#but this is its own genre. helmet doing its own thing. helmet away from the vicinity of its owner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeollie-plz · 3 months

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Ever Since We Met, I Only Shoot Up With Your Perfume

Din Djarin x F! Reader

Synopsis: You receive a new perfume, Din really likes your new perfume.

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: pheromone perfume, its giving sex pollen without the sex pollen, p in v sex, unprotected sex, thigh riding

Gif credits to owners!

"Hey you!" A voice called out from the alley way to your left, you turn your head in search of the face that matched the sound. Meeting eyes with an older woman, her face hiding slightly in the shadows.

"You look like you're in love." This statement stops you dead in your tracks, how did she know that? You can't stop your eyes from widening slightly, your jaw turning slack at the woman's words.

You and Din had been traveling together for a while. You also have had a crush on Din for almost as long. Only recently has that crush came more to the surfaced, with his own confession of affection. It hasn't really turned it much yet, but yes, you were in love.

"He doesn't love you back...no wait-" She pauses, scanning your face "-He does...you're just taking your time." She smirks now, almost like she knows she's right. Its annoying that she is.

"I've got something for you." You still haven't replied to her, yet she continues to talk, and yet you continue to stay watching her carefully.

Pushing a small white bottle towards you, she shakes it, almost like she's tempting you with it. But you aren't swayed that easily, you stand there, defensive. She lets out a laugh.

"Take it, I got chased away from the market. It used to be a huge seller! But you, you need it. Take it." She shakes it again.

"I don't usually take things from ladies in alley ways." You finally speak, her eyes gleam at your words.

"Smart rule." She stands there contemplating her words, "Listen, its perfume. It'll-it'll help you with your... Mandalorian?" Her eyes snap up to the figure that has suddenly appeared behind you. Her words mirror her shock. Glancing behind you, you confirm that it is a Mandalorian. Your Mandalorian, in fact.

"Trouble, cyar'ika?" Din says, his tin-like words coming through his helmet. The sound shocks the woman slightly, she stumbles back. Uncharacteristic of the woman that was once so confident in front of you.

"No, no trouble." You turn to look at him, eyes soft as they stare into the beskar of his helmet. A hand comes up to touch his chest plate, a gesture intended to calm him down, but little do you know it makes his heart beat faster.

Turning back to the woman, who is now hurriedly gathering all her things. She shoves the bottle into your hand and rushes off as quickly as she showed up.

"I feel like she had a bounty out on her or something." You say more to yourself than to Din. He grunts in response, eyes trained to where the woman disappeared into the dark.

"What did she give you?" He is now looking down at the bottle in your hand. The concern very evident.

"Just perfume, said it would help me?" You shrug and push past his large form, making your way back to the ship. He follows behind you like a puppy, trailing on your heels. Despite your nonchalant reaction to the gift, Din can't help but be a bit apprehensive.

When you awoke the next day, you got ready like usual, but as you passed the tiny white bottle, it glinted in the sun. The shine drew your eye to the glass. It was almost as if the woman was whispering to you now, "Put it on." You shrugged and picked up the bottle, spraying a bit onto your wrist to test the scent. You sniffed the spot, trying to discern the smell. Nothing. It smelt like nothing?

No, that can't be it. All that just for it to smell like nothing. Maybe it was just mild, maybe you needed to put more on. Yes, that was it. You picked up the bottle once again and sprayed it all over you, making sure to use a good amount. Sniffing the air, you still didn't smell much. No way, you were scammed!

Well, you didn't actually pay her anything, so was it really a scam? You shook your head in disbelief. It wasn't poison, right? Your heart beat faster in fear, maybe it was poison and you just willingly covered yourself in it.

Shaking your head at your silliness, you ignored the pit in your stomach at the thought. Why would someone be trying to poison you? Yes, the old lady was very persistent, but somehow you trusted her. It just must not be that strong of a scent, that had to be it.

As you made your way to the helm, you found Din standing with his back to you, messing with something on the console. He turned as he heard your footsteps approaching him. You didn't know it but a smile formed on his face as you came into view.

Settling yourself into the pilot's seat, his helmet tilted at you in question. It was something the two of you would do almost everyday. You'd steal his seat, making yourself comfortable, until he grumbled at you to move. It was almost like a game at this point. He would never admit it but he liked the way you looked sitting there. He could just picture himself under you...

He shook his head, trying to get the image out of it. Pretending to go back to what he was doing, he slowly worked his way towards you. Din just wanted to be closer to you in any way he could. But as he side stepped in front of you, a new scent wafted towards him. It flooded his senses, vision blackened, lust washed over him. What was this?

"Uhm...did you use that new perfume?" He questioned. Your eyes narrowed at the back of his head, while he continued to fiddle with some buttons.

"I did, but it didn't smell like much so I don't think I'll use it again." You shrugged, looking down at your nails. He abruptly turned around, the speed of the action caused you to look back up at him.

"I think you should keep wearing it." He said definitively. Eyebrows furrowing, you tried to read his body language.

"Oh, okay then? I'm gonna go get some work done." You said, confused by his actions. You got up and wandered away, not sure what to do with the way Din was acting.

Almost a week went by, and at Din's request you continued to wear the perfume. The scent never seemed to get stronger for you, but your confusion did. Because every time you walked into the room, Din almost melted. As the perfume wafted towards him, all his reservations diminished. It took everything in him to not just take you the moment he smelt you. And every night he would touch himself to the thought of you.

He wanted to push you down on the console, have you like putty in his hands. Dripping all over him, fucking you so hard you forgot your own name. Anything to touch you. Anything to have you touch him. Anything to relieve this...spell.

"Din?" You questioned from the doorway. This finally snapped him out of his thoughts, as he turned to look at you. If the scent had him already begging for you, the way you looked right now had him on his knees. You were stood there in nothing but a nightdress, the material of which left almost nothing to the imagination.

"I've been calling you." You laughed, his body melted at the sound. You didn't seem to notice.

"Sorry, I'm just in my own world over here." He couldn't take this anymore, the push and pull was all too much for him. He needed to fell you and soon. His body craved yours.

Slowly he stepped closer to you, helmet dropped to the soft spot of your shoulder. The cold of his helmet sent a shiver down your spine, as he breathed you in right over your pressure point.

"You smell so good." He muttered metallically into your neck. Another shiver racked down your body.

"Din..." You whimpered, your own constraints snapping with his proximity. Although you had wanted it and thought about it for a while, it still scared you to take that step with Din. But you wanted him...needed him in this moment.

Its like he can read your mind, "Need you." He now mumbles out, still breathing in your scent.

"Me too." With this confirmation, he lifts his head. His visor meeting your eyes, trying to read them. You let yours bore into his, trying to work past the black to prove you really did want this.

"Need you." You mirror his words and that's all he needs before he is picking you up like you are nothing and carrying you into his quarters. He throws you onto his bed, hands instantly finding purchase with your flushed body.

Din starts at your stomach, letting his fingers move slowly up until they are kneading your breasts. Massaging them expertly, the soft material of your dress adding to the sensitivity. He tweaks one nipple, causing your hips to buck up into his thigh that is slotted between your legs.

His hands stop, "Careful, mesh'la."

That's all the warning you need to try and keep yourself in check. The darkness of his voice and his desperate actions making you realize he's not one to mess with tonight. Not that you're complaining, you want him to use you.

One hand returns to your breast, abandoning it's previous mission. The other continues it, making its way don your legs. It ghosts over your sensitive mound and you can't help but let your hips buck up again. He tsks at you through the beskar.

"Told you to be careful. But I know my baby is so desperate for me right now, so why don't you show me. Show me how badly you want this cock."

He backs off of you and you almost whimper at the loss of body heat. He takes off his chest plate and leg plates, leaving only his under armor. His body seemed so defined without all that heavy armor.

Leaving his helmet and arm plates, he sits on the bed resting his back on the wall behind the bed. He pats his thigh, showing you what he wants you to do. Complying almost instantly you saunter over to him.

Not sure if you should undress, you decide against it as to not get yourself in more trouble. Instead, you hike your dress up your thighs, flashing your panties to him before settling over his thigh. His eyes darken at the sight, if only you could see them.

Din's hands find purchase of your hips and start to work your soaked core on his thigh. He flexes it as you begin to gain your own rhythm, now only using his hands as support.

Your speed increases as you begin to near your peak. You can't believe you are this worked up just from him barely touching you. Kriff, the things this man does to you.

He continues to flex underneath you, the feeling makes it so much more heightened. You stroke your core against his muscles, knowing how much he wants this too. Movements begin to falter and Din seems to notice this. Using his hand to help keep your pace up, the other finds your breast again massaging it to help you closer to your orgasm.

You gasp out, hands pushing through your hair as you arch your back. Your orgasm finally washing over you. The feeling so intense after months of not having one. The initial shocks subside and you fall into his chest, his very warm and hard chest you note.

He lifts you up off his thigh and places you stomach down onto the bed. Ripping your panties off of your body, causing you to gasp. Your head looks back at him as he stands, looking down at the wet spot on his pants.

He tuts quietly, "Dirty girl, why don't you spread those legs for me? I need to be inside you."

Legs spread apart, revealing your dripping pussy to him. He strips his pants, revealing his own hard member to you. Your eyes widen at this sight, gulping down the lump in your throat. When you decided to fuck Din, you didn't know you were getting into something that big!

Stepping towards you, he strokes his dick, making sure it is hard enough. Although he knew that wasn't really a problem with all that has happened so far. He teases your entrance with his member, getting it a bit lubed up to make the stretch a little better for you.

"I'm gonna fuck you now. I'm only saying this because once I start, I won't be able to stop." You almost laugh at his warning, like you would want him to stop!

Even so, you give him his confirmation, "I want you, Din."

That's all he needs, pushing his tip into you. You can tell it's taking everything in him not to just force himself in past your walls. You appreciate the gesture, but in this moment you would take anything he were to give you.

Once he has decided that you have adjusted enough, he pushes in more and more slowly, letting you feel all of him. Bottoming out, he gives you just a second to adjust this time before he can't take it anymore. He's pulling out to his tip and fucking back into you roughly.

Your body jerks forward as he roughly fucks into you. He pulls out slowly just to push back in, hitting your cervix every time. Din lifts your hips to find a new angle in you. This new angle causes his dick to hit right on your g spot. The feeling has your whimpering and almost drooling, already rapidly approaching another orgasm.

Din can tell to as your cunt clenches onto his dick, "Gonna cum for me again aren't you, cyar'ika?"

You can only whimper in response as your pussy clenches once again, he chuckles at you. You don't have the time to be mad at his laughing, before his hand is making contact with your clit and your orgasm is washing over your body. Your vision turns white as you involuntarily shake with the force of your orgasm.

