hold when you steadied it with your hand.
Jungkook stared at you wide-eyed as you started moving your hand around his shaft before placing a gentle kiss on his tip, the prettiest groan falling from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N, are you sure you want to do this?”
You peeked up at him as you fluttered your eyelashes, knowing that seeing you like this always aroused him beyond belief. You continued moving your hand in slow, languid strokes, and he was almost fully hard now.
He let his head hit the wall behind him, soft curses and praises for you tumbling from his mouth. 
Seeing him like this had to be near the top of the list of your favorite sights to ever witness. And right then is when you figured it’d be the perfect time to surprise him. Without a warning you opened your mouth and took all of him in that you could reach.
Jungkook’s reaction was immediate.
“Hey wait what are y- oh my God, fuck.” His loud moan echoed off the walls of the room, causing a fresh wave of arousal to pool between your thighs. You sucked harder as you hollowed out your cheeks, ignoring the way your throat constricted around him.
“Y/N, shit, you feel so good, your mouth- fuck, angel, I don’t want to hurt you,” Jungkook was panting hard above you, eyes shut and brows furrowed, jaw slack as he unabashedly continued to moan at your actions. He was reaching behind him to try and hold something, but the smooth wall had nothing to offer him. His fingers were slipping against the tile, so he gave up and instead settled for clenching and unclenching his fists.
You pulled off him with a pop, a string of saliva left in your wake. You smiled up at him as you kept stroking him, not wanting his pleasure to disappear in the slightest.
“You won’t hurt me, Koo,” you reassured him, earning another groan from the man falling apart under your touch. He twitched in your hold, and you stuck your tongue out again to run it along the underside of his length. 
Jungkook chanced looking down at you, only to look up at the ceiling a moment later while he muttered a strained “holy shit.” 
“C’mon baby, don’t you want to look at me,” you taunted him as your tongue played with the head of his cock, swirling around him. The low groans coming from above you let you know that he enjoyed that a lot.
“Fuck, angel, I-” Jungkook’s sentence died as a moan ripped itself from his throat when you surged back down to take all of him in again. This time you continued moving, feeling the tears in the corners of your eyes but not stopping.
It wasn’t like you’d never sucked him off like this before, seeing as it was one of your favorite activities, after all. But it was a rare occasion where Jungkook would let you take all of him in one go for fear of hurting you. So, you took these chances whenever they presented themselves, and the reward was always, always worth it.
Tears along with the water droplets from the shower were coating your face but you didn’t care. All of your focus was on Jungkook and how he was trying so hard to restrain himself above you. You watched his fists clench and unclench and you could feel himself struggle to keep his hips from moving forward so he didn’t fuck your mouth.
Yeah, you weren’t having that. You wanted him to let go, wanted him to know that it was ok, that you wanted this. You reached out to grab one of his hands and placed it in your hair, relishing in the way his fingers immediately tangled themselves into the wet strands. You pulled your mouth off of him again, but not before letting your tongue drag slowly across every inch of him.
You looked up at him again as you pumped him leisurely, waiting until he brought his gaze down to stare at you, only for him to quickly close his eyes again.
“God, I can’t look at you, like I want to, fuck do I want to, but you look so fucking good like this, I’m not gonna last-”
You always found his stammering to be cute and you didn’t want to torture him too much longer. Deciding that you’d teased him enough, you took all of him into your mouth again, intertwining your fingers with his unoccupied hand and giving it a squeeze. The intimacy of this particular action was always enough to get both of you going, and it had Jungkook’s hips stuttering as you sucked hard.
“Fuck, baby, always take me so good like this. Always so good for me, I love you, fuck,” he was groaning as his head hit the wall behind him again, his hold in your hair tightening the same moment you felt him buck his hips like you’d been wanting all this time.
Unfortunately, for you, whenever Jungkook would fuck your mouth, no matter how much you wanted to sit there and take it without issue, his size always proved to be too big for you to handle and it had you coughing around his length in no time. Which, of course, always made Jungkook stop what he was doing before either of you had the chance to enjoy it much.
“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” Jungkook pulled you up while you kept coughing, brushing the wet strands of hair out of your face and looking at you with worry. You nodded and tried to reassure him, wanting to get back on your knees for him, but he held you in place.
“You don’t want me to continue,” you asked, your voice a little more hoarse than usual thanks to what your throat had just endured.
Jungkook shook his head. “No, angel, it’s not that. If you do keep going, I’ll cum in no time.” He brushed some of the water away from under your eyes, not knowing if it was tears or from the shower. He bent down to place a rough kiss on your lips, such a contrast from how his hands caressed your face.
“I want to be inside of you when that happens,” he murmured against you, gently biting down on your bottom lip and pulling a whine from you, in turn causing more wetness to gush between your legs. “If you’ll let me, of course.”
You almost laughed. “Koo, you know I’ll let you do anything at this point.”
He chuckled. “That’s a dangerous admission, baby. You sure about that?”
You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Of course I’m sure. I’d let you do anything you want because I trust you. Because I love you,” it was your turn to kiss him this time, and it was filled with so much passion it nearly made him dizzy. Jungkook could never get tired of the feeling of your lips against his, of hearing you say that you loved him, of feeling your skin pressed against each other during times like these.
Jungkook was hooked on you and he never wanted to go back to a time where he wasn’t.
You pulled him out of his thoughts as you tugged on some of his hair, earning a delicious sounding grunt from him. You whispered your next snarky comment right by his ear.
“You gonna fuck me now, baby?”
Your bluntness had his cock quickly stirring back to life after it had softened some during your coughing incident. He growled low and dark as he started placing love bites on your collarbone.
“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor first, angel?” He was marking up your skin while he asked this, so you almost didn’t realize what he was asking specifically but then it dawned on you.
“As much I love seeing you with your head between my legs,” you responded, tugging on his hair again, “I’d rather have you fuck me up against this wall.”
He moaned against your collarbone, the action vibrating your skin. He pulled off of you and brought your lips to his in a filthy kiss. “Your wish is my command.”
Jungkook lifted you up then by placing his hands under your ass and you got the message, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up. He turned so your back was against the wall, the only things now holding you up being his strong arms and the smooth tile behind you.
He first plunged two fingers inside you without a warning, making you let out a silent scream. He smirked at the way you clenched around his fingers, scissoring them before pulling them out again. You whined at the loss and he shushed you with a gentle kiss on your nose.
“Had to make sure you’re ready, baby.” He had one arm wrapped around your waist, trapped in between your back and the shower wall. With his now free hand, he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when the tip of his cock was sucked in by your velvety walls.
“Fuck, you already feel so good and I’m barely in yet,” he clenched his jaw as he sank further into you inch by inch. When he finally bottomed out and was filling you up in the best way possible, you clenched around him to tease him further, making him curse.
“Watch it, angel,” he growled. “You’re gonna make it very hard for me to not blow it if you keep doing that, and I want you there with me when I do.”
“Then I guess you’d better start moving,” you teased, wrapping your arms more tightly around his neck. You knew what was coming next; Jungkook would put you exactly in your place, just like you wanted. And for that you needed to hold on tight for dear life because that man could rock you like nothing ever had before.
Jungkook grabbed your hips firmly in his hold as he fucked up into you, making sure you were held against the wall and weren’t in danger of falling down as he did so. Despite this, each thrust had you sliding more up the wall until he would bring you back down again. When he found a pace that was he was sure he could resume without either of you getting hurt, he finally let go.
To say you saw stars would be an understatement. Jungkook was fucking you with so much vigor that you weren’t just seeing stars, you were sure you were seeing entire galaxies. Your sounds kept dying out on your tongue because the feeling was so overwhelming and it had your trembling around him in no time.
“Can’t make any sounds when I’m fucking you this good, angel?” Jungkook was taunting you now and quite frankly, he was right, he was fucking you so good that you were finding it hard to say anything. And the mixture of his dirty words with the sweet pet name you adored had you clenching even tighter around him, causing him to groan loudly and grip your waist tighter.
You eventually found your voice again when Jungkook hit a certain spot inside of you, pulling an embarrassingly loud whine from your throat. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, tears almost brimming in your eyes once again at how good he felt.
“Fuck, Jungkook, feels so good, oh my God-” your praises made him twitch inside you as he moved his hands now from your waist to hold you up by cupping your ass, squeezing tightly in time with his thrusts. He was bouncing you up and down on his cock now with his strength alone, and the thought of it made your orgasm start to approach at an alarmingly fast rate.
“I love feeling you so close like this, I love you, so fucking much, shit-” Jungkook cut himself off as threw his head back to get his hair out of his face, careful not to let his balance falter or his grip slip on you. He had to do it though because his hair was keeping him from seeing your face now that you were leaning your head back against the wall, and he couldn’t have that.
“I love you, Jungkook, I’m close, fuck,” you were breathing hard as you couldn’t control your moans any longer, eyes squeezed shut and tears falling from just how much pleasure you were receiving and also how much you loved this man. Jungkook was the man you’d loved for so many years before you were finally able to call him yours. He always took care of you in every aspect of life, and you reciprocated it as best you could. And it was because of this kind of love you two had for each other that made these intimate times all the more meaningful. You were sitting here, back up against a shower wall in the arms of the man you loved while he rearranged your guts, and it was such an emotional experience alongside being a pleasurable one that the tears actually made sense.
Jungkook bit down on your shoulder and pulled you out of your reverie, making you cry out as he muffled his own sounds against your skin. You could tell by his thrusts that he was getting close now, his grunts happening more frequently and louder, echoing off the tiled shower walls. The water had already started to get cold but neither of you cared. Nothing outside of the two of you existed in this moment, and that was exactly how you liked it.
“Touch yourself for me, baby, I’m close, want you to be there with me,” Jungkook breathed out, his grip on your ass harsher now and you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow. You loved it when he marked you up, and even though he always felt slightly bad about it, you knew Jungkook loved seeing the marks, too.
You obeyed his command and reached down to rub your clit, nearly shrieking at the new wave of pleasure that washed over you. The sensations on your clit, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you, the way he was holding you, and all the things he was saying to you was enough to finally push you over the edge.
“Jungkook, I’m cumming, fuck-” you barely had time to utter out your warning before you were cumming hard around his length, your body spasming as he held you through it.
He sped up then, chasing his own high now, the feeling of your walls clenching around him making his eyes roll back. “Fuck, I can feel you, always so perfect for me, I’m close-”
His eyes were closed now so he didn’t see you reach for him. You pulled him closer so you could kiss him, hoping to help him along this way, swallowing down every beautiful sound he was making. “C’mon Koo, cum for me, wanna feel you fill me up.”
“Fuuuuck,” he moaned out, loud and long as that was the last thing he needed to get him there. His hips stuttered a few more times before you felt him twitch and fill you up, just like you wanted. Because gravity was working against you due to your current position, you could feel some of it dripping out of you despite Jungkook still being inside of you. The feeling made you scrunch up your nose, and the action made Jungkook laugh and mumble out ‘cute’ as he placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.
He pulled out of you carefully before moving you away from the wall so he could set you down on your feet. Your legs were a little wobbly, so he let you brace yourself against him as he helped you clean up.
The water was nearing a very uncomfortable cold temperature, but the both of you would rather endure that than leave the shower without cleaning off completely. After the workout you both had, there was nothing more you wanted than to curl up with each other in the bed.
After helping each other get clean again, and stealing quite a few kisses while doing so, Jungkook helped you out of the shower since you still didn’t trust your legs and dried you off before taking care of himself. Your heart swelled at the sight of him as it always did when he would take care of you like this.
You just hoped that you were taking care of him in all the ways he needed as well. You were certainly trying your best and would continue to do so for the rest of your life.
Once you were both snuggled into bed, him with an arm under you and you with your face nuzzling against his chest, you broke the silence first.
“If that’s what happens when I let you put paint on me, we should do that more often.”
Jungkook, who was tracing invisible patterns on your back in between your shoulder blades, laughed so hard you shook along with him. When he finally calmed down, he was able to answer you. “I totally agree. Although, I don’t think that happened because I painted you. It happened because you-” he booped you on the nose “-teased me, knowing full well what happens when you do.”
You shrugged as best you could with his arms around you. “You love it, though.”
Jungkook chuckled. “Indeed I do.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head and resumed his earlier soothing tracing of patterns on your skin. You rested your cheek against his chest and could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. The combined actions of his hands and the steady thrum of his heartbeat was enough to have slumber calling your name in a matter of minutes.
Jungkook had something more to say, however.
“Hey,” he called gently, making you look up at him with groggy eyes. He smiled at the sight. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For helping me. For being my muse. I’ve got more ideas now about what else to create, and I don’t think I could’ve gotten there without your help.”
You smiled at him before you placed your head down again and shut your eyes once more, breathing deeply. “You would’ve eventually. That’s just how you are. Maybe I sped up the process, but you would’ve done fine.”
“Perhaps,” he sighed and looked at the ceiling. His glance travelled down to look at your nearly sleeping form, laying on him calm and unbothered. Moments like these topped his list of favorite things, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.
“Goodnight, angel,” he murmured softly, not sure if you were asleep or not yet. You muttered something unintelligible back, but he knew you were telling him goodnight all the same, and it brought a smile to his face.
Jungkook wanted to tackle life with you, the good, the bad, all of it; he wanted to do it with you by his side. He wanted to make sure every day of your life from here on out was filled with happiness and love and everything you deserved in the world, just as you wanted to do the same for him. He knew you’d do anything for him, and he’d do anything for you.
Only for you.
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megamegaturtle · 10 months ago
in the dumpster fire of 2020, i fell in love with dramione
here’s some fic recs in no particular order of favorites (ao3 edition). this is going to be a long ass post, but a link to all my bookmarks on ao3. again, long post.  you’ve been warned: 
remain nameless by @heyjude19-writing - the coffee shop au that’s 300,000 words that’s friends to lovers and becoming better people (complete)
measure of a man - okay so like. i’m going to explain this story terribly. but like. hermione is a healer, she’s also part farmer. she super heals hard to heal patients. and oh boy. there are the malfoys. we have narcissa as herself. scrop as the cutest baby kid alive, and draco as a poltergeist. JUST. THIS STORY. START READING. IT IS SO GOOD. AND DELCIOS AND ALSJDFJLA you will come away feeling super empowered. (WIP)
subtle perfection  - the ice skating/muggle au that’s is asldkfjsaljf really smoking hot but like the ice hurts my feels (wip)
seven year witch by @thelastlynx- draco and hermione keep meeting up in the summers between school years (WIP)
when midnight comes - TIME LOOP AU. head boy and head girl au. (complete)
 O for Outstanding - hogwarts teacher au. also, draco has a thing for shoes *wink* (WIP)
regrets only - MADE OF HONOR AU. draco realizes a little too late he’s in love with hermione. but now he has to stop but support a wedding! (WIP)
never in heart - the one where where hermione and draco are best friends, but stupidly did an unbreakable vow to get married if they’re not married by 30. time is running out to find a spouse, but like, why take the easy route and marry your best friend? (complete)
nine months - hermione and draco have what is supposed to be a one night stand...several times, but oops. someone is pregrant :D (WIP)
love and other misfortune by @senlinyu - a veela!fic. and in the first few fics i read in the fandom. it made me continue reading more dramione. this is sen’s fault (complete)
living the dream - the one where draco is a high class escort looking for his mate. also a veela!fic. i am here for positive sex work (one shot)
the gloriana set - absolute hilarious perfection with the best little hufflepuffs (complete)
armature cartography - the one where draco somehow ends up as hermione’s boyfriend but she’s not sure how dating works (one shot)
thirteenth night - the one where draco is obliviated to pay for his crimes, but hermione is his caseworker (complete)
traditions - the christmas fic that gets my feels (complete)
everything little thing she does (is magic) - the one were draco and hermione go to parties together as a ruse! (complete)
the preferred hour - the one where scorp and rose start dating and draco is this super nice widower and...asdlfjasdljf JUST READ THIS ONE (one shot)
blood rights - creature!fic. also, draco and hermione have to get married (complete)
precious things - *cue ugly sobbing* the journey of draco’s growing love for his family through many years after he accidently knocks up hermione’s a christmas fic. that hurts my heart, but it’s so good. (one shot)
fight this feeling - the best friend au! but like, unrequited feelings. these two silly gooses (complete)
courting customs most sacred by @heyjude19-writing - pansy thinks she’s doing hermione a favor, but like draco gets how purebloods do etiquette (complete) 
as you wish by @scullymurphy - is this a princess bride ref? yes, yes is it. is it about costumes and movies? yes it is. (oneshot)
all you want by @senlinyu - the first A/B/O fic i’ve ever read. it was good. so i read it. i don’t even like this trope! but it’s worth it! :D (complete)
where we go from here - this hurts. so much. ron dies in a horrible accident leaving hermione alone pregnant with their child. draco is the real bro and helps and alsdjfasldjf family. feels. dad feels. i can’t. (complete)
in search of sunrise - a very cute onesot where draco and hermione stay up all night (oneshot)
tough love - hermione has to date a few bad men to get to the right one (complete)
each day anew - the 50 first dates au. hermione needs help relearning who she is every day (complete) 
with teeth - the one where there are many, many horcruxes (oneshot)
wait and hope by @mightbewriting​ - ugly crying. hermione lost her memories and draco is the best husband. just. take all my love. (complete)
broken by @inadaze22​ - hermione is back from italy. there is a secert. it will wreck you. (complete)
waif and strays - the familiar au! draco becomes hermione’s familiar because she’s a little lost and lonely and he’s a little lost and lonely too (complete) 
apple pies and other amends - the baking!au where i want to eat everything. also. it’s very cute. (complete)
off the cuff - the cinderella au! someone forgot their glass slipper, i mean...cuff (complete) 
universal truth by @scullymurphy​ - the modern wizarding P&P au. ugh. so good. (complete) 
an education - the one where hermione is forced to help draco learn about the muggle world a little bit (complete) 
Inosculation - the one where hermione has to marry draco to save her life because of a stupid curse. they are very cute. (complete)
the calm to her storm - ron passes away and rose and hugo befriend scorp and hermione has to befriend draco and it’s great (complete) 
a boy of hans - hanahaki au. sad ending. 
Dancing with Draco - THIS SERIES IS SO GOOD. okay, so like. draco has to help hermione dance for the yule ball. the sequeal is super good too. 
The Oblivious Ones - a fake marriage story. hermione and draco meet in the pysch ward at st. mungo’s and go off to look for her parents
what you think is right - this story is so painful. one of the best 1st POVs i’ve read. it’s hermione pov. her parents are dying and it’s affecting her marriage with draco and god. just read it. (WIP)
Deine Zauber Binden Wieder - the ochrastra au no one asked for, but it’s like. really fun. (oneshot)
the green girl - hermione is sorted in Slytherin when she’s 11. this story. i still think about it to this day. (complete)
a year in the countryside - hermione wants to escape for the craziness of the big city so she moves to the cute country side. to only find draco malfoy living there too. (complete)
don’t take the sinner - THE MARRIAGE LAW FIC WITH A TWIST. hermione has to marry harry and ginny has to marry draco, but like, no one stays with their spouse. no cheating involved. (complete)
Draco's Baking Dilemmas - the great british bake off au. i don’t need to say anything more. hermione is the judge. draco is the baker. yes. and yes. (complete)
starving - sex is like food. or rather. sex is like pizza. it’s good when it’s cold, but like. it’s better when it’s hot :D (oneshot)
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klinenovakwinchester · 5 months ago
Don’t You (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part two of Bye Bye, Baby
I love how this mini-series was totally impromptu but happened so fast. Gotta love my brain!
Loosely based on “Don’t You” by Taylor Swift! xx.
Summary: Aaron wants to talk. Do you?
Warnings: ANGST
Word Count: 2k this time oop
Bye Bye, Baby (Part One) || That’s When (Part Three) || Hotch Masterlist
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Hey/I knew I’d run into you somewhere/It’s been a while
The text message from Aaron has sat glaring at you on your phone screen for the past hour.
Hotch (BAU) Sorry for hitting you with my cart earlier.
You don’t know what to make of it. It’s obviously an attempt to start up a conversation after four years, but why? Why, after all this time, does he think this is okay?
It’s 1 a.m. when you call Dannie.
“I would tell you to go to sleep, but I just got in bed, so I can’t talk.”
You chuckle quietly. “Better than me. I’m still on the couch.”
Dannie exhales. “Did Jules stay up late again?”
“No, no, she… She passed out around nine.”
Dannie sighs. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I saw Aaron today,” you blurt, quietly, not wanting to risk Juliet hearing even a whisper of this.
“Aaron?” Dannie asks. “Like...Juliet’s dad, Aaron? That one?”
“Yep,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead. “The one and only.”
“The grocery store,” you say. “Our carts bumped into each other. I wasn’t watching where I was going, so it was definitely my fault, but he texted me a while ago apologizing for it.”
“Woah, he texted you?”
“Unfortunately,” you murmur, hating that you feel tears pricking at your eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Have you texted him back?”
“I don’t know if I want to.”
“I understand,” Dannie sighs. “Maybe just say it’s okay? Leave it short.”
“Yeah,” you nod, sniffling, wiping a tear away. “God, I’ve been fine all evening and it just...hit me when I saw his text.”
“You had to keep it together for Jules,” Dannie reminds you. “What did she say about him?”
“Oh, nothing,” you say. “She really wanted cookies, so she was focused on getting vegetables for dinner so she could have them.”
Dannie laughs. “That sounds like her. Did she eat all her vegetables?”
“Even the broccoli,” you grin. “So she got an extra cookie.”
The two of you laugh lightly, letting the silence settle.
“What do I do if he wants to get to know her?” You break the silence with the one question that’s been on your mind all night. “I mean, he’s a profiler. There’s no way he doesn’t know she’s his.”
“Okay, first of all, she’s yours,” Dannie says firmly. “Second, it’s all up to you. And her. If she wants to get to know him, then ultimately it’s up to you to decide if that’s a good idea and where would be safest for it to happen, if you want it to.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t stress about it tonight,” she says quietly. “Text him back in the morning.”
“Want to surprise Jules with brunch tomorrow?”
You smile almost immediately. “Of course.”
You wake from a restless sleep to Juliet climbing into bed with you.
“Good morning, munchkin,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. She’s still sleepy and will probably sleep for another hour in your arms, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
As expected, Juliet falls fast asleep with her head on your chest. While she’s snoring softly, you grab your phone and text Dannie about brunch. And that’s when you’re reminded of Aaron’s text.
Quickly, before you can think twice, you reply. It’s okay.
And you move on to text Dannie, letting her know you’re awake and so is Juliet. After making plans to meet for brunch in an hour and a half, you lightly shake Juliet awake.
“Psst, munchkin,” you murmur. “Wanna have brunch with Dannie?”
Juliet pops her head up almost instantly. “Really?”
“Really really,” you nod.
She grins wide and your chest aches for a moment. She’s always had his smile, but you never realized how much it’s his smile until today.
Juliet scrambles off your bed to get dressed, and you take a deep breath before getting up, too.
The entire day passes without a reply from Aaron. You don’t know what to make of it, but you do your best to ignore it.
Thoughts of him keep you awake almost all night, so by the next morning, you’re dying to get your coffee before you walk into work.
You drop Juliet off at daycare, then park your car at work, with somehow enough time to spare to walk to your favorite coffee shop before clocking in.
You spot Aaron as soon as you walk in.
“You better not be following me around,” you mutter as you stand in line behind him.
He spins around, his face softening when he recognizes you. “Hi. I’m not trying to, I promise.”
You nod slowly.
Don’t you/Don’t you smile at me and ask me how I’ve been
“How are you?” He asks hesitantly, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Good,” you reply. “You?”
“Good,” he pauses. “Busy.”
“Me too.”
The awkward small talk is ended by the line moving forward, putting Aaron at the front. He orders his usual, and steps aside. You order your usual, with a pastry, too, as a sort of condolences gift to yourself for the bullshit you’re enduring.
When you step to the side to wait, Aaron tries again.
“Sorry again for hitting you in the store with my cart,” he says. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s okay,” you say, keeping your eyes away from his. “In your defense, I wasn’t paying attention either.”
He chuckles quietly and the sound sends a dagger right to your heart.
When his coffee is ready, he grabs it, and you internally beg him to leave without another word. But he doesn’t.
Sometimes I really wish I could hate you/I’ve tried, but that’s just something I can’t do
“This is probably too forward of me, but—”
Your coffee is up.
You step forward to grab it, and damn you, you look at him to ask him to continue.
“Can we talk?” Aaron finishes.
“Right now?” You question, following him to the door. He holds it open for you and you hate that you almost smile. “I have to get to work.”
“Me too,” he says, stopping on the sidewalk with you. “We could get dinner tonight.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay,” he nods. “No pressure. Just text me if you want to.”
“Okay,” you exhale shakily. “See you.”
You turn on your heel and nearly sprint down the sidewalk, chest heaving and tears welling in your eyes.
“What do you want to do?” Dannie asks.
You met her for lunch to discuss your encounter with Aaron this morning, and so far you still don’t know what the hell you’re going to do.
“I want to tell him to leave me alone and never come near me again,” you blurt, but then you sigh. “I don’t mean that.”
Dannie smiles sadly. “I know.”
You don’t/You don’t know how much I feel I still love you
“I think I want to talk to him, but...I don’t know, I’m scared. I don’t think I can do a dinner. I’m sick to my stomach just thinking about this and I mean...I hate that I still love him. After all this I can’t even hate him.”
“It’s hard to hate someone you love.”
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Wanna help me text him?”
“Of course.”
After some trial and error, you and Dannie settle on this message.
Hey. I’d like to talk, but not dinner. What about a walk instead?
Aaron replies quickly.
Hotch (BAU) That’s perfect. Where is best?
The park you chose is, regrettably, the one where you and Aaron had your first date.
In your defense, it’s closest and safest. And quiet.
Aaron doesn’t seem to mind the location, though, when he walks toward you. You’re sitting on a park bench, one that must be new because you don’t remember it.
As he gets closer, you see he has two cups of coffee in hand.
“I got your usual,” he says softly. “If you want.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, taking it from him, careful not to let your fingers touch.
Hesitantly, he sits next to you.
The two of you sit in silence for a while. You can’t bring yourself to say anything, and apparently, neither can he.
After too long, though, you break the silence. “Ready to walk?”
“Sure,” he replies, standing with you.
You venture down the trail, grateful that you changed into your sneakers before coming. It takes another few moments before the silence is broken -- by Aaron this time.
“Is she mine?”
You sigh heavily. You should’ve known he’d ask that first.
“Technically, Juliet is mine,” you reply. “But you are the father, if that’s what you’re asking.” You pause. “You’re the only one I was with, so there’s no doubt.”
“I wasn’t worried about that,” he says quietly. You can tell he’s looking at you, but you don’t look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried,” you admit. “I called three times. I got your voicemail.”
Once: When you decided officially to keep the baby. You were three months pregnant. You had almost thought he picked up when the line clicked, and then you heard his voicemail. You hung up and took a bath instead, phone forgotten in the living room.
Twice: Dannie was beside you. You were seven months then. You had caved and asked if it was a boy or girl. After hearing it was a girl, a part of you desperately wanted to tell Aaron. You remembered him saying he always wanted a baby girl. Your heart still ached from when he broke it, but you wanted to tell him. You got his voicemail.
The third time: You had just given birth. You named her Juliet. You wanted to tell Aaron. You wanted to know if he should be on the birth certificate. You wanted to tell him you had a baby girl. When he didn’t answer, the nurse gave you a sad smile, and left the line blank. Dannie held Juliet for a while so you could cry.
“You never left a message,” he replies, sounding offended.
“Did you really want me to break the news in a voicemail?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “But you could’ve said it was something important. I would’ve returned your call.”
“I called three times,” you remind him. “You’re a fucking profiler, Aaron. You think three calls meant it was unimportant?” You pause, grounding yourself. “I figured you were out on a case. I don’t blame you for that. I understand, I’ve been there. But after calling three times and not getting a single reply, I figured it was useless. I didn’t have the time or energy to worry about it anymore. I had a newborn to take care of.”
He’s silent for a while.
“How is she?”
“She’s fine. She’s with her Godmother. Probably watching Frozen.”
“That’s good.”
You can’t do this anymore. “If that’s all you wanted to ask, then I need to get going. No offense, but I really don’t have the time for small talk.”
“I understand, but…” He stops walking, staring down at his feet before locking eyes with you. “Would you— Would you be willing to give me a second chance?”
Don’t you/Don’t you say that you miss me if you don’t want me again
“Why are you doing this?” You ask, angry tears pricking your eyes. “Why?”
“I’d like to be a part of Juliet’s life. And yours. If you’ll let me.”
“I’ll ask her,” you reply. “But you can be a part of her life without being a part of mine.”
“You know that’s not true,” he says. “You chose this park for a reason today.”
“No, I chose it because it’s close,” you hiss. “Don’t you dare profile me. Don’t you dare.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and for a second you think he might have tears in his eyes, too. “I’m sorry, you’re right, that was uncalled for.”
“Thank you,” you murmur. “I really do need to go.”
“Can I at least walk you to your car?”
After a moment of thought, you nod. “Sure.”