Before you have fully recovered from the feeling, Din is pulling out, instantly making you overstimulated. But he doesn't seem to notice the way you groan out quietly or the jerk of your hips. He is too busy flipping you over and moving your legs up to his shoulders. Pushing his dick into you again, he continues his assault on your now even more sensitive pussy.

His pace is faster now, a sign that he is also getting close to his peak. Hands holding onto your ankles, knowing you are too weak to do it yourself. His hips are rolling into your yours as he thrusts, hitting your clit while he fucks you.

"Next time, I'm going to taste you, mesh'la." He grunts while thrusting into you. The words and feeling cause you to moan.

"Come on, baby, one more for me." His pace has slowed only slightly so he can gauge your reaction. Your face reels with a bit of pain at the thought, but quickly recovers.

"You can do it." He urges and goes back to his previous pace. One hand now finding your clit, moving it in circles to draw you closer to your third orgasm.

Although your body was spent and you weren't sure you could do it, he was. And he was determined to do everything in his power to get you over your edge one more time.

His thumb continues to circle your clit, pressing on the bud roughly. With a clench of your pussy on his dick, he is moving his digit faster and fucking you harder (if that was even possible). That's when the wave washes over you once again. This time your eyes roll back as your back arches off of the bed. Hips meet his and head knocks back at the feeling.

The feeling of your pussy and the look at your pleasured body, throws Din also over his edge as he finishes inside of you. Hips beginning to stutter as he fills you with his spend. He bottoms out into you once more, keeping his dick there.

You are still coming down from your high when you notice that he is still inside of you. Head tilting in confusion at him.

"Making sure you know who you belong to." He says, knowing what you were gesturing at. Finally pulling out, much to his dismay, he helps you lets your legs relax. Knowing they are probably sore, he massages them lightly.

Both of you are laying there, now content and completely fucked out. When a thought comes to your head. You sit up quickly with a gasp. Obviously now very concerned, Din sits up too.

"I know what the lady was talking about now." You say, like it all made so much sense now.

"What?" He questions, obviously not getting it.

"The perfume lady! She said the perfume would help me! I get it now!" He sits there at your confession, still confused.

You sigh, "It must be some sort of perfume that only appeals to you! I couldn't smell it, but you loved it!" He hums, starting to understand it now.

"And it did help me!" You laugh, "It helped me get laid!"

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year

Note

#72 #5

Minho or Hyunjin? Eheh 🤭

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompt: "Are those...bite marks?"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Princess!Femreader x Royal Guard!Lee Minho

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Light Smut

"Fuck." Hyunjin grunts as the heavy hilt of your sword buries itself in his stomach.

He goes to his knees, dropping his own sword with a clatter, trying to catch his breath, and you circle him slowly, like a big cat waiting for the right moment to take down its fallen prey

You regard him with narrowed eyes and an air of annoyance.

"You're going easy on me. Stop it."

Hyunjin glances up at you, tracking you with his eyes, a few loose, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling over his brow, and he lets out a little humorless laugh at your words, throwing his hands out in an exasperated gesture.

"I swear to god, princess, if I went any harder on you, I'd collapse."

You stop, staring at him, trying to gauge the truthfulness in his statement.

He bows his head slightly to you, but not before you catch the hint of an amused grin on his full lips.

"I hate to admit it, but you've simply become better than me, princess." He glances off to your left, the grin growing slightly more cheeky now. "Isn't that right, Minho?"

You glance over your shoulder at your personal guard, leaning against the nearby wall, his usual, blank expression on his features, as unreadable and silent as ever.

He arches a brow at Hyunjin as the former scoops up his sword and bounds to his feet once more, headed for the weapons rack and the pail of water waiting beside it.

"I'm in no position to proclaim anything."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes good naturedly, sheathing his sword as he throws you a smirk over his shoulder, swiping hair back from the glistening skin of forehead.

"God, he's absolutely no fun, is he?"

"No." You shake your head, biting back your own grin now as you toss him your sword, which he catches easily, stowing it beside his own.

"I don't get paid to be fun." Minho deadpans, his eyes astutely scanning across the training courtyard in search of god knows what, his hand resting easily on the hilt of his sheathed sword at his waist. "I get paid to protect the princess, and that's what I'm doing."

"All right, Sir Serious." Hyunjin taunts, rolling his eyes once more, just for good measure. "Whatever you say."

Minho pushes off the wall and strides toward you, light armor clanking, before he narrows his eyes and looks up to judge the position of the sun in the sky.

"We should be getting back, your highness."

You glance once more at Hyunjin, who grins at you, before turning away and starting to organize the racks of weapons.

You sigh and drop the light weight helmet you had been wearing during your spars to the ground at your feet, motioning with your head to the waiting guard and the palace seen in the distance.

"Fine. Lead the way."

As you trek silently after Minho-back through the royal gardens, down the path through the vineyard, into the main fountain courtyard-you can't help but think that your mother is going to be furious with you.

Minho tries to keep you on time to things, but you're head strong and stubborn, and chafe under the rules of being the crown princess, and judging by the dipping of the setting sun, you're late for dinner.

Not to mention, you'd snuck some old clothes from the stable boys to practice in-skirts and silks only serving to get in your way-and your mother was sure to have a conniption fit if she saw you dressed in the raggedy pants and overly large tunic you'd secured.

Minho had caught one sight of the outfit and you had seen the disapproval on his face.

"Your mother is going to be angry, you know." He remarks, not looking back at you, as if thinking about his obvious annoyance with your recreational activities has summoned it to the surface once more.

"What's new?" You huff back, stepping past him as he holds aside a low hanging shrub for you to pass, stomping your feet in their old boots just a little bit harder than necessary as you do. "She's always angry it seems."

Minho remains quiet, following you up to the servants' entrance of the ostentatious castle that leads to the kitchens, and ultimately, the back staircase that allows you to sneak in and out without catching your mother's-or the royal advisor's-watchful eyes.

Yanking open the heavy wooden door, you stomp up the staircase without so much as a backward glance in your personal guard's direction.

Let him be angry with you. Let them all be angry with you.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered, and it would never matter, not when you were doomed to be held in a gilded cage for the rest of your life.

********************************************************************************

You keep your head down at dinner-only speaking when you're spoken to, though it chafes against every nature you have-and you mostly avoid your mother's ire by doing so.

Acting the dutiful princess has always put her off the war trail.

After dessert, you sneak out of the dining room as your mother takes her wealthy guests to the parlor for some after dinner brandy and betting games, probably a little political talk if you had to guess.

None of it matters to you. It doesn't have to, because eventually your mother will find you some boring old duke of a husband, and he'll rule the castle, because god forbid a woman do it on her own, and you'll be just as trapped as before.

Dashing up the stairs, skirts in your hands, gleeful and heady from getting out of entertaining without being caught, you stop on the landing and glance down into the foyer, just as Minho steps from the shadows.

You can tell he's irritated, even from here, and something about it makes you even more triumphant than before.

"You don't have to follow me." You call down to him, taking the second flight of stairs two at a time, even as he sighs and begins to descend the first.

"I do though."

"You really don't." You reply back, reaching the second landing, catching your breath.

Damn these heavy skirts and petticoats and this tightly drawn corset in which you can hardly breathe. You much prefer the tunics and trousers men are allowed to wear.

Minho reaches you as you're finding the last of your breath, and the look on his face is smooth once more, unreadable.

It's something you've never understood about him. How he manages to keep such a blank mask all the time. Doesn't he feel stifled? Doesn't he want more?

"It's my job, princess." He affirms in a serious, no argument tone, and you roll your eyes in response.

"Fine."

He follows you silently down the long corridor, but when you reach the large oaken doors of your room, you pause with a hand on the knob, glancing at him with a sort of smirk over your shoulder.

"You have to wait out here though. I'm going to change."

If Minho's caught off guard, he doesn't show it. He leans against the wall and his hand goes to the sword at his hip.

"I'm not allowed in your chambers regardless, your highness. Now is no different."

"God, you really are no fun." You complain, just to annoy him, and you push through the doors, shutting them in his face before he can say anything in response.

Deciding against calling for the help of one of your ladies maids, and risking a lecture, you slip out of the dozens of layers of gowns and petticoats yourself, but the corset cinched tightly around your waist proves a little more difficult.

No matter how much you twist and turn, you can't get ahold of the carefully placed laces to tug them loose.

"Fuck." You swear beneath your breath, sweating slightly, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you ponder your options.

Finally, you come to the conclusion that there's no other way. It has to be done.

Waltzing to the door, you tug it open and peek your head out to see Minho right where you left him.

He slides his gaze to you with a questioning sort of look, and you clear your throat.

"I-need a little help."

He stares at you, and then his lips form a firm line. "Call for Celia."

"I can't." You explain with a huff, as if he thinks you're stupid and you feel the need to explain yourself. "She'll rat me out to mother and I'll get the lecture of a lifetime."

Minho just continues to stare, unyielding.

"Minho." You whine, stamping your foot, and he arches a brow. "You know I'm on thin fucking ice with her already."

"And you'd be on even thinner ice if she heard you using coarse language like that."

You don't give in. "Please?"

Minho sighs. "Fine."

You squeal and duck back into the room, and it's only when he steps through the door to join you, that you suddenly realize with certain clarity what you're asking of him.

You're standing in nothing but your shift and corset, and there's a man in your room, one you're not married to, and oh god-

Minho seems to realize all of this at the same time you do, and he freezes mid step as if he's been doused in cold water, and you shriek without thinking, darting behind the bed to hide behind the blanket.

"Close your eyes!" You hiss out, as you scrabble to cover yourself.

He does so, but a wash of frustration moves across his face as he snaps back, "How the hell am I supposed to unlace you if I can't see?"

"I don't know!" You blurt out, heart hammering against your chest with panic.

Minho takes a blind step in the direction of the door. "If you would just call your maid-"

"No!" You exclaim, a bit louder than intended, and Minho cracks open an eye as you slap your hand over your mouth.

"No." You repeat, quieter this time, and you straighten, steeling your nerve, glancing toward the closed door nervously. "Let's just do it quickly. I'll stay behind the blanket, and you have to promise your gaze will remain appropriate at all times-"

Minho snorts a humorless sounding chuckle, and you glare at him.

"Promise me, Minho!"

He sighs and stares upward at the ceiling for a moment, as if looking for something to give him strength.

"I promise."

"Okay, good." You say nervously, tucking the blanket more securely around you, until you're sure just the laces on the back of your corset are showing.

You waddle in Minho's direction, and if you didn't know him better, you'd think that was a flash of amusement in his eyes.

You turn toward him, baring your back and your shoulders, and hold your breath, staring straight ahead.

He doesn't touch you and you grow antsy in the silence.

"Minho!" You hiss, not daring to glance back at him. "Hurry!"

You hear him take a step forward, and then feel a brush of a finger along the bare skin of your shoulder as he reaches for the top laces.

You jolt, cheeks instantly aflame, and try to hold still as you feel him hesitantly pull the top lace through the eyelet.

You try to focus on anything but the feel of Minho's warm hands brushing your back through your thin shift as he works, quickly and quietly, and as the corset loosens and you can breathe again, your lungs tighten up for a whole different reason.

Minho is touching you.

And you don't hate it.

Minho pulls the last lace through and clears his throat, reaching around you to drop the discarded laces into your hands.

"There. All done."

He pulls his hand back, and as he does so, it brushes the bare skin of your shoulder.

You shiver, and it's not because you're cold.

Instantly, you whirl, tugging the blanket up and around you so you're completely covered now, and when you meet Minho's gaze, his mask is firmly in place, expression unreadable.

"Thank you." You manage to say, as Minho nods and backs toward the doors.

"I'll be waiting outside, your highness."

He disappears, and the doors click quietly shut behind him.

You stare down at the silk laces he had laid in your palm, and will your heart to stop thundering out of your chest.

********************************************************************************

"Do you think Lee Minho is actually cold, or do you think that's just what he wants people to see?" You ask one day, sitting in a field of wild flowers, watching the horses graze contentedly a few feet away.

Felix looks over at you in surprise, then glances in the direction of Minho, off a few hundred feet away making sure his mare drinks from a stream.

"Why are you asking?" He replies curiously, instead of giving you an answer, and you sigh, leaning back on your hands and hiking up your skirts to give your legs a little glimpse of the warm afternoon sun.

"I don't know." You shrug, considering, and lean over to pick an especially yellow daisy, twirling it between your fingers as you think. "I just think there's a side to him I don't really know."

Felix lounges back beside you, a blade of grass stuck between his lips, and stares up at the blue sky for several moments.

"I think there's a side to everyone that we don't really know."

You nod thoughtfully, and unwittingly, your gaze drifts to Minho, stroking the broad neck of his horse gently, whispering something to it in low tones that you can't catch.

"Yeah, I guess." You admit vaguely, staring off into the distance.

"Besides-" Felix leans over to nudge your side, giving you a bright grin that dimples his cheeks and scrunches his freckles. "-I wouldn't worry about him too much. I'm sure your mother has loads of eligible suitors lined up and waiting. You'll have no time to think of the mystery that is Lee Minho soon enough."

That sounds absolutely awful, but you don't say that out loud.

You simply give him a smile that you don't feel in return, playfully shove him, and stand up to ready for the ride back home.

********************************************************************************

"Minho." You call out, standing in the middle of the sparring ring, chest heaving, having bested Hyunjin once again.

Your guard glances up from his usual position on the wall.

"Spar with me." You command, motioning to the ring with the tip of your sword.

Minho stares.

"Minho." You repeat again, tone firmer and harder this time, because you know he's going to try to refuse, but you need this. Just to see. "That's an order from your princess."

You see his chest rise and fall beneath his armor with a breath, and then he pushes off the wall, accepting the training sword Hyunjin hands him wordlessly as he walks toward you.

He steps a boot over the red line of the training circle, and eyes you warily.

"Princess, I don't think-"

"Don't think." You snap back, readying your stance, adjusting your hold on the hilt, glaring at him. "And don't go easy on me."

Minho watches you, something flashing across his eyes that you can't quite read, and then he sighs and sinks down into a ready stance of his own.

Hyunjin steps up, glancing between the two of you carefully, before he drops his hands in between you to signal the start of the match.

You move without thinking, whirling around and using the heavy weight of your sword to propel you toward Minho, under his left arm and right toward his flank.

He leaps out of the way easily, and comes around your back, and you follow his every movement with narrowed eyes, trying to preemptively think of what he's going to do next.

He lunges for you suddenly, the tip of his sword headed for the juncture of your shoulder, and you drop and roll out of the way to the other side of the ring, avoiding him.

"Why are you holding back?" You ask furiously, swinging at him again, as he ducks and maneuvers out of your way.

"I'm not." He snaps right back, and with a cry, you leap at him again, aiming for his legs, hoping to take him down to the ground.

There is tension, as the two of you circle the training ring and each other like jungle cats, stalking each other's every moves, watching footwork and body language and any minute movements.

"You are." You insist, slightly out of breath, as you dodge another one of Minho's well timed attacks, barely missing nicking your arm on the edge of his training blade.

"I'm not going to hurt you, princess." Minho retorts, fire flaring in his eyes, as he scrapes past a swing of your own.

With a growl of frustration, you head for him again, and this time, he meets your blade head on, the swords creating sparks as they make contact, the two of you battling for dominance.

You're so close now that you can see the flecks of gold in Minho's dark brown eyes, the sweat shining on his upper lip, the slight wave of his hair now that it's damp.

"Fucking hurt me." You hiss back, holding against his insistent pressure, your arms beginning to ache with the strain. "It's the only thing I get to feel in this prison."

Minho's eyes flash dangerously, and he gains an inch over you, the blades sliding against one another as he pushes you a step back.

"You wanna know something, Minho?" You bite out, your muscles beginning to shake with exhaustion, your whole body tense. "Every day, I watch you. I watch you put on a mask, and go to work, and follow orders, and do it all again the next day-like some sort of cold, unfeeling, unyielding machine. Aren't you tired? Don't you get tired of just not feeling anything?"

Minho growls in his throat, and suddenly, he's heaving forward, sending your sword flying from your hands as you tumble to the ground, the wind knocked out of you as you land hard on the packed earth, flat on your back.

Before you can react, Minho is on you, sword at your throat, pinning your body down beneath his, chest heaving.

You stare up at him, shocked, and suddenly, your heart is racing in your chest.

He leans over you, face impossibly close to your own, and you catch a hint of his musk-something cedar and pine-before he grits out beneath his breath, "There. Happy now?"

You open your mouth, but no words come out, and he stares at you, hard, his breaths harsh, and you see something flicker across his gaze as he murmurs, "I feel things. But they're forbidden. And that's the way it has to be, princess."

He pulls the sword back from your throat and stands.

You lay there in the dirt, Hyunjin rushing to your side, as Minho tosses aside his sword and leaves without another backward glance.

********************************************************************************

"Fuck." You swear beneath your breath, sitting on the edge of your ridiculously large bed, trying, and failing once more, to wrap your hand in the strips of linen you had stolen from the kitchen.

Glancing down at the small wound on the palm of your hand, you let yourself fall back heavily on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling.

"Fuck this." You announce, if only to yourself, and you stand determinedly, marching to the door of your room and yanking it open.

Minho glances at you from his usual post on the wall.

"I need your help." You say, with no preamble, and Minho arches a brow.

"Your highness, please say it has nothing to do with corset laces."

You pause, because that's probably the first time you've ever heard Minho make anything close to a joke, and then shake your head with a slightly rueful smile.

"It does not."

Minho inclines his head to your open door after looking down the hall to make sure you're alone. "Lead the way then."

You shut the door behind him, and return to the bed, sitting down on the edge as Minho stands like a statue in the doorway.

You heave a sigh and motion him forward with your hand. "Come over here. You can't help me from there."

He does so, albeit reluctantly, hand on the hilt of his sword, like always, and comes to stand awkwardly beside you.

You open your palm and he glances down, his expression going dark as he takes in the small, red wounds marring the flesh.

"Are those....bite marks?"

You shrug one shoulder and try not to let his sudden anger make your heart do weird things in your chest.

"Yes. I tried to befriend a stray in the village this afternoon." You remark, reaching for the discarded roll of linen. "Bastard apparently didn't like cook's egg tarts."

You hold out the linen to Minho with an expectant look, and he sighs heavily, before taking it from your outstretched hand and kneeling at your feet.

"Fine. Let me see."

You extend your hand another inch or so, suddenly unsure of what to do, and Minho glances up at you, amusement in the twitch of his lips, before he grasps your hand with his own and pulls it into his lap.

You bite back the gasp that threatens at the feel of his fingers on your won.

"Did you clean this?" Minho asks, studying the wound clinically, turning your palm all which ways to see it in the light.

"Yes." You nod, annoyance seeping into your tone. "I'm not daft."

"I didn't say you were." Minho remarks offhandedly, as, seemingly satisfied, he unrolls the linen and begins to carefully wind it around your palm.

You hiss a little as the coarse fabric scrapes the raw skin, but manage to hold still as Minho finishes the job and ties it off securely with a satisfied little nod and a hum in the back of his throat.

"There." He announces, glancing up at you, and you freeze, because, fuck, Minho is pretty, and how have you never noticed?

You stare openly, your eyes dragging down the sharp, well arched lines of his face, the slope of his nose, the full bow of his upper lip.

And with a start, you realize he's still holding your injured hand in his own.

Tugging out of his grasp, you stand, brushing off your skirts as if they're dirty, if only to direct attention away from your suddenly flaming cheeks.

You clear your throat. "Thank you. I-"

Minho stands now as well, echoing your throat clear. "Yes. If that'll be all-"

Something sinks heavy into the pit of your stomach at his obvious dismissal.

"Minho-" You start to say without really thinking where you're going, and he glances to you, expression shuttered. "I never got to apologize. For the other day."

He regards you with a cautious look, a muscle in his jaw feathering slightly.

"You don't need to apologize for anything, your highness."

"No, I mean-" You take a step forward, holding his gaze, and you feel the danger in this, the danger in him being here, in being alone, in your room. "-I didn't mean it. What I said about you being cold."

Minho studies you, his eyes dark in the flicker of the sconces. "But I am."

You stare at him, dumbfounded.

Minho sighs, reaching up to rake a hand through his thick hair, and you think it's the first human gesture you've ever seen out of him since you've known him.

"It's who I am. I have to be. It's part of my job, princess."

"Why?" You ask without thinking, and Minho's gaze grows pained, just for an instant, and then it's gone.

He shakes his head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Please." You beg, taking another step toward him, and surprise even yourself when you clutch your hand in his.

Minho instantly freezes.

"Please. I want to understand. If you could just try to help me-"

"I-" Minho starts to say, eyes flicking down to yours.

"We're the same, Minho." You whisper desperately, squeezing his cold fingers. "Trapped, locked away. Maybe if I understood, we could help each other-"

Minho stiffens, and he tugs his hand from your own, and when you look at him again, he's closed off, face unreadable once more.

He backs toward the door, a flash of anger in his eyes before it's gone.

"We are not the same, princess. We will never be the same."

He turns on his heel and exits your room without another word.

********************************************************************************

You don't know if it's the way you left things with Minho the night before, or if it's the fact that your mother is waiting in the parlor with some suitable prince suitor, but you find yourself fleeing the castle on horseback at the first possible moment.

"Princess, wait-" Felix calls out, but you pay him no heed as you pull yourself up on your mare and kick her flanks, urging her into a fast gallop, leaving the stable and the palace and your mother and Minho all behind.