My heart knows what the truth is/I swore I wouldn’t do this
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tinyhistory · 6 months ago
Hey! Love your stories so much I just had to ask! Do you have any favorite drarry authors/stories? I sometimes compare the quality of other stories to ROA (oops!) because ROA is just that good. My personal favorites are ROA (of course!), the Foundations Series (saras_girl), the ordeal of being known (louisfake), denouement (the_never_was), Good to Me (And I'd Be So Good to You) (AWickedMemory), and To Hurt and Heal (cassisluna). Have you read these? Have a wonderful day! :)
Thank you, so glad you’ve enjoyed my stories! And thank you for so patiently waiting for a reply. I haven’t been online much in the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately I haven’t read any of your recs, but I’m always happy to add another fic to my to-read list.
I did a rec post a few months ago, but I’ll post an updated version now. The Skyhawke Archives appear to be down, which is crushing news. I’ve had to update a lot of the links.
So here are my favourite Drarry fanfics:
And We Are At Our Apogee (PG-13) by angelgazing
Summary: Draco wanted revenge, but it didn't work out that way.
My notes: Californian beaches, supermarkets, road trips, and a bittersweet ending.
A Reckless State of Mind (T) by Lomonaaeren
Summary: Draco is a Psyche-Diver, and his newest patient is Auror Potter, who’s been a pathological liar for over a year—and has just tried to violently end his own life.
Notes: The plot alone guarantees inclusion on this list. Probably the most creative fic I’ve ever read, and the twists and turns will keep you guessing.
Berlin, In the Year of Our Lord (PG) by Are
Summary: Harry is a green-tea addict. Draco stalks him.
Notes: Probably my all-time favourite fic, along with Blue Vase. It’s sparse and minimal and I love that writing style.
Blue Vase (M) by ivyblossom
Summary: Let’s pretend.
Notes: Draco finds an amnesiac Harry and befriends him, pretending they were once lovers. It’s pensive, short, and bittersweet.
The Boy Who Only Lived Twice (E) by lettered
Summary: Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.
Notes: Action-heavy fics are damn hard to write, but lettered nails it. The action scenes are breakneck speed, the conversations are threaded with double meaning, and even the silences are tense.
Draco in Darkness (T) by Plumeria47.
Summary: Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight.
Notes: This is one of the first fics I ever read (when it was over on FF in 2003) so it’s probably here just for nostalgia points alone. I read it when I was a kid and just thought it was a lovely golden fairytale, the best romance I’d ever read in my (very short, thus far) life. I love reading it again, even years later as an adult when I can see the tarnish on it; the things my childhood eyes didn’t notice. I don’t care. It’s my soft and fuzzy comfort fic.
The Flesh is Frail (NC-17) by wildestranger
Summary: None
Notes: Draco has injuries from curses and spells, and Harry keeps him company. Draco is angry; Harry is stubborn. They argue their way into a grudging relationship. It’s a short read and well worth your ten minutes.
Good-bye to Yesterday (NC-17) by furiosity
Summary: Draco felt ready to face even a million years in Azkaban as long as it meant that at the end of it all, he would make Potter pay.
Notes: It’s not a dark fic, but it certainly dips in and out of the shadows. If you like your romance to be sharp as a razor and bitter as black coffee, give it a read.
Hymn to Color (PG) by Lomonaaeren
Summary: Months after Draco cast a curse that took Harry’s eyesight, Harry is still trying to come to terms with it. Draco still wanted forgiveness, which was probably the problem.
Notes: Probably my very inadequate idea of “fluff”. It’s a quiet, introspective fic. Draco and Harry are well-written.
Kings among runaways (PG) by enderxenocide.
Summary: Later, the toast will be slightly overcooked, Draco will burn the eggs, and there will be another fist fight in-between the living room and the front door, but they’ll eat breakfast with second-hand plates and Draco’s great-grandmother’s silverware.
Notes: Dreamy descriptions, abstract scenes, and the characters are lovingly delineated. Beautiful writing.
On Broken Glass (PG-13) by coffeejunkii
Summary: After the final battle, Draco is holding the shards that are left of his and Harry’s life.
Notes: Established relationship. Harry’s forgetful and seems to suffer both short-term and long-term memory loss; Draco stays by his side through six years of post-war amnesia. Very short, just a tiny ficlet. There’s sequels (in bite-size pieces) but I prefer to read the first ficlet and leave it there.
Paper Dolls (M) by cupiscent
Summary: In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.
Notes: Short, succinct, and packs a punch. No character deaths, in case the summary has you feeling nervous.
Portrait (PG-13) by Silent Blast
Summary: None.
Notes: Dorian Grey, but Drarry. Of course it’s going to be good.
Shattered (NC-17) by femmequixotic
Summary: One damned accident involving one too-lucky curse, and suddenly you'd think he was five again, with their Harry, be carefuls and their quick Levitating charms ready the instant the potion gives way and his rebelling hands lose hold of whatever's in their grasp.
Notes: Draco’s an artist. Harry’s intrigued by his sculptures and paintings.
Snatch (PG-13) by didntyoupotter
Summary: Harry is comatose, Hermione and Ron aren’t much help, and Draco isn’t sure about anything anymore.
Notes: The opening scene fools you into thinking this will be a light read with a streak of good humour. Don’t fall for it. By the third act, you’ll be hanging onto every word and feeling a lot of emotions. Also, back in the day, this was one of the Draco/Harry fics. Everyone knew of it. Pay your respects to your fandom history and read this beloved classic.
The Stages of Acceptance (T) by Lomonaaeren.
Summary: Harry, already happily married to Ginny, receives the news that he's Draco's mate. Law and custom don't give him the option of ignoring the news. The stages of his reaction, one by one.
Notes: This is not a romance, and I love that the author just casually chucks all the Veela tropes in the bin and says “nope”. In Lomonaaeren’s own words, this fic is more practical than romantic. Harry is unfamiliar with the Veela concepts and hates the very idea of being “shackled” to someone; he rejects Draco at once. Draco is miserable and lonely. They do eventually come to understand each other better, but it’s a huge struggle with lots of setbacks. The general air of pessimism and misery does make the small glimpses of compassion and empathy feel so well-earned. I love a fic that rations out its happiness.
The Stately Homes of Wiltshire (E) by waspabi
Summary: Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.
Notes: This one needs no introduction. The writing is polished, the characterisation perfect, and the dialogue is fun. I love the humour woven throughout it.
Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (E) by faithwood.
Summary: It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.
Notes: Another one that most of us know. It’s a lighthearted and fun read.
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (M) by novembersnow
Summary: In the war-torn years after Hogwarts, one man has no knowledge of his yesterdays.
Notes: Another classic back in the feverish heyday of the Harry Potter fandom, when books were still being released and everyone had worked themselves up into a shipping frenzy. And no wonder this fic was an instant hit. Draco has lost all his memories and Harry’s investigating as an Auror, but the longer you read, the more you start questioning everything. Good twists and turns that lead to a tender ending.
Turn by Saras_Girl
Summary: One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.
Notes: An inevitable inclusion on any favourites list. I think my favourite thing about it is the characterisation. Everyone is so well-rounded; the characters are brought to life and feel like old friends. All their habits, styles, mannerisms, even the way they walk or talk. While I love everyone in this fic, I have to admit that Blaise is just amazing. Of all the thousands of Blaises imagined by fanfic writers, I love this one the best. “Old bean” indeed.
Under the Ivy (PG-13) by coffeejunkii
Summary: It is impressive how much you can learn about someone by simply sharing a few rooms. They don’t spend time together, not really, but Harry still knows that Malfoy prefers raspberry jam over strawberry, that he hums along to the Wireless when he thinks no one is around, and that his leg is bothering him more than usual when the temperatures drop below freezing.
Notes: Another old, old favourite of mine. It’s like snuggling into a soft blanket. Remus owns a cottage and Harry moves in after the war. Later, Remus lets a room to Draco, who is an outcast after the war and has limited housing options. Harry isn’t happy at first with the new lodger, but he eventually warms up to Draco. A slow and gentle romance.
Vale Sanare (M) by rurounihime
Summary: Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.
Notes: London nightclubs, one-night-stands, loud music and lonely nights. Draco has seizures due to a curse from the war, and the seizures have led to a fear of intimacy. Short and sweet.
The Way Down (T) by lettered
Summary: Malfoy’s all, “Come out of there,” the way you say to a cat who is badly behaved. And Harry’s all like, “No, what, I’m a hermit! And I have a chest-monster! And I am crazy magically powerful!” and Malfoy’s all, “We all have problems, bub.” (thoughtfully) “You are crazy though. I’ll give you that.”
Notes: I just adore this fic. The fic starts well-grounded, giving you a solid backstory and matter-of-fact context, but as it goes on, it slowly unravels into dreamy scenes, lush settings, and repeated motifs. It’s just such a beautiful story.
When Love beckons to you, follow him (PG-13) by megyal
Summary: Draco wakes up, lost, somewhere in a forest. He has no idea where he is or how he got there. As he is blundering around trying to find his way home, he hears Harry's voice in his head, telling him what to do.
Notes: I generally like my fics to be bittersweet or with a bit of heartache — but this fic is just a little cloud of softness. If you need something light and lovely without being syrupy-sweet, this is a good choice!
The World of the Living (M) by fourth_rose
Summary: A traumatised war hero and a convicted criminal under the roof of an eccentric journalist make for a rather odd ensemble, but Luna has never had a problem with oddities as long as they make sense.
Notes: The story is told from Luna’s perspective, which gives everything a lovely dreamy quality. She takes in a couple of strays after the war — first Harry, who is avoiding his other friends and has quit his Auror job — and then she offers a room to Draco right after his trial. Draco is rude, angry, and ungrateful; Harry is churlish, withdrawn, and moody. Luna doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and over the course of the next few months, her house guests slowly warm up to each other.
Voices From the Fog (E) by noeon
Summary: After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.
Notes: Harry drifts across Europe, trying to forget the war. He ends up in a woodworking shop in Amsterdam, alongside a moody Draco. Atmospheric settings and solid characterisation.
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anphoety · 3 months ago
queer book recommendations that you may or may not have heard of
happy pride month! to introduce my new blog (hi), i thought i'd share some of my favourite reads that are fun and very gay. 
(just a note: most of these will be wlw, just because that's all i read oops)
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1. Charon Docks at Daylight by Zoe Reed
bisexual and lesbian mc, childhood friends to school crushes to i literally want to murder you ENEMIES to angry sex outlet enemies to one-sided pining to mutual pining to lovers. need i say more? i had to start the list off with this book because it is truly the best thing i've ever read and you need to read it. like right now. it's long, but so worth it. also it's set in a zombie apocalypse??? and it's free!
(i could go on and on about this book forever, but i'll save you the pain of my rambling)
2. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid
pain pain pain. this book was absolutely amazing and delved into a wlw relationship in a way that isn’t just ‘oh they met. oh they lived happily ever after’. it really made you feel for the characters, support them, love them, hate them, and truly was a rollercoaster of emotions. i won’t even begin to try and explain the plot because i wouldn’t do it justice, but i fully recommend!!
3. One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston
ahhhhh this book!! this is definitely a popular read and rightly so, i mean who doesn't love sapphics and time travel?? it's recently been released and follows the story of august, a modern day crime sleuth, and jane, a not-so modern day punk lesbian from the 1970s, who’s actually been displaced in time. it’s fun, mysterious and filled with a great cast of characters with an even greater representation of queer youth.
4. Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating by Adiba Jaigirdir
out of all of the high school romances i've read, this is by far the best. hani and ishu are both headstrong characters who devise a plan to fake date and struggle to come to terms with themselves and one another. it's really cute and has really really great representation of bengali culture. also written by the same person who did the henna wars - an equally amazing read!!
5. Written in the Stars by Alexandria Bellefleur
if there’s anything to know about me, then it’s definitely how i love a good rom-com. especially one featuring the fake dating trope. and trivia. and astrology. i originally read it on kindle but loved it so much i had to get a hardcopy (and then reread it... twice). the two MCs are such a sweet pairing and really demonstrate how opposites attract. if you need a light and easy read then this is one to add!
6. Who’d Have Thought by G. Benson
i read this book last year and immediately loved it. it takes place within a hospital (doctors are hot ok) and involves a fake marriage involving an icy neurosurgeon and a headstrong ER nurse. it has great non-binary representation and the romance is pretty  🔥 🔥 🔥. definitely lesser known compared to the other recs but still just as great!
7. The Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee
it took me nineteen years to watch atla and i instantly fell in love with the series and the world building so after i realised they had a whole saga involving kyoshi (a badass bisexual avatar) i knew i had to order the books. reading this and its successor (yes, there’s a sequel) made me love the tv show even more and beautifully delved into a captivating backstory. 
8. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller
wait. what’s this? a book that isn’t wlw? calling out to all percy jackson fans, if you’re into greek mythology as much as i am then prepare to get your heart crushed. this retelling of achilles’ story is refreshing and gives perspective to his lesser known lover, patroclus. i adored this book, mainly because i’m such a nerd when it comes to the greeks, but the writing style was so good and i could hardly put it down. the later stages felt a bit dragged on to me, but the rest definitely made up for it. 
well those are my suggestions! if you have any other questions or want to talk to me about books (all discussion is welcome) then message me or add me on goodreads. and if you need any more recs then just let me know (i read way too much) (:
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helliontherapscallion · 3 months ago
Wilbur’s Hair Salon (The Ashes of Yourself Blurb)
The Ashes of Yourself Masterlist
Spotify Playlist (collaborative)
Warnings: getting overwhelmed, swearing
Word count: 2,958
(A/N): this is a lil longer than I expected it to be (longer than the actual chapter I released today oop). Anyways, this could be read without having to read my Ashes of Yourself series, all you have to know is that Philza and Technoblade are absent a lot leaving Wilbur to raise Tommy and the reader and the reader is a blaze hybrid
You frowned at yourself in the mirror, running your hands through your long hair in distaste, the flames tickling your hands. The shears on the bathroom counter sat there taunting you, daring you to take them and cut off all of your hair. The broken water faucet in the sink dripped endlessly, reminding you of what happened when it first started dripping. The small charcoal spot on the back of your hand reminded you of how painful touching water was. 
You hated every aspect of your hair; the way it tickled your neck, the way it kept getting in your face, how people kept mistaking you for a girl, it was just so frustrating. You absolutely hated how fast your hair grew, one day you cut it close to your scalp and a week later it’s already at your shoulders! Your hair was the bane of your existence at the moment. 
You tried countless hairstyles ranging from buns to fancy updos, all of them proved to be useless in the end when you lost control of your emotions and the hair ties and bobby pins burnt to a crisp. You knew from experience that cutting your hair was useless, and so was shoving it all under a beanie you stole from Wilbur, so you gave up and let it grow out. That was a month ago and your hair now reached your lower back. 
Your frustration was growing by the second. The flames on your head flickered wildly and smoke plumed from the strands. You knew that in order to cut your hair you had to relax so that it was tangible, you knew that, but you just couldn’t relax. 
You snatched the shears off from the counter with one hand and gathered all of your hair in your other. The shears were positioned around your hair and without hesitation, you snapped the shears closed. Like you were expecting, the shears only swished through the flames and left them untouched. In a fit of frustration, you repeatedly closed the shears around your hair. The sharp edges did nothing to the length. 
You only paused when you felt something drip onto your forehead. In confusion, you looked at the mirror only to see the previously ivory white iron replaced with glowing oranges and reds. Bits were dripping off from the tool and onto your face. The flames thrashed in your grip, desperate to be unleashed and burn everything in this room to mere ashes. 
Molten tears pricked your eyes as you glared at the hair in your hand, frustrated blaze-like growls rumbling the back of your throat. You knew that if you let this fester any longer, the house would catch on fire (again). You closed your eyes and took deep breaths in an attempt to steady yourself.
It worked slightly for a few moments, the flames now calmly flickering and your hands at their normal temperature, however you could still feel the irritation gnawing on the deepest corners of your mind. 
You put down the cooled down and misshapen shears on the bathroom counter, wiped off the liquid iron from your forehead, and ripped open the door in search for the brother closest to you in age: Tommy.
He wasn’t that hard to find; all you had to do was follow the music to his room. Without knocking, you opened his door and stared at him. He sat up on his bed and looked at you in offence, “oi, what the fuck?! What if I was changing or something? You-” 
“Wanna commit arson?” 
He paused and launched himself off from his bed, “I’m down for some arson, but what’s the occasion?” 
You led him down the stairs and towards the door, “ I’m mad at everything right now and I don’t want to burn down the house.” 
Just as you both were about to leave the house, someone clearing their throat sounded behind you. Your hand froze over the doorknob and you swore to yourself under your breath. Wilbur grabbed both of your shoulders and spun you both around. He was in his pajamas, rage peeking through his sleep clouded eyes. 
“Where do you two think you’re going at this time of night?” Despite only being nineteen years old, he has already perfected the angry dad voice. 
“(Y/n) and I were just going out for a walk, big man. No need to get your panties in a twist.” 
Wilbur’s eyes narrowed, “no you two weren’t. You were gonna go burn some shit again weren’t you?” 
“What does it matter to you where we go? Where we go is none of your business.” You ripped your shoulder out of his grasp and glared at him. You could feel your hair starting to flicker in anger.
He matched your glare with as much, if not more, intensity, “Dad put me in charge, so it’s actually all of my business to know where you’re going at midnight.” 
“Just leave us the fuck alone, Wilbur. You have no idea how much I need this.” 
“Listen Wilbur,” Tommy said warily after feeling the heat radiating off from your body, “(y/n) just needs to get their mind off from things. I wasn’t gonna actually let them commit arson again.”
This made Wilbur pause. Normally Tommy would back you up in arguments but now the oldest could feel the slight urgency in the blond’s voice. He looked back at you and saw that you were quite literally about to combust. He could hear the small blaze noises that you were making as pitch black irises and pale yellow sclera glared at him. Small plumes of smoke were rising from your figure and dissipating into the air the second it met with the ceiling. 
Wilbur then sighed and grabbed his coat, a sword, and, to your surprise, two pairs of flint and steel. “C’mon then,” he gestured to the front door, “let’s go. But only trees this time, got it?” Despite his exasperation and exhaustion with basically raising two preteens that thrived off from arson, he smiled slightly when he saw both of them perk up. They were his youngest siblings and he wanted nothing more than to see them happy.
After finding a lone tree and clearing it of any potential animals and mobs, the siblings lit it on fire. The feeling of finally releasing some pent up anger and frustration was slightly relieving. Though some of your frustration remained, you felt a little more at ease.
Wilbur led both you and Tommy away from the burning tree and sat down on top of a grassy hill, lighting torches to prevent any mobs from sneaking up on you three. The siblings sat in comfortable silence as they watched the flickering flames cut through the darkness of the night. Tommy’s and Wilbur’s faces were lit up in a dull orange hue. 
Eventually, you leaned your head on Wilbur’s shoulder tiredly and yawned loudly. The brunet chuckled to himself and moved to wrap his arms around both of his siblings, pulling them close to his side. You sighed in content and nuzzled your face closer to his side. The blaze of the tree had died down to mere embers and charcoal remains. 
“...Why don’t we go inside before we all fall asleep out here.” Wilbur nudged both of you gently and helped you stand up. 
“I don’t need help, arsehole,” Tommy protested, but did nothing to stop Wilbur from helping him up. “I,” he cut himself off with a large yawn. You, seeing this, yawned yourself. 
“Sure,” Wilbur chuckled and put a steadying hand on yours and Tommy’s shoulders, steering you back towards the house. The siblings walked back into the house where, instead of letting you both go to your separate rooms, Wilbur plopped you both onto the couch and sat between the both of you. He once again wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you both close to his body. 
“The fuck are you doing, Wil?” Tommy protested, weakly trying to push himself away from his older brother. 
Wilbur tightened his grip and slumped down onto the couch, making himself comfortable. “This calls for sibling cuddle time. It’s been a while since we’ve done this anyway.” 
“There’s a reason why we haven’t done this in a while,” Tommy complained, “we’re too old for this shit.” 
“So you want to-” Wilbur’s snarky remark was interrupted by a soft snore coming from his side. He and Tommy stopped arguing and looked over to (y/n). The blaze hybrid’s lips were slightly parted as they snored peacefully, unconsciously nuzzling into Wilbur’s old t-shirt and moving to wrap an arm across Wilbur’s midsection. Their hand landed on Tommy’s long sleeve shirt and gripped it lightly. 
“What the fuck, (y/n).” 
“Tommy I swear to the gods if you wake them up I will make you do all of the chores for a week.” 
Tommy grumbled to himself before he reluctantly leaned his head against Wilbur’s side and putting his hand over (y/n)’s, “fine, but I’m only staying because I don’t want to do your fucking chores again.” 
“Mhm, now go to sleep, Toms, it’s getting late.” 
Tommy fell silent and let himself drift off to sleep. Soon enough, Wilbur himself drifted off to sleep, pulling his siblings closer to him.
When you woke up, you were alone on the couch. Sunlight was streaming through the opened curtains and blinded your sensitive eyes. The scent of eggs and toast wafted throughout the house. 
You stretched and made your way to the kitchen. There, Wilbur was standing at the stove flipping eggs and Tommy was sitting at the table with his head burrowed into the crook of his elbow. 
“It’s about time you woke up, I was starting to get worried that you’d sleep until noon,” Wilbur said before he placed plates at the table. He reached over to lightly smack the back of Tommy’s head, “no sleeping at the table.” 
The blond grumbled to himself before pushing himself up onto an elbow and scooping food into his mouth. Wilbur’s eyes narrowed at his elbow on the table before he sighed to himself and ate his own portion of breakfast. 
“So, what’s going on with you? It’s been a while since you wanted to burn something down like that,” Tommy asked you after waking up a little bit more. Wilbur looked over at you in question. 
You sighed and poked at your food, “it’s really stupid.” 
“If it was enough for you to almost completely melt the shears, it isn’t stupid, (y/n). What’d I say about talking about your emotions?” Wilbur softly chided you. 
“‘Don’t call your emotions stupid’,” you droned out before taking a bite of your breakfast, “but this time it really is stupid, Wilby. You both will laugh at me anyways, so just drop it.” 
“We’d never laugh at you,” Wilbur frowned, “and whatever you’re feeling certainly isn’t stupid. Tell us, we’re all ears.” 
You looked up from your plate and saw that they both were looking at you with judgemental free stares. Though his eyes were previously clouded with sleep, Tommy now looked alert and diverted his full attention to you while Wilbur gave you an encouraging smile. 
“...Fine, it’s just… I couldn’t cut my hair last night and it’s just been so overwhelming to constantly deal with. You both know how fast it grows.” You ran a hand over the top of your hair and huffed in frustration. 
“That’s it?” Tommy asked you before Wilbur kicked his shin from under the table. “What Tommy meant to say,” he shot a pointed look at the twelve year old, “is that feeling overwhelmed, no matter what it’s about, is completely normal. We all get overwhelmed sometimes. I’ll tell you what,” he cleared his throat and stood up from his place at the table, “I’ll be right back.” As he passed Tommy’s place, he leaned down close to his ear, “apologize before I get back.” 
You winced at Wilbur’s scathing tone and watched as he walked out of the room in long strides. 
“Sorry,” you and Tommy told each other at the same time. Both of you looked at each other in slight shock, “what-” you cut yourself off as you realized that you both said the same thing again. 
You both eyed each other warily from across the table, watching the other’s mouths closely. You took a deep breath and looked at him seriously, “sorry Toms. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” 
“Wha- I’m the one that’s supposed to say sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one that’s an arsehole that doesn’t think before he speaks, so I’m sorry.” He narrowed his eyes at you, daring you to say another word. As you opened your mouth to object, he sharply said, “ah! No apologizing when you didn’t do anything wrong.” 
You snapped your mouth closed and sighed, propping yourself up onto your elbow. “...You know that I’ll always forgive you no matter what you do, right Tommy?”
“Of course, and I’ll always defend you as well. Even if you end up murdering someone, I’ll help you hide the body. It’s just what older brothers are supposed to do.” 
“So,” you grinned at him, “you’re down for murder now?” 
“Nobody’s murdering anybody.” Wilbur’s voice made the both of you jump. When you both whipped your heads over to the doorway, you saw Wilbur leaning against the doorframe and watching you two with a fond smile. He pushed himself off from the doorframe and placed a wrapped box in front of you. 
“I was waiting until your birthday,” he sat down next to you, “but now is as good a time as ever to give this to you.” 
After a while of hesitance, you ripped the wrapping paper off from the box and peered inside of it. There, a glimmering pair of shears and leather gloves were laying on the bottom of the box. “Woah, are these enchanted?” You looked up at Wilbur with awe filled eyes. 
He looked at you with a wide smile and nodded eagerly, “yes! Both are enchanted with fire protection so you can cut your hair easier!” 
“That is so poggers! Wanna cut your hair now?!” Tommy was leaning across the table and looking into the box with wide, excited eyes. You snatched the gloves out of the box and handed them to him, “yes! Do you wanna cut my hair?!” 
He grabbed the gloves and put them on hastily, jumping out of his chair and darting towards the door. You grabbed the shears and attempted to follow him before Wilbur stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, looking slightly alarmed, “he is not cutting your hair.”
“Well, why not?”
“He isn’t cutting your hair and that’s final. Give me the shears and we can safely cut it in the bathroom.” He held his hand out and gave you a smile, “I know you’re excited, but I just don’t want anyone losing a finger under my watch. That’d be really hard to explain to Dad.” 
You sighed and put the shears into his hand. He led you towards the bathroom and you followed him closely, “I miss Dad, do you know when he’s coming home?” 
“I don’t know, little inferno. Just- just don’t think about him and he’ll be home before you know it.” His tone had a hidden sharp edge to it as he put a hand on your opposite shoulder and lightly squeezed it. “I know it’s hard without him, but we’ll always have each other. Just you, me, and Tommy. We don’t need them as long as we have each other.” 
“Are you two coming or not?!” Tommy poked his head out from the bathroom, staring at you both with slight annoyance. “We are and you are not cutting their hair.” 
“Well,” Tommy scoffed and wiggled his fingers, the light bouncing off from the oversized gloves perfectly, “who has the gloves?” 
You and Wilbur stepped into the bathroom with him guiding you to sit on the closed toilet seat and leaning your head over the sink. Wilbur raised his eyebrows and wiggled the shears in his hand, “who has the shears and the ability to ground you for a few weeks?” 
Tommy huffed and took off the gloves, giving them to Wilbur who slipped them onto his hands. Wilbur grinned cheekily, “that’s what I thought.” He gathered your hair into one hand and looked at you in question, “ready?” 
You grinned back at him, “as ready as I’ll ever be.” 
The shears sliced through your hair with ease and you watched as the fire dissipated into the air. Tommy watched as it floated up in the air and smiled to himself as it disappeared before hitting the ceiling. 
After your haircut, you sat up and looked at yourself in the mirror. It was like Wilbur had read your mind, your hair was exactly how you wanted it. When you looked back at him, he was looking at you with a tender smile. Just as you were about to thank him, Tommy spoke up in a casual tone.
“So Wilbur,” he asked, “would you help us hide a body if one of us accidentally murdered someone?” 
“...Tommy, (y/n), is there something you’re not telling me?” 
“Is that a yes or a no?” You asked him after giving Tommy a quick mischievous smile.
Wilbur slipped the gloves off and tapped his chin in thought. “...I would, that’s what older brothers are for. Hiding bodies for their younger siblings,” he chuckled to himself before he stopped himself and looked at you both slightly nervously, “seriously though, is there something you both aren’t telling me?”
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writings-of-a-fool · 8 months ago
Medicine: Robby Keene
Part two of Ambulance.
A/N: OH this one is long and it’s gonna hurt, babes. I love Sam but I kinda antagonized her a bit in this. Oops lol. Sorry Sammy. Also Idk how the detention or suspension system works in America. We don't even have detention here sooo uh ignore it if it sounds funky. I hope this hurts so good and you love it.
Soundtrack: Medicine by Daughter
Warnings: Description of injury, so so so much angst, uh brief allusion to grief and depression, overuse of swears (the reader curses up a storm when mad. But what teen doesn’t?)
Series Taglist: @mollssaydi @somewereinthegalaxi @yes-iamobsessed @xxmdsxx
Word Count: 2448 Words
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Johnny wouldn't let Robby leave. An Unofficial house arrest if you will. 
He and Miguel just barely escaped being expelled but had four weeks suspension and detention for the next 2 months. None of that mattered to him. The only thing on his mind was you. He felt he was going insane. He didn't know if you were okay or what was wrong. He felt untethered, floating in a space of panic and self-loathing. There was no anger left in him. If there was he would be screaming his head off. But he was silent.
 Robby spent more time awake than asleep these days. He spent a lot of time on his phone asking for updates from everyone, including Miguel. 
After what happened, what they felt they did to you, Miguel and Robby started talking. Robby still sort of resented him, and Miguel still wasn't too keen (heh) to be talking to the boy but they made it work. It was a truce of sorts.   
Carmen tried to be comforting but Miguel's guilt was crushing him. Johnny was mostly silent and unhelpful. 
 Only they could understand how the other felt. Robby was stuck at Johnny's so sometimes he and Miguel would meet outside the apartments and sit together in silence.
It was…..calming.