You ride and ride, not caring where you're headed, and it's only when the first rain drop hits your forehead, that you pull the horse to a slower canter, weaving her in and out of the forest trees, the sound of your own heartbeat and the hoofbeats on the ground the only thing filling your head.

The rain quickly becomes a downpour, and you tug the hood of your riding cape up around your head, cursing yourself for being stupid enough to leave without checking the weather first.

It mists your face in a chilled spray, and soon, your dress is drenched, heavy and wet, the horse's mane sticking to her soaked skin beneath your clenched fingers that hold the reigns.

You reach a stream, made into something closer to a roaring river by the storm, and the mare beneath you balks when you urge her to the edge, stomping her feet and shaking her head, snorting nervously.

"C'mon-" You urge, your teeth starting to chatter, and kick her flank once more, just as a flash of lightning cracks across the sky and a boom of thunder sounds over head.

The horse rears, and with a startled shriek, you're thrown violently to the muddy forest ground.

Your mare thunders off wildly, and you're left alone, crumpled on the forest floor, your body aching and your heart pounding.

You push yourself up to a sitting position, slipping slightly in the mud, and wince, hissing through your teeth as you jostle your bruised ribs and very clearly sprained ankle.

Mud covers your palms as you take stock of yourself and any injuries sustained, and when you pull your fingers away from your forehead, they're red and sticky with blood.

Glancing around, you realize with a sharp pang of fear, that you have no idea where you are.

And no one knows how to find you.

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to get to your feet, the roar of the river loud in your ears, but only succeeded in rising to your knees before you slide in the mud, your skirts-heavy with water-tangle around your legs, and your weakened body collapses back down.

You glance around for a stick, or a branch, or a tree to heave yourself up with, but you're dead weight, and there's nothing in sight.

Tears gather, hot and frustrated, and you scream into the clouds overhead, raging at the storm, at your stupidity, at this asinine life and role you've been thrust into.

You duck your head against the wind and rain, and stare at your muddied, bloodied hands and skirts, the tears starting to drip from your eyes without your permission.

It makes you even angrier.

"Fuck." You growl out, swiping at your cheeks, smearing the mud around along with the tears. You let your head fall back and scream louder once more, "Fuck!"

You don't know how long you sit there, defeated, in the mud beside the river, before you hear a faint sound in the distance that makes your ears perk.

It's the sound of hooves.

Without thinking, you cup your hands around your mouth and start to cry out, hoping it's a hunter or servant stumbling upon you in their trip through the woods, "Help! Someone please help!"

No one comes, and your pleas die in your throat, along with your hope.

Foolish. Stupid. It was probably just your abandoned mare passing by in her frenzy whipped up by the storm.

And then, a large dark horse-much too large to be your own-appears at the edge of the clearing, cantering toward you, and everything inside of you instantly grows warm with relief at the sight of the rider upon its back.

Minho leaps off the horse before it comes to a full stop, his boots sinking into the mud as he slides to a stop beside you, instantly dropping to his knees next to you, ignorant to the thick mud staining his breeches.

"Minho." His name comes out on a strained whisper, and you're crying again.

You expect to see anger on his face when he looks at you, the emotion he sports the most around you-irritation maybe, at your stupidity, at not telling him where you were going, at blowing off your mother-but instead, you're caught off guard by the sheer panic in his dark eyes, the relieved, almost scared, pull of his lips.

"Are you hurt?" He asks you instantly, voice hoarse and frantic, his eyes roving down the length of your body, as if to check your condition, and his hands clutch your upper arms, holding you in place, the strength of his fingers making you wince.

"Not vitally." You reply, and Minho's eyes flick back up to your face at that, and you remember the blood probably coating your skin.

"Your head-" He starts to say, reaching up to swipe a careful thumb across the gash that must be there, and you resist the urge to close your eyes, lean into the warm comfort of his touch.

"It barely hurts." You whisper back, and it's the truth. Your ribs and ankle are warring to take the place of highest ache currently. "My ankle though-"

Minho's gaze goes down to your ankle, buried in the deep mud, as if he can see what's ailing you through the layers of skirts tangled around your legs.

He seems to consider for a moment, and then he stands, and before you can protest, he pulls you up easily so you're cradled in his arms.

"Minho-" You gasp out fearfully, your arms going around his neck tightly in impulse.

"I won't drop you." He assures you, face serious, eyes dark. His gaze roves slowly across your face, as if searching for something. "Do you trust me?"

Without a second thought, you nod.

He almost smiles, but it's strained, and fraught with concern. "Good. There's a small, stocked hunting cabin nearby that the estate's game warden uses during the summer. We'll head there until we can wait out the storm."

He glances up at the tumultuous sky with narrowed eyes, the rain pelting his face, dripping off the heavy dark waves of his hair, and another round of lightning flashes overhead.

You bury into the safety of his chest without thinking, and Minho's arms tighten slightly around you.

You think he presses a barely noticeable kiss against your wet dirty hair, but it's probably just your imagination.

"Let's go." He murmurs, and heads off into the shelter of the quickly darkening trees, you still held carefully in his arms.

********************************************************************************

It doesn't take Minho long to get a small fire going in the hearth of the tiny cabin, and then he turns to you, face half in light, half in shadow, and motions to your drenched petticoats.

"You need to take those off. You'll get sick."

"I'm fine." You start to protest, but a violent shudder goes through you before you can finish, proving his point, and he stares at you pointedly.

Still, you return the look stubbornly, and finally, Minho lets out a long sigh, standing up from the fire and heading to a dresser in the corner.

He tosses a pair of breeches and a tunic into your lap without really looking, and says firmly, "I'll wait outside," before turning and leaving without another word.

You stare down at the dry clothes in your hands, debating on resisting, just to piss Minho off, but another shiver wracks through your body, and you decide in the moment, it's better off to be warm than stubborn.

Slipping out of your heavy, wet clothing, you slide the dry clothing on quickly, warm now from the fire, and immediately feel ten times better.

Minho was right, but you'll never admit it.

"I'm finished." You call out into the silence, and you don't know if he's heard you, but a minute later, he reappears through the front door, letting a burst of wind in with him, dripping rain onto the floor.

He crouches down beside the fire, warming his hands, and gives you a once over before glancing to your pile of wet clothing on the floor, already puddling.

Seeming satisfied, he turns back to the glowing fire.

"You didn't have to go outside." You mutter sullenly beneath your breath, curling your knees to your chest and scooting as close to the fire as you can allow. "Shutting your eyes would've sufficed. I know you don't think of me like that anyway."

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho tenses, but it's gone so quickly that you think you've imagined it.

"Think of you like what?" He questions emotionlessly, eyes never leaving the flames.

You shrug. "A woman. An interest. Someone other than your job."

"Mm." Minho muses, oddly blank for the moment at hand, not even deigning to look at you. "And who told you that? Your mother perhaps? Or maybe one of your maids?"

You feel anger curl, hot and tight, in the pit of your stomach at his indifference.

"No one had to tell me. It's always on your face." You spit back, fire lacing your tone. "You've never treated me with anything other than irritation, or boredom, or apathy in all the time we've known each other, all the time you've been saddled with me."

Minho tongues his cheek, and his fists clench in his lap, and then he turns, staring at you hard, fire reflected in his own dark gaze now.

You note with a start that he's not wearing his usual armor. You don't think you've ever just seen him in a tunic and breeches in all the time you've known him. Your mother must have thrown an absolute fit about your disappearance to have him leaving the castle without so much as a chest plate.

"It's a mask." He remarks coldly, his words tight and low. "A necessary evil of the job, but a mask nonetheless."

You hold him, stare for stare, and refuse to back down, your own anger growing hotter and brighter by the second.

"I don't see why it's necessary to treat me with such disdain-" You start to retort back, but Minho cuts you off with a harsh wave of his hand and a flash of his eyes.

"Do not speak of things you know nothing about, princess." His voice trembles with fury, and he forces a harsh breath out through his nose, as if he's willing himself to remain still and not wrap his hands around your throat. "That mask that I've worked so hard to curate? That you seem to harbor such hatred for? That mask protects us both."

He takes in another long breath, and unclenches his hands in his lap, but his gaze never leaves your face, and his expression is darkened in shadow as the flames flicker across his features.

When he speaks again, his voice is resigned, low, barely a frustrated murmur.

"If I were to allow myself to ever, ever explore the depths of my feelings for you, not only would I lose my job and most likely my head, but I would ruin you."

You stare at him, anger slowly fading, as you try to comprehend what he's telling you.

Outside, the wind rails against the small cabin and the rain thunders on the roof.

Minho sighs and glances away from you now, something sad flickering briefly across his dark eyes, no longer filled with fire.

"I will not do that to you. I would never risk it." A muscle ticks in his jaw. "But I also feel I owe it to you to be honest, and as much as I'd like to stay safely behind the mask, it's also not very conducive to vulnerability."

The fire crackles in the tense silence between the two of you, and you finally let out the breath you've been holding, confusion and exhaustion quickly replacing the anger, dampening and heavying your bones.

"I don't understand." You whisper out, because your heart is going a million miles a minute, and you're trying very hard not to focus on the soft curl of Minho's hair now that he's growing dry beside the fire.

Minho shifts slightly, and suddenly, his thigh is brushing against yours, warm and solid through the thin cotton of the pants you wear.

Everything inside of your body tightens.

"(Y/N)-" Minho says softly, gently, reaching out to take your chin in his fingers, and you resist the urge to pull away, avoiding his gaze instead.

You don't think you've ever heard him call you by your given name. Or speak so gently before.

"Don't say my name like that." You whisper out, voice hoarse, and try to ignore the way Minho's skin feels against your own, giving you butterflies.

He regards you seriously, tilting his head slightly to pin you beneath his intent gaze.

"Like what?" He questions back, just as soft, and his fingers curl against your skin, tugging your chin up to finally make you look him in the eye.

"Like you'd willingly cross oceans and tear nations apart just to keep me safe." You whisper in response, voice growing hoarse and dry in your throat, your stomach fluttering pleasantly now that is gaze is directly on you, roving your face.

He lets his hand drop slowly from your face, but his eyes never leave your own.

His mouth softens, and something goes weirdly warm in the depths of his dark eyes as he continues to stare at you.

"Don't look at me like that." You demand quietly, voice growing in confidence, as you stare him back down, your chin trembling a bit and the fight not to drop your eyes to the full curve of his lips growing harder by the second.

"Like what?" He questions again, voice rough and soft, caressing your skin as if he had reached out and touched you.

You take in a shuddering breath, and press a hand to your wildly pounding heart just beneath your sternum, as if you can will it to quiet just by your touch.

"Like you lov-" You start to say, but Minho cuts you off as his mouth covers your own.

You gasp, but it's lost in the kiss, and you're so caught off guard, your mind goes blank for a moment, but Minho is patient and cautious, and soon, you respond to him in kind, growing used to the feel of his impossibly soft mouth moving in time with your own.

You've never kissed anyone-not like this.

You weren't allowed to even be alone with a man, let alone experience anything that Minho's offering you now.

But suddenly, you find that you're starving for more.

You part your lips experimentally beneath his, and Minho responds with a low hum in his throat, his fingers tangling into your damp hair, his tongue slipping in to the gap you've created, prodding, exploring, but never pushing.

Gods, you feel like you're on fire. Is it possible to catch fire just from someone's touch?

You don't know, but you hope it never stops.

Minho pulls back from you, his lips red and slick, his eyes dark and blown, and he stares at you for a moment, as if you're the most precious, pretty thing he's ever seen, even though you're sure you look a mess.

Your hair is nothing more than a rat's nest from the rain, and you're wearing the games keeper's old clothes, skin still covered in mud from your fall earlier, but Minho regards you in this moment like you're the moon goddess hanging the stars in the sky.

Minho heaves in a laborious breath, and then another.

"Tell me to stop."

You stare back at him, studying the sharp lines of his face, the way his lips are pinker than before, flushed and rosy, the tanned, sharp lines of his collar bone and upper chest where it dips into the deep v of his shirt.

Do you want him to stop? You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"Tell me to stop." Minho repeats, slower this time, his hands finding yours where they rest in your lap. He leans down to meet your gaze. "And I will. We'll never speak of this again."

Do you want that? Do you want to go back to cold looks and apathetic glances and masks? Or do you want this? Do you want warm fires and hands on your skin and Minho?

In a bold move that surprises even yourself, you lean forward and press your lips to his.

He palms the back of your head, pulling you closer to him, almost in his lap, and your whole body tingles at the feeling.

You part just enough to catch your breath and get your words out.

"Don't stop."

Minho's eyes flash and then he's smashing his lips against yours once more, devouring you fully, and you can't help the slight mewl that escapes into his open mouth as his tongue dances with your own.

He tugs you down beside him onto the rug that lies in front of the fire, and doesn't stop kissing you.

You feel his hand slip beneath the loose material of the large tunic you wear, and you whimper as his fingers stroke your skin, along the curve of your hip, across your ribs, until he can palm your breast.

"Fuck." Minho swears as you gasp and arch up into him at the foreign contact, and you're not really sure what you're doing, but it feels right.

He puts his free hand beside your head, propping himself above you, and his gaze roams hungrily down the lines of your body, before he seems to shake himself and drag his eyes back up to your own.

"Are you sure?" He questions softly, and his hand stops its exploratory motions, and you have to bite your tongue so you don't beg him to continue.

"Yes." You nod, ignoring the breathless catch to your voice, and reach up to run your fingers through his hair.

It's so soft. You've always wondered what it felt like

"I'm sure."

Something resolute flashes across his gaze, and he leans back over to kiss you, but it's short and sweet and gentle this time, before he pulls back and moves to the pants currently bunched around your waist, his fingers settling there as he once again gives you another questioning look.

You bite your lip and nod, and he tugs the thin material down your body and tosses it aside.

You're wearing nothing now but the large tunic, and you fight the urge to squirm or try to cover up as Minho returns, staring down at you, his eyes roving your newly bared skin as if he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

"Fuck-" He repeats again, leaning over to press kisses to the now bare curvature of your hip, down across your lower belly, dangerously close to where you suddenly feel very hot in a strange, but altogether pleasant way. "-you're so beautiful."

"Minho." You whimper out, as his slides a large, warm palm up your bare thigh, and his fingers tease where his mouth just was only seconds before.

Is it supposed to feel like this? Is this why they'd been keeping it from you? Because it's so damn good?

"Easy, love." Minho murmurs against your stomach, as he inches his fingers lower and lower, until they touch the strange warmth, sending an electric jolt through your body that has you shuddering and crying out.

He flicks his gaze to yours, and something serious resides there.

"It might hurt the first time." He cautions gently, and you nod dazedly, because you don't really know, but you'd heard whisperings from the castle staff, the maids, that told as much. "I'm going to prep you, okay? But tell me if you want me to stop and I will."

You take in a deep steadying breath, and your hands clench into the fabric of the rug on either side of you. "Okay."

Minho presses another kiss to your lower stomach, and carefully slides a finger in.

You gasp, because it feels like an intrusion, and it stings, just a bit, your body tensing, muscles fighting, but Minho is there, leaning up to press tender kisses to your lips, along with low, flowing praises in your ear.

"Try to relax." He murmurs, and you force yourself to listen to him, slowly loosening every muscle in your body one by one.

Minho's dark eyes flicker with something akin to warm pride at your obedience. "Good girl, love." He eases another finger into you, and you fight the urge to tense up again. "That's it."

It's oddly intimate, Minho talking you through it, and when you finally feel like you've reached a space of comfort, and maybe even pleasure, writhing beneath him with each exploratory, careful probe of his fingers, you find yourself begging for more.

"Please, Minho-" You whine out, and it feels sinful to experience this much pleasure just at the hands of another.

And then, he disrobes, between your legs, and you feel everything inside of you tense up again at the sight of him.

You've never been with a man. Are they always that large? And hard? And intimidating?

Fear crawls up your throat, alongside a small flare of curiosity, and you find yourself reminding yourself to breathe.

Minho must sense your sudden panic, because he leans over you once more, and you try to force yourself to focus on the lines of his chest, the scars that mark the tan skin there.

"Do you trust me?" He asks suddenly, and you snap your gaze back up to his, the fear melting away at the reassuring look in his eyes, the soft lines around his mouth.

"Yes." You whisper back, nodding without even having to think, and Minho leans forward to press his lips to yours once more.

When he presses into you, you gasp, and your body goes tight once more at the bigger intrusion, and it's painful, sharp and foreign.

You start to feel the panic swell in your throat once more, gasping against Minho's lips, but then he's right there, murmuring comfort low in your ear, his hands stroking up your sides even as he pauses, just letting you be for a minute.

"You're doing so well, love." He breathes, and you force another muscle to relax, one by one, as he slips in a bit further. "So perfect for me."

You whimper as you feel him, all of him, but then most of the pain is gone, and suddenly, your entire body feels light and limp with pleasure.

"Minho-" You gasp out, body aligning with his, thoughts suddenly hazy and far away.

He grunts, low in the back of his throat, and the sound makes your legs feel like jelly. "Fucking perfect."

You shift slightly beneath him, and he groans in response, hands going down hard on either side of your head to support his weight, his muscles trembling.

"Fuck, don't-" He starts to say, his words bitten off by another low growl rumbling in his chest.

He glances up at you from beneath the dark wave of his hair, his chest heaving with breaths, lips parted.

"Don't move like that, love, unless you really want me to cross a line."

He rubs against you, and the friction has you mewling and arching up into the strong warmth of his body.

You grab his head and force his lips back down to yours.

"Cross all the lines, Minho."

********************************************************************************

You're lying beside the warmth of the fire, your head on Minho's chest, a fur throw thrown over both your naked bodies, the rain slowly dying to a light mist outside.

You don't know what time it is, you don't know if your mother has sent others out looking for the two of you, but with your hands idly combing across Minho's broad chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, your entire body achy and satiated, you find you don't really care.

"What's this one from?" You ask in a sleepy whisper, running your fingers along another of Minho's scars-this one a faded, shiny white line along the edge of his breastbone.

"You probably don't remember." He muses, as you cuddle closer to him, and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "You were barely five or six at the time."

"Which would make you not much older." You quip back teasingly.

"Yeah, a few years. I was probably ten?" Minho remembers, staring up at the ceiling, as he cards his fingers through your hair distractedly, remembering. "You had wandered away from your governess in the gardens. She was absolutely frantic. I found you at the edge of the woods, playing in the mud beside a stream."

You smile at the thought, because that does sound like you.

Minho chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest, and you turn your head to press a kiss to his bare pec as it flexes as he tightens his arms around you.

"You were buried in some pretty thick brambles, but you hadn't a care in the world. Completely oblivious to the angry, large thorns you had climbed through, surprisingly unscathed, to reach the mud patch. Offered me a mud pie, if I remember correctly."

You laugh and Minho shakes his head ruefully. "I climbed in and carried you out on my back. Sported a pretty nasty gash for a couple of days from one of the more vicious thorns."

He rubs absentmindedly at the small scar, and you cover his fingers with yours.

"Thank you." You murmur under the crackle of the fire, and Minho glances down at you.

"You don't have to thank me. It's always been my job to protect you."

You push yourself up on an elbow to stare down at him seriously. "I know. I'm not thanking you for that."

His brow arches in surprise. "Then what?"

You idly trail a finger down his cheekbone, studying the way the shifting firelight makes him look even more beautiful than before if that's possible.

"Thank you for keeping me safe. And for looking out for me. And showing me that there's more to life than just being stuck in a fancy cage."

Minho's eyes soften, and you lean over to kiss him sweetly.

He pulls you back down to his side, and you tuck yourself willingly against him, curling your body against his.

"Thank you, love, for never giving up on the person you knew I was behind the mask."

"You didn't make it easy." You tease sleepily, nuzzling against him.

Minho chuckles softly. "I know."

You close your eyes, the exhaustion making your body heavy, your mind blissfully quiet.

Tomorrow, you'll have to return and face your mother, and your gilded cage, and whatever else will be waiting for you back at the palace.

But tonight, you're content to enjoy all of this.

And tomorrow, no matter what, you'll face everything with Minho by your side.

546 notes · View notes

merakimaiden · 2 years

Text

Let it out cyare, I’m listening.

Pairing : Din Djarin x fem!reader

Genre : Angst (fluffy at the end)

Word Count : 863

Summary : Din is worried about you.

Warnings : Worried Din, crying, soft Din, no idea how it got fluffy in the end, definitely not self indulgent

Mando’a Translations : Cyare (beloved), cyar’ika (sweetheart)

A/N : I suck at fic titles and the ending is kinda off I just needed to vent okay

(gif from pinterest)

You’ve been distant these past few weeks, Din noticed.

You avoided eye contact and you only speak when spoken to. He always catches you with an unhappy face, but whenever you notice him in the corner of your eye, you just give him a fake smile or pretend to be busy. You hardly eat nor sleep. Din is worried.

He misses your smile. Your real smile.

Din remembers when you used to dance silly dances with Grogu, when you tossed him into the air and caught him only to repeat it again, both of your joyful giggles always brought a smile to his face even when he had a particularly bad day.

Now, you and Grogu only play games that don’t require a lot of movement, you no longer dance nor giggle joyfully.

The child is worried too, cooing sadly at you as if asking you what’s wrong, but you just answer with a sad smile. As always.

Din realised he had to do something about it.