Robby bolted up, chest heaving, and sweat dripping down his back. The couch smelt of stale beer, sweat, and he doesn't want to name what else. Johnny’s apartment wasn’t a comfort to wake up to. Staying with his dad didn't change things between them, but Johnny was forced to step up when called to the school and talked to by the police.  
Robby checked his phone. 3:17 am. Sleep didn't come easy nor did it stay very long. He huddled on the couch staring blankly. Thinking of you. 
After some time, he peeled himself up and staggered to the bathroom. The fluorescent lights stung his eyes and the smell of Johnny's aftershave burnt his nose. Nausea. The figure in the mirror was unfamiliar. Greasy matted hair, heavy purple bags under hollow eyes, cracked lips.
 Who was this person? 
The second time he woke up it was already light out. The smell of fried bologna was thick but when Robby sat up there was not a plate waiting for him. Not even Johnny's lined, tired, and disapproving face. Why would he expect any different?
 He was alone.
 In the dingy bathroom in Johnny's apartment, he cut his hair. He didn't know why he did it. He doesn't even remember having a plan. It was a snip here and there. It was choppy and a mess. But he could see his eyes and most of the knots he could see were gone. He felt a little lighter. 
But less like himself. 
The cool edges of the scissors bit into his skin as he clenched his fists. The indent was painful. He barely felt it. Robby stumbled from the apartment, away from the mirrors. He slid down the wall outside the door. Shaking.
 A soft touch to the shoulder jerked Robby from his stupor. 
How long had he been there?
Crouching beside him was the tentative face of Carmen Diaz. Miguel lingered in the background with a face mirroring the pain on Robby's face.  Carmen ushered Robby into the Diaz apartment. 
She was angry with him for hurting her son, but when she saw him on the ground he looked like a child. The same way Miguel looked in the principal's office the day of the fight. He was thinner than the last time Carmen saw him. He even looked sickly to Miguel who saw him a few days ago.
Carmen had fed him. Something much better than the slop at the Lawrence residence. Robby couldn't remember the name, but it was warm and very good. 
She cleaned up his hair, getting rid of the eyesore of his attempted hair cut. When she offered him the mirror to see it he shook his head. Eyes averted, watching the light dusting of cut hair fall from his head. 
The rumble of a motor alerted them all of Johnny's return. Robby and Miguel sat on the couch together as Carmen went to talk to Johnny.
“Have you gone to see Y/N?” Miguel asked in a low voice as if avoiding prying ears. A beat. Robby shook his head.
“My dad won’t let me out of the house.” He said after a while. He had thought about sneaking out. But maybe a part of him didn't want to see you. To make what happened real.
“The doctor said they’re doing better.” Miguel offered.
“So you saw them?” Robby turned.
“Yeah. for a little bit.” A nod, Miguel thought of seeing you in the hospital.
When he came to see you he couldn’t focus on your bandage’s head, or the sling keeping your broken collar bone in place, not the stitches, and especially not the bruises that littered every inch of skin. 
 His eyes stayed glued to your hands. Your knuckles scabbed and swollen, screaming of how furiously you defended yourself. And the scratches. The scratches he gave you while clawing at your hands. He hadn't even realized at the time but they were deep and they would scar.
 Funny. The idea of those lines on your hands was all he could handle to take in. even that made sickness swim in his stomach. He was supposed to call the others to give an update on your condition. It slipped his mind. 
Carmen must have given Johnny a good talking to as they chatted as he lifted the “house arrest” the next day. 
Robby knew exactly where he was heading.
Your parent(s)/guardian(s)  love Robby like their own. They could see how much you loved each other. You were joined at the hip until now. Now they stared at him blank-faced. Unseeing. Robby would have preferred there be hate in their eyes, it would make things easier. But there was only crippling sadness, anger, exhaustion, and forgiveness. After all, they let you join Miyagi Do, they couldn’t blame only him. 
You wouldn’t let them.
Ever so softly, he asks them if he could go in to see you. They agree, just as softly. 
The sick and sterile scent of the hospital makes his palms sweaty. Saliva floods his mouth in a wave of nausea. When he gets to your doorway he stops in the threshold. He swears he can feel the blood coursing through his veins. You look...better. With the blood wiped away and stuff. Your face is turned to face away slightly but he can see your eyes are closed.
He didn't know how long he stood there, probably only a beat or two, before your eyes open and you face him. A smile brightens your face. He must look like a deer in the headlights.
Or a puppy in a kennel.
“Hey.” you say, smiling wider and ushering him in.
“Hey.”  he returns softly. He can't tear his eyes from yours now. God, he loves your eyes. He slips into the room and carefully sits on the chair by your bed.
 “How you doing?”
“Much better now you’re here,” your eyes roam the new hairstyle, when you meet his eyes you give an appreciative smile. “don't you just look handsome.” you breathe and he smiles. For the first time in a while. 
“Very 90s heartthrob.” you hum.
“Yeah. Mrs. Diaz gave me a trim.” he absentmindedly smooths his hair back a bit.
“You buddy buddy with Diaz now? And his mom?” you tease. He shrugs placing his hand on yours. You could tell there was a lot more to it but didn’t pry. His hand is warm and smooth against your battered skin. The tension in the room is palpable.  
You really don’t want to think about the fight. It hurts, physically. And your memory cuts out at parts. The nurses said it’s nothing severe and not to worry too much about, it’s common with concussions. Neither of you truly feels ready to face everything that came with talking about what happened. Robby takes the leap all the same.
“So…do you...wanna talk about..ya know.” His fingers thrumming against your hand.
“Uh I don’t know.” you pull a face, refusing to meet his eyes for a moment.
 “What do you want me to say?” Looking at him finally, your eyebrow cocked at him.
He sighs, bowing his head, then shaking it. He pulls his hands into his lap. it leaves your hand cold, you don’t say anything about it.
“Aren't you going to ask about what happened with Sam?” He looks up again and his face is hard. Hiding hurt.
 You let out a sigh through your nose, letting your head rest against your pillow. Eyes closing for a split second. You give him a shrug with a wince, forgetting your condition for a moment. You really don’t want to ask. You don’t want to know. Not right now.
“What happened with Sam?” you ask anyways, steeling yourself. Sending what could be classified as a glare his way. 
Now you’ve asked Robby realizes that he’s not sure what to say. His tongue flickers over his lips, leg bouncing.
“She kissed me.” He says as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Indifferent almost.
“And?” you bite.
“I didn’t kiss her back.” The corner of his lip twitches inwards after they closed. It was a merciful statement. You didn't think he did, but hearing him say it put your heart at rest. If only slightly.
“I...I should go, sorry.” a voice from the doorway.
“Wait.” You ask, your voice sounded pitiful. She lingers outside the door, foot pointed to leave. “I think we have something to talk about.” Your voice a lot stronger now. 
She nods, ducking into the room. She doesn’t sit or come in very far. She just stands awkwardly twiddling her thumbs, unwilling to meet your eyes.
“Sam.” Her eyes flicker up and she finally looks at you. Really looks at you. Your bandaged head, bruised face, arm in a sling. Battered would be the right word. She felt her heart speed up, her stomach swirling.
“So?” You hiss. Voice painted your betrayal in one word. 
She winces, closing her eyes and tilting her head down as if she had been stuck.
“What the fuck!?” Your voice much louder now.
“I...I…” she stumbles.
“I- I-” you mock, pushing yourself on your good hand to sit up straighter. Robby’s eyes dart to you. He hasn’t seen you this hostile very often if at all.
“You gonna say the same shit you said to Tory the day she called out your bullshit?” she looked ready to cry at that.
“I thought you were my fucking friend!?” you spit. Those words bun her.
“I am! We are!” her brows pinched in pain.
“Then why the fuck did you kiss my boyfriend? And your fucking ex?! Hm? Sam!??!” you were shouting at this point.
“Y/N-” Robby tries to interject.
“No! No Robby!” Sobs bubbles from your mouth. “Did you want to kiss her, Yes or No?” your eyes bore into his. He won’t lie to you.
“No.” he says instantly, sincerely. Sam has the gall to feel hurt at that, but she hides it well.
“Then don’t. Please.” He sees the tears in your eyes, nods, and recedes back into his chair.
“Why did you kiss them?” Eyes piercing her like arrows. She mumbles something you can’t hear.
“What?” you say sharply.
“I don’t know! I don’t know okay???” She barks. Your mouth gapes and you shake your head harshly.
“No! Not O-fucking-K Sam! Your not the one who ended up in the fucking hospital over your decision.” you sob, unable to decide if it’s from anger or hurt.
“It’s just- After I met Robby and we went to that beach party, you know, like Miguel getting jealous, accidentally hitting me and stuff- whatever. I thought ‘hey at least I have Robby. He’s cute’ but then I find out you two have been together for months??? And you didn’t even tell me!?? I was so mad. I was so mad!!!” 
She pauses to catch her breath, red in the face.
“ Then at the party- they- they were right there and I- I don’t know!!!! I wasn’t thinking!” Tears were coming out of her eyes now too. Her shoulders heaved and her eyes pinch closed.
 You stare, agape. Robby looks absolutely floored.
 “You’re mad.” your words hang in the air. You nod with a bitter smile on your face.
“When I’d told you about the great guy I was seeing you’d just end up talking about Miguel again, barely listening to me. But you’re mad.” Now it’s her turn to gape. She tries to speak but you cut her off.
“You took my boyfriend to a party and didn’t even think to ask me to come with. But you’re mad.” 
you and Robby got into a fight over that night. You had felt hurt that you hadn’t been asked to go with them, and he thought you were insinuating he didn’t care, it was pretty messy. But you and him worked it out. You had avoided being in the karate loop at the time so you understood why he didn’t ask. That fight was the first big hurdle of your relationship and you were stronger for it.
“You not thinking messed up a lot of shit.” You frowned hard, eyes biting at her. “Including this friendship.”
“Wait- Y/N, No!” she steps forward. you shake your head looking away. Robby watches the tears fall down your face. He puts a hand on your knee. Sam tries to come to the side of your bed but Robby holds up a hand.
“Robby, please.” Sam begs. He refuses to look at her.
“I think you better go.” He says firmly and finally. You give him a sad and thankful smile.
Sam leaves in a huff. Tears still streaming down her face. 
It feels like you’ve fallen all over again. The air leaves your lungs in heaving sobs. 
This can’t be good for your collar bone. 
Robby runs a comforting hand up and down your leg, murmuring kind words.
“It’s gonna be okay.” He whispers leaning forward. You look up at him, sniveling. Your eyes were puffy silently asking how he could be sure. You were snotty, and a frown clung to your lips. At this very moment, he knows for sure, you’re the one he wants to be with. For as long as you’ll let him. He’s going to be here. Every step of the way.
“We’re gonna be okay.” he presses a kiss to your good hand over the scratches. “We’re gonna be okay.”
Posted: 1/3/2021
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zhuzhubii · 6 months ago
the future
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anon requested -  reader is spencer’s ex from college/grad school. they run into each other years later when reader is being interviewed for a case, and reader is surprised to find out that spencer actually became an fbi agent
(or - you always let spencer dream, even when you didn’t believe his dreams could actually come true. he proves you wrong)
cw: implied/referenced sex, referenced abduction/kidnapping (vague case stuff, nothing graphic), mild/moderate angst
wc: 2.2k
a/n: ive finally started my rewatch of atla as an adult, and i think i let a little bit of zuko slip into my characterization of spencer oops
a/n 2: gn!reader
Six years ago
He has something on his mind, you can tell. You can see the weight of a decision in the crease of his brow, the lip between his teeth. You can see it in the way he rolls his pen back and forth between his fingertips, staring off into the stacks as if the long rows of textbooks have an answer hidden in the pages, hidden between creased paper and scrawled notes. 
Maybe they do, for him. He sees many things, many patterns and logics and connections, that others don’t - he’s twenty-one short years old and half-way through his third PhD, an anomaly in every sense of the word. And yet, he’s only human. He seeks solace in textbooks and amassing knowledge, hiding behind Fourier series and vector fields and beta elimination, but even he doesn’t have all the answers. He doesn’t have the answer he came to Caltech looking for.
(Even after three years and countless all-nighters between the two of you, you’re still not sure what exactly it is that he’s looking for. You suspect it has to do with the psychology papers he reads in his spare time, with the pages of postage stamps and piles of unsent letters addressed to -
You made the mistake once of asking Spencer about his mother. It was in a soft moment together, laying next to him under the covers, squished too close together on the bed in your dorm room. His breath was warm against your cheek, his bare skin hot against yours, his worry about your roommate coming back a fleeting thought easily pushed aside with fingers through his hair and a kiss to his neck.
It was then that you asked him. Or it was then the words slipped out, rather.
“So I’ve been thinking...spring break’s just a few weeks away and I thought it might be nice for us to spend it in Vegas? You know - see the sights, sneak into casinos, cheat at poker?”
He was tense beneath you and you should have taken it as it was - a silent desire to drop this line of conversation. But you were only eighteen then, you’d only been together a few months. You couldn’t read his body as you can now, and you pressed on in your naive desire.
“You could...introduce me to your mom?”
You’ll never forget his sharp inhale at the words, the way he practically pushed you off of him in his haste to get up. He pulled his clothes back on as quickly as he could as you pulled the covers tight around your shoulders, suddenly hyper-aware of your nakedness even in the dark.
“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you remember asking him, “Is something wrong with your mother?”
It was a bad choice of words and you knew it, wincing and sucking in a breath of your own, wishing you could take it back. He froze half-way through buttoning up his shirt, his fingers hovering over the patterned fabric. He was facing away from you, but you could hear the wet shudder in his breath in the pause.
And then he let out an unsteady exhale, his hands quivering as he continued to do up his shirt. “No,” he said, no uncertainty in his voice, “There is nothing wrong with my mother.”
But he turned to face you for just a moment, his eyes ghosting over yours before he turned away once again, stumbling out the door with a quick, “See you in the morning.”
You never brought it up again after that - partially because you knew he didn’t want to talk about it, and partially because you didn’t know how. You try not to pry because even after being together for nearly three years, Spencer’s still an incredibly private person. So you let yourself forget about it, as best you can at least. You skirt around the topic of his mother, you tell yourself that she’s probably fine, that some people just aren’t very close to their parents.
You know it’s not true, because of the stacks of handwritten letters. You know it’s not true because you remember the tears in his eyes as he turned for the door)
You wonder sometimes if he’s trying to fix his mother. You don’t think it’s possible, at least not within her lifetime, but you vow to never shoot down his hopes. If he needs a fantasy to cling to, then so be it - who are you to take that away from him?
You wonder if that’s what he’s thinking about now. You wonder as his eyes drift over to the psychology section once again, as he worries at his lip and taps his pen.
“Ethan…,” he starts, “Ethan dragged me to this seminar yesterday. It was…it was by this man named Jason Gideon, he’s a recruiter for the FBI.”
It’s not what you were expecting to hear at all, and you just barely manage to contain your surprise. “Oh?” you manage, praying that the squeak in your voice isn’t too obvious.
He’s too caught up in his head to notice at all. “I went up to talk to him after the seminar and he…,” Spencer coughs, “he invited me to eat lunch with him. So...I went. And we talked for a bit about those new psychology studies I’ve been reading up on lately - you know, the ones I showed you last week?”
He glances towards you for a moment and you nod, masking your hesitation as you lean towards him and place a comforting hand on his thigh. Spencer’s lips twitch upwards into a smile and he places his own hand over yours, staring down at it as he traces patterns with his fingertips.
“After a while,” he continues, “he asked me if I’d ever thought about working for the FBI. And of course I said no because...well because I hadn’t. And because...well, look at me! I’m not exactly the ideal candidate for an agent - I mean, can you even imagine me with a gun?”
“No,” you chuckle and Spencer smiles, shaking his head in disbelief at the mere thought of himself shooting a gun.
“But then he...he said that he’d heard about me from one of my professors, that the Bureau could really use a mind like mine. That I could...that I could help a lot of people if I joined his team. He said that there’s a place for me at the Bureau once I finish this degree.”
And there’s something like desire in his voice, something like longing. Something...something driven like you’ve never heard in his voice before. But you push it to the back of your mind because there’s no way, right? Spencer an agent? It would never work, you’re sure of it.
But you promised a long time ago that you’d let him dream. So even though you don’t really believe that it’ll work out, you squeeze his hand and say, “That sounds like an amazing opportunity. I think you should go for it.”
“Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?” the dark-haired woman across from you asks, her voice infuriatingly soft and gentle. 
“No, I’m fine,” you reply, staring down at your hands as they tangle together in your lap, “I just want to get this over with.”
“Alright,” she says in that voice. She pauses for a moment before continuing, presumably to give you some time to breathe. It helps. It helps, and you hate that it helps. You hate that you need something that helps because needing something implies that -
“We’re going to need to know everything that you can tell us about Katherine - anything you can think of, no matter how small, could help us find her. Do you understand?”
You close your eyes for a moment to steel yourself, wishing this wasn’t happening but knowing that wishing achieves nothing at all. You take a deep breath, hold in one two three four and then exhale -
“I understand. Now ask your questions so you can catch this sonofabitch. Find my best friend. Find Katherine.”
The woman lets you have a moment alone in the room after the interview is over. She leaves you with stale coffee you didn’t ask for and racing thoughts about your friend. You won’t drink it, but it feels nice to have something warm under your palms. Something to help ground you against the knowledge of what they aren’t telling you - the conspicuous way the woman avoided the hard questions.
What did he do to the other girls? Is he going to do the same to her?
How long do we have before he kills her?
You’re not sure if knowing would be worse than the uncertainty, but you’re grateful that she didn’t answer. Not knowing allows you to live in limbo, to pretend for just a little longer that everything is fine, that the bad things will go away if you just try your best to forget about them.
You’re not supposed to be doing that anymore. It’s one of your faults - you’re painfully bad at facing things head on, at saying the things that need to be said even when it’s hard. 
Six years ago, your maladaptive need to keep everyone comfortable blew up in your face. You could never address anything deeper than the comfortable, the superficial, and it cost you your relationship - it drove a rift between the two of you. You resented him for being too closed off and never really wanting to talk, and he resented you for not caring enough to ask him about his problems. Of course neither of you was right, you know that now. You both just got too wrapped up in your own heads, in your own false assumptions about one another -
You push yourself to your feet and throw out the coffee, chasing away thoughts of the past because you don’t want to think about them anymore, pointedly ignoring the irony in the sentiment. Your best friend has been kidnapped, you’re allowed a little bitterness.
You stew in bitterness because it’s better than tears. Or maybe not better, but at least bitterness is easier to swallow. 
It's bitterness you’re thinking about as you push your way out of the room and start walking down the hall, trying to remember what twists and turns the woman took as she led you here. And then you hear it - hear a voice so familiar and so unexpected that you’re half-convinced it’s a hallucination.
“JJ and I found something interesting at the crime scene. Here, take a look at this -”
“Spencer?” the name slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the taste like foreign candy on your tongue - strange in many ways, and yet still achingly sweet and familiar.
A man looks up, and there he is - his hair is different than you remember, but that’s Spencer Reid in all his glory. He blinks at you for a second, brings a hand up to clear his eyes as if he can’t quite believe what they’re telling him. And then, after a pause just long enough to be awkward, he whispers, “(y/n)?”
You don’t know what comes over you, if it’s the stress or the surprise, but you find yourself hugging him all of the sudden. He’s gained weight since you last saw him - still thin, but not painfully so like he was at twenty-one. His arms are warm when he tentatively brings them up to comfort you, tracing patterns over your back just like he always did does.
“What are you doing here?” you mumble into his chest, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes.
He blinks at you, letting out an awkward cough and looking everywhere but your eyes, “I, um, I work here. Well, not here here, exactly. I mean I - um, I work...I work for the Bureau. I’m in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, the position Jason Gideon wanted me for.”
And now it’s your turn to blink in shock. “You…you actually did it,” you whisper in wonder.
“Yeah, I…,” he swallows, “I went for it. Just like you said I should.”
You’re just trying to come up with a response to that when a stern-looking man comes rushing around the corner with a hurried, “Conference room, now,” before disappearing behind a closed door.
The dark-haired agent follows immediately, but Spencer pauses - he tightens his grasp around you and tilts his head to the side in a silent question.
“Go,” you tell him, “We can talk later. Your team needs you - find Katherine.”
He hesitates for a moment more, then gives you one last squeeze before dropping his arms and stumbling through the door. You’re reminded of another time he hurried away from you, of another time he left in a cacophony of clumsy limbs. But this time there are no tears in his eyes as he disappears through the door, just the soft grace of a smile pulling at his lips.
And you’re still worried about Katherine, you’re still afraid about how all of this will turn out. But a long time ago you told yourself that you’d let Spencer hope, that you’d let him believe in a better future in order to make it through the reality of now. Maybe it’s time you did the same for yourself.
taglist: @doctor-reid @gublertoon @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @rexorangecouny @rainsong01 @themanwiththreephds @zhangyixingxing1 @aquariuslavenderhoney @urie-bowie-mercury @shadyladyperfection @mggsprettygirl @no-honey-no @andreasworlsboring101 @whxt-to-write @writernerd23 @calm-and-doctor @90spumkin @s1utformgg @sonnydoesrandomshit @spencersmagic​
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flypaw · 4 months ago
c!Dream and his Pursuit of "Peace" and a "Big Happy Family"
(Gonna be honest this one later just turns into random rambling about his character)
Everyone always talks about c!Dream just wanting peace, wanting to stop conflict or wanting the server to "go back to how it was". The server, however, was... never peaceful. There were just Less People at one point.
People always refer to the old DSMP days as "peaceful" before c!Tommy joined but.. I think they're just confusing "chill streams" with "peaceful streams" bc while Dream, George and Sapnap did do quite chill streams back then (compared to Tommy's loud energetic streams) a lot of what happened in the streams were still chaotic. (Sapnap killing BBH's fish making BBH upset and say he doesnt want to play on the server anymore, Sapnap n George fighting and Sapnap accidentally killing his own horse that George stole leading to a court case, Ponk pranking ppl, Dream and Sapnap determining George as "too powerful" then hunting him down to kill and burn all his items which were enchanted diamond tools and armor (prot 4))
c!Dream has always had this idea of peace and using brute force to enforce his rules. He's mad that George got OP stuff too fast and was focused on enchanting powerful armor, feels he's advancing too fast and hunts him down, kills him, burns all his items, repeatedly calls him a tyrant for having said OP items and says, and I quote:
George: why did you burn my items
Dream: because it is too powerful - we just started this survival series, we- you have had too much stuff, everyone else has iron, you have OP stuff, we would need to build our house, make it better, but you're too focused on Protection IV, Looting 5, everything. This is a coup - everyone got together in a meeting, everybody, and decided it was time.
Another quote I found interesting is "we're working towards a Utopia, we cant do that if we're killing"
This stream he repeatedly goes on about wanting to have a "peaceful nation" and "no killing". I think it's worth it to note that George didnt start the above fight, Dream and Sapnap did. Regardless of why it happened and the reasoning this is proof alone that the "peaceful" server never existed and Dream has never been able to uphold peace on the server, this was Not a new thing from when Tommy joined. The only thing that happened when Tommy joined was they found a scapegoat for all the issues.
This has repeatedly been an issue - Minor issue starts, nothing too harmful, Dream decides to "stop the conflict" by escalating it, burning stuff and killing people, then goes on about how he just wants to stop the fighting despite him now being the one to have caused the most damage in the situation. It happened with George, it happened multiple times with Tommy, it happened with L'Manberg. Dream's idea of achieving peace has Always been by forcing it.
People somehow believe a server that had Sapnap, Dream, George, BBH and Ponk in one space was peaceful and that's funny. They literally cannot go 3 minutes without randomly punching eachother for no reason or arguing
Tommy joins the server and honestly.. doesnt do much? He kills George for making a crafting table joke which starts a conflict in which he's repeatedly killed by Dream. He blows up a creeper hole in a path one time and steals like 2 items. The truth is Tommy has literally never been more chaotic than say someone like Sapnap. Sapnap got away with a lot of shit - helping start the disc war, constantly fighting during early days, killing pets - but Dream was biased. That's why he was never punished for the disc war and his focus was on Tommy. That's why he has never been punished for any of.. This. Sapnap has done way more things to a more extreme extent that actually lead into much bigger wars with lots of damage. Sapnap alone is proof that the "no stealing, no griefing" rules were held at a MAJOR double standard, when he was literally the most chaotic force at the time and punished for... Nothing as Dream and others focus on Tommy for doing something much less severe.
Dream had rules that he allowed pretty much everyone... except Tommy to break without consequences, and so eventually everyone stopped giving a Fuck about said rules.
Tommy wasnt the only one to even join. We had Tubbo, Fundy, Purpled, and Punz join too. Fundy joined with the full intent of causing issues bc he's Fundy, his first fight was a hit n run on Tubbo, Purpled and Fundy were constantly at eachothers throats, etc etc.
It never went "Peaceful server > Tommy joined > Oops chaos now" it went "A bad attempt at a peaceful server > lots of chaos > 5 new people joined > shit none of these people are peaceful > more chaos"
Tommy wasnt the "start of all chaos", all the members had been chaotic, Tommy was just another member that added to the already existing chaos, and most of what he did was... literally harmless - other than Tubbo's house which was rebuilt and he apologised and gave him half his diamonds. The ONLY way Tommy stood out from the rest of the chaos was he was loud and unashamed, therefore easy to blame. Truth is he was literally No Different from everyone else.
It's around this time that Dream started stepping out of his "uwu I just want peace" thing and actually started causing chaos. He enjoyed picking fights with Tommy, he enjoyed the wars they had. He would log in just to mess with him even if he was doing chill streams. The Tommy/Dream wars were far from one sided "Tommy annoys Dream, Dream retaliates".
The server was so chaotic that the "no stealing, no griefing!" rules straight up ended up being trashed sometime after the L'Manberg era and replaced with "just dont do anything that would make anyone genuinely upset" as people realized there was exactly 0 chance of these rules being upheld, ever. For things like George's house, people will repeatedly say "well he broke the rules-" when it had been literal months since the last attempt to enforce said rules at that time, and there was no rule against messing with the DSMP king.
In canon, AND out of canon, Dream has never once treated Tommy like a stranger. They knew eachother, c!Dream knew what c!Tommy was like, and yet he still invited him, knowing damn well what to expect (...bc he'd rejected adding him before hfjdkd)
Failure to uphold peace didnt just "suddenly happen" after Tommy joined. Dream has ALWAYS failed to keep peace in his server, and I do think he genuinely tried at one point, before he spiralled into what he is today.
c!Dream let c!Tommy join because, simply put, they were FRIENDS. It was a world in which Dream's friends could join and live in, and Tommy was no exception. Their rivalry was lighthearted and theyd hang out all the time. The Disc War and the shift to the Darker Tone started around season 2 as Dream was deep into his villain arc.
Early season 1 Dream was not evil, in my eyes. He was chaotic, but so was everyone else. He became more morally gray during the L'Manberg war, but I never really thought Back Then, he could be classed as Pure Evil. After he joined Manberg's side is when he started stepping into the Actual Villanous role, cheering for L'Manberg's destruction, later griefing bases and blaming c!Tommy, and orchestrating Exile.
c!Dream talked in his Tyrant book about how he felt L'Manberg called him a Tyrant for simply defending his land, how he thinks Schlatt is too ambitious, how "Schlatt is not Wilbur" and later says he left L'Manberg alone bc they were harmless and just frolicking in the flowers until Schlatt joined and was ambitious. A lot of people say this is manipulation or lies but I... Genuinely believe it. He gave Wilbur the TNT after Wilbur said he'd Also be ambitious and the best way to go about things is destroying L'Manberg. A lot of people quote his line about liking chaos and I agree with that also! The two can go hand in hand. He did enjoy chaos but he... did also leave L'Manberg alone pretty much (he messed with Tommy/Tubbo but he left the nation itself alone) until Schlatt joined. So what he said seemed,,,, true.
The way he gave Tommy all those items including one of his special attachments - his Crossbow - which he has had since very early on, and signed off as "Big D" (the nickname Tommy had repeatedly called him) it seemed genuine to me. I dont think This era c!Dream was a good person at all, but he wasnt what he became in season 2, after Schlatt gave him the revive book. I do think he did want peace at one point, he Genuinely believed he wanted peace, but became conflicted as he realized he enjoyed chaos and power.
His character has always been consistent with saying "I just want no conflict / a peaceful server" for it to have always been an excuse. He said it at the beginning of the server and continued to repeatedly say it.
I do believe he felt offended and villainised by L'Manberg, but it wasnt ever Wilbur or Tommy's fault what he chose to become. He was chaotic back then, Pre-L'Manberg, but "tyrant" isnt the word I would've used to describe early c!Dream. Just chaotic. He wasnt there for the drug van incident, but came back to be told "we're seceding from your tyrannical rule". He hated being called a tyrant, that clearly stuck with him, and he once again went to Extremes to fuck up L'Manberg. Taking 4 canon lives (we dont know if he even knew what a canon life was back then), hiring a Spy, blowing the place up, burning down Tubbo's house.