The Razor Crest was currently in hyperspace. You were sitting in the passenger seat of the cockpit, reading a holonovel on your datapad while he’s on the pilot seat. The child was sleeping peacefully in the makeshift hammock placed in Din’s bunk. Now’s the perfect time to ask you what's wrong.

Din sighed and turned his seat to face you. Your eyes moved to glance at him quickly, but returned to your datapad immediately.

“Cyar’ika?” Din whispered softly. You finally look up from your datapad.

“Mhm?”

“Come here….. please?” Din beckoned you closer.

You switched off your datapad and stood, dropping the device onto your seat before making your way towards the Mandalorian.

“Yes Din? Anything you need?” you asked softly.

“C’mere,” Din patted his lap, and you complied.

You tried to sit with your own weight lifted and not sit on his lap fully, but he noticed and brought your legs to rest on the top of his thighs.

He rubbed circles onto your calf. You looped your arms around his neck then let out a sigh.

Finally, Din asks you the question you’ve been dreading.

“What’s bothering you, sweet girl?” He asked as he rested his helmet on your forehead.

You inhaled and looked down at the metal floor of the ship. As Din waited patiently for an answer, his hands moved upwards to caress your hip.

“It’s…” you began. Din stayed silent so you took it as a cue to continue.

“Everything’s shit,” you sighed, giving up trying to find words to describe your dilemma. You buried your face into his cowl.

“I’m so tired of pretending that everything’s fine,” you added quietly as you held in tears that threatened to spill. “I hate myself, I hate everything,”

“Let it out cyare, I'm listening,” His hand made its way towards your back, his warm palm resting underneath your shirt.

“I-i feel so burnt out, I don’t even like to do things I love anymore. I’m not good at a-anything,” you were sobbing now, but Din is listening intently.

“And look at me,” you choked on a sob. “I’m so fucking ugly and gross, I know you tell me that i’m beautiful to spare my feelings, I know it’s all a lie, and my anger issues are getting worse. I hate being angry all the time, I hate hitting myself when i’m stressed, I hate people judging me and talking shit about me when they don’t even know why i’m like this-”

Din fingers held your chin, gently coaxing you to look at him. Your eyes were red from crying, dark circles visible from not enough rest and a frown on your face. Din wishes he could do more to take all your worries away.

He wiped your tears with his thumb and he cupped your face. You closed your eyes and savoured the feeling of his palm warm your cheeks as his other hand held you close.

“Cyar’ika.. it pains me to see you suffer like this, I’m so sorry I can’t do much except comfort you” he wiped his thumb on your eyebrow. “But know that you’re perfect just the way you are and I couldn’t imagine you any other way.”

You sniffled as you held his hand that was on your hip, toying with his fingers.

He studied your face for a while, and he decided to confess.

“I love you, you know” he whispered softly. “I love you so much, there’s not a day that passes where I don’t worry about you”

You stared at his emotionless helmet, although you felt like he had a sad face on.

You gave him a weak smile. “I love you too, Din Djarin. I always have, always will,” You kissed the side of his neck where his cowl didn’t cover, and Din felt his face warm.

“Thank you for being there for me, my warm and cuddly Mandalorian,” you whispered. Din felt bad that he didn't know how to help you, but you didn’t mind.

“As long as I’m here, no one will hurt you. Not even yourself,” he promised as he held you tighter to his chest and you closed your eyes.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

#din djarin #din #din djarin x reader angst #din djarin x reader fluff

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candied-peach · 2 years

Text

ao3: “follow the leader” rating: T warnings: analogical, among us setting, character death/murder genre: suspense description: There's an impostor on the Skeld. Tensions run high among the crew. Virgil's not ready for this. (day 5: “The World outside had its own rules, and those rules were not human.” — Michel Houellebecq, The Elementary Particles @tsshipmonth2020 )

"Be careful," Logan tells Virgil, his blue eyes solemn over his coffee cup. Virgil swallows hard as he nods. It's so different from their usual morning banter, but he knows why.

There was a sabotage last night. The lights went out, and at first, everyone assumed that the wires had just gone to shit again (they were rather shoddy). Until Roman discovered someone had cut them.

There's an impostor on their ship.

At least one. And that's the scary thing, because impostors don't tend to hang solo. Virgil's fingers tremble as he picks up his helmet and settles it firmly on his head, sealing away sweaty purple hair and anxious green eyes.

A klaxon rings. Meeting time. It's Roman again, his eyes wild and shadows bruised into his face. He looks like he hasn't slept in a week.

"What are we gonna do?" Roman demands. Virgil shrinks behind Janus and Logan, the tremble in his fingertips worse. "There's an impostor among us," Roman continues.

"There is," Janus acknowledges. "Do you have any idea who?"

"No one was on the cameras last night," Roman admits. "Security was locked."

"I didn't see a thing," Patton says. "I was eye-solated in O2 for hours."

"I'm afraid that I was busy with my Medbay scan," Logan tells the group.

"Face it," Janus continues. "No one cared to investigate for half an hour because we all assumed Skeld boned itself again. Why were you so gung ho to check it out?"

"Yeah, why is that, bro?" Remus chimes in.

"Because it was fucking dark," Roman exclaims. "Are you seriously trying to insinuate that I'm the impostor?"

"You could be," Remus challenges. His eyes glitter in the light as Roman huffs a disbelieving breath. Orange snorts a laugh at the look on Roman's face.

"Well, I'm not," he declares, whirling on Virgil. "You're awfully quiet. Guilty conscience?"

"No!" Virgil says, shrinking into himself. "I- I was in Weapons, do- doing my shift, I- I wouldn't-"

"Before I went to Medbay, I did see him there," Logan says. Virgil shoots his boyfriend a grateful look.

"I did, too," Remus says. "You're awfully quick to point the finger there, Ro Bro."

"It was just-" Roman deflates and sighs. If he could run a hand through his hair, he would have. "Just be careful," he says, as he readies ending the meeting.

"Wait," Logan says. "We should stay in groups as we do our tasks today. If we are grouped up, it will be more difficult for an impostor to strike without being seen, whether they choose to sabotage or..." He trails off, but they all know what he means. Murder.

"Fine," Roman says, waving a careless hand. "We stay in groups."

And the meeting draws to a reluctant close.

Virgil heaves a silent breath of relief, unsure why two people stuck up for him, but not about to question it. He did spend time in Weapons doing his shift, that's true-

But it doesn't take long to vent over to Electrical and do a little bit of sabotage, does it?

He didn't expect this level of reaction, though. He just- well, he's not really sure what he wanted from it, since he wasn't exactly prepared to off the next crewmate who wandered into Electrical. He'd actually hightailed it back to Weapons in the dark, his superior night vision letting him dodge the crew, shaking with a rush of adrenaline.

Virgil isn't cut out to be an impostor, if he's honest with himself.

Luckily for him, his partner is.

Logan rants to him at lunch, waving a fork around and stabbing the air like it has personally offended him.

"No one took my advice but you and Patton!" He exclaims. "It's like they're trying to become impostor chow!"

"Maybe they're just..." Virgil trails off, not sure how to finish that statement. He himself is surprised at the lax security most of the crew seem to be employing.

"Hey, can I hang out with you this afternoon?" Orange asks, as they finish up. Everyone else has long since finished. Logan's eyes widen in surprised appreciation.

"Of course," Logan says. Virgil swallows, thrumming with energy under his suit. The knife strapped to the inside of his suit feels very big and very sharp all of a sudden. If Logan turns his back for long enough...

They are in Electrical again when the O2 sabotage goes off, alarms blaring through the ship. Virgil tucks away a little button pad in the pocket of his suit, his fingers shaking. He looks up just in time to see Logan snap Orange's neck. It sounds like a brittle branch being stepped on.

"There you are, love," Logan says, smiling gently at him. "Help me stow away his body, would you? If we do it fast enough, we should be able to help with the sabotage. Come from a different angle. You know."

Virgil surges up on tiptoe, pulling their helmets up to kiss Logan fiercely on the mouth.

"Thanks, babe," he says. "You know how I get."

"I do," Logan says. "Don't worry. No one saw us leave with Orange. I think we can easily pin this on Roman."

Virgil grins, his teeth sharp. The klaxons blare.

"Let's go," he says.

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rogue-durin-16 · 2 years

Text

STRANDED

Request: Congratulations on your 1k followers babyyy! Glad to know you're getting the recognition you deserve 🤍 may I request a stuck together overnight fic with either Liebgott or Luz??

Pairing: George Luz x Reader

Genre: angst fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @lordndsaviorwinters

Band Of Brothers: @sparkyluz @chubbypotatoepie

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: warfare, shooting, language

A/N: I got a bit carried away with this one but it's fineeee. Feel free to situate it in any moment between Market Garden and January of the '45, and enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"This is the stupidest thing." I snarled, my gun firmly gripped in my hands even though I had eased instead of staying put. "You're stupid." I added, checking we were safe.

"Go back, then." Luz, who stood ahead of me, rotated, shrugging with an entertained silly smile plastered on his face. "Didn't ask you to come, did I?" He turned back and resumed his unconcerned waltzing. "You volunteered."

"Yeah, 'cause you need someone with common sense near you at all times." I scolded him. It was mostly an excuse —he was very much allowed to go for a walk alone, but I feared his happygolucky attitude would get him killed. "It's not like I enjoy babysitting you, but you can't be wandering around on your own."

"You secretly do enjoy babysitting me."

"I secretly wanna drag you back to CP by your hair," I retorted, throwing daggers at him. "but Winters bought your 'reconnaissance party' excuse to take a walk 'cause you were bored, so I'm stuck with..." I came to a halt, examining our surroundings. It felt as if we were being watched.

"This lovely gentleman—"

"Shut. Up." I urged through gritted teeth.

"Y/n/n, it's the third time you said that, you're parano—" The technician was cut off mid sentence by a bullet cutting through the air. "FUCK!"

What followed was utter chaos on our part.

Luz struggled to grab his M1, I struggled to find the shooter, the Germans struggled to aim right; the latter was good for us.

"SHIT! WATCH OUT!" I pulled George out of the open, rushing him into the nearest building with me practically on his back. "DUCK! DUCK!" I shouted, shutting the door behind us and crouching at the rapid fire coming from the outside.

Luz had crouched too at my warning; he had also, unbeknownst to me, stopped in his tracks. I also hadn't acknowledged that right at the entrance of the dilapidated house, there were a set of stairs. This factors, mashed together, earned me a bad trip, which sent us both rolling downstairs.

The radio he had carried for the show took its own path, and so did his helmet, rolling away from where we landed.

"You're crushing my spleen!" He cried out, pushing me off him while I myself attempted to raise.

"You don't even know where your spleen is!" I argued, yelping when I heard either a hand grenade or a potato masher going off right at the door. Luz tugged me further from the entrance, but when we looked at it, we realized it had had the opposite effect the Germans had probably wished for. The door hadn't bursted open; instead, it was now blocked by part of the ruins belonging to the same room we were in.

We were either trapped or safe. Maybe both.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, a bullet busted the glass of the single window of the room; forget safeness, we were just trapped.

"Sonofabitch—" I kicked the radio in Luz's direction as he cussed, and I reached for my nearest weapon. "Easy CP! Easy CP!" He shouted into the device while I aimed through the shattered window to fire a couple of shots, hoping to reach the shooter. "We're being pinned down by a sniper in an empty building by the river— Frank! That you?! I'm with Y/l/n, we're— Y/N!" I fell to the ground, a bit disoriented; I hadn't seen what George had, I only had heard a piercing clink on my helmet right when I had turned to reach for more ammunition, which was instantly followed by a stinging pain on the back of my head.

George dropped the phone for an instant, leaping forward to get to me; although I wasn't able to catch a sight of the bullet hitting the back of my head, I did see the shot that went straight through the radio right after Luz had left it.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I yelled, giving George a push for him to get away from the window, whilst I myself recoiled to the wall behind me, my hand on my crown to check if I was, in fact, fine. It hurt, but no blood was coming out of it. Close call.

"Frank? You hear me?" George was back on his previous spot. "Shit! He fucking got the radio!"

"Jesus Christ—" I peeped through the window, aiming my rifle to the place where the shots seemed to be coming from and began to blindly fire the weapon, hoping to offer the radioman some covering. "Fuck the radio, Luz! Take cover!"

The Portuguese man backed away from the window and I retreated myself, just in time to avoid the two bullets which plunged into the room and ricochetted on the concrete of the abandoned building.

We both sat against opposite walls, staring wide-eyed at each other, radio forgotten in the middle, the only thing heard being our pants.

No more bullets would be shot, unless the sniper got a glimpse of us, and that wouldn't happen anytime soon if we could avoid it.

I took a moment to stare at my helmet, now discarded on the floor, a few feet away from us. From my angle, I could perfectly see the two holes the bullet had left, shining under the moonlight.

"You sure you're alright?" George questioned in a whisper, fearing we would be heard by the enemy. It was an unlikely scenario, but scary nonetheless.

"Yeah, I'm good. Are you?"

"Uh-huh." He huffed. "Thank God for helmets, huh?" Luz let out an amused chuckle at his own comment, pointing at my helmet.

Now that the adrenaline-fueled fear was dying down, I had a moment for the situation to dawn on me. Not only had I been dragged out with George fucking Luz; I was now trapped in a half ruined building, pinned down by probably one single German who we would most likely be able to take down, had we not been stranded.

Luz's characteristic smile started to fade away the more I glared at him, until all was left was an uncomfortable frown.

"Are you pissed at me?" There was some kind of smugness in his tone, some kind of challenge, as if he could not believe I was actually mad.

"What'd ya think?"

To be completely honest, I didn't know if I was angrier at him or at me. He had resolved to go on his own, yes, but I had been the one to accompany him, and I had been the one shoving him into a building where we had a high chance of being caged in.

"Perco got the message," Luz tried to appease me; he knew animosity was not a good ally in our situation. "we'll be outta here in no time."

"he got half the message." He sighed, pinching his nose. "If it were me in charge, I wouldn't bother sending a squad of what- Ten men? to get two?" I puffed, bracing my legs to rest my chin on my knees. "Without knowing the goddamn position."

"That's why you're not in charge." He fairly pointed out in a soft, slow voice, half teasing, half serious. "Plus, you're full of shit." I stared puzzled at him. "You would risk it." He confidently stated, a smirk twitching up the corner of his lips, "In fact, if you were in charge, you'd come yourself to get the stray motherfuckers."

"What makes you think so?" I was no longer that mad; curiosity had taken a hold of my mind.

"You came with me so I wouldn't be alone." He quirked a brown at me with a wide smile. "And you don't even like me."

"That's not true." I confessed, finding myself slightly offended by the statement. I did like Luz, he could be infuriating sometimes, specially towards me, but he wasn't all that bad. He was good for the company's morale.

"It is!" He insisted with a diverted laugh that held a tinge of indignation behind the lightheartedness. "You find me annoying as hell. I'm not deaf, Y/l/n, I hear your comments, y'know?"

I knitted my eyebrows at the way the spark in his eyes seemed to be dimmed by something darker, something bluish.

"Dunno what you're talkin' 'bout." I muttered.

"Sure you don't." He scoffed, looking me up and down before averting his eyes. After a split second, that emotion that had darkened his gaze was gone, and his laid-back demeanor was back. "Point is, we'll be outta here soon. I have full trust on the fellas and you should too." I only gave him a nod which gave rise to a tense silence.

After a few minutes had passed, I came to the realization that I had never seen Luz quiet. But then again, we had never been left alone, so I hadn't really gotten the chance to know how he acted when he wasn't surrounded by his friends.

I doubted he was that quiet, though.

"Luz?" He hummed, prompting me to speak, but his gaze didn't meet mine. "I don't... dislike you."

He denied, letting his head rest on the cracked wall. "Drop it, Y/l/n, not everyone's got good taste." His attempted cockiness was just that; an attempt. I couldn't tell if he was mad at me— I had never seen George Luz mad.

Neither had I seen him upset.

He had heard my comments, he said; I wondered what comments of mine had reached his ears. Judging by his tone, surely not the good ones.

In a twisted, selfish way, I was glad those words of admiration for Luz's character I had more than once spoken to Alley and Shifty hadn't come to the jokester's knowledge. I guess protecting my ego seemed more important than protecting his feelings.

But then again, who would have thought George Luz would give a damn if I found him annoying?

Due to the distance between us and the lack of light in the corner he sat nearby, I couldn't really discern much of his expression, so I did a very, very stupid thing; I propped myself up, and sprinted through the small room.

Luz's horrified eyes glued to my form as I somehow dodged the brief firing, his arms reaching out in the air to successfully find mines and pull me to him. He caged me in his embrace, retreating even further into the room's corner. The shots' angle had gotten wider, closer to our position, meaning the shooter had moved and our safe ground had limited to said corner by the window frame.

I found myself regretting pushing George into that building, whilst simultaneously enjoying the comfort of his arms.

"Are you outta your goddamn mind?!" He scolded me in a stage whisper, only freeing me from his grasp once the last bullet had been shot. Even then, he didn't allow me to move too far away, leaving us in a very uncomfortable position. "Tryna get yourself killed or what?"

"What's bothering you?" I inquired, shifting my position in search for a less inconvenient way to stay still, since being half thrown over George didn't seem that appealing on the long run.

"Your dumb ass doin' stupid things, that's bothering m- For FUCK'S—" he held back a painful grunt, giving the air a kick before grasping my knee to move it away. "that's my crotch!"

"Shit! Sorry." I did my best to relieve him, ending up straddling his lap. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do for now. "Listen, whatever comments you heard—"

"Jesus Christ... You crossed the room for that?" He propped himself from the wall to lightly smack the back of my head. "Dummy."

"Ouch!" I rubbed the spot, frowny.

"Quit whining." He retorted, the ghost of a cheeky grin dancing on his lips while he leaned back, head slightly tilted up.

"I don't really find you annoying." I tilted my head to the side, lips pursed. "Well— not always."

"Y/n, c'mon."

"I'm just on the pessimistic side," I kept on going, ignoring his dismissal. "and you're so loud and... Dunno..." I waved my hands between us, looking for the right word. "Cheery, it sometimes gets me on my nerves."

"I am not cheery." He limited himself to respond, squinting his eyes at me briefly before casting his head down. "I cope through humor. Otherwise I'd have put a bullet through my skull long ago." 'Speechless' was an understatement of the state his words had left me in; he noticed, even without sparing me a single look, and so he tried to lighten up the mood. "What? We all have our particular ways to get by, don't we?" He shrugged. "Mine's making people laugh. Yours's turnin' into a grumpy grandma." He giggled again at his own joke.

This sort of tauntings were the usual, and normally, my standard response would go between 'get lost' and 'I'll show you what grumpy is'. However, I decided to let it slide for once.

"I do like you, Luz." I stated, staring at his covered face, hoping for him to look up so I could meet his eyes; I didn't know if I would be able to look into them after his dark statement, though. "You're a great person, and every Company should have a George Luz."

"Thanks, Y/n." I peeked at me, gifting me his precious simper, dimmed by his own downcasting words. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"I chose to come, George. It's okay." I tried to reciprocate the smile with one of my own, well aware that it wouldn't do him justice.

"Woah, look at that!" I furrowed in confusion at his exclamation. "You actually can smile. Unbelievable." He cackled when I nudged his shoulder in annoyance. "It only took you two years, Y/n/n." The cheekiness in his voice made my blood boil.

"Luz, I swear to God," I hissed leaning on unconsciously. "I'll break your arm."

"Mhmm." His warm eyes dug into mine, seemingly in search of something. What? I wouldn't know. In all honesty, I didn't care; I was enjoying a bit too much the way he stared at me. "Pretty smile, by the way." I thanked the darkness of the night for the coverage offered to my sheepishness, since I could feel my cheeks reddening— not at the words, but at the tone. "Do I have to turn all gloomy for you to keep it on?"

As his hands moved to be laid on top of my thighs, it dawned on me how much I actually liked George Luz.

I cleared my throat, attempting to raise from his lap and move to the side, only to have George's hold secure me back down.

"Where you goin'?" He quirked an eyebrow at me. "I understand this is a compromising position for such a modest dame." He refrained a laugh at my warning glare. "But if you move to the side I'll have you dyin' in my arms."

"I'm sure that's the sole reason why you don't want me to move." I affirmed sarcastically. "You're definitely not enjoyin' this." A shamelessly guilty smirk lit both his face and eyes. "Quit tryna get into my pants."

"I gave up back at Toccoa, sweetheart." His thumbs drew patterns over my clothes so lovingly that it burned through them, imprinting in my skin. "I'm tryna get into your heart." He breathed, making me forget about the dangers that prowled on the other side of the damned window.

Heaven knows from where came the impulse to do what I did next— I leaned on, supporting myself by placing my hands on his chest, and whispered in his ear, "why? Did I get into yours?"

If the sight of him swallowing with widened eyes when I pulled back didn't bring me enough satisfaction, the hitched breath and his trembling hand raising to find my cheek did.

"D'ya want a verbal answer or can I just kiss you?"

Choosing actions over words, one of my hands found his dog tags under his gear and gave them a tug. Luz wasted no time to meet my lips with his in a fervent kiss I didn't know I craved so bad.

Sadly, we were interrupted by a new wave of sporadic fire. We pulled away only enough for George to throw me between him and the wall at his left, clutching my form for dear life. It took us a hot second to realize it wasn't the sniper bullets plummeting through the aperture in the wall, it was something else.