I'm not blaming c!Wilbur or the rest of L'Manberg. Wilbur had his reasons for feeling he needed to create an independent and safe nation, Tommy/Tubbo already had bad experiences with Dream, etc. L'Manberg didnt MAKE c!Dream a villain. He personally felt villainised, but that doesnt mean L'Manberg made the rest of the server think he's a villain. L'Manberg's "propaganda" didnt really do much. Everyone except Wilbur, Tommy n Tubbo were fine with him, actually even Tommy still enjoyed hanging out with him. Niki n Fundy joined for non-Dream related reasons. Jack joined and was immediately given a horrible first impression of Dream as he repeatedly attempted to bribe him into burning Tommy's items and killing Tubbo's villagers. Tommy n Dream were in their "we are rivals but we're also friends and vibe sometimes" era.
It was Dream's own actions that ended up turning the server against him. Nobody forced his hand, nobody made him into what he is. He has autonomy, he made his own choices. He even if he felt villainised, he willingly became what he is.
L'Manberg turned pretty much.. nobody that didnt already have a bad experience with him against him. Dream's friends still liked him, people still hung out with him, they were fine with him - until he did something to hurt them personally. Like helping Fundy kill Sapnap's pet, helping Tommy destroy Sapnap's Eiffel Tower, giving Mars to Tommy, leading Tommy to Sapnap's pets, later screaming about how he didnt care for anything. That's why c!Sapnap turned away from him, it had been a long time coming and it was never due to L'Manberg's "propaganda". People started being wary of him due to his own actions.
On the topic of Tommy - people like to always say "well Dream's like that because Tommy villanised him-" Tommy LIKED Dream! They were friends at one point! They would bump their heads a lot but a lot of it was lighthearted and Tommy Genuinely liked hanging out with him. They made Church Prime together, when they werent in a war Dream would follow him around and hang with him. Once they were hanging out, Tommy shifted at Jack to say hello and Jack never shifted back to which Dream went straight to threatening to shoot Jack to which Tommy was like "WTF DREAM NO"
And the Pogtopia era? Tommy was HAPPY to have Dream on his side. He was so excited to have Dream hand him all these important items and tell him he's going to be on his side as he takes down Schlatt. Dream even helps Tommy in the Pet War. Why did this end? Because Dream betrayed him. Because Dream took the book from Schlatt. Because Dream told him "I was never on your side, Tommy!" to which Tommy was devastated. It was never "Tommy constantly villainised Dream and Dream became a villain"
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buckysho · 5 months ago
Let Me Come Home - Part 8
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N
Word length: 6.9k (oops)
Warnings: language, heartbreak, ANGST, Bucky being an idiot, mentions of mental illness and therapy, ANGST AGAIN
Summary: Finally telling Bucky that you needed to move on hadn’t been an easy decision. And as you try to navigate your life without him, he also sees the need for a good look inward. Is this the end for you two? Have both of you come to terms with the idea you might be better off without each other?
A/N: YOU GUYS THIS IS IT! THE LAST PART OF THE LMCH SERIES!!!! I just want to thank everyone again for the nice comments and support for this story. I think I really hurt my own feelings with this one. I’m sorry for the late upload but I wanted to get this out today!! I know so many of you have been waiting! I just have to say that therapy and long haired Bucky make me painfully soft. Enjoy! (not my gif below)
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Bucky woke up the next morning in his bed. He felt sick and groggy. The liquor mixed with his nonsensical actions making him nauseous. With a pounding in his head and heavy regret in his heart he sat up and placed his feet on the floor. He looked over to his phone as a notification came in. 3 missed calls and 7 messages, 2 of those calls and 5 of the messages being from Holly. The others from Sam.
Ignoring Holly’s attempts at communication he opened Sam’s messages.
We need to talk.
Bucky rolled his eyes. He then went to open the messages from Holly, but before doing so turned his read recipients off.
Each message made Bucky feel worse than before. Upon reading one dramatically more explicit than all the rest, he felt his gut turn over in response. He darted for the bathroom getting there just before emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. He shouldn’t have drank so much last night, but perhaps he knew he needed some clouded judgement. He knew he could never sleep with Holly sober.
After flushing the toilet he stood up then proceeded to brush his teeth. After gargling he spit out the water into the sink. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror as he swiped a towel across his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles apparent under them. He looked pale and tired, he felt weak. Maybe this was who he actually was, he thought. Who he had been all along. Disgusted by what he saw, he turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom.
Bucky knocked on Sam’s front door. He knew what this was about and he didn’t want to be here, but he had been avoiding Sam for days. And he couldn’t afford to lose another person who cared about him. Bucky’s back was to the door when he heard it open. He quickly turned around to see Sam leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.
“Well, it’s about time. It’s been what,” he pretended to check his watch. “Five days?”
“Save me the sarcasm, okay?” Bucky replied. He stepped past his friend and into the apartment.
“Come in,” Sam said, disobeying Bucky’s last remark. He shut the front door and turned his attention to his guest, who had no problem making himself at home. “What’s going on Bucky?”
“Did you redecorate?” Bucky asked suddenly. “It’s slightly more… stylish.”
“Stop trying to change to subject,” Sam replied. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” Bucky leaned back on the plush sofa, resting an arm upon the large cushions at an attempt to look nonchalant.
“Knock it off, Buck,” Sam reprimanded. “You slept with Holly. Why?”
Bucky’s face fell. The smugness along with it, which was Sam’s intention. He was concerned for his friend.
“How do you know that?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed.
“Doesn’t matter,” Sam deflected Bucky’s question. “Holly? Seriously?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but last time I checked I was a single man free to make his own decisions,” Bucky argued.
“Lately those decisions haven’t been the best,” Sam said. “What about Y/N?”
“What about her?” Bucky asked. He was starting to get irritated. He was tired of having the same conversation. It seemed Sam was running out of talking points.
“You’re all of a sudden over her? Don’t play stupid, Bucky. You love her. And the more you’re honest with yourself the quicker you can work all of this out.” Sam sat on the arm of the sofa opposite Bucky.
“There’s nothing left to work out,” Bucky answered.
“Why are you doing this? You know Holly is just a distraction. You’re doing the exact thing that you did with—“
“Don’t!” Bucky shouted. He drew in a deep breath before seeming to collect himself. “This is nothing like that. Like I’ve said many times before I’m over it.”
“No one believes that.” Sam chose his next words carefully. “Buck, Y/N isn’t Dot. I think she has proved that to you already. But, clearly something is keeping you from living your life. Your methods of coping are to self sabotage any relationship that might require you to commit emotionally.”
“Sam, if I wanted a therapy session I’d ask for one,” Bucky said.
“Maybe that’s not a bad idea,” Sam replied.
“What?” Bucky almost spat out.
“I mean it couldn’t hurt,” Sam explained. “You obviously have some things to work out.”
Bucky let out a frustrating groan as he went to stand up. “That’s ridiculous.”
Sam felt for Bucky, but he also felt for you. Over the last couple months he had grown closer to you, and he couldn’t stand to see you get hurt.
“What’s ridiculous is the way you’re leading Y/N on,” Sam spoke. You weren’t here to stand up for yourself and the way Bucky was acting, you deserved to have some sort of representation. “I think that Y/N brings out the best in you and I have been all for this relationship. But maybe that’s changed.”
Bucky stayed silent, just watched as Sam tried to find the right words to say.
“Y/N deserves the world. You know that better than anyone else. But what she doesn’t deserve is to be treated like this. I believe that deep down you know you’re the best person for her. But, this version of you isn’t it.”
Bucky blinked a few times, his jaw flexing as he held back tears. He swallowed hard. “I know that Y/N isn’t Dot. Dot could never hold a fucking candle to Y/N. No one can. I’ve never felt feelings that were so deep, so pure, for anybody.” His eyes trailed down to the floor, focusing on nothing in particular. “I’ve never felt as loved as I did when I was with her. And that terrified me.”
“Why?” Sam urged. Bucky was finally talking, working out his true feelings and he wanted to see how far he could take this.
“I don’t know,” Bucky breathed shaking his head slightly. He finally looked at Sam. His eyes were red as they shined with tears. His lip trembled and it felt like he got hit by a truck with the sudden realization. “What’s wrong with me Sam? What did I do?”
You sat in a small corner cafe downtown, no more than a few blocks from your apartment. You were sipping on a latte, preoccupied with making some final touches on a presentation you needed for Monday morning. You hadn’t noticed someone sit in front of you until you heard them speak.
“Do you ever stop working?”
You shifted your attention towards the manly voice then smiled.
“Are you complaining?” you questioned, smile still on your face.
“Absolutely not,” the man in front of you replied.
“What are you doing here, Andrew?” you asked, saving the changes to your presentation and putting the tablet back into your bag.
“We had a breakfast date,” Andrew said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Yeah, we decided to meet an hour ago,” you laughed. “I’m already finished eating and already late for work.”
“It’s Saturday,” Andrew laughed. He stopped a passing waiter and asked for a coffee. “Play hooky.”
“Andrew,” you said, tone serious. “I’m partner at one of the biggest sports agencies in the world I can’t just ‘play hooky’.”
He made a face. “Come on, you haven’t taken a day off in years. It’s about time you take a break.”
“I’ll plan a vacation,” you replied. “Eventually.”
The waiter came by with the coffee Andrew ordered, setting it on the table. Andrew took a quick sip before speaking. “There’s something going on down the block, probably a farmers market or something. I know how much you love those. Let’s just go walk around. You can buy some soap or handmade earrings. You already said you were late.”
You let out a chuckle, but remained silent. It was true that you hadn’t taken a day off in years. After that last phone call with Bucky you threw yourself into your work. You had a few dates here and there, you even had gotten into a relationship that lasted for almost a year. But nothing ever stuck. For the most part you were consumed with clients, contracts, and sporting events. You desperately tried to cope with the heartbreak and devastation you felt by doing the only thing you knew you could do well. That last phone call left you feeling broken beyond repair, and you haven’t spoken to Bucky since.
You had met Andrew about three years ago when he had come to work at your agency as a temp. Both of you had instantly hit it off and began hanging out outside of work. Of course you had still kept in touch with Sam; you had been talking to him regularly over the years. And although things between you and Bucky didn’t work out you still cared for him, and you wanted to know how he was doing. Sam had told you that he had been working out his issues, and that he wanted to take accountability for his actions.
Sam even told you that he had been going to therapy regularly, saying at first he was reluctant but eventually he started to take it seriously. Sam introduced the idea of giving Bucky a second chance.
“I haven’t said anything to Bucky about you other than the very basics. But he’s doing really well, Y/N. He’s not denying what happened with Dot. He even admitted that he wasn’t completely over it. And that it wasn’t fair to you.”
Sam’s voice was tender coming through the receiver. It had been about a year and a half since your sister’s wedding. Since you had last seen Bucky. Hearing Sam’s words initiated a sense of confusion in you. You were relieved that Bucky was talking to someone, happy even that he was getting the help he needed. Perhaps you were being a bit selfish, but you couldn’t help but also feel a bit angry. Not because of the timing, you knew everyone had to deal with what was debilitating them on their own terms, but you wanted to hear this from Bucky.
“Sam, I’m glad that Bucky is finally working through his issues, but I told him I was done.”
You had already told him about yours and Bucky’s last phone call, you just felt the need to remind him.
“Look, I’m not trying to push you into anything,” Sam started. “Just know that he’s doing better. My two cents? You both belong together. You bring out the best in each other.”
“I appreciate your call, Sam,” you said. “But this all started because Bucky couldn’t be honest with me. I know you’re his best friend and that you’re looking out for him, but if he has something he wants to tell me he can do it himself.”
“I don’t disagree,” Sam replied. “And for the record you’re also my best friend. Everyone misses you back home.”
“I miss you guys too,” you said. “Bye Sam.”
“So?” Andrew said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “What do you say? And you can’t say no.”
“Well, then I guess you leave me no choice,” you relented.
“That’s my girl,” Andrew said. “I’m going to order you another coffee because I am actually very hungry.”
You rolled your eyes as Andrew flagged down the waiter once again.
You cherished your time with Andrew. One night over drinks at your apartment you had felt comfortable enough to tell him what had happened. And although he knew about it, it was refreshing to have someone that wasn’t there when it happened. A part of you blamed yourself for the whole thing. Believing that if you could go back you would do things differently.
Your mind constantly goes back to that night outside the bar. You should have pushed Bucky away, told him to stop. Gone back inside and left him alone to cool off. But, you knew that no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself that you would do things differently, you wouldn’t have refused Bucky. You loved him, and perhaps you always would.
After Andrew and you were finished at the cafe, you headed in the direction of the local famers market. Arm in arm both of you walked among the scattered group of people, joking and laughing as you stopped to explore the different stands.
“So, tonight I thought you’d come to my place,” Andrew said, as he took a hat that was on display and set it on your head. “Maybe we could have a little movie night.”
You laughed, taking the hat off and placing it back on the stand beside you. “Yeah, that sounds…”
What you saw next rendered you speechless. You suddenly felt unable to breathe, like someone had just dropped a heavy weight right on your chest. It was a picture. A drawing more specifically. It was displayed in a gold frame, held up by an easel. It was like you were instantly taken back to where you had first laid your eyes on it. Only this time there were no missing lines, the angles of the woman’s face complete and defined.
Andrew noticed your sudden pause and turned to you, his eye line following yours as he said, “What are you… whoa.”
Without giving it a second thought you began to walk in the drawing’s direction. Andrew followed, not that you had noticed.
“James Barnes,” Andrew said aloud, reading the name at the bottom of the painting. “Oh, hey I’ve heard about this dude. The New Yorker did a piece on him a few months ago. They rarely ever publish up and coming artists but I guess he was just that talented.”
Although you heard Andrew’s words, none of them really registered. You stared intently at the memory in front of you. Thoughts of you and Bucky came flooding back, breaking down the barrier you had tried to build all these years to keep them out. It was like you were reliving those memories all over again.
“It kind of looks like you,” Andrew commented.
“There’s a reason for that.”
You froze. It can’t be. But then again you’d know that voice anywhere. You turned around slowly to meet the voice that came from beside you.
Your lips parted slightly as you let out a small gasp. He looked the same, even if some aspects of him were different. His hair was longer, long enough to move in the steady yet slow breeze blowing through the air. He was wearing a cream colored long sleeve henley with the sleeves pushed up just enough to expose his forearms, and pair of simple blue jeans. There was something else that was different about him though, and you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Your brain couldn’t process the image before you quickly enough for you to say something. Noticing your stunned reaction, Andrew chimed in.
“This is Y/N?” he asked, gesturing to the framed piece of artwork beside him.
Bucky simply nodded, a soft smile on his face.
Andrew turned to you. “You never told me you knew James Barnes.” He extended out his arm to Bucky, introducing himself. “I’m a big fan.”
Bucky’s eyes settled on Andrew. You almost expected him to give him a once over, as if sizing up some potential competition. But he didn’t. He just gave a nod and took Andrew’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Andrew. And as far as why Y/N has never mentioned me…”
“Andrew, this is James Barnes,” you said, finally gaining control of the situation. “But he also goes by Bucky.”
Andrew’s eyes grew wide as he realized who the man before you was. Bucky took in his reaction, blinking a few times before gesturing to the drawing.
“This was before… well, I’m sure she’s told you,” Bucky said.
There was no trace of hatred in his voice whatsoever. It was like he could finally acknowledge what he did without feeling like the bad guy. And even though what he did wasn’t the best, he was taking accountability. It was like you had stepped into an alternate universe.
Bucky’s eyes met yours and even though you detested it, you couldn’t help the effect he had on you. Andrew remained quiet as he witnessed yours and Bucky’s exchange.
“It’s really nice to see you, Y/N.” He said. His hands were in his pockets as his arms rested beside his torso. “You look good.”
“Thank you,” you replied, accepting his compliment. “So do you.”
You both stood there staring at each other for a few moments. If he was nervous you’d never know it. Which was something that had always been true. Bucky was completely cool and alluring when he wanted to be. He had the ability to charm anyone. You on the other hand were a bit easier to read. Eventually, Bucky put an end to the silence before it could become awkward.
“I don’t want to keep you two from your day out, but I would like to catch up if that’s okay with you, Y/N.” He took a hand out of his pocket and gestured to you before rubbing the back of his neck. You felt a flutter in your stomach and you silently cursed at how your body was completely betraying you.
He sensed your hesitance and quickly added. “You don’t have to answer right now.” He picked up a small pamphlet by the table next to his drawing and handed it to you. “I’m having a small art show in a gallery downtown. I would love it if you could stop by. Both of you.”
It was like every sentence out of Bucky’s mouth was more surprising than the next.
“An art show?” you almost gasped. “Bucky that’s amazing.”
Bucky smiled, his cheeks turning a deep pink as he looked down at his feet for a moment. “Thank you. I’ve been working on these pieces for the last five years. I’ve been looking for months for a gallery that would let me display my work.”
“Months? How long have you been in the city?” you questioned.
“Almost a year,” he answered honestly. He waited for your reaction.
“A year?” Bucky had been here, in your city, for a year?
“Y/N, I uh… I owe you an apology. And an explanation,” he started. “And if you come to the show tonight I promise to do just that.”
You furrowed your eyebrows a bit and looked down at the pamphlet in your hands. Bucky continued.
“I’m not asking for a second chance. You’ve clearly found somebody else and I respect that. I’m just asking you to hear me out.”
“Oh, ew” Andrew blurted out. He chuckled a little before adding. “No, she’s not… like we’re just…”
“We’re not together,” You finished.
“I’m gay,” Andrew said, finally clarifying the obvious.
Bucky chuckled, blushing a little at his mistake. “Oh.”
“It sounds really nice Bucky, but”
“We would love to go,” Andrew interrupted. “What’s the attire?”
Bucky stammered a little before smiling and saying, “Semi-formal.”
“Great we’ll be there,” Andrew confirmed.
“But I thought we had plans?” you reminded Andrew. You knew what he was doing, but you hadn’t made up your mind about going to Bucky’s show.
“They just got cancelled I forgot to tell you,” He lied. “So this little reunion actually worked out great." He gestured between you and Bucky.
“Well, that’s great timing,” Bucky replied, looking at you. You swallowed hard. “I’ll see you both tonight.”
Before you could say another word, Andrew grabbed you by the arm and pulled you in the opposite direction. “It was so nice to meet you, James.”
“Please, call me Bucky. Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.”
Who was he?
“That’s sweet. See you soon, Bucky!” Andrew called as you turned to walk away.
“What are you doing?” You asked once you were finally out of ear shot.
“You were going to say no,” Andrew said. “And I was saving you from making a huge mistake.”
“What are you talking about?”
Andrew stopped and rested his hands on your shoulders. “I don’t know who that man we just met was, but it was not the one you told me about while we were drunk off our asses in your apartment. It’s been five years since you’ve last seen him. Don’t you want to see what he has to say?”
“Yes,” you admitted. “But-”
“No,” he held up one finger, silencing you before you could finish. “None of that. No excuses. I was right there, I saw the way you both looked at each other. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and I could have swore I saw a bit of drool come out the corner of your mouth.”
“Shut up!” You playfully swatted him on the arm and he released his grip on your shoulders.
“We have to go tonight,” he lectured. “He drew you for Christ sake. He’s got it bad.”
You roll your eyes. “Fine,” you grabbed his arm and looped it with yours. “But as punishment for making me go you’re finding me something to wear.”
“Duh,” he laughed, as both of you walked the way to your apartment.
To say you were nervous was an understatement. If this morning someone had told you the man you had grown up with all your life, that you had slept with at your sister’s wedding, that had left you completely heartbroken no more than five years ago, would just show up out of the blue, you would have told them to get some help.
You agreed with Andrew. The man you had ran in to earlier that day was not the same man you had left back in your hometown. And you were curious to see if what Sam had been saying was right. Is Bucky finally able to feel his emotions without completely shutting down? Was he finally ready for a relationship? Did he even want a relationship? Did he even love you anymore? What about you? Was all this time and work you had put in to get over him for nothing? As the questions swirled around in your head like a mini emotional carousel, you stopped in front of the small gallery.
“Are you ready?” Andrew asked, turning to you as he fixed your hair slightly. “Damn, I’m good.”
You were wearing a simple emerald green spaghetti strapped dress. It was backless and hung loosely around your curves but was still somewhat snug enough to bring out the natural curves of your body. Andrew paired it with simple open toed heels.
“To be honest, I haven’t felt this way in years,” you answered. You looked up at your friend who was rubbing your arms gently.
“Believe me, you have nothing to worry about,” Andrew reassured you. “If one thing is absolutely certain, it’s that this man only has eyes for you.”
He turned you so that you were facing the entrance of the gallery. He held out his arm to you  and you smiled before taking it. There were more people here than you had been expecting. It wasn’t terribly crowded, but you and Andrew did have to squeeze past a few people while walking around.
The gallery was a bit small, but Bucky made good use out of it. There must have been at least twenty pieces in here. Some drawings, others paintings, even a couple photographs. You were impressed. You also felt proud of Bucky. That he had finally decided to take this leap. Just being among his artwork was proof he had made drastic changes. As far as the pieces themselves, they were stunning. Some more abstract than others, but still captivating nonetheless.
“I can’t tell what it is, but maybe that’s why I like it?,” Andrew said from his spot beside you. You had been walking around for about ten minutes, yet to catch a glimpse of Bucky. You and Andrew were currently staring at a more abstract piece of art. You giggled a little at his comment and glanced at him. “Like, I feel… something looking at it. I just don’t know what.”
“Isn’t that what art is supposed to do though?” you questioned. “It’s subjective, you know. You don’t necessarily have to know what it is, as long as you feel something I think the artist has done their job.”
“Or at least I try to.”
You turned around to see Bucky standing behind you and Andrew. The sight of him almost knocking the air out of your lungs. He was wearing all black and it was very hard to keep your eyes from traveling shamelessly over his body. His black slacks fit him rather well, as well as his black dress shirt that hugged his body just enough for you to know that he definitely hadn’t skipped the gym over the past five years. If anything he looked more in shape than before. His arms being a bit bigger, his shoulders broader and chest more defined as you caught a glimpse of the skin peaking out due to the first two buttons of his shirt being open.
“You have got to stop doing that, even if it is very hot,” Andrew said, making Bucky chuckle a bit.
“I’m glad you both could make it.” Bucky looked towards you before saying. “What do you think?”
You stammered a little before finally being able to for a coherent thought. “Bucky, these are incredible.” You didn’t know what else to say. It seemed like anything you could wouldn’t do it justice. You were a tad overwhelmed with emotion at the moment. Finally seeing Bucky after five years, being here at his art show in the city, not to mention how the way he was looking at you was bringing up old feelings. It was almost all too much.
“Thank you,” he smiled. He was about to say something else when a man rested a hand on his shoulder. Bucky smiled and greeted him as he shook his hand. He then turned back to you and Andrew. “Will you excuse me for just a moment?”
“Of course,” you nodded as he gave an apologetic smile, walking towards the back of the gallery with the man he seemed to know.
“You’re drooling again,” Andrew teased. You roll your eyes and jokingly give him a look of annoyance. “Totally not judging. I almost forgot that I’m in a loving relationship and have been for seven years. What’s my boyfriend’s name again?”
“Scott,” you reminded him humorously. “And he’s literally the only one besides me that puts up with your dramatic ass so focus.”
“Y/N, you have to let him take you on a date,” Andrew said, turning his body fully towards you. “Do it for those who aren’t lucky enough to be the muse of a handsome, rugged artist who still harbors feelings five years later.”
“Andrew,” you said, looking around to make sure Bucky hadn’t been anywhere near.
“Give it a rest, Y/N,” he said bluntly. “You know you still have feelings for him. Do it tonight. This thing is only an hour, people should be clearing out in about half an hour.”
“But, what if he invites both us?” you asked. Wait, what? Were you actually entertaining this idea?
“Leave it to me,” he answered. tugging your arm and walking around to look at the rest of the artwork.
It had been about forty-five minutes before the crowd had thinned drastically. The last two parties had circled their way back to the front, two couples who were already headed out the door to leave. Bucky had been busy all night, talking to different people about his artwork. Some he knew, some strangers who wanted to know more about his pieces. You had made eye contact with him a few times. Each time he gave you a small smile as he silently pleaded for you to stay until he had time to talk with you. You didn’t mind though, he had seemed adamant about talking with you back at the farmers market. Plus, you had Andrew who had always kept conversation lively and you were honestly enjoying Bucky’s artwork.
As the last couple left, that’s when Bucky finally came up to you.
“I am so sorry,” he started apologizing. “Usually when I do these only a handful of people come. And they only stay for about ten minutes.”
“You probably should thank The New Yorker article,” Andrew said. “It’s great exposure. I mean that’s how I found out about you.”
“I guess I should have taken that into account,” Bucky replied. “I really appreciate both of you staying. Again, I apologize.”
“Don’t apologize,” you told him. “People enjoy your art. As they should, it’s amazing. Honestly.”
“This coming from the same person who said I was ‘shit at drawing’ when we were kids,” Bucky joked, his smile making your heart beat a little faster.
“You were.” You chuckled slightly. “Clearly you’ve gotten better.”
Bucky’s smile stayed on his face as he looked at you, blinking a couple times before saying, “Thank you, Y/N.”
His tone was so genuine, so touched. You didn’t know where your mind had gone next, but the sound of Andrew suddenly gasping made you slightly jump in surprise.
“Scott’s flight just landed and I have to pick him up at the airport,” he announced. You knew instantly he was carrying out his plan to leave you and Bucky alone for the evening. “I need to go.”
“Okay,” Bucky acknowledged politely. He then turned to you. “Well, maybe we could catch up another time. Maybe over coffee?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Andrew said before you had a chance to say a word. “Y/N, doesn’t need to come with it’s really only a one person task. Go catch up. I just ask that you make sure she gets home safely.”
“Of course, I’d be happy to. I mean, if that’s okay with you?” He looked to you, asking permission.
You nodded slowly. “No, yeah. That would… that would be fine.”
“Great,” Andrew said, giving you a quick hug the shaking Bucky’s hand. “You two kids have fun!”
As Andrew exited the small gallery the gallery fell silent. You turned to Bucky who was standing beside you with is hands in his pockets. You gave him a small smirk before turning around and walking a few steps away from him and toward the art pieces.
“I have to say I’m impressed,” you admitted finally. “What made you finally do it?” You turned back to him.
He looked around and shrugged his shoulders. “A woman that I had fallen in love with when we were kids had told me once that I had potential. It took me a long time to believe her, but when I finally did I started to recognize the talent within myself.”
You smiled slightly. “She still thinks that you know.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Bucky said. He drew in a breath before adding, “I have one more piece that I wanted to show you actually.”
He walked in your direction only to pass you, but before he did he said, “Follow me.”
You followed him towards the back of the room to a door labeled ‘Private’. He opened the door gently to reveal a small back room. It seemed to be being used as a small office, with a desk in the corner piled high with folders and random papers. In the other corner there was a small bookshelf littered with small photos in frames, some paintings, some photographs of people you didn’t know.
Bucky walked straight to a giant frame that was stood up against the gray concrete that surrounded the compact room. It was faced backwards, whatever was in the frame turned toward the wall.
“I actually just sold this one,” Bucky told you, picking it up to turn it around. He set it back against the wall and stepped backwards to stand beside you. “What do you think?”
At first glance it appeared to be a painting of a couple. They appeared to be embracing, maybe in a hug, or possibly a kiss. The lines and angles of this piece weren’t as defined as some of the other pieces that were on display tonight. They appeared blurred, indistinct. It was difficult to tell where one body stopped and the other began. Some parts of each were intertwined, like they were almost a part of each other. You remained speechless for several seconds, but finally found the ability to speak.
“Oh Bucky,” you practically cooed. “This is incredible. I mean, I don’t know that much about art, but it’s… it’s beautiful.” The feeling you got while looking at this painting was one of passion and longing. You weren’t sure if that was Bucky’s intention, but it ignited a slight warmth inside you.
“I hoped you would like it,” he said softly. He was looking at you with the gentlest, bluest eyes you’d ever seen when you had finally torn yours away from the piece of artwork. It was enough to almost make you avert your gaze, but then he started to speak again.
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he started. “I know that doesn’t even begin to cover it, but I am. Everyday I think about how differently I would have handled things if I could go back.”
“Bucky,” you began, but he interrupted.
“Please, just let me get this off my chest,” he pleaded. You nodded lightly as he continued. “For as long as I could remember I’ve never been the one to talk about my feelings. It felt stupid and pointless. I felt like an idiot every time someone caught a glimpse of me being emotional. So I started acting like I didn’t care. Like nothing phased me.”
You remained quiet as Bucky unloaded what you probably assumed he had been waiting years to tell you. And what you’ve been waiting years to hear.
“But then one day, I can fucking remember it like it was yesterday, you were wearing blue jeans that were ripped at the knees, with a pullover sweater from the community college. I knew it was your boyfriends at the time, but I remember pretending that it was mine. That I had given it you on a date because you had complained about the cold, and that you had just kept it because you liked the way it smelt. Deep down I had always known that I had feelings for you, I just hadn’t admitted it to myself. But after that day, you had me. Whether you knew it or not, I was yours. I knew there wasn’t anything in the world I wouldn’t do for you and all I wanted to do was make you happy.
“But I also knew, that I would rather die than face rejection from you. I acted like a complete asshole because if you ever found out how I really felt about you, it would be that much easier to deny it. Then you left and about a year later I met Dot. She was so different from you in every possible way, and I guess now looking back that’s why I was drawn to her. I was so heartbroken that you were gone. I didn’t realize it then, but even though you weren’t there you were still influencing my decisions. I don’t think I ever really loved Dot. I don’t think I ever could have.”
Bucky’s confession was a lot to process. You tried to make sense of everything in your mind as your eyes couldn’t seem to make contact with his. For years you had wanted an explanation but the last thing you wanted to do was push Bucky into giving you one. Especially if he wasn’t ready. Which was part of the reason why you were so happy to hear he was going to therapy to try to work through his problems instead of shutting everyone out. You thought about stories about how two people could love each other so much, and had no other intention than giving the other the world, but the timing was just off. Perhaps this was the case here. Had the timing been wrong for you and Bucky for 20+ years? Was this time finally the right one?
“I’m glad to hear that you’re doing so well. I really am.” you said, giving a soft smile. “I never cared about your past. None of it mattered, I just wanted you to be honest with me. I was ready to start a life with you. I had asked you to come with me because I saw our relationship as something that was real. Something that could last.”
“And what about now?” he asked. You finally looked up to meet his eyes. “How do you feel about this now?”
Despite everything that had happened leading up to this point, the years of pining on his part, the weekend of your sisters wedding, that last phone call, Sam’s attempts at pushing you and Bucky together, your countless attempts within the past five years to finally get over him; one thing you absolutely couldn’t deny was how in love with Bucky you still were. He said that you had him, but damn if he didn’t have you too.
You placed your hand flat against his chest and stepped forward, closing the gap between you from about a foot to mere inches. His lips parted as you felt the slight rise of his chest due to intake of breath.
He observed as you watched your index finger make contact with the bare skin that was exposed between the unbuttoned part of his dress shirt. He felt warm under your touch as you softly traced the patch of skin. “I think you know now the effect you still have on me,” you said softly. “It took everything in me the last time we talked to tell you I was done. That I needed to move on.” Your eyes met his as you added, “I don’t think I have it in me to do it again.”
He reached to cup your face in between his hands. His face was a couple inches from yours and you brought your other hand to grab his wrist, rubbing your thumb over the skin gently. He slowly placed his forehead on yours as he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly through his nose as if now, for the first time in years, he was finally relaxed. That every worry he had ever had suddenly didn’t matter in the slightest.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I have always loved you.”
You licked your lips and tried to bite back a smile, or was it tears? You contemplated this moment in your head. You’ve thought back to all the times you had played out this scenario. At times you were angry, you screamed at him, cried, cussed him out, and even slapped him. But being here now it all felt different. Your gut had been telling you that you belonged with Bucky, that he was it for you. You believed that this was some way of the Universe giving you another chance. That it had wanted the same thing that you wanted now.
“I love you, too,” you finally said. “It was always you. It just took me a little longer to figure it out.”
Bucky let out a hum before chuckling quietly. “I would have waited a lifetime.”
It was you that closed the gap between you and him as your lips met his. The kiss was soft and delicate at first, afraid you might scare him away again despite everything he had just confessed. It was him who deepened the kiss, eager for what he had been longing for since the moment you had left his house what seemed like ages ago. As you both parted, breaths shallow and heartbeats significantly faster, you both opened your eyes to each other’s. With a joyful smile on his face his hands came to rest on your hips. Your hands settled on his chest before dragging them up to rest loosely around his neck.
“I was going to get dinner after this,” he said, your faces only centimeters apart. “I would love it if you could join me. The city deserves to see you in this dress.”
You smiled and bit your lip gently. To hell with it, you thought. “That, they do.” You pressed your full body against his as you ran a hand through his hair like you’ve been wanting to do the second you saw him. “But it’s you who gets to see what’s underneath it.” Bucky’s smile turned to a sort of devilish one as you grabbed his hands and pulled him towards the exit.
Bucky had regrets in life, and letting you go the second time had to be one of his biggest. And once he finally realized that he would have done just about anything to fix it. Because the truth was, you were all he needed. Everything that has and would ever make him feel whole, he got from you and wherever you were was where he wanted to be. With you he felt loved, appreciated, safe, and comfortable. With you, he was finally home.
LMCH Taglist
@ellaenchanted91 @lharrietg @not-another-fangirl @tcc-gizmachine @rosiexx8 @coffeebooksandfandom @hommoturttle @mackrosa @fangirlfree @awe88 @spideyswifey @l0ve-0f-my-life @darkherolovercroissant @pspice639 @supraveng @krazykatkay456 @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @vikingqueen28 @bekscameron @bitchwhytho @cevans98 @marie-lynn @gummy-bears16 @goldenclarap-p @friedcolorpanda @wh0th3h3ll1sbucky @mother-dearest-loves-me @thats1rough1buddy @s1utforfictionalcharacters @holland1967 @luckyfiction17 @marvel-ous-witch @tomisagod @stuckysavedmylive @nykole5 @ritz-hell-hotel @l-sofiamia-l @captain-asguard @natdrunk @itsjaybro16​ @girlfriday007​ 
(again, it wouldn’t let me tag all of you)
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maybepointlessthoughts · 6 months ago
Dancing w/ Our Hands Tied (part 3)
Summary: There’s always a fine line between love and hate. Fairly short, but imporant, part. Here’s the masterlist for this series!
Warnings: Swearing, some angst, kind of fluff, tension, mentions of reader’s mother (yay, some fun backstory there!), princess diaries 2 reference oop
Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader/Stark!Reader
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark (father&daughter), brief Natasha Romanoff
Word count: 2.1k
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The first time you blurted out the words, you wanted to take it back. It wasn’t like you had intended to say it. It was such a strong word, you knew not to use it so hastily. But it was so, so easy. So easy to say it in the heat of the moment. 
It was at the end of another sparring session when you found yourselves arguing once more over something petty, you couldn’t even remember what had triggered it in the first place.
“Oh, my god, I hate you!” You snapped, fuming at him.
You didn’t feel as bad after hearing his response.
“I hate you more!” Peter shot back without hesitation.
His face washed with something you hadn’t seen before. Regret. You would’ve taken this into account if you weren’t bubbling with anger at him. 
“I loathe you!” You said, taking a step towards him.
“I loathe you more!” He repeated, copying you by taking a step.
“Well, I loathed you first!” You spat.
He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he got the chance.
“I loathe your stupid face, I loathe your stupid hair and your stupid clothes. I loathe the way you laugh, and your dumb jokes that don’t make any sense, the ridiculous vine references. I loathe everything about you, Peter Parker,” You went on, stopping in front of him.
“...You think my jokes don’t make sense?” Peter asked.
You groaned and rubbed your temple stressfully. “You’re an idiot,”
“Says you. No- you know what I hate about you?” Peter pointed to you, deciding to fight fire with fire.
“Oh, please, tell me,” You said sarcastically, adding fuel.
“I hate the way you talk to me, I hate the way you smile, I hate the way you fight and the way you think you’re the smartest person in the room. I hate your sarcasm. I hate it when you play horror movies so loud that I hear it from my room. I hate it when you act like you weren’t doing anything just to get on my nerves when everything you do gets on my nerves!” Peter said.
“Then get tougher, Parker, because I’m the tip of the iceberg in a cruel fucking world.” You hissed.
“And your pessimism-” Peter began, stepping towards you making the gap between the two of you shorter.
“-Just shut up, already!” You interrupted.
“God, why are you such a bitch?” Peter remarked.
Bitch was a first. You scoffed and started shaking your head. “What did you just call me?”
Peter gulped and cleared his throat, obviously rethinking his words. “I said… Why are you such a... bish. It’s-It’s slang for…” He paused, thinking about it. “...Smart. Smart woman.” He tried.
“You’re a bastard, you piece of-” You started.
“-The entire compound can hear you.” Natasha suddenly interjected from the doors.
You turned to the redhead who seemed entertained by the whole thing, a small smile appeared on her face. You cleared your throat and inhaled deeply before speaking. "Sorry," You said.
“Yeah, sorry Miss Romanoff,” Peter apologised.
“Don’t be. But, just so you know, Steve is on his way to give you guys a two-hour lecture so you should probably run.” She suggested.
You and Peter disagreed on a lot of things. 
Steve’s lectures were an example of the limited things you could agree that were one of the worst things to have to sit through. You hurried to grab your duffel bag and put it over your shoulder, Peter doing the same with his things.
“Tell him we made up or something like that,” You told Nat as you sped out.
“Tell him I'm doing homework,” Peter said, following you down the hall.
“You got it,” Nat sighed.
Hours later, you were in the middle of eating dinner with your dad in the lab. Everybody else had been called out for a mission and you didn’t want to be left alone, so your dad volunteered to stay behind. 
“...And that’s why I think you should add heat vision sensors to his suit,” You finished, swallowing your salad.
Tony lifted an eyebrow at you. “Why don’t you add it yourself?” He queried.
“You know why,” You shook your head. “If Peter knew I was working on his suit again, he’d find any kind of excuse to bug me about it.”
“Y/N, you’re the one who knows it inside and out. I tried to update the programming once, look what happened. The poor kid nearly fell and broke a leg.” Tony recalled.
“He can break both for all I care,” You mumbled.
“Alright, that’s it,” Tony dropped his fork in his bowl and straightened his back. You furrowed your brows at him, still leaned over your meal. “It’s been about two months since you and Peter decided to start a war on each other. And frankly, I’m sick of it.”
“It’s not my fault,” You defended.
“Look, sweetheart, you know I love you,” He cleared his throat. “But it’s definitely not Peter’s fault.”
“I don't care who's fault it is. You don’t know what it’s like to… to hate someone with every fiber of your being.” You scoffed, shaking your head.
“Oh, don't be so dramatic. You don’t hate him,” Tony shot back.
“Yes, I do. And he... he hates me. Peter just- He- You-” You groaned, frustrated. "God, he just gets under my skin."
“Hate is a strong word. Do you remember what your mom taught you?” Tony wondered.
You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Don’t bring that up.”
“She said that there’s always a fine line between love and hate,” He continued.
You glared at your father. “I thought we agreed not to discuss her anymore.”
“I’m just saying, Parker’s a good kid-” Tony said slowly.
“-He’s an ass!” You interrupted. How could everybody say so easily that Peter fucking Parker was this nice, innocent guy when he was far from it. “Peter’s the most… most irritating person I’ve ever met. He’s rude and he’s-he’s optimistic about everything! It’s annoying. And I’ll never understand how the hell he manages to have ridiculous false hope in humanity.”
Tony nodded, standing up. He made his way over to your side of the bench, putting his hands on your shoulders as he looked down at you. “Fine line between love and hate, darling.” He reminded.
“What’s that even supposed to mean? That I love him?” You raised your brows. “Mom was a drunk-”
“-Don’t call her that,” Tony cut you off, shutting his eyes.
“She was, Dad, and you know it. She didn’t know half the shit she said. And that love and hate bull was just her way to describe how she felt about you, remember that?” You grumbled. 
Tony took his hands off you and sighed, looking down at the floor. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do, actually. And I’m starting to wish you had gone with the others now,” You mumbled. 
“Peter and you…” Your dad began. “Whenever you two fight, it’s like…there’s something other than hate. There’s gotta be.”
You hesitated. “There isn’t. Besides, isn’t that the better option than what you’re implying? Wouldn’t want me sleeping with your intern, would you?”
“Don’t ever say those words to me ever again,” Tony demanded, disgusted. “I never, ever, want to have that picture of you sleeping next to any human male.”
“You do realise that I meant-” 
“-I know what you meant and that’s worse.”
You let out a light chuckle at that, watching as Tony’s eyes met yours again. 
“You know I just want what’s best for you right?” He said.
You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know that. I’m sorry but Peter and I won’t ever be… whatever you want for us. I wish it wasn’t like that, but it is. And-And sorry for saying that mom was-”
“-She was,” Tony cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. Won’t happen again.”
“Thanks.” You muttered. “I’m not… I’m not hungry anymore. I think I’m just gonna head to bed.”
“Alright. I’ll clean up here,” Tony gestured to the two half-eaten meals. “Go get some sleep.”
“I love you,” You reminded.
“I love you more,” He kissed you on the forehead and you left the lab.
As you walked down the hall to your room, you passed Peter's room - his door wide open. You stopped in front of it and saw how the red and blue suit sat on his bed. He, along with the team, were undercover for the mission and wearing much more subtle-looking bullet-proof suits underneath. You gulped and looked left and right. 
It was just... staring at you. He wouldn't be back for at least an hour or so. You did have the resources in your room. You hurried inside his room and picked up the light material, a smile appearing on your face. "God, I missed you," You whispered to it.
You looked around Peter's room, realising this was your first time in it. It was actually nice. Grey walls, photographs of his family, a few Avenger figures, and an old computer sitting on his desk from the garbage despite the technology available at the compound. You spotted a specific image on his shelf that caught your eye. 
Was that you? You were sticking up the middle finger at the camera, pissed. You remembered that. It was when Peter was going through a scrap-book phase and he was getting pictures of everybody on the team. He had asked you to smile, and you gave him... well, that. 
You were surprised he had kept it, thinking he had deleted it the moment the flash went off. You bit your lip and walked out of Peter's room and to your own. You spent exactly eighty-nine minutes blasting music from your room as you happily fixed the many wiring mistakes your father had accidentally done.
You hummed along to the song, electrocuting yourself more than once as you sat on your bed, using the small tool to fix the small panel. "Mother of-" You mumbled, waving your hand around from the slight burn.
You added a few new features, ones that would be helpful and entertaining. You weren't doing this for Peter, or anything. You simply worked hard on your projects, and this was one of them.  You heard the faint sound of the quinnjet from the roof and decided that what you had done was enough.
You quickly went back inside Peter's room, neatly placing the suit back on his bed, and grabbed a post-it note, scribbling a note and sticking it on. You fixed the display and headed to your room.
Peter yawned as he said goodnight to his teammates, all of them congratulating one another for the work they did. He shook his head and opened the door to his room, taking off the hoodie he wore. He turned on his lights and then he saw his suit.
He walked towards it and read the note.
You were in the middle of reading your novel when you heard a knock on your door.
"I'm sleeping," You responded, not looking up.
A few seconds went by before you heard the doorknob turn hesitantly and slowly. You looked up, seeing Peter stand there. You cleared your throat and continued to read. "What do you want, Spider-Boy?"
"Did you um... did you do something to my suit?" Peter asked.
"No idea what you're talking about," You replied, turning the page.
"If you did, then I just want to say thank you," Peter went on, biting down a smile. "I tried on the mask and I think the heat vision was a really great idea."
You glanced up at him. "I would say your welcome, but I didn't do that. I think my dad finally came to his senses." 
"Right. Right, of course." He nodded.
You saw a smirk play on his lips and shut your book. "You should go to bed, Parker."
"Tell your dad for me that I said thanks, then. Tell him that I think he's... he's really talented and that I'm sorry if I didn't respect that." Peter said.
"That's a weird message to give to my father, I'll admit." You chuckled.
"I think he understands what I mean," Peter stated, looking you in the eyes.
You sighed. "Go to sleep. And never come into my room again, thanks." You commanded, waving your hand.
"Alright. Night, princess," Peter told you, slowly shutting your door.
"Don't call me that, asshat." You tried, but the door was already closed.
You grumbled to yourself, your stomach untwisting as you grabbed your book, opening it to the page you were on.
A/N: I’m super insecure about this part, I rewrote it a billion times and I’m still unsure with the final version but I really hope this works. This is pretty short, however I think this establishes not only the reader’s perspective and backstory (which will be explored, I have lots of fluffy ideas for that) but also how all the things they say they hate about each other are similar to things you say about the people you love if that makes sense. Idfk, I’m just having fun with this. I hope y’all can enjoy this slowburn for now because I can assure you the burning part will be happening soon. xx
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deangirl93 · 7 months ago
Life’s Lessons - Be My Valentine?
AO3 Link: Read here
Square Filled: Squirting
Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader
Word count: 8,770 (oops. Sorry).
Rating: Explicit 18+!
Summary: It’s Dean and Y/N’s first Valentine’s Day, and he has a romantic evening planned, with surprises which he can’t wait to share with her.
Warnings: So much fluff. Like, so much. Dean being sweet and romantic (yes, that’s a warning). And then so much smut. Swearing, Dirty talk, D/S elements, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex (Female receiving), Vaginal fingering, Squirting, Gags, Brief impact play (belt), Restraints (belt), Brief spanking, Unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it, guys), Rough sex. More fluff.
Music: Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton (Dean and Y/N street scene)
Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist 
Created for @spnkinkbingo
A/N: The first time stamp*! Wooo! I’m so excited for you guys to read it, I really hope you love it, because I sure had a great time writing these two again, all loved up and ready to celebrate Valentine’s Day! Happy reading and enjoy! :)
*This is a time stamp for my series Life’s Lessons so it’ll make more sense if you’ve read that first, but I do think it can enjoyed as a sweet and smutty Valentine’s Day fic! ;)
Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics
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Dean stood at the kitchen bench and smirked as he stared down at the date on his phone. The coffee brewed in the machine behind him, as sunlight streamed in through the little picture window. It the most important date on the calendar that all couples go through, and he was excited.
It was February 14th. Valentine’s Day. The designated day you show the person you love most how much they mean to you. This time around was going to be the most special this little holiday had ever been for him, because this time around he had a woman who was truly, undoubtedly, his.
Y/N was the woman he had been waiting for and he couldn’t wait to make tonight a great night for both of them.
As he poured himself a cup of coffee and some for her in a travel mug, Y/N walked into the kitchen, dressed in a tight, high-waisted pastel pink skirt and white shirt, with a small white with pink polka dots scarf tied into a bow under the collar of the shirt. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she had her red glasses on. Dean felt his body heat up, knowing how much he enjoyed her fulfilling his teacher fantasy, so much so that whenever she got dressed for work, he always needed to calm himself down.
Y/N smiled at him as she walked over, kissing him softly as he slid a plate across the bench, some toast and a little bacon which he had already made, ready for her.
“Thank you,” she said, kissing him again before digging into her breakfast.
“No problem.” He smiled as he leaned against the bench, facing her. He continued to drink his coffee as she ate, both of them in content silence.
“I’ve got a half day today,” he informed her. “Ready to take you out tonight and tomorrow off, too.”
She smiled, unable to hide how excited she was for their night out. He was being incredibly secretive, and she was dying to know.
She ate quickly, washing up her plate once she was done. As she walked away from the sink, she laughed as Dean took her hand in his, pulling her against him. Whenever they had a few spare moments in the morning, this is how they spent it.
“So… what are you planning?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck as she looked up at him.
He smirked, shaking his head as his hands rested on her hips. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out later.”
She frowned, a small pout forming on her lips. “There’s no such thing as secrets on Valentine’s Day.”
She knew it wasn’t true, but she just wanted him to tell her what he was planning so that she could coordinate her lingerie accordingly.
“Babe, don’t start making crap up just because you’re curious.” He called her out, throwing his head with a boisterous laugh as she stared at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open in shock.
“Well, then I guess it’s just going to be you and your hand tonight,” she threw back, feigning upset.
“Hey,” he warned, staring down at her as he pulled her closer. “Do that and you won’t find out what I have planned.”
“Fine,” she sighed, as she rolled her eyes. Looking at him, the frown returned but with a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re really annoying, sometimes.”
“I know,” he shrugged with a grin. “But you love me.”
“Yeah,” she smiled, unable to pretend anymore. “Fortunately.”
“Very fortunately,” he said, leaning down to kiss her softly. He bent down further, kissing her neck which made her groan, sadly.
“I’m going to be late for work,” she said, pushing him away slightly.
He moved back down, attaching his mouth to her neck again. “I was about to give it to ya good and proper, sweetheart,” he mumbled against her skin, between kisses.
She laughed as she lightly pushed him again, kissing him softly on his pout. “You can do that tonight. A good, proper,” she kissed him again, “hard, rough,” another kiss, “fucking of a lifetime.”
He groaned, closing his eyes as he thought about what he had planned for them. She really had no idea what was going on and he was excited for her to find out.
“You’re so on, baby,” he muttered, before pulling her into a searing kiss.
She reluctantly pulled away from him, frowning. “I better go.”
“See you tonight,” he said, smirking at her.
“I can’t wait,” she smiled, leaning in and kissing him again.
Dean watched on as Y/N picked her bag and slung it over her shoulder, grabbing her keys in her hand. She slipped on her nude heels as she picked up her fawn coat, turning and blowing him a kiss before walking out the door. He smirked as he thought about what she just said, and how he could incorporate it into the night he had planned. After she had made his birthday one that he would never forget, he didn’t want to wait for so long until hers to do the same.
Luckily, the most romantic day of the year was upon them, and it was the perfect opportunity to make it a memorable night for both of them. He had never really believed in a day to celebrate love, considering he never had much luck with it in the past, but now he was thankful to whoever decided to profit from February 14th and made it a big deal.
Dean got ready for the day and headed to work. He was happy knowing there wasn’t much to do that day with his half day of work. He was relieved when Y/N had managed to take leave for the next day just like him, knowing that his plan would succeed. After the big restoration job that he had told her about months ago had been paid them in full by the customer, they were doing amazingly well at the garage. It had been a lot of money and there was more than enough to go around. Dean was able to pull out all the stops for the night. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face at work, getting questioning looks from Benny, Garth, some of the other guys and even Ellen. The guys teased him all day, but he paid no attention to it. If they had a woman as wonderful as he did, they’d have a huge smile on their face all day too.
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Y/N smoothed down her maroon, velvet, off-shoulder, knee-length dress as she looked at herself in the mirror. She had contemplated the style for a long time in the store a few days ago, wondering if she should go for a brighter red or shorter, but this caught her eye straight away. She just hoped Dean would like it. She also hoped he would like her strapless bra and panties set, of the same dark colour. She kept her eye make-up simple but went with a slightly dark red shade for the lipstick, and gave her hair a slight wave, sweeping it over one shoulder. She gave herself a nod as she smiled at her complete look in the mirror.
Y/N heard the front door opening, signalling that Dean had arrived, even if he was a little early. With one last check in the mirror, she picked up the gift she had for him from her bed and walked out of her room, her black heels clacking on the wooden floors. As soon as she saw him, her heart skipped a beat. He wore black dress pants and loafers, with a maroon sweater. He looked so unbelievably gorgeous that she just had to stand there for a few more seconds to appreciate him. He had his hands behind his back, and she knew it had to be something for Valentine’s Day.
“Who clued you in on maroon?” she laughed as she approached him.
“I… may have snuck a peek in the bag when you brought it home,” he replied, smirking as he took her in. She looked incredible and he was going to have a hard time keeping things PG for the first part of the night. “You look amazing.”
“Not so bad yourself, handsome,” she whispered against his lips as she leaned in and kissed him, softly. “This is very couple-y of us, though” she joked.
He shrugged, laughing. “It’s Valentine’s, baby.”
With that, he brought his arms forward, showing her the bouquet of lilies (she wasn’t a fan of roses; too overrated) and the heart-shaped box, no doubt filled with little chocolates.
“Be my Valentine?” he asked, chuckling.
She shook her head, laughing at his goofiness. “Of course.” She took the items from him and handing him his.
He smiled as he took it, quickly unwrapping the red wrapping around the small box. Opening it, he lifted the coffee mug out, smirking at the design. It was him and Y/N in animated form, with her leaning in to kiss his cheek, a little heart above their heads.
“That’s cute,” he said, smiling at her.
“It’s not too cheesy, is it? We said things that didn’t cost much, and this was relatively inexpensive. All I had to do was give the artist a picture of us, and she did the rest,” she explained, wondering if he really did like it and wasn’t just making her feel better.
“No, it’s not. I love it, really,” he reassured her.
She leaned in, happily letting him cup her face in his hands and pull her into a steamy kiss. It was over quicker than she would’ve liked, but as she looked into his eyes, she noticed a spark that wasn’t there before.
“Okay… put those in water and then pack a bag. Just essentials, clothes for tomorrow, that’s it” he instructed, rubbing his hands together.
She frowned, blinking a few times as she made sure she heard him right. “What?”
“Part of the surprise,” he said, not giving her anything else as he gestured to his watch.
“Okay…” she huffed as she snapped out of her trance, her mind reeling as she tried to figure out where he was taking her.
After putting the lilies in a small vase with water, Y/N went into her room and quickly packed a bag. Just her skincare and clothes for the next day were all she needed. She really had no idea what Dean was doing or where he was taking her, but she was now even more restless to find out.
Walking back into the living area, she saw Dean waiting by the door. He smirked as he reached for her bag, dragging it out for her as she picked up her purse and put on her black coat, locking the door behind her. Dean put her case in the trunk and then proceeded to open the passenger door for her. She snuck a quick kiss before she sat, putting her purse in her lap. Dean was on the driver’s side in a flash, quickly taking his seat and starting the engine.
“So… still no hint?” she asked, smiling through her impatience.
“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’.
“Fine,” she sighed, sitting back in her seat properly as Dean pulled away from the curb.
She decided to stop asking. He always said he wasn’t great with romantic gestures but that he was trying with her, and she really appreciated that about him. He was expanding his comfort zone even though he didn’t have to. He wanted to.
They asked each other about their days as Dean drove towards the city. The anticipation for their night was overwhelming, and he was glad that Y/N kept talking. No doubt distracting herself just as much as him. As they reached their destination, he saw her eyes light up as he parked the car outside the restaurant, their first stop.
“Dean!” she exclaimed as she turned to him. “This is already too much! More than what we agreed on!”
He smirked, knowing that the fancy Italian place was one that she had wanting to go to for a while. It was definitely pricey, but his latest customer was making tonight possible. He really had to find a way to thank the guy.
“Not tonight it’s not.” He winked at her as he opened his door and got out of the car, a squeak coming from the hinges as he shut it.
He walked around the front and to her side, opening the door for her. Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes as she stood up and looked at the building, suddenly launching herself into Dean.
“I’ve told you before; I don’t need all of this to make me happy. You know that, right?” she asked, frowning slightly. She was worried that he may feel like he needed to do this just to make things special.
“Yeah, I do, sweetheart,” he replied, as he pulled back slightly from their embrace to look at her. “But if I can afford it, then why the hell not?”
“And you’re sure you can?” she asked, a frown still etched on her face.
Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes! Y/N, we wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t. We did fucking great because of that big restoration job. Trust me.”
He had to wonder how she would react for the next part of the surprise if she was already shocked by the restaurant. Hopefully once he reassured her it was fine, and that he wasn’t doing this when he couldn’t afford it, she would relax.
“Okay.” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before it grew.
Dean smiled wide as he saw her face light up. He held out his hand for her, ready to start their night. “Let’s go.”
Y/N took Dean’s hand instantly, linking their fingers together as they walked to the entrance of the Italian restaurant. As they made their way in and Dean gave them his name, they were immediately led to a table in the back, away from most of the chatter of patrons. Dean helped Y/N with her coat, draping it over the back of her chair, doing the same with his. She smiled as she sat down across from him, causing him to smile back. His eyes wandered up and down as he looked at her, taking in her beauty. She always looked stunning, no matter whether it was casual or a bit dressier.
A waiter brought over the wine list, which Dean discreetly handed over to Y/N considering that wasn’t something he knew anything about. She gave him a wink as she looked over several pages before deciding. Dinner was far more delicious than either of them were expecting, so between the great wine and even better food, Dean was very happy he brought her here.
Once dinner was cleared, and the chocolate cake they ordered to share for dessert arrived (after he lamented that there was no pie), Dean let her dig in first as he folded his arms on the table, watching her. He smirked as she stabbed a piece with the fork and held it out to him. He winked at her as he took the bite, seeing her visibly shiver. He chuckled to himself as he chewed, watching her drop her head and focus on the cake.
“Stop,” she laughed, trying to avoid his intense gaze. He was trying to kill her; she knew he was.
“Can’t,” he said, joining in with her laughter.
They both continued to devour the cake until there wasn’t even a crumb left, both sitting back as the waiter cleared the plate and glasses.
After paying, Dean took Y/N’s hand in his and left the restaurant. Their walk down the street turned into a relaxed stroll, enjoying the glow of the city lights despite the cold weather of February. As they continued towards the car, a group of street musicians was playing, also not bothered by the chill in the air. As they continued to play, Dean slowly spun Y/N around, causing her to laugh in surprise at his sudden gesture. His hands slipped down to her waist and pulled her close as he began to sway them to the music, looking into her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, refusing to break her gaze away from him. The slow melody of the familiar song caused them to get lost in each other, blocking out the noise of the street and cars rushing by.
In his arms, Y/N felt safe. She felt as if nothing bad could happen to her, ever again. She felt like Dean would always be there to hold her up and never let her fall. He would never hurt her, knowing her past and making sure she never felt that way ever again. She thanked all forms of a higher power every day for bringing this man into her life.
In her arms, Dean had never felt more loved. With her, he had everything he ever wanted in life. Love, comfort, passion – feeling wanted. Someone who would never make him feel any less than he was. He knew how lucky he was to have her.
Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss becoming deeper and more passionate as he pulled her a little closer. Y/N’s hands combed into his hair at the back of his head as she kissed him. After a moment, Dean pulled away from her caress, his breathing slightly heavier.
“Come on,” he grinned, moving away from her and taking her hand in his again, leading her down the street.
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As he drove, Dean’s mind kept swimming with possibilities of what would happen next. He looked over at Y/N, smiling at her as she gazed up at the city lights from the window, completely oblivious to the thoughts that were going through his head. He watched as she frowned, the destination now right in front of them. She looked up at the sign, gasping loudly. He had brought them to one of the best hotels in the city and her heart began to beat just a little faster.
“Oh my god!” she yelled, looking at him as he pulled into the valet parking of the hotel. He got out and walked over to the trunk, taking out her small suitcase and pulling it for her, as she got out of the car.
Y/N stood in shock as she watched him warn the valet about the car, and then hand over the keys. As the Impala rolled away towards the main parking, she looked at Dean and shook her head as she walked over to him.
“Dean, this is-” she started but he stopped her as he took her hand and tugged on it, softly.
“Save it for upstairs, sweetheart.” He smirked as he brought her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles.
They walked towards the entrance, a doorman opening the glass door for them.
“Where’s your stuff?” she asked, as she suddenly noticed he lacked an over-night bag.
“I checked us in during the day after work, before I picked you up,” he replied, as he walked them through the huge lobby and towards the elevators.
Y/N marvelled as she looked around. Her stomach flipped as she couldn’t believe she was in such a swanky place.
The elevator arrived; announced by a soft ding as the doors opened. Dean stepped in with Y/N by his side, pressing the button for their floor. Y/N looked over at him, unable to contain her smile as the elevator moved up the floors. Dean leaned over, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her, passionately. She hummed as she grabbed the lapels of his black coat, pulling him closer. They broke away from each other, however, when the elevator stopped, letting in another couple. They were slightly older and both of them grimaced as they witnessed the young couple with their lips locked. It was the clichéd scene you would see in every rom-com or steamy romance, but neither of them cared.
Once they reached their floor, they left the elevator and walked down the hallway. Dean walked a little ahead of Y/N, wheeling her suitcase behind him. He reached their room, taking out the room card and sliding it in, the beep and green light signalling he could open the door. Y/N walked in, as he held it for her and quickly slipped the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign onto the handle, closing the door behind her.
If Y/N was smiling before, then she was practically beaming as she walked further into the room. The big window overlooked the gardens outside, and the room held a chic armchair with Dean’s brown leather duffle sitting on it, a round ottoman in front the armchair, a large bed with crisp white sheets, big pillows and royal blue cushions. Rose petals were scattered over the sheets with a tray that held little chocolates, an ice bucket with a bottle of Champagne and two champagne glasses on it, at the centre of the bed.
Y/N’s felt Dean’s arms wrap around her waist as he stood behind her, pulling her close to his body. She sighed contently, leaning her head against his chest.
“I know you’re not a fan of roses, but this is all they had,” he informed her, softly in her ear.
She shook her head, turning around to face him and instantly wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s perfect. I love it so much.”
“Yeah?” he asked, a small smile on his face.
“Yes,” she sighed, smiling up at him. “I love you so much, Dean Winchester. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for loving me.”
“Well, you make it real easy, sweetheart,” he said, smirking.
“You make it easy to love you, too,” she whispered against his lips, and kissed him once, twice.
“So… champagne?” he asked, grinning.
“Yes,” she replied, without missing a beat.
Dean moved away from her, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the armchair. Y/N took off her coat and hung it up in the closet, taking a chance to look around the room. She wandered into the bathroom, biting her lip to keep from grinning as she saw the bathtub filled with water and rose petals along the surface. She fully intended to make use of it later. The bathroom also had another ice bucket and champagne with glasses kept near the tub, along with some chocolate covered strawberries, making her shiver at the possibilities of what could happen.
Y/N walked back out to the main part of the room, watching Dean open the wrapping from the top of the champagne bottle. He held the bottle carefully as he twisted the cork, letting out a “son of a bitch!” when it popped loudly. He poured some in each glass and handed her one as he took the other, his other hand slipping into hers. They looked into each other’s eyes as they clinked their glasses together.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he said, smirking.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean,” she sighed, her eyes sparkling with love as she looked at him.
As they both took a few sips, it was clear that no matter how great the champagne was, that wasn’t where their focus was at that moment. As Dean looked at Y/N, he knew he couldn’t waste another minute not touching her. In one big gulp, he downed the champagne and placed the glass on the tray. He moved it off the bed and placed it on the ottoman, turning back to her to see she had emptied her glass as well. She walked over to the ottoman slowly, the swing in her hips seductive and teasing him. As she bent down to put the glass on the tray, the curve of her ass looked glorious in her tight dress, leaving him powerless to resist.
Dean walked up behind Y/N, his hands slowly moving over the curve, feeling the soft velvet of her dress. He moved them up to her hips, swiftly pulling them back to meet his. Y/N bit her lip as she pressed her back to his chest, feeling his cock begin to stir through the fabric of his pants.
“You have no idea what I’m gonna do to you,” he whispered in her ear and placed a small kiss behind it.
She shivered as she felt his hands move up her body, lightly grazing over her breasts before moving back down to her hips. She took his hands and moved them up again, cupping her breasts and causing a soft moan to leave her lips. She smiled mischievously as she began to grind her hips back into his, feeling him become more aroused. Dean had instant flashes back to their first date, the night she did exactly the same thing on her front porch.
He suddenly flicked her hands off his and moved them down, grasping her hips and halting them. “You think you can do that again, sweetheart… you’re wrong.”
“Dean,” she whined, her frustration getting the better of her. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling herself getting wet between her legs already.
“Tonight, is all about you,” he told her as his hands moved to the back of her dress. He grasped the zip, pulling it down at a teasing pace. “Tonight… you’re all mine.”
A whimper left her lips as the dress opened in the back, and Dean’s pace suddenly changed. He roughly pulled at the dress, shoving it down her body and letting it fall to pool around her feet.
Turning them around, Dean faced Y/N towards the large mirror on the wall. He admired her dark red, lacy push-up bra, matching lace panties and black thigh-high stockings, as his hands roamed her soft skin. Their eyes met in the mirror, causing Dean to smirk at her and give her a wink. His right hand travelled down her body and over the lace of her panties, his fingers lightly teasing over her skin and the seam of the fabric. Her breath hitched in her throat as her left hand moved forward, trying to reach for his. She gasped as he roughly grabbed it and held it down by her hip, wrapping his fingers around her wrist to keep from moving.
“Only I get to touch you, Y/N,” he said, not breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. His hand moved down between her legs, his fingers rubbing along the lace and feeling her wetness through the material. She moaned, pressing her lips together to keep herself quiet.
“Already so wet for me,” he groaned, continuing to move his fingers in a moderate pace. “But… I want you practically dripping.”
Y/N moaned wantonly as Dean removed his hand and made quick work of taking off her panties, bending down behind her as they slid down to her feet. He helped her step out of each heel and her panties, smirking as an idea came to him once the fabric was in his hand. He quickly slipped them into his pants pocket as he took her hand and guided her towards the bed. Staring into his eyes, she saw them darken even more as he lifted his hands to her shoulders and pushed her, a squeal leaving her as her back hit the bed. The scattered rose petals bounced around, breaking the even pattern, as she moved up slightly on the bed and pushed herself up on her elbows to look at him.
Y/N smiled as she bit her lip, her eyes never leaving him as he lifted up his sweater and pulled his arms through, throwing it on the floor. He did the same with the white t-shirt he wore underneath as he moved closer to the bed. She reached over and hooked her fingers into the top of his pants, desperate to feel him against her. Before she could start working on the belt, he grabbed her hand with a firm grip.
“What did I say about touching, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rough and authoritative.
A shiver ran down her spine as she looked up at him, unable to speak. His eyes were dark, and his face was unreadable, a commanding air around him. He was dominating in bed but never quite like this, and that had her excited to see what he would do.
Dean’s jaw clenched as he looked down at her, unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops. He gathered it in his hand and waved it at her. “One more time and I’ll have to use this.”
She nodded, still too stunned at his demeanour to speak. She breathed heavily as the anticipation got to her, wondering what his next move would be.
Dean placed the belt on the bed, close enough to reach for it when he needed. He quickly rid himself of his shoes and the rest of his clothes, pulling down his pants along with his boxers, dropping them on the edge of the bed. His cock twitched, hard and leaking pre-cum which she desperately wanted a taste of. He knelt on the bed, swiftly picking up both of Y/N’s legs and holding them up. He made quick work of taking off her stockings, rolling them down her legs and pulling them off, before leaning down and kissing her, roughly. She moaned into his mouth as she fisted the sheets in her hands, knowing she couldn’t touch him or herself. Dean continued to roughly kiss her as he reached under her and unclasped her bra, pulling it away from her body and flinging it across the room without looking.
Dean made a rough path of kisses down Y/N’s jaw and neck, reaching her breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the nub and pinched the other between his fingers. She moaned, throwing her head back, incredibly desperate to lift her hands and place them on his head to bring him closer. He continued his path down her body, finally reaching between her legs. She looked down to see him wink at her, his tongue slowly flicking out as it grazed her sex.
“Dean” she whimpered as she tried to move closer to his mouth.
Before she could say anything else, his head dipped down, his mouth covering her folds completely. His hands grabbed her legs and threw them over his shoulders roughly, causing a shocked huff to leave her lips.
“Oh my god,” she gasped loudly, her fingers clenching the sheets. “D-Dean, yes.”
His tongue moved over her clit in tight circles as his fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, pulling her even closer. He moved his tongue up and down her folds, her juices coating his mouth as he moaned at the taste of her. She choked out a whimper at the vibration that ran through her as she looked down at him, their eyes meeting.
Pulling away slightly, he looked at her as he sucked at her clit. “Taste so fucking good, sweetheart.”
“Dean, please,” she begged, looking into his eyes. “Please, more.”
“Patience, Y/N,” he playfully scolded, smirking at her.
He continued to lap at her folds, the sounds of his moans and her wetness getting to her. She needed to touch him, but if she did, he’d restrain her. She wanted nothing more than to risk it and tug on his hair like she loved doing, but she couldn’t. He smirked against her as he continued his ministrations, lifting his right hand and inserting a finger into her wet canal.
“Shit, yes” she cried loudly, unable to stay quiet despite being in a hotel room.
“You like that, gorgeous?” he asked as he pulled away briefly, inserting another finger. He thrusted them in and out, his pace quick as she became wetter.
“Yes,” she gasped, nodding frantically. “Yes, I-I love it.”
He gave her a cocky chuckle as he took her swollen nub in his mouth again, his eyes never leaving her. He continued to thrust his fingers inside of her, his tongue licking at the bundle of nerves. He watched as her hands left the sheets and cupped over her mouth, her moans muffled under them.
Dean kissed and sucked at her clit, his fingers sliding in and out of her as he moved them along her walls quickly. Y/N’s hands barely covered her mouth, her moans loud as she couldn’t control herself anymore. He reached for his pants and quickly took her panties out of the pocket, knowing that if she got louder, she would need them.
“Open up, sweetheart,” he said as he placed the lace near her lips.
Y/N opened her mouth and let him slowly work the material in.
“Good girl,” he groaned as he looked down at her. His cock throbbed at the sight of her mouth stuffed with her dark red panties. He continued to work his fingers into her, picking up the pace. Her moans came out stifled around the fabric in her mouth, as she urgently grabbed at the sheets again.
Dean worked his fingers into Y/N, his pace getting quicker as they began to hit her g-spot with precision. He lifted her leg onto his shoulder as he sat up on his knees, his fingers never slowing. Y/N got louder despite her panties acting as a gag, her eyes shut tightly as she let out a string of muffled moans. He could feel her getting wetter with every passing second.
“You look so fucking beautiful like this, sweetheart. All spread out for me, desperate to cum,” he grunted as he worked his fingers at a faster speed. “You wanna cum, don’t you?”
She nodded wildly, too scared to open her eyes and look at him. She could feel something building inside of her, the coil in her stomach tighter than it ever had been, as if it was holding something at bay. She could hear how wet she was as he worked the digits inside her at a frantic speed, the squelching noises louder than her moans.
“You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for me, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
She cried out around the fabric in her mouth, the only way she could communicate at that point. Hearing him call her that always drove her crazy. He felt his fingers getting wetter, knowing she was closer than ever.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned; his fingers moving so quickly he could barely see them. “Fuck, cum for me, sweetheart. Fucking soak my fingers.”
Y/N threw her head back, her neck straining as she let out a stifled scream of his name around the material of her panties. One of her hands left the sheets as it latched onto his arm around her leg, needing to hold on. The damn within her broke, Dean pulling his fingers out as jets of liquid spurted out of her, drenching his hand. The vision behind her closed lids turned white, as a wave of the purest release she had ever felt washed over her. Her body shook as he held her, making sure she didn’t hurt herself. Her muffled scream turned into whimpers as she continued to come down from her high. She had never felt this way before as she continued to shake, unable to stop the waves of pleasure coursing through her.
Dean bit his lip, watching as Y/N slowly began to come down from the peak he took her to. That was a surprise, even for him. He didn’t know she was capable of that, but he was a little proud that he was the one to make it happen. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light in the room. She rolled her head to the side, looking up at him as her chest heaved, her breathing erratic. He leaned forward, taking her panties out of her mouth, a harsh sigh leaving her.
“Oh my god,” she exhaled, still trying to catch her breath.
“It’s actually Dean,” he joked, a wide grin on his face.
She lazily lifted her hand and tried to hit him but couldn’t even manage that.
“You…” she trailed off, shaking her head as she still couldn’t believe what just happened. “You made me squirt.”
“Sure did.” He nodded as he looked down at her, the smirk not leaving his face. “That was awesome,” he stated.
“It was.” She hummed as she smiled up him. That was first time anyone had managed to do that, and she was happy that her first experience of that was with someone who loved her so much. Someone who wanted to bring her pleasure before himself. His pleasure came from hers. She had never been with someone who cared like that.
“Shit,” she sighed, closing her eyes. Her whole body felt like it was buzzing. “I’ve never… done that before.”
“That was so fucking hot, sweetheart,” he declared, smirking as he looked down at his lower body and his hand, both wet from her unexpected release.
She stared up at him as she bit her lip. The fact that he found it hot had aroused her even more. The fact that he was so completely turned on by her and her body, gave her a confidence in herself that she never had before.
“You’re definitely trying that again, sometime soon,” she laughed, winking at him.
“Oh, we’re just getting started,” he stated, putting her leg down.
“Really?” she asked, amused by his eagerness.
“Yep,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “Oh and Y/N…” he trailed off, gesturing to his arm that had been wrapped around her leg.
Y/N looked down and cursed inwardly, seeing her hand wrapped around his wrist. However, a small smile spread across her lips as she looked at him, trying to act innocent. “Oops…”
Before any more words could leave Y/N’s lips, Dean tugged on her hand and flipped her over, pushing her down on her stomach. He groaned as he looked at her ass, running his hand along her skin, grasping it in his hand. He picked up the belt, folded it and held it tight in his hands. Lifting it, he twisted his wrist and flicked the loop lightly across her right cheek, gaging her reaction. She moaned as her head dropped forward onto the bed, her hips wriggling, taunting him. He couldn’t see her face, but he was certain she was wearing the little mischievous smile of hers that he loved so much.
“Harder,” she told him, her voice firm. No hesitation.
That was the only confirmation Dean needed. He lifted his hand again, bringing the belt down on the same area, slightly harder than before.
“Fuck,” she moaned, humming at the slight sting.
Dean leaned down, placing a kiss and small nip on the cheek. “Love this ass.”
Dean held Y/N’s hands together and wrapped the belt around her wrists, making sure it was tight enough so that she couldn’t get out of the binds. He buckled it, tugging on it a couple of times to test it. She whimpered softly as she laid the side of her face on the bed, excitement coursing through her. She felt him grasp her hips and pull her up onto her knees, her bound hands on her back. That feeling of thrill rose within her as she sensed him move behind her.
Dean stroked his cock as he lined himself up to her entrance, Y/N’s hips levelled with his. He entered her swiftly, a strangled moan leaving his lips as he felt how wet she was, his cock easily sliding all the way into her. A choked cry left her as she tried to move her hips back, but he grabbed them in his hands to stop her from moving. He slid out and back in, then quickly began to thrust in and out of her at a fast pace.
“So fucking tight and wet, sweetheart,” he groaned as one hand came up to hold onto her bound hands. “So perfect… like you were made for me.”
With each thrust, she moaned louder and louder. Dean wondered whether he should gag her again, but quickly thought against it. Everyone else in the hotel be damned. He needed to hear his girl.
“How does that feel, Y/N?” he asked, as his hand on her hip grabbed her flesh tight, his thrusts relentless.
“So fucking good,” she moaned loudly, her mind delirious with pleasure. “Your big cock feels so good inside me, Dean.”
“I’m the only one who can make you feel this.” He let out a grunt, feeling her walls clench around his cock with each thrust. “Tell me.”
“Oh fuck” she gasped, unable to think clearly. “Y-You-”
Suddenly, a hard, resounding spank landed on her right cheek causing her to jerk forward as she yelped in surprise.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he growled, his grip tightening on her bound hands.
She huffed a small laugh, completely overwhelmed by what she was feeling. He was hitting that sweet spot inside her so perfectly with every thrust. His words had her spiralling by the second, and his grip on her, both mentally and physically, had left her completely at his mercy. It was an experience unlike any other; one that she had expressed she wanted just that morning, but she had no idea the delivery would exceed her expectations.
“You’re the only one who can make me feel like this,” she moaned, loud and shameless. If someone else in the hotel was getting railed as thoroughly as she was, they’d be shameless about it too. “The only one who can make me this good… so fucking good, so full.”
She struggled against the belt around her hands, the leather digging into her skin in a delicious sting. Her legs felt weak and limp under her, quivering as she could feel herself quickly losing resolve.
“Fuck, Y/N.” His undulating hips picked up speed, as he grasped hers tightly.
Her walls continued to clench around him, signalling she was close. The only other sounds that could be heard apart from their moans and groans were the smacking of skin as their hips met, and wet, squelching sounds of her sex as he continued to pound into her.
“De… fuck, I-I I’m close,” she cried out, lifting her head to try and look back at him. The same feeling that she had felt before had returned, as if she was holding something back. “I-I think-” she shook her head, unable to speak.
Dean’s hips started to falter, his release fast approaching. “Cum with me, Y/N.”
“I-I-I’m,” she stuttered. She felt lightheaded, overstimulated and overcome by the pleasure coursing through her.
“It’s okay, Y/N,” he reassured her, his left hand leaving her hip and moving down between her legs. He rubbed her clit in tight circles, bringing her closer to her release. “Let go for me, sweetheart… soak my cock like you soaked my fingers.”
“Oh god… Fuck! Dean!” she screamed.
All concern for the people in the other rooms went out the window as they both reached the peak of ecstasy.
Y/N’s whole body convulsed as Dean let out a roaring moan, quickly pulling out as her release gushed out of her, drenching his cock as his cum spurted over her folds. Her legs gave out as she fell forward and flattened out on the bed as she tried to catch her breath. His chest heaved as he leaned forward, carefully unbuckling the belt around her hands, releasing her from the restraint. Her arms moved up the bed weakly, one hand cupping over her eyes as she began to chuckle. He looked down at her with a quirked eyebrow, confused as to why she was laughing.
“Y/N?” he called her name, getting no response.
She descended into a fit of laughter, slowly turning onto her back as she cupped both hands over her eyes.
“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” he asked, his mouth lifting up slightly into a smirk. He was amused by her reaction.
“That was… that was amazing,” she said through laughs. “I just… I can’t believe you did that. Not just once but twice!”
Y/N continued to laugh, causing Dean to join in as he leaned down and gave her a kiss. She lifted her shaky hands and cupped his face, kissing him deeply and moaning at the taste of herself that still lingered on his tongue. Pulling away, his legs almost faltered as he got up from the bed, but he held himself steady as he moved towards the bathroom. He wet a washcloth and then walked back out to the bed. He cleaned between her legs, the warm cloth ridding her of his release and her own. As he did, he was relieved to see they hadn’t ruined the sheets from both of their orgasms, his lower body taking the impact of hers. He cleaned himself off and got up again, discarding the cloth under the sink of the bathroom.
As he walked back out, he spotted the ice bucket and quickly swiped a cube out before he laid down next to her, both of them on their sides. Picking up her right hand, he smoothed the ice over the angry, red lines across her wrist. She hissed slightly at the chill on the heat of her skin but sighed as it cooled the sting. He looked at her as he did, smiling softly when her gaze lifted up to meet his.
“I… that wasn’t too much, was it?” he asked, his voice low and calming, but slightly nervous. He hoped that he hadn’t gone overboard.
She smiled, shaking her head. “No. It was perfect.”
She leaned forward, kissing him deeply. She sighed into the kiss, feeling more content than she ever had in her life. The feeling of being safe with him had been there throughout, and she loved him even more for being able to make her feel that way as he dominated her.
“You sure?” He needed to be certain. “I just gotta-”
She cut him off with another kiss, before pulling back to look at him. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. It was everything I wanted. A good, proper, hard, rough… fucking of a lifetime.”
He smirked, satisfied with her sincere answer and leaned forward, kissing her once, twice which led to them giving each other small kisses on every bit of skin they got reach. Dean gave her other wrist the same attention, before the cube could melt into his hand.
“Now I can’t wait for you to fulfill another fantasy” she smiled, a naughty glint in her eyes.
“Yeah?” he grinned, wagging his eyebrows at her. “What is it?”
She hummed as she moved forward, pressing her body into his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe I want a certain mechanic to tell me there are other ways of payment when I can’t afford for him to fix my car.”
He groaned as his eyes shut tightly, feeling his cock begin to stir again. “Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t wait for that either.”
He leaned in, kissing her passionately. His hands smoothed down her back and softly soothed the sting on her ass from the brief belt treatment and spanking she got.
“Bath?” he asked, tenderly as he pulled away from her lips and nuzzled his nose against hers.
She nodded with a small smile on her lips, feeling the mattress dip as he got up first.
Dean offered his hand to Y/N which she took instantly, allowing him to lift her up from the bed. Her legs shook as she stood, still weak from the amazing sex they just had. Suddenly, he leaned down and placed his arm under her legs, the other around her and lifted her up, a little laugh leaving her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. As he walked past the ottoman, she reached down and grabbed the champagne bottle from the ice bucket and the glasses, placing them in her lap and holding the bottle so it didn’t fall. They looked into each other’s eyes as he carried her into the bathroom and over to the tub.
Y/N slowly dipped her toe in, sighing in relief when it wasn’t searing hot. She held the bottle and glasses as Dean slowly placed her in the water, the petals dispersing once she was in. She took out the other bottle of champagne from the ice bucket in the bathroom and put the open one in, after she poured a generous amount into each glass. Leaning forward, she smiled as he got into the tub and rested against it, allowing her to lay back against his chest. Clinking their glasses together, she took a sip and sighed as she made herself comfortable against him.
“I’m half expecting someone to come knocking on the door about the noise,” she told him, laughing.
He shook his head, chuckling. “Nah, no one’s coming up here to warn us on Valentine’s Day.”
“I sure hope so,” she said, taking another sip of champagne.
“I did put the “Do Not Disturb” on the door on the way in, though,” he grinned, leaning down and kissing her cheek. “Just in case.”
“Always prepared,” she joked, turning her head up to look at him.
“You know it, baby.” He smirked as he leaned down, kissing her softly.
“Thank you so much for tonight,” she whispered against his lips as he pulled away from the kiss. “It was perfect.”
“No problem, sweetheart,” he whispered back, pressing his lips to hers again. The kiss deepened, causing a small moan to leave her as she reached up and ran her hand through his hair at the back of head.
She pulled back, slightly out of the breath as she bit her lip, looking into his eyes. “I don’t think I can manage it tonight, but you can expect me to ride you into oblivion tomorrow as a thank you.”
His eyes widened as he nearly choked from the shock of her statement. He shook his head as he looked at her, wondering once again how she could be so innocent one minute and turn into a vixen the next.
“You better not threaten me with a good time and then not deliver, Y/N,” he warned her, a small smirk playing at his lips.
She shook her head, her gaze flicking between his and his lips. “It’s a promise which I absolutely intend to keep.”
“Shit,” he hissed, putting his glass on the ledge behind him. “Thank fuck I got a late check-out.”
He took hers and did the same and then moved his hands under the water, turning her around so that she was facing him and straddling his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed into his chest as she leaned in and kissed him, passionately. She pulled away after a few moments, looking into his eyes.
Y/N reached over to pick up a chocolate covered strawberry on the tray behind Dean and held it to his lips. Smiling at him as his plump lips closed around the fruit and bit into it, the juice ran down his chin as he moved his head back, trying to get the bite completely into his mouth. The fire that burned for him within her, that never extinguished, flickered at the sight of his beautiful, sinful mouth slightly stained by the sweet. She leaned in, kissing and licking the remnants of strawberry and chocolate from his lips. As he looked at her, he felt that feeling of being the luckiest guy on Earth wash over him again.
“I love you,” she whispered, a big smile spreading across her face.
“I love you, too,” he whispered back, his smile as big as hers as he pulled her back into their impassioned embrace.
They stayed that way until the water turned cold, and Dean carried Y/N back to the bed. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, their slumber peaceful as they both knew they were in the arms of the person who loved them unconditionally.
The next morning, Y/N kept her promise. Once they came up for air, they enjoyed a wonderful breakfast at the hotel before they finally made their way back home.
The rest of their day continued the way it began, locked in each other’s loving arms…
With promises made that they absolutely intended to keep.
Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05​ @kyjey​ @halesandy​ @440mxs-wife​ @stoneyggirl​ @deanswaywardgirl​ @redbarn1995​ @marianita195​ @babypink224221​ @deans-baby-momma​ @parinarain​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @mandalou29​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @supraveng​ @supernatural-love14​ @vicmc624​ @prettyboyswow​ @lunarmoon8​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​
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the-iceni-bitch · 9 months ago
A Surprise to be Sure
Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader
Words: 5761
Summary:  You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.
Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+
A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817​ because I know she loves some Henry Cavill
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Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.
“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.
“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”
“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.  
“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”
He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”
“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”
“Gods, not that one.”
“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”
A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.
“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”
“Our assistance?”
“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”
Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.
They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.
“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”
“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”
“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”
“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.
Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.
“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.
You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.
“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.
“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”
The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.
He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.
“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”
“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”
You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.
“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”
“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”
“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.
“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”
“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.
You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.
“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”
“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”
“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”
Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me… um..”
“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”
Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.
“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”
Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.
“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”
“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”
You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”
The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”
You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.
Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.
“Put his blades with the rest of it.”
Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.
“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.
“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”
The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.
“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”
“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”
“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”
“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.
“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.
“Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.
“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”
“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”
“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.
“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”
“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”
“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”
You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”
“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”
“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”
Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.
“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”
“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”
“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”
“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.
“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.
“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.
“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”
“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”
“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.
“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”
“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”
“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”
The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.
“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.
The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.
Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.
“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.
Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.
“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.
“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.
“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”
He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.
You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.
Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.
Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.
“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.
“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.
The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.
“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.
“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.
“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”
You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”
“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”
“Just over the next hill.”
You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.
Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.
“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”
Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”
“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”
The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.
“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”
A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.
“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.
“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.
You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”
He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.
“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.
You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”
He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.
He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.
“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.
“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.
“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.
“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”
He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.
“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.
He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.
You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.
He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.
He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.
He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.
He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.
He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.
It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.
“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.
You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.
You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.
You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.
He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.
He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.
He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.
He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.
“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.
“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”
He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.
“Shall we head down for more ale?”
“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”
You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.
“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”
“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly
“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”
“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”
The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.
“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”
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mallowswriting · 6 months ago
salt the earth ch. 1 | bucky barnes x reader
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summary: escaping an engagement to brock rumlow out in california, reader runs into the “friend” that natasha said would drive them across the country to new york, where they’ll be safe. the catch? the “old friend” is none other than bucky goddamn barnes.
warnings: mentions of domestic abuse (psychological/emotional/physical), and anxiety attacks
Vibes: childhood friends-to-enemies-to-allies-to-lovers, bucky being an obnoxious flirt, minor angst 
a/n: and it’s finally here!!! i’m so hyped to start sharing this series with everyone, and i hope y’all enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it 💖💖 sending tons of love to everyone reading this, and i hope you guys stay safe and have a good week  🌟✨💙💙
The weather is fantastic: blue skies stretching on for miles, soft breeze caressing your cheek. The morning has risen pretty as a fucking picture, and you are grateful for that. It feels like a sign, a blessing from the universe telling you to take the plunge and follow through with your plan. 
You are going to die today. 
Well, okay, not actually die - if you took that route, you would only be letting Brock win. The thought of that alone sends a shiver down your spine as you get dressed; you aren’t sure when concepts like ‘winning’ and ‘losing’ got mixed into your relationship with Brock, but you do know that it’s another sign that it’s time to go. And Nat agrees, which is a good sign; Nat is a lot of things, but wrong is rarely one of them. 
You pack your bag quickly, like you’ve been practicing. Efficient, you get enough clothes in the duffel to last at least a few days. You’ll buy more toiletries on your way out of town, and you’ve been stashing your books on a shelf Brock doesn’t look at, hidden up inside the linen closet, so that he won’t notice that they’re gone. The money you’ve been storing up in a pair of fuzzy socks next to the books comes, too, and so does the envelope of old photos you’ve pulled out of scrapbooks recently. Everything you need to take is packed away in your bag now, and you put on your shoes at the door, ready to go. 
You do not glance back over the house you have shared with Brock Rumlow for the past two years. This place is a lot like your fiance: a reminder of bad memories, something with a penchant for yanking you back into times you’d rather never revisit. You close the door a bit harder than necessary on the way out, if only to keep all those ghosts trapped inside. 
The duffel sits in your backseat, and you slide behind the steering wheel with determination and nerves tightening your chest, making it hard to breathe. You give yourself just a moment before you go, fingers numb from how tightly they’re wrapped around the wheel. Deep breaths, like you’ve learned through endless googling about coping with panic attacks: in on four, hold for six, out on eight. You repeat the motions a few times, waiting for the feeling to come back to your insides, to feel your heartbeat again. When it starts surging inside you with adrenaline, less like a breakdown and more like the climbing of a rollercoaster, you turn the key in the ignition. 
You’re ready. You’ve been ready for months. 
The houses of your picturesque neighbourhood drift past you like 2-D pictures, a scrapbook of memories: moving across town with Brock, unpacking your things in that dreaded house; walking hand-in-hand with your new fiance down the block, delivering brownies to the elderly couple at the corner; coming home late from the office, stomach twisting because you knew Brock would be upset with you. It’s all washed in soft July sunlight, dreamy and distant - you couldn’t reach this world again if you tried. 
So you don’t. You just keep driving, and you wave to Mrs. Ellison in her garden for the hell of it. You’ll likely never get the chance again. 
Brock Rumlow is the slickest, proudest, most charismatic businessman this side of San Jose, or at least that’s how he likes to be introduced. He’s always been a looker, and always been a bit of a cocky flirt - and that used to be cute. You teased him when he asked for your number, running into you at parties hosted by friends of friends of friends, his hand heavy on your shoulder, his smile sly and knowing. It was like he knew where he’d get you: all alone, the most understanding of girlfriends, the most eager to please any fiancee could ever be. 
You snort, remembering the look on his face when he proposed; bet he didn’t see this coming. 
You turn onto a road that leads just out of the city, towards the highway and the sprawling wilderness. So far, your plan is going off without a hitch. It’s a good plan, straightforward and hard to fuck up:
1) Pack your things once Brock has gone to work.
2) Leave goodbye note for Brock, to keep his eager nose off your scent for a while.
3) Drive out of the city, all the way to that stretch of Alamitos Road with no guard rail.
4) Dump your car in the Reservoir. Oops. 
5) Meet Nat’s friend and drive to New York.
Steps one and two are complete, and step three is in progress and nearing completion. Your escape is so close you can taste it, sweet and thrilling on the back of your tongue. Brock Rumlow can go fuck himself, because you won’t do it for him any longer. 
Your car slows to a stop at the shoulder of the road, and you get out and remove everything you need, your duffel bag and backpack resting with a thud at your feet. You leave your phone on the passenger’s seat with a twinge of remorse; Brock might be able to track you with it, and you aren’t taking the chance. You’ll get a burner when you can, to call your support team out on the east coast. 
You slam the car door shut with a determined swing, march to the back, and start pushing. It’s a dingy old thing that Brock threatened to replace all the time, but you have clung to because you got to buy it yourself back in college. This car is one of the last things you still have that you were able to get for yourself. The prospect of owning all the pieces of your home, not owing anyone for the roof over your head or the food on your plate or the books you read, is a beautiful one. It gives you the burst of energy you need to topple it over the side of the road, and you watch as it takes a nosedive into the Reservoir. You feel like saluting its sacrifice; this car is doing more for you at the bottom of this lake than you could have ever known when you drove it off that lot, a dreamy-eyed twenty-two year old. 
Above you, a bird sings, a call that dances across the vast surface of the lake. The last ripples of your old life still as your old car disappears, and you haul your bags over your shoulder. You have a lot of walking to do, and you are more ready than ever to get started. 
There’s only one way to say this: you will never see me again, and I will never see you again. I don’t know if this will be sad for you (although losing investments has upset you before, so there is a chance), but if you are sad, I hope you learn to grieve in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone else. Please don’t hurt anyone else. 
You tip your head back, breathing in air that tastes purer, fresher, more - it’s as if you haven’t breathed fully in years, and you’re letting your lungs expand for all they’re worth on the side of this road. The sky is blue and beautiful, and the birds are calling to each other, and the sun shines down on you like a blessing. Y/N almost-Rumlow is gone and dead, drowned at the bottom of the Almaden Reservoir. Long live Y/N Y/L/N, the freest person alive for just this split second in time. 
Then a car horn honks, and you nearly jump out of your skin. 
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing on the side of the road?”
The blood lurches to a stop in your veins as your vision returns to Earth, and you see him there, leaning out of the window of his car like he’s just asking after a neighbour’s day, and not actively destroying your last chance at happiness. 
Bucky fucking Barnes. 
You study him for a moment, sizing him up: his hair has grown out a bit longer since you ran into him last Christmas, and it curls around his ears under his baseball cap; his arm, plain metal glinting in the sunshine, rests comfortably along the bottom of his car window, and he’s watching you with eyes that spell trouble. 
He recognizes you. He has to have, to be talking to you like that; Bucky, for all his faults, isn’t one to bother anyone on the side of the road unless he knows them. 
And, in a manner of speaking, Bucky Barnes does know you - certainly well enough to know the difference between you, dead at the bottom of a lake, and you, alive and walking along a highway. 
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying to wrangle the sudden panic gripping your insides. “What d’you want, Barnes?”
“Barnes?” And now he’s pulling up next to you, and you can see the blue of his eyes turn almost warm in the soft sunshine. “Can’t even say my name now?”
“Not if I don’t want to,” and yeah, that’s petulant, but you’re a bit focused on not freaking out. “Look, Bucky, I - I can’t talk right now.” 
“Can’t drive, either?” He glances down at your bags, and fuck, he’s noticed your supplies. That’s it, you’re done. You’re seen nearly thirty minutes after your car gets dumped, walking around by yourself with a duffel bag full of clothes and all the money you have? Brock will be on your tail in a matter of hours. 
“No.” How are you supposed to ask Bucky to forget he ever saw you? He doesn’t know what’s going on, and the idea of recounting the whole sordid tale makes you want to physically puke, preferably all over his car. If anyone asks him if he saw you, or asks for information on your whereabouts, there’s nothing stopping Bucky from telling everybody that you’ve run away like a mad woman. 
“Look, Bucky I’m waiting for somebody, so if you could -”
“Nat told me I’d meet you here, so if you could -”
The two of you pause at the exact same moment, and you think your brain has short-circuited. Nat told me I’d meet you here. God fucking damn it. 
“Earth to Y/N?” Your eyes snap to his, and Bucky’s frowning at you. “Did you hear me?”
“Nat told you to meet me here?” You demand, marching right up the side of his car. 
Bucky leans further out the window, still frowning. “Yeah? Didn’t she tell you?”
“No, I -” then a horrifying thought occurs to you, and you have to stop yourself from grabbing for Bucky’s shirt collar. “Did she tell you why I’m leaving?”
“No!” His hand goes up in defense, but you can see the gears turning behind those pretty blue eyes. He’s always been too smart for his own good. “I just know I’m supposed to meet you here, and take you to New York. I’m headed that way anyway, and she said you couldn’t get a ride . . . or drive, apparently.” 
“I don’t think . . .” You trail off, weighing your options. You feel like you’re choosing between certain doom, and uncertain doom. That moment of true freedom is over; things are complicated now, and it’s all Bucky Barnes’ stupid fault. He just had to get dropped in your lap by the universe whenever you needed him least, didn’t he? Or by Natasha, who should’ve fucking known better- 
“Y/N?” Bucky asks again. “If you don’t want me to drive you -”
“No! No it’s - it’s fine.” You bite the words out, focusing on adjusting your plan. “I need the ride.” 
“Alright.” He unlocks the passenger side door, and jerks his chin in its direction, an invitation in his eyes. “Get in, then.” 
You sit in Bucky’s passenger seat, fidgeting in your lap as you try to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess. You can’t have Bucky, of all people, driving you across the country. Bucky hums along to the song on the radio, something old and bluesy, and it’s not doing anything to calm your nerves. It’s too familiar, and it’s disorienting to remember what you’ve set in motion and where you are right now. 
He’s taking a route that cuts through the city, and you’re horrified by the journey. Bucky is still decently far from your old neighbourhood as he drives towards the highway, but you still feel trapped here, the world suddenly towering over you on either side of the road. You need to come up with a reason for him to let you out somewhere on the edge of town, so you can hitchhike from there . . .
“You’re getting married?” Bucky asks, and you flinch. 
“What?” Your head snaps to the side, and you watch him swallow, eyes glued to the road ahead of you but attention clearly on you in his peripheral vision. 
“Steve mentioned, you know, you and Rumlow . . .”
“You still talk to Steve?” You frown, easing back against your seat; Steve had never mentioned that he and Bucky had started talking again, and neither had Nat. Is Bucky talking to Sam and Peggy, too? Does he . . . know? 
“What did he say?” You interrupt him as he confirms that yes, he does still speak with his best friend; his eyes cut to you for just a second, annoyed, but you ignore the look. “About me and Brock?” 
Bucky snorts derisively, and takes a turn; you glance out the window and see you’re gliding down a main street, and you start to shrink further into the car, avoiding the passenger window as much as you can. 
“He just said you were engaged, and that it was Rumlow. You know, none of us ever thought you would stay with him after college - you dropped out of grad school for him?” 
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I did.” Your gaze darts around outside, making sure no one’s looking your way; but everyone is pretty much occupied with their phones and the traffic they’re navigating through. 
“Everything okay over there?” Bucky asks, and you glance at him; he’s watching you with a confused little smirk, now that you’re resting at a red light. 
You shrug, a butchered movement, and look away. “Yeah, fine. Just fine.” 
“‘Kay, cause you’re acting fucking weird, and I know you’re always a little -”
“Shit!” You cut him off again, and slide out of your seat and below the dashboard of the car, hidden from view. Bucky watches you with wide eyes, attention completely taken off the road ahead. 
“What the hell? Are you on the run from the mob or something?” 
“No, just -” You gesture to the window, not caring if he knows, not caring if he figures you out, because Brock Rumlow is standing on the street corner hardly twenty feet away, chatting with a colleague and probably heading home for lunch - something he only does when he’s not in a trusting mood. 
You weren’t subtle enough. He thinks you’re up to something, as usual, and he’s heading home for lunch where you are supposed to be waiting for him, working on dinner or cleaning the house or tending to the garden or doing anything you can not to feel imprisoned. 
“Isn’t that Rumlow? You don’t want to say hi?”
You scowl, pressing the heel of your hand against your eyes, trying not to panic in front of Bucky. “No, I don’t want to say hi. I need to get the hell out of here, alright?”
“Y/N -”
“I’m serious, Bucky.” You look up and meet his eyes, pleading, your dignity set down somewhere on the car’s worn grey carpet. “I have to go.”
“Okay, okay,” he relents, and zooms through the light the moment it turns green. He keeps glancing down at you, and you pretend not to notice his gaze. You don’t want to do this, not with him, goddamnit - and now Brock is gonna know now and not later, after work, and he’s going to start looking for you now instead of tonight, and you need to get the hell out of dodge before he does.
“Y/N, we’re almost out of the city.” 
You uncurl yourself from your hiding spot, and check out the window: Bucky was telling the truth. You can see the desert approaching, the soft beige of wilderness, and heave a sigh. 
“Look, Bucky, thanks for getting me out of the city, but you don’t have to drive me all the way to -”
“Don’t do that.” You cut your eyes to him with a glare. 
“I’m sorry?”
Bucky sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Nat really laid into me over the phone, alright, and she’ll kill me if I let you hitchhike your way across the fucking country. So don’t bother doing the thing you were gonna do. I’m driving you.”
“I think I can decide who -”
“Not when Natasha Romanoff is threatening me,” Bucky snaps, and he reaches across the space of the cab to bat your hand away from the door handle. You reel your hand in, away from both the handle and his touch. “Just - I’m driving you. Don’t worry about it.”
“You know I’m not worried about your sanity here, right?” You bite out, and Bucky gives you a dry laugh in return. 
“Oh, I know. But -”
“Yeah. Her threats trump yours. Sorry, princess.” 
“Typical.” You lean back in your seat, watching the sign next to the highway bid you farewell on behalf of San Jose. “And don’t call me princess.” 
Bucky’s eyes are back on the road now, but of course that doesn’t stop him from trying to get the last word in. “What about sugar? Honey? Babyg-”
“Just drive the damn car.” 
196 notes · View notes
maybe-im-tired · 18 days ago
 Baby Snakey
Ship: familial prinxiety, romantic roceit.
Word count: 3,008- oops?
Warnings: Talk about snakes- nothing graphic, one brief talk about a specific kind of spiders (the best kind and i’ll fight you on it), food mention.
Another oneshot for Little Chaos series which can be found on AO3 here
Great thanks to the amazing YouTube channel Clint's Reptiles  for providing me with so much snake information that I didn't know I needed before and now can't get enough of. The host is also super adorable and the way he talks about these creatures with so much wonder and affection is very wholesome and just *chefs kiss*
To be perfectly honest, Roman was not looking forward to leaving his tiny and very fragile nephew with one of Remus’s friends.
Now, he knew that sounded judgmental as hell and that after everything that’s happened he should probably trust his twin brother’s judgment a little more. After all, Remus wouldn’t even consider putting Virgil in any situation that was even remotely unpleasant.
Remus has been friends with this dude for a couple of months now and Roman was yet to meet him. How could he be so sure this stranger wouldn’t try to hurt Virgil in some way? What if he didn’t pay attention and Virgil fell or hurt himself? Roman was going to be gone for a while who knows what could happen in these three hours?
Mind still racing, he glanced at Virgil in the rearview mirror, face softening once he saw the kid talking softly to his spider plushy.
“is your spider scared?” Roman asked lightly.
Maybe if Virgil didn’t want to go, Roman would have the excuse to not leave him – his client might not be thrilled but Roman had his way with words so it would still be manageable–  but Virgil shook his head. “Spiders don’t get scared, uncle Ro!”
“They don’t?” Roman asked, always willing to entertain the kid even if it meant he had to listen to the endless amount of spider lore Virgil was always able to come up with. “What about when you spray them with water?”
Hugging his spider, Virgil made an affronted noise and Roman bit back a smile, “You shouldn’t spray spiders with water, they will drown and die!”
“But will they be afraid?”
Still hugging his spider, Virgil looked like he was considering the question before settling on “Maybe.”
“But my spider isn’t scared, look!” He held up the toy towards Roman who pretended to examine its vacant expression before nodding in approval.
“Yeah, alright, she looks very brave.”
“She is!” Virgil said settling back in the seat and reaching for his backpack. “She is very brave and happy and super excited.”
“Oh, yeah?” Roman asked, his attention now more focused on the road around them as he started the car. “What is she so excited about?”
Just as he was about to pull onto the road and start driving, Virgil giggled, “Uncle Janus has a baby snake!”
“A baby- what?”
 “I can’t fucking believe you.”
“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” Remus rolled his eyes even though he knew his brother won’t be able to see it, he just had to count on the twin connection hoping Roman will feel it from the other side. “it’s not like it’s a tiger snake or a cobra, it’s a tiny rosy boa, rosy boa,” He huffed, “for fucks sake, Roman, even its name is not scary.”
“it’s still a fucking snake and you’re leaving Virgil there for three hours!”
Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, he could feel Roman glaring at him, face and ears flushed red.
“Technically, you’re the one leaving Virgil for three hours, I won’t be back until the evening-”
“Oh, so now it’s my decision?” Roman seethed, “Great, okay, fan-tastic, I'm calling that Andy kid and-”
“Oh, my god. Shut up, Roman. Janus isn’t going to hurt Virgil, the snake is locked up in a cage, like ninety percent of the time and you are going to be late for your meeting or wherever the hell you are going if you keep this up.”
Roman was silent on the other end, and Remus took a deep breath, “Listen, have a small conversation with the guy, you can ask him to see the cage if you’re still unconvinced – I'm sure Janus wouldn’t mind and he probably won’t call you a little bitch to your face anyway–  and if you feel like anything is suspicious you can call Andy and berate me about it all you want, okay?”
Remus heard the car door open and Virgil say something in the background as Roman went back into the car.
“I'm still not happy about this, but okay, whatever.” His brother grumbled out before the line went dead.
Remus rolled his eyes, what a drama queen.
Opening the car’s door, Roman barely had time to unbuckle Virgil’s seatbelt before he was jumping out of the car and running towards the front door, his backpack bouncing on his back.
“Virgil!” He called after him, still feeling uneasy about the whole thing.
“I wanna ring the bell!”
Bouncing on his toes and still unable to reach the bell, Roman sighed fondly before picking Virgil up and watched as the kid rang the bell once, twice, then a third time for good measure.
To say he wasn’t ready when the door opened would be a huge understatement.
“Uncle Janus!” Virgil squealed and Roman felt his heart jump and stop in his throat as the most gorgeous human he has ever seen beamed at him.
This was Remus’ friend?
“My favorite gremlin, hello,” He spoke slowly, his voice coming out smooth and gentle, and dammit Roman, can you not be gay for one second?
Janus held his arms out and Virgil tried to jump from Roman’s grip into his like he’s done it a thousand times before. “Woah, calm down, you demon.” Roman chuckled warmly, tightening his grip around his nephew, he put on his most charming smile. “I'm Roman, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Janus.”
“Roman, huh?” Lips pressed together, Janus gave him an assessing look, and Roman liked to think Janus was checking him out. He did not preen. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”
He huffed, rolling his eyes, “If it’s from my brother then I doubt it’s any good.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Janus smirked, and turned to lead them inside leaving Roman to wonder what the hell was that supposed to mean? Remus, what did you say?
Virgil wiggled and squirmed against Roman’s hold not unlike a cat until he put him down, he moved immediately gluing himself to Janus’ legs. “Daddy said I can hold baby snakey if you don't mind!”
That, however, snapped Roman back to reality very quickly. Clearing his throat, he looked up to meet Janus’ dazzling mismatched eyes, “Yeah, so about that.”
“See,” Janus said, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he watched the snake slither partially between his and Roman’s arm. “it isn’t so bad now, is it?”
“I never thought I’d say that, but this snake is adorable.”
Roman raised his other hand and made to touch the little tongue, but Janus stopped him. “Careful, he bites sometimes.”
Jerking his hand back, his eyes widened and his face went a little pale. “What?”
Janus rolled his eyes, as Roman attempted to untangle himself, “Kidding, well mostly. William only bites when he’s in a cranky mood and even then it’s harmless if a little bit annoying- no venom involved.”
“Ah-huh.” Roman nodded, clearly still hesitant about it, but he stopped trying to untangle William so Janus called it a win, “So, no tongue touching?”
“Preferably not.”
The snake tried to slither out of his hand towards the ground and Roman caught it and fixed his grip with a look some might call fond, which was very weird considering he was convinced snakes were evil, soulless monsters only a few minutes ago.
And then to make things weirder, he turned to Janus and grinned with pride. “I think I love him.”
Janus’ breath didn’t catch in his throat, and most importantly he didn’t grin back.
God, what’s this family’s deal with being all stupidly endearing?
“My turn!” Virgil bounced on his toes, and Janus was glad for the excuse to look away, “Can I hold William now, please?”
He cleared his throat and tried his best to look neutral, “I don’t know, Roman, can he?”
Stroking the snake like a cartoonish villain, which Janus was sure was the intended effect, Roman pursed his lips, “hmm, I don’t know, Vee. Are you going to be nice to William? I mean it’s such a huge responsibility, and he’s just a baby.”
“Yes!” Virgil said, and oh god, the kid was shaking with excitement. “I promise, please please please!”
Roman hummed, before his face broke into a grin, “you know what, I think you can handle this, so yeah why not?”
Virgil beamed wide and he made grabby hands towards Roman, who turned and gave the snake back to Janus, William eagerly slithering up his arm, “Only if Janus helps you, he’s the expert here, right?”
And then he turned and winked at Janus like an actual dork.
“Have you seen this tiny one before?”
“It’s a jumping spider!” Virgil gasped in awe, “They’re tiny like me and- and they have pretty big eyes, and they like to jump, jump, jump!”
“That they do.” Janus chuckled warmly, as Virgil bounced his spider plush around. “Although I think they’re a bit tinier than you.”
After Roman left with the promise of bringing fancy lunch on his way back, it took a moment to convince Virgil to put William back into his cage, but the adorable pout was quickly gone with a promise of more reptiles’ pictures– who would’ve known – and good old home-baked cookies.
“Do you have jumping spiders at the shop?!”
“I think they’re Brian’s favorite, “ Janus nodded, “I walked on him the other day talking to one like it was his baby, look.”
In all honesty, Janus was still very careful as to not traumatize the child, he made sure to only show him the tame cutesy pictures and videos and not anything on the gruesome side. Still too hesitant and afraid that he might finally expose the seven-year-old to something he couldn’t really handle.
Except Virgil received every new picture with wide curious eyes, he would immediately squeal or start chattering about the things it reminded him of. Clearly unbothered by what he was seeing.
  “And this one,” Janus said, holding up his phone as Virgil snuggled next to him on the couch, getting cookie crumbs all over the two of them, “This one is called Emerald Green Tree Boa, it has huge, sharp teeth, and look how strong it is.”
“Woah, it’s so green!” Virgil exclaimed, speaking through a mouthful of cookies, his eyes never leaving the screen, “Like, like- daddy’s hair!”
 “That’s true, and it also likes climbing trees just like your father.”
Virgil nodded seriously, “Daddy once helped me climb a big tree, but- but he told me not to climb anything when he's not around cause I might fall and break my bones. He- he said my bones are small and I need to drink a lot of milk so they become strong and I can climb all the trees in the world!”
“Your dad is very right. If you’re alone you could fall and get hurt, but if he's around he will always catch you.”
“Oh- oh!” Virgil straightened, “Like how uncle Roman caught me when I fell off the swing yesterday!”
“He took you to the playground?”
“No, he- he built me a swing, it's red and white and- it's very bouncy like that!”
He bounced his head like he was listening to music, and Janus couldn’t hide his smile if he wanted. “Sounds a lot of fun.”
“It is!” Virgil stopped bouncing his head, “I told the forest people they can play on it when I'm not around but to be careful, and not break it cause they’re very big and my swing is small, but uncle Roman says they won’t cause they’re scared of red and it’s red and white, so uncle Roman says it’s humans’ swing but- but I saw a cat try to climb on it, and- and it kept hissing when the swing moved, it was funny!”
“Well, maybe your friends from school can play on the swing.”
Looking down at his hands, Virgil suddenly went very quiet and Janus felt like he might have said something wrong. “Thomas thinks daddy is scary,” He said, “I told him he’s not, and that he’s the best dad but he keeps hiding whenever dad shows up, and so- so he won’t come over.”
“Oh,” Janus said, because what could he really say to that?
However, Virgil quickly looked up with a small smile, “Daddy says it’s okay and that a lot of people are scared of him, and- and that sometimes people being scared of you is good and it means they won’ hurt you. But- but he said Thomas is a good friend and he won’ hurt me, he- he just needs time to- Oh- oh, woah, what snake is this?”
Shaking his head fondly at the quick change of the topic, Janus picked up his phone which has at some point fallen from his hands, the video playing was of a Brazilian Rainbow Boa slithering loosely around his cousin’s shoulders, Brian grinning brightly while talking animatedly about it.
 Ever since Roman reconnected with his brother and found out he was an uncle, he’s come to discover a few things about himself.
First of all, he was never going to get used to watching horror movies, at least not the kind that his twin brother seemed to enjoy watching- too much blood for his liking blegh.
Secondly, he was apparently not immune to puppy eyes like he thought. One tiny frown from his nephew was enough for him to cave in and give the child anything he wanted, even if it meant having to crawl through dirt to make it happen.
Finally and most importantly, there was nothing in the entire world he dreaded more than having to get the kid to take a nap during the day.
During the night, it was super easy. All he had to do was tell the kid a story, something elaborate and with as many details as he could manage, and soon enough, Virgil would be snoring softly. However, It was a very different experience if the sun was still out.
Virgil refused to nap, he would start running around, screaming at whoever tried to put him to bed, not to mention he would hide in the weirdest of places, and more times than not, Roman would end up the one taking the actual nap.
 So, Roman’s complete shock was justified, when Janus opened the door and immediately shushed him, “He’s sleeping.”
Both his eyebrows shot up, “Virgil? Sleeping? But it’s noon?”
Janus gave him a confused look, “You know children need naps, right?”
“I know that,” Roman sputtered, “But it’s almost impossible to get him to sleep.”
Janus didn’t say anything as he led them back into the living room and sure enough, Virgil was on the couch, cuddling his blanket and sleeping soundly.
“Alright, “ Roman said dryly, glancing around the room, “Where is the damage?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Roman’s eyes widened almost comically and he whisper-shouted, “Did you knock him unconscious?”
“What the fuck, no, I didn’t knock him unconscious, he’s a child!”
“Oh, so you would have done that if he was an adult?” Roman asked, trying and failing to hide his amusement.
“I'm barely resisting the urge to knock you out right now.”
Roman chuckled, clearly enjoying the slightly angry shade Janus was slowly turning.
“Well then, you must have used some kind of black magic, that’s the only reasonable explanation!”
Janus took a deep breath, to try and calm down, he spoke slowly, “My mom used to sing to me when I had trouble falling asleep, turns out it worked like magic or-” he rolled his eyes, lips twitching imperceptibly, “black magic if you really insist.”
Roman’s eyes gleamed suddenly, his face brightened, and seeming to forget that he was supposed to be quiet he exclaimed, “You sing?”
“Yes,” Janus hissed, before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the room, “I swear if you wake him up, I'm going to dismember you.”
“You and my brother with this whole murder thing I swear to God-”
“Didn’t you mention getting us some ‘high-quality meal’ or do you want to keep me starving?” Janus changed the topic, coolly.
“If you think I'm going to ignore the fact that you put my nephew into a coma only using your voice then you’ve got another thing coming, my Sweet Siren,” Roman said, grinning. “But yeah, I got us the best stuff, the most delectable. I'm talking about the heavenly flavor, the brilliant-”
“Why yes, pizza!”
Surprisingly enough, Virgil stayed asleep for the whole meal and only woke up when Roman picked him up.
“U’cle Ro?”
“Hey, Little Prince. Are you ready to go home?”
Roman adjusted his grip as Virgil made a sleepy petulant noise, his eyes still half-open.
“Noooo, can we stay a little longer, please?”
“Did you have fun today, baby?” Janus asked softly, running his fingers through the kid’s hair and smiling fondly when Virgil leaned into the touch, making a noise akin to a purr. “Well, you can come by whenever you want- just don’t bring your uncle with you.”
“Hey!” Roman protested with a pout.
“Kidding, you’re not that bad.”
Virgil let out a small yawn, his face scrunching up adorably, “I wanna say g'bye to baby snakey.”
Roman booped him on the nose, “Do you now?”
“Well, come on then, Roman, it's rude to leave without saying goodbye.”
Virgil let out a sleepy 'yeah’ as he was carried to the other room, Roman stood in the doorway and watched as Virgil barely lifted his head and waved to William before flopping back in his uncle’s arms with a contented sigh causing the two adults to chuckle.
“Bye snakey.” He mumbled softly, burying his face in Roman’s chest, already drifting back to sleep.
“Bye, Snakey.” Roman agreed, giving Janus a warm smile and receiving one in return.
He had to admit, Remus’ choice of friends has marginally improved from when they were kids.
46 notes · View notes
ming-yu-hao · 4 months ago
Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder | Chapter 4
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Pairing: fratboy!mingyu x female reader
Word Count: 6.5k
Synopsis: When you transferred to a different university, you and Wonwoo promised that you would make long distance work. But distance proves to be more difficult than you both originally thought.
This Chapter’s Tags: cheating obviously, some angst and fluff, public teasing, unprotected sex (oops), light degradation/impact play/begging, use of restraints, brief face sitting, shit just goes down in general just wait
A/N: hey... how y’all doing... yeah I disappeared... but I’m back! The past two months were a mess but I’m ready to come back now and I’m v excited. Pls accept this chapter as a token of my forgiveness </3 Feedback is appreciated as always :) AND THANK U FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!!! :D
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The ride home was quiet.
Jisoo had drank a little too much, and it was evident by the way she laid her head upon your shoulder and mumbled slurred gibberish against your skin.
You opted to ignore her drunken antics, and instead just wrapped your arm around her shoulder while training your eyes on the darkness outside the front window.
Only when Jisoo trudged over to her bed after taking off her makeup and changing her clothes did she seem to have sobered up. She sprawled across her mattress, her face pressed into the blankets, before she turned and gazed at you. You were laying on your own bed, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you stared up at the ceiling.
Finally, Jisoo spoke a coherent sentence.
"Where did you go?" She asked. "At the party," she added a moment later.
You hesitated for a second.
"Wonwoo called me so I went to the bathroom. And then we fought because he was pissed that I went to a party without telling him." You explained. It wasn't a lie; that was what happened, before Mingyu showed up of course.
Jisoo sat up quickly in her bed, crossing her legs like a child listening intently to a teacher. She placed a hand under her chin and narrowed her eyes at you.
"You fought..." She started but trailed off. "Is that why you went off with Mingyu?" She questioned.
You stopped toying with the fabric of your shirt, completely frozen in place at the accusation.
"What?" You responded, your mouth suddenly dry. You sat up in your own bed now, staring at her with wide eyes.
"Come on, I'm not stupid." Jisoo rolled her eyes. "I saw you and Mingyu going upstairs. And then a minute later some guy comes in screaming about how he found Mingyu and some girl fucking in the bathroom. It wasn't hard to put two and two together."
You were horrified. It felt as if a hard punch had been delivered to your gut and a million wasps stung your skin at once. You could barely catch your breath.
"Wha- Does everyone know?" You cried, not even attempting to cover up that you had sex with Mingyu; Jisoo had already figured it out, and there was no way you could ever convince her otherwise.
Jisoo shook her head. "No, I only knew cause I saw you with him. And I didn't say anything to anyone." She reassured you.
You didn't say anything else. Hell, you couldn't even think of anything to say. You threw yourself back against the bed, covering your face with your hands. Embarrassment ate away at you.
Jisoo watched you in your distressed state, and she almost felt inclined to apologize. She shook away the thought and asked: "What are you gonna do?"
You peeled your hands off your face and sighed. You felt like crying again. You hated it; you were so sick of crying.
"What am I supposed to do?" You responded. "I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."
Jisoo chewed on her bottom lip as she thought for a moment. "Well... do you still wanna be with Wonwoo?"
"Yes," you said quickly. "I still love him. And I miss him a lot. But I just... things have been really bad lately."
Jisoo finally laid back down, mimicking you by staring at the ceiling. "You're gonna have to talk things out with him then. Be honest. Stop seeing Mingyu." She sighed. "That's what I would do."
You knew that Jisoo was right. But the thought of cutting off Mingyu left a sour taste in your mouth. You liked him a lot, as a person, and it felt unfair to just ditch him after the times he was there to comfort you.
But this was all so much more unfair to Wonwoo.
"Are you sure... that you wanna stay with Wonwoo?" Jisoo added in response to your silence.
Were you sure?
You said that you loved him: You loved the Wonwoo that took you to the cafe near campus and bought you your favorite latte; the Wonwoo that spent hours in bed with you binge-watching dumb cartoons; the Wonwoo that stayed up late with you on weekends to help you study for your exams.
He was still that same person. Things were just different now that you were far apart and couldn't be in each other's presence anymore.
Would the Wonwoo from a year ago have ignored your texts and angrily hung up on you?
How could this all possibly be to blame on some distance?
Jisoo took your silence as an answer and cleared her throat to regain your attention. She shifted onto her side to look at you, and you turned your head to meet her eyes.
"Look, I don't think you're a bad person, okay? I think you just made some mistakes." She said. "I know you care a lot about him, but long distance doesn't work for everyone."
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop them from watering.
"Just think about it, okay? I don't want you or other people getting hurt." Jisoo said. She rolled onto her other side, her back now facing you. "Goodnight. Don't stay up too late."
"Goodnight," you finally responded. Your voice was hoarse and weak.
You swallowed, and then reached for your phone.
You: that guy from the bathroom told everyone about you Sent at 12:48 AM
To your surprise, Mingyu responded quickly.
Mingyu: oh I know Sent at 12:48 AM
Mingyu: don't worry I already put him in his place Sent at 12:48 AM
You giggled quietly to yourself as you typed a response.
You: should I be scared for him? Sent at 12:49 AM
Mingyu: nah he'll live Sent at 12:49 AM
Mingyu: goodnight Y/N Sent at 12:49 AM
Mingyu: sweet dreams :) Sent at 12:50 AM
Just as you finished typing a reply, quiet vibrating sounded from Jisoo's side of the room.
She stirred in her light state of sleep, feeling around her bed and eventually pulling her phone out from under her pillow. "Hello?" She said, hints of tiredness evident in her voice.
You wondered who could possibly be calling her right now. You guessed it was Seungcheol, but once Jisoo shot up in her bed alarmingly fast you began to doubt yourself.
"What?" She cried. "Is he okay?"
You sat up yourself now, watching her with concern as she turned on the light and began rummaging through her closet.
"I'm leaving right now. No, I'll be fine. I'll text you." She said as she pulled a backpack out and began wildly shoving items into it.
"What? Where are you going? What's going on?" You questioned once she hung up.
"My dad's in the hospital. Had a stroke or a heart attack or something, I don't know." Jisoo rambled without looking at you. She ran over to the bathroom with her bag in hand. "I'm going home for a few days." She explained from the other room.
When she walked back into the room, her backpack was slung over her shoulders and her eyes were shiny with tears.
"I hope he's okay. Please be safe." You responded, though it just made you feel useless.
"Thank you," she said, looking at you with saddened eyes before turning towards the door. "I'll see you soon." She called over her shoulder before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her.
Then you were left alone, with nothing but the dark room and the thoughts that weighed on your conscience.
You found it difficult to fall asleep that night.
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When you walked into class on Tuesday, Mingyu looked different.
His hair was pushed back in his signature style and he wore his usual plain shirt and jeans, but something about him was changed. His chest seemed to be lifted with a newfound confidence.
He gave you a small smile when you approached him, and you swore you noticed his eyes graze over your figure, but you sat down without saying anything. You adjusted your skirt as you settled into your seat and pulled out your phone.
You anxiously checked your notifications, waiting for Wonwoo's name to appear, but there was still no answer.
You finally had sent him a text this morning saying that you needed to talk to him. You had spent the past few days thinking about what Jisoo said, and it was difficult to admit, but she was right.
Now it was just a waiting game until Wonwoo was ready to talk.
A notification caused your phone to buzz, and you perked up as you thought it might be Wonwoo, but instead it was a text from Mingyu.
You glanced over at him with your brows furrowed, and he just stared ahead, biting his lip to suppress a smirk. You opened the message.
Mingyu: you look good Sent at 10:05 AM
Your skin flushed at the compliment, and you quickly typed a reply.
You: you couldn't have said that to me in person? Sent at 10:06 AM
His own phone vibrated against the desk with your response. He picked it up nonchalantly, huffing out a quiet laugh.
Mingyu: well the reason I didn't say it out loud Sent at 10:06 AM
Mingyu: is cause I also wanted to say that I keep thinking about last weekend Sent at 10:06 AM
Mingyu: when your thighs were shaking Sent at 10:06 AM
Mingyu: seeing you in that skirt reminded me of it Sent at 10:07 AM
You impulsively pressed your thighs together, your eyes widening and your lips flattening into a line as each message showed up on your screen.
You: you really think this is the time and place to be saying that? Sent at 10:07 AM
You: calm down you're acting like a douchey frat boy Sent at 10:07 AM
You smiled to yourself at your teasing reply, and you heard Mingyu quietly chuckle.
Mingyu: wowwwww Sent at 10:07 AM
Mingyu: don't act like you don't like it Sent at 10:08 AM
Mingyu: I see you rubbing your thighs together over there Sent at 10:08 AM
You felt your face burn up as you realized he could see the effect he had on you. You didn't respond, letting him continue on.
Mingyu: I know you're a bad girl Y/N Sent at 10:08 AM
Mingyu: you liked it when I spanked you Sent at 10:08 AM
Mingyu: bet you'd like it if I touched you here right now Sent at 10:09 AM
You clicked your phone off quickly, setting it down against the desk. Your face was red, and you cleared your throat, trying to focus as the professor finally entered the room.
You kept your gaze locked on the front of the room, but you could still see Mingyu shifting closer to you out of the corner of your eye.
Just as the professor began talking, fingers brushed against your thigh and began toying with the hem of your skirt. You swallowed thickly, cursing yourself for the growing arousal between your legs.
Mingyu turned his head slightly towards you. "Don't react," he whispered. He turned his attention back to the front of the room, but his hand remained on your thigh, now softly squeezing the flesh between his fingers.
You inhaled a shaky breath, nervously glancing around the room. Luckily, you and Mingyu sat at the edge of the back row; the only other people in your row sat further down and to the left of Mingyu. His body and the desk most likely concealed everything that he was doing to you, but you were still fearful of getting caught.
His hand trailed upwards, slipping underneath your skirt. His fingers pressed into your inner thigh and you bit your lip. He stared forward, his face blank, as if nothing was happening.
His hand brushed against your core, and you inhaled sharply. The corner of his lip quirked up at the sound. Then he pressed his fingers against your clit through the fabric of your underwear.
Your thighs squeezed shut around his hand instinctively, and Mingyu tsked quietly before pushing your legs apart again. He began rubbing slow circles through the fabric, your arousal soaking through. Your stomach was twisting into a tighter knot with each moment that passed.
Then Mingyu suddenly slipped his fingers beneath your underwear, pressing into your bare folds. You gasped quietly and quickly grabbed hold of his wrist.
"Stop," you muttered, your voice full of alarm. Mingyu pulled his hand away, and you clenched as you were left with nothing, but you let out a relieved sigh. You were panting quietly, and he glanced at you with worry in his eyes as he wiped his hand on his pants.
You pulled out your phone and quickly texted him.
You: we can't do that here Sent at 10:14 AM
Mingyu: I'm sorry Sent at 10:14 AM
You glanced at him, and he looked back at you. You nodded as if to say "it's okay" and chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated sending your next message.
You: come over tonight Sent at 10:15 AM
Mingyu's tongue darted out to lick his lips and he turned his head towards you. His lips were upturned into a smirk as he gave you an affirming nod.
Time seemed to crawl during the rest of your classes for the day; you were anticipating Wonwoo's response and running over in your mind what you were planning on doing with Mingyu later.
As evening approached, a large hole formed in the pit in your stomach. Wonwoo still had yet to respond, which left a bitter taste in your mouth; you guessed he still wasn't done giving you the silent treatment.
You almost texted Mingyu a few times to tell him not to come over, but each time, you thought about his hand slipping beneath your skirt in class and erased your message.
You were only okay with this because Jisoo was still gone, but also, the thought of inviting a guy over to have sex while your roommate was visiting her dad in the hospital made you feel guilty. And gross. When did you become so desperate for some dick?
It was around 10 PM now, and you were pacing around your room while waiting for Mingyu to show up. You had changed out of your skirt, now wearing shorts and a crewneck instead.
A knock at the door startled you, and then your stomach dropped. You were really doing this again. You twisted the knob with hands that trembled softly and opened the door.
Mingyu stood on the other side, and you quickly observed his appearance as he stepped into the room. He also had changed his clothes from earlier. Now he was wearing sweatpants and a zip-up over a t-shirt that hugged his chest nicely. His hair was a bit messier, too.
"Hi," you exhaled.
Mingyu stood tall over you, making you feel small and nervous. You fidgeted with your hands as you stared up at him.
"Hey," he replied, licking his lips as he scanned your face.
You hesitated. "Um... do you wanna watch a movie or something?" Internally, you cursed yourself for being so stiff and awkward. But Mingyu's lips turned up into a small smirk and he agreed.
A moment later, his body laid next to yours on the bed while you picked out some random movie on Netflix. Once it started, the rapid beating of your heart didn't allow you to pay attention to the laptop screen; it was so intense you were afraid that Mingyu could feel it.
You were also hyperaware of the sensation of his body lying next to yours. The warmth of his body radiated onto you and the soft fabric of his clothing felt like a blanket against your bare skin.
"Are you even paying attention?" He asked suddenly, causing you jump slightly.
You cleared your throat. "Y-yeah."
"You seem so tense," he teased. He placed his hand on your thigh and lightly squeezed. You inhaled shakily, keeping your eyes on the screen. "Is something on your mind?"
"No," you gulped.
"Don't lie to me, Y/N." He said with a hushed voice into your ear. "I know what you invited me here for."
His face was so close that his nose was brushing against the side of your face while he spoke. Your stomach was in a tight knot now, and somehow your heart was beating even faster than before.
"You were so wet when I was touching you today." He continued to tease, lightly biting your ear. The hand that rested on your thigh moved up, his fingers brushing against your clit. "I knew you'd like that. You're dirty, aren't you?"
He pressed his fingers to your clit through your shorts as he asked the question. You whined softly, your hips jerking up at the stimulation. Finally, you turned your head towards him, pressing your lips to his in a rough kiss.
Mingyu bit at your bottom lip while he kissed you, and then pulled away after a moment to glance at the laptop that was still playing the movie. "You're not watching this, right?" He joked before shutting it and placing it on the floor.
He hovered over you now, his body caged between your legs, and went back to kissing you, this time with his tongue slipping past your lips. You moaned against his mouth softly as he pressed his warm body against yours.
He pulled away for a moment, making eye contact with you as he asked: "You sure you wanna do this?" He ran his hand down your side reassuringly as he awaited your reply. "We don't have to." He added before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
The sudden shift in his demeanor left you stunned for a moment; you quickly nodded before you could hesitate. "Yes, Mingyu." The hands that rested on the back of his neck pulled him closer to you, connecting your lips once again.
His hands began to tug the bottom of your shirt up, and the feeling of his fingers brushing against your stomach left small goosebumps across your skin.
Soon, clothes were discarded about the room, leaving you in only your bra and underwear and Mingyu in his sweats. His bare chest pressed against yours as he sucked and nibbled on the skin of your neck. You let out a soft moan, not even caring about the bruises that would later appear.
Mingyu lifted his face from your neck suddenly, mumbling against your cheek with a small smile on his face: "Can I try something with you?"
You stared at him, eyes wide with curiosity, and he grinned. His eyes seemed to flash with something that resembled insecurity before he finally admitted: "I wanna tie your hands."
You felt a gush of arousal between your legs at the thought—the thought of being teased with the inability to touch his skin. You nodded in approval. The corner of his lip twitched up at your receptiveness, and he glanced over his shoulder before grabbing one of your belts off the floor.
He secured it around your wrists before pushing them above your head, and just as he was about to continue leaving kisses across your body, you spoke. "Mingyu?"
His eyes widened as they rapidly scanned your face for signs of discomfort. "Do you not like it? Should I take it off?"
You snickered at how worried he was before asking: "Can you make it tighter?"
Relief flooded over Mingyu, and then he chuckled softly in disbelief. "Anything for you, sweets," he joked while adjusting the restraints around your wrists. You laughed, and the previous anxiety left your body.
Your wrists were bound tighter now, giving Mingyu full control, and his hands squeezed your waist as he placed a kiss on your chest. "I can't believe you," he said. "Acting so innocent when you're really a little whore for me."
His vulgar words shocked you, but you couldn't deny the other effects they had. You whined quietly, desperately raising your hips to meet his. Mingyu pushed your hips back down against the bed, and then one of his hands reached up to grope your chest.
He left wet kisses and bites across your body as he made his way from your neck to your hips, discarding the last of your clothing and leaving you bare beneath him. His jaw dropped a bit as he pulled your underwear down your legs, revealing the arousal that had built up. "So fucking wet," he observed in awe.
He began to kiss and suck on the skin of your inner thighs, avoiding the place where you needed him most. You wanted to reach down and tug at his hair, but the belt around your wrists prevented the action.
You groaned as you tried pushing your body closer to Mingyu's. "Please, Gyu." You begged. Mingyu glanced up at you from between your thighs with a smirk plastered on his face once he saw how desperate you looked.
"Is this what you want?" He asked as he dragged his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal. He rubbed your clit in tight circles and your legs twitched in response.
"More," you said in between moans. You were already sweating and red in the face out of desperation; you could feel your hair sticking to your forehead.
Mingyu stopped his movements, but his hand remained pressed to your clit, and it throbbed beneath his touch. "What else do you want?" He teased. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could clearly imagine the cocky, satisfied expression on his face right now. "Tell me," he pleaded.
He suddenly resumed his ministrations, this time at a faster pace, which made your stomach twist. You cried out, unable to form any words. "Come on, Y/N. Use your words."
He brought his hand down to your pussy in a rough slap. The sensation caused your entire body to jolt and you let out a whimper in surprise. Mingyu buried his face in your neck before whispering into your ear: "Beg for it."
Finally, you caved, and you arched your back as you moaned, "Please, Gyu. Please fuck me."
A devilish yet satisfied grin settled across his face as he pulled away from you. "Good girl." He quickly said as his hands found their way to the waistband of his sweatpants. You glanced down, seeing the way his cock strained against the fabric. You wanted to reach out and feel him, but all you could do was lie there helplessly as he undressed himself. He lowered his pants further down his hips until he suddenly stopped.
"Do you have condoms?" He questioned, his lips pursing in thought.
You shook your head. "No. Why would I have them?" Realization slowly began to dawn on you. "You didn't for-"
"Fuck," Mingyu groaned while running his palms over his face. "I forgot."
Disappointment settled over you, but the lust you were feeling for him remained. You ran over various thoughts in your mind as you observed his conflicted expression.
Mingyu's arms dropped to his sides. "It's okay," he reassured. "We can do something else." He looked up at you, his previous lust-filled expression returning as he caressed your thighs. "Have you ever sat on anyone's face before?" He suggested.
The thought enticed you—the image of Mingyu between your thighs always made your stomach twist—but ultimately you knew you needed to feel him inside you.
"Just fuck me anyways." You blurted out. Mingyu's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
"What?" He cried.
"I'm on the pill," you quickly explained. "You can just... pull out or whatever." Heat rushed to your cheeks; you had become so desperate for him.
You weren't sure what you were doing. Deep down, you knew it was a terrible idea, but you were being controlled by lust—the same lust and desire that made you tell him you wanted to kiss him a few nights ago.
Mingyu's lips were still parted in shock as he scanned your face. "Really?" He didn't see a single hint of hesitation on your visage.
"If that's what you want..." he trailed off. You saw a look of desire return to his eyes as he observed your bare body. Finally, he pushed his pants down his hips and leaned over you again.
His forearms rested on either side of your head, trapping you beneath him as he slipped his tongue into your mouth once again.
He reached down and grabbed hold of his hardened cock, guiding it through the folds of your pussy. Your jaw hung open and a deep moan escaped your throat at the pleasure. "You're gonna be the death of me, I swear." Mingyu mumbled into your ear in response to your moans.
He coated himself in your arousal as he continued to rub his cock against you, his tip nudging your clit and teasing you with the smallest bit of relief. He buried his face in your neck as he finally pushed himself into you.
A loud moan fell from his lips at the feeling. This was so much different from last time. It felt warm and soft and bare. Every sensation felt amplified; the stimulation was so intense.
"Holy shit," you gasped. You felt it too.
Mingyu's hips stuttered as he bottomed out inside you. "You feel so fucking good," he groaned. His words mixed with his hot breath against your throat made your entire body burn up. Mingyu slowly pulled himself out of you, and your back arched as his cock rubbed against your walls before he pushed into you again roughly.
Your chest rose and fell quickly with each short breath you took while Mingyu set his pace of his hips slapping against yours. Your back was still arched, and your hips lifted up uncontrollably to meet his.
"F-fuck," you whined. Your arms tried to spread apart, but they were restricted by the belt again. There was a dull ache in your wrists, but it only added to the pleasurable mix of sensations you were feeling right now.
His hands were squeezing your waist tight, to the point where you thought there might be marks there later. He thrusted into you quickly, desperately trying to reach his high. You opened your eyes to watch his euphoric expression: his head was tilted back, his lips parted, and eyes fluttered shut.
He let out a particularly loud moan and his eyes met yours. A small smile found its way to his lips before his eyes grazed down until they reached your chest. He watched the way your breasts bounced with each movement, and the sight nearly made his eyes roll back into his head.
"You gonna come?" He choked out as he saw the pleasure on your face. You moaned in response, unable to speak. He leaned over you and wrapped his hand around your throat. He stopped for a moment, before roughly pushing into you, his hips slapping against yours.
Finally, he brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he continued to thrust into you. The knot in your stomach burned and tightened. You clenched around him, which caused him to choke out a moan.
The pressure in your stomach reached its breaking point. Your body was washed over with a feeling of euphoria as your thighs shook uncontrollably. You could barely hear yourself when you let out a loud cry.
Your moans, the euphoric look on your face, and the feeling of you clenching around him all led to the snap of pleasure in Mingyu's core. He gasped as he struggled to pull himself out of you. "Fuck, I'm coming."
Hot ropes of cum painted across your stomach. Mingyu's chest rose and fell with his pants and moans as he watched the substance cover your body.
"Fuck," he whispered in awe once his orgasm faded away and he admired the mess he left on you.
Just as you were trying to catch your breath and relax your arms, they were stopped by the belt again. "Are you gonna take this off me now?" You asked.
Mingyu chuckled. "I guess so." He finally undid the loop and threw the belt to the floor. You sighed in relief. Mingyu quickly noticed the red marks on your wrists and caressed the irritated skin. "Oh, no. You could've told me it was hurting you." He frowned.
"No, it's fine. I-I liked it." You admitted sheepishly. Luckily, your cheeks were still red from before, so it hid the embarrassed flush of your skin. It was true, though. You never did these types of things before, and you certainly never thought pleasure and pain could go together, but you now that you had experienced it, you were enjoying it all too much.
Mingyu shook his head in disbelief, a smile spreading across his lips as he stared at you. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his softly.
After a moment, Mingyu pushed you back slightly. "You, uh, probably don't wanna get that on your bed." He pointed to the cum on your stomach. You glanced down. You had almost forgotten it was there.
"Yeah, you're probably right." You laughed. Mingyu reached over for a tissue to wipe it off. The two of you cleaned up, and soon you were lying next to him on the bed again, with him back in his sweats and you with an oversized shirt on.
You faced each other, but your head was curled up against his chest, listening to the quiet sound of his heart beating beneath his ribs.
"You don't seem sad this time." He said. His chest vibrated beneath you as he spoke. You pulled away to look at him with your brows furrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. All the other times we've done this you just seem sad after. But this time you don't." He noted.
You shrugged. "You seem different too. More cocky, I guess."
Mingyu pushed you playfully. "Shut up," he snickered.
"No, seriously!" You exclaimed with a laugh. "You were so awkward like a week ago and then today you pulled that stupid stunt in class!" You playfully smacked him back in the chest.
"Okay, yeah. You're right." Mingyu smiled, and then he sighed. "I guess I'm just... getting used to this."
The two of you sat in silence for a moment, both thinking of the same thing.
Mingyu rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "Which I really shouldn't be," he continued. You chewed on your lip as you pondered what to say.
"I'm breaking up with him."
Saying it out loud made realization hit you like a ton of bricks. But you weren't upset anymore. You would miss all those trips to the coffee shop and weekends in bed from over the past two years, but they had already come to an end the moment you packed up and moved away. At this point, he had become someone you used to know—someone you were holding on to when maybe you should have let go a long time ago.
Mingyu was quiet for a moment. "Wow," he finally spoke. "That's probably for the best. You didn't seem happy."
"Yeah..." you trailed off. An awkward silence started to settle, so you cleared your throat and quickly changed subjects. "So, I haven't heard much about this frat you're in."
Mingyu chuckled softly, turning towards you again. "What do you wanna know?" His hands idly reached for yours, fidgeting with and rubbing circles on the back of your hand.
You thought for a second. "Hmm, I guess... who are the other guys besides you, Cheol, Seungkwan, Seokmin, and bathroom guy?"
Mingyu let out a loud laugh. "Oh, God. Bathroom guy is Soonyoung. I swear, he's the smartest yet stupidest person you'll ever meet." He paused, his face contorted in thought. "Then there's Josh..."
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You slowly stirred awake, scrunching your face once you realized the light was still on and about to blind you the second you opened your eyes. You peeked open an eye, glancing around your room for the clock. It was almost 4 AM. You sighed, groggily trying to sit up and recollect what you were doing before you fell asleep, but an arm was weighing you down.
You glanced over your shoulder, and were taken back in surprise for a second when you saw Mingyu lying next to you. The two of you must have dozed off at some point without realizing, and now he was pressed up against you from behind with his arm draped over your waist. He was sleeping deeply, with his lips slightly parted and cheeks puffed out.
You peeled his arm off you slowly, careful not to wake him as you slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. You observed yourself in the fluorescent lighting. Thankfully, your hair wasn't too messy, but your makeup was still on and smudged around your eyes. Something about it almost made you feel hungover.
You spent a few minutes cleaning yourself up before staring at your reflection. If it wasn't already awkward enough that you and Mingyu accidentally fell asleep together, now he would see you bare-faced and groggy with sleep when he woke up. Sure, you two had sex a couple times, but somehow sleeping together was a thousand times more intimate.
You tiptoed out of the bathroom, slowly shutting the door so it didn't make any noise. You lay back down in bed stiffly, pressing yourself right against the edge to avoid Mingyu's grasp.
Just as you finished turning off the light and settling back into bed, Mingyu's arm reached forward and rested across your waist again.
"What time is it?" He muttered, his voice raspy with sleep. You jumped at the sudden noise.
"Oh, um, it's 4:02." You answered.
Mingyu pushed himself up onto his forearm and rubbed his eyes. "Like, in the morning?" He asked. You told him yes and his eyes widened. "Woah, sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep." He yawned.
He fully sat up now, running his hands through his messy hair. He turned to you, just barely able to see you in the dark. "I can go, if you want."
Oh, God. Even though this situation was an awkward mess, there was no way you could make him go home now.
"I'm not kicking you out in the middle of the night. What kind of terrible person do you think I am?" You responded, to which Mingyu laughed under his breath. "It's only a few more hours."
"Okay," Mingyu said as he lay on his back again. He rolled onto his side, his back towards you. You sat in silence before Mingyu added, "Thanks for not kicking me out."
You chuckled quietly, allowing your eyes to flutter shut and waiting for sleep to overtake you again.
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The next time you woke up, sunlight shone in your eyes. With your eyes squinted shut, you rolled over, expecting to bump into Mingyu, but were greeted with empty sheets instead.
Your eyes shot open as you felt around the bed and realized that Mingyu was nowhere to be found. You couldn't help feeling disappointed. Even though you were dreading having to face him in the morning, the fact that he left without saying a word stung.
Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open. "Oh, you're awake," a low voice called. Mingyu stood in the doorway, still shirtless and his hair a little tousled.
You smiled. "I thought you left."
"Nope, still here," he replied. He sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at you. His dark eyes looked like they held a certain warmth in them. "I've never seen someone look so nice after waking up," he said.
Your face burned up instantly. "Stop," you cried sheepishly, burying your face in your hands. You didn't even want to imagine what you looked like right now.
Mingyu grabbed your wrists and pulled them away from your face. "No, really!" He exclaimed while you wrestled back with him. "Your hair isn't even messy and your skin looks so clear," he said in between laughs.
"What are you trying to do, Mingyu?" You cried.
"Just take the compliment and say thanks!" He responded.
You stopped fighting back, letting him hold your wrists while you stared at him with a pout. "Fine," you grumbled. "Thank you."
A satisfied grin settled across his lips, and suddenly you noticed how close he was to you. "You're welcome," he said, his face only a few inches from yours.
You watched as his eyes dragged down to your lips and your breath nearly caught in your throat. He inched forward until his lips met yours. The kiss was soft and slow, until he pushed you back against the bed and pinned your wrists by the side of your head. He slipped his tongue past your lips and you moaned quietly against his mouth.
"You know what I said last night about you sitting on my face?" Mingyu pulled away to say, staring down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.
You felt arousal growing between your legs as you nodded rapidly. Mingyu let go of your wrists to lie on his back instead. Your hands trembled a bit as you reached to pull your underwear down your thighs.
"Your phone keeps going off," Mingyu said.
"Huh?" You didn't even hear it because you were too focused on the knot you felt in your stomach. You recollected yourself and shook your head. "Just ignore it. It's probably Jisoo or something."
"Hurry up," he teased, lightly smacking your thigh. You were straddling his waist.
"I am! I'm just nervous." You replied, trying to ignore the heat that was rushing to your cheeks. "I don't wanna accidentally kill you."
Mingyu rolled his eyes. "Oh, shush. I wouldn't wanna die any other way." You hovered above his face, hesitating each time you tried to lower yourself. Finally, Mingyu grabbed onto your thighs and pulled you down. You instantly moaned at the feeling of his warm tongue flicking against your clit.
"H-holy shit," you moaned breathlessly. He held onto your thighs tightly, not allowing you to move. Your legs began to twitch at the stimulation and your hips rocked involuntarily.
Mingyu pulled away, and you thought for a second that he was trying to tease you before he groaned: "Oh, my god. Who keeps calling you?" He shoved his hand under your pillow and pulled out your phone, squinting at the screen as he read.
"Who's Wonwoo?"
Your heart dropped right into the pit of your stomach. It felt like someone had punched you in the gut and you were unable to catch your breath.
"Are you kidding?" You cried. Mingyu had never seen your eyes so wide before. He turned the phone around to show you. Sure enough, Wonwoo's name was on the screen.
"Is that your boyfrie-" he started, but you interrupted by jerking the phone out of his hand.
"Don't say anything," you ordered. You hit answer and brought the phone up to your ear with a shaky hand.
"Hey," you said, trying to conceal the quiver in your voice.
"Hey," Wonwoo replied. Hearing his voice again made your throat tighten.
"I'm on campus. Can we please talk?"
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