As soon as the shooting seemed to come to an end, I pulled away from Luz, making sure my rifle had enough ammo to defend ourselves. George did the same thing, and we stayed put for an instant, until we heard a familiar voice calling our names.

"Perco?! Here" Luz was the first one to rise, putting his gun in the air so our friends would locate us.

I lowered the weapon when Hoobler's face peeked through the window. "Found 'em!" I sighed in relief and went to reach both my helmet and George's while Luz helped Hoobler remove the shattered glass from the windowsill so we could get out.

I walked back to them once Luz was out and, after throwing the useless radio at Perconte, I took Shifty's hand to get out myself.

"Close call, huh?" Perconte questioned, throwing the device to his shoulder. "Luz, this is why you listen when Y/n tells ya you're doin' somethin' stupid."

"Yeah well, I'll never learn, will I?" George spoke staring at me, cheeks still moderately flushed from our little moment.

"You're a lost cause, boy." Randleman spoke, joining us with Hashey by his side. "All clear, let's head back."

As we began our way back to CP, I briefly made eye contact with Luz, who purposefully stayed behind, motioning me to do the same. I subtly complied, brushing his fingers with mine once we walked by each other.

A small smile escaped my lips when George's pinky laced with mine. When I looked up, I noticed he was feigning absentmindedness whilst sporting a proud silly grin of his own.

A snort was heard ahead of us, coming most likely from Perconte, given that he was the one elbowing Shifty and motioning him to look at us.

"Don't even think about it." I warned the sniper, whose eyes danced between Luz's hold of my finger, his idiotic smile and my pink face. "I'll kill you."

"Had a good time waitin' for us, George?" Perconte teased.

"The best time." Luz responded, abandoning my pinky to sneak his hand in mine, interlacing it properly. "Dontcha think, Y/l/n."

"I still think that was the stupidest idea." I replied instead, the corners of my lips inevitably twisting upwards at the way George looked at me.

Yeah, I liked George Luz.

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neopuppy · 3 years

Text

Dive Into You: Part 2. (M)

Preview: “You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. You should be thanking me nono.”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck

Warning: daddy issues, sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, virgin reader, corruption, bible quotes

Smut Warning: oral(F receiving), slight sensory deprivation, fingering, all in church.

Intro—>

Part 1–>

“I told the new family in town that you’d be showing their daughter around boys. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Pastor Lee slaps a hand over Jeno’s shoulder with a firm grip. “No funny business.”

“You got it, father. You know, like because you’re a pastor.” Haechan snorts, pouring hot steaming coffee into a ceramic mug.

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious. Make sure your brother acts right. People around town are already talking enough about my atrocious parenting skills. Word travels fast in these small towns you know.” Pastor Lee adjusts his tie in the mirror. Stepping out of the front door with not even a wave goodbye. Jeno left rubbing at his shoulder with irritation.

“What time do you want to head out?” He questions, eyes burning into Haechans back.

“Oh, I can’t do that ‘show the new townies’ around thing today. Got a brunch date in the next town over with someones mom.” Haechan turns, leaned back along the kitchen counter blowing steam from his coffee.

“What?? She’s your girlfriend now. Aren’t you supposed to hang out with her tonight?” Jeno’s eyes widen befuddled. More in disbelief his brother would be two timing you, familiar with his antics.

“Your point?” Haechan scoffs, checking messages through his phone. Petty smirk on his lips sending you a ‘miss you’ text.

“You’re a dog. You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. Should be thanking me nono.”

“Dick..” Jeno mutters, grabbing his bag to head out. Not wanting to spend another minute around his brother.

“Wait a minute..” Haechan grabs a hold on Jeno’s arm, pulling him back into the kitchen. “Take good care of my girl today yea?” Jeno’s eyes squint as his brother sneaks a $20 bill into his side jacket pocket.

“Maybe get her a milk shake or something. Whatever it is you kids drink. We’re not really going on a date tonight if you know what I mean.” Haechans eyes shift around mischievously. Knowing damn well Jeno knows. Knowing exactly what to say to get under his skin.

Jeno grips at Haechans collar, huffing against his face. Anger seething through fingertips aching to bring his brother physical pain. Jaw tightening, resisting the deep urge inside building for years everyday.

“Gonna give me a black eye nono? What will father think when he finds out his bad seed is also abusive?” Lips curling with a slick grin. Haechan the expert on how to push Jeno’s buttons. Worked on himself well to get exactly what he wants.

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” Jeno clenches the fabric between his fist, arms shaking with rage. “You’re the perfect one, I’m the fuck up. You’re the one dad brags about, I’m the one he pretends doesn’t exist.”

“You think your daddy issues would get your little church girl turned on? Should I tell her how you cry yourself to sleep wishing you were me?” Haechan snorts, loosening from of Jeno’s grip. Hands smoothing out his freshly ironed shirt.

“I’ve never wanted to be anything like you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true nono..” Haechan pulls on a jacket. Fingers twirling around keys. “You know how much I love my car” with a cocky wink matching a shit eating grin Haechan heads out. Leaving Jeno festering in his anger. Fists slamming against the counter. Back tense with underlying hatred, hatred for himself. Tired of how easily Haechan manages to provoke him.

——————————————————————————

Jeno’s nervous, pissed off, feeling anxious. Pacing back and forth in front of your house. He didn’t have much of a choice with the looming threat of getting shipped back off to Jesus camp hovering his mind. The idea to ditch this whole ordeal passing his thoughts more than once. It’s not that he liked you, but it’s also not necessarily that he didn’t like you. Convincing himself he just hasn’t gotten any for too long now. Dick probably desperate for anything at this point. Nothing related to how cute you looked with your lips all swollen after kissing him. Jacking off at home that night reliving the events long forgotten.

Forget about stroking himself off in the shower the next morning again. Or the other five more times since. No he didn’t like you, not really..

“Aren’t you one of Pastor Lee’s sons??” And older woman carrying bags of groceries approaches. Lipstick covering her two front teeth, over sized dress hanging from her body.

“Oh uh.. yes I am. I’m supposed to.. show your.. daughter? Around today..” Jeno stutters out, mentally slapping himself.

“Oh..” the woman adjusts a bag in her hold, throat clearing. “What about that lovely brother of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Haechan..” Jeno’s eyes shift, looking away. How did his brother manage to convince everyone he was such an angel. A modern day fallen angel, roaming earth in disguise.

“Ah that’s it..” she makes a sound of disapproval, bag dropping on the porch. “A polite young boy would have offered assistance.” Voice lowly whispering as she unlocks the front door. Jeno’s eyes darting between the groceries and woman, cursing himself yet again for coming off exactly how everyone says.

“I’ll call her down.” She steps inside. Loud shouting vocals calling out your name. The sound of foot steps against stairs following. Your figure appearing, dressed up to impress. Jeno’s throat itching, swallowing, adjusting his collar.

“That’s not your bike- is it?!” Your mothers shrieking voice questions. Eyes bulging out, taking in the sleek black motorcycle off the sidewalk.

“I’m here!” Your smile falls, only spotting one brother waiting for you outside. Not the one you’d expect even. You subtly give a look around, searching for someone else maybe hiding in surprise. Jeno unfortunately does not fail to notice.

“That is my bike Ma’m.. it’s safe. I promise.” He holds up two helmets. Craving to crawl into a hole under your moms scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not so sure about this..” she mumbles. Eyes glaring into Jeno, trying to put the fear of God...fear of a strict crazy mother, in him.

“It’ll be fine mom! He has a helmet! I’ve been on a motorcycle with dad before!” You lean up, pecking your mothers cheek. Summer dress twirling up with air as you run forward. Jeno catching a glimpse of your underwear. Shifting a helmet over his groin momentarily.

“I thought Haechan was coming too?” You asks, taking the helmet held out for you. Typically being his brothers helmet, little did you know.

“He’s busy.. errands out of town or something.” Jeno mumbles, avoiding your eyes. He’s being weird, but then again you didn’t know him well enough to confirm he wasn’t always this way.

“Oh.. well I guess I’ll see him later anyway.” You frown, tugging at the light fabric of your dress. What a waste. “You ride a motorcycle?”

“Yea.. I don’t have a car so.. you’ve been on one before you said?” Jeno’s brows furrow. Eyes trained on your feet, teeth digging into his lower lip. You had to wear cute strappy sandals with a summer dress. That just made sense, to show off your cute freshly painted toes..Jeno’s brain feels like its turning in his skull. Lips begging for mercy to let out a scream.

“I actually haven’t. Just said that to make my mom shut up.” You lean in close. Lips grazing his earlobe as you whisper. Words muffled, Jeno blinking slowly. Perfume wafting around his head, as if this could get any worse.

“Uh..” Jeno steps away abruptly. “Put that on!” His voice awkwardly shouts to you, chin jerking toward the helmet in your hands. Head shaking, pulling on his own. Straddling around the bike seat, engine coming to life.

“Am I supposed to hold on to you?” You stand to Jeno’s side. Admiring the shining black bike, fitting for his character. At least physically.

“I..” Jeno’s breath catches under his helmet shield. Only now realizing you’ll be riding with him around today. Legs parted on him.. arms squeezing his abdomen.

“Jeno??..” you pull on your helmet with confusion. He wasn’t much for words it seemed. So opposite of his brother.

“Uh.. yea.. just hold on to me..” he sighs to himself. Sounding more displeased than intended. Uncomfortable awkwardness travels through you watching his shoulders slump. With reluctance, you lift your leg. Straddling Jeno’s back, bad day to wear a short dress..

“This is kind of..” your lips purse together, center a little too close to Jeno’s body. More than close, right on him. Cotton airy smell coming off his black jean jacket. Scent fresh and clean, hair lingering of lightly scented shampoo. His broad shoulders covering majority of your view.

“You should.. hold on tight.” Jeno licks his cracking lips. Foot kicking up the bikes lock. With another look toward your mom motioning the sign of the cross. You lean your body forward, chest pressed up on Jeno’s wide back. Arms circling around his small waist.

Jeno’s own thoughts rolling in like rapid fire. Throat squeezing in, heat between your bodies pressed together moving between his legs. Trying to focus on anything, anything but your breasts pressing into him. Anything besides your smooth thighs around him. The memory of kissing you too vividly choosing to repeat itself.

“God be with you!” Your mothers voice screams out. Bike engine too loud as Jeno rides off. Your dress blowing behind you, smile covering your face. Chin on his shoulder, admiring the view of your new home.

Could only be an even more perfect moment if it was Haechan you were wrapped around..

——————————————————————————

“That’s it? A diner? That’s the tour of the town?” You twirl around the cherry sat atop melting whipped cream. Chocolate shake looking unblended and less than appetizing.

“There really isn’t much to do here..” Jeno mumbles, chin tucked into his chest. Basket of half eaten fries more interesting than you apparently.

“I could have told you that..” you murmur in response. Sitting back in the booth with boredom. Jeno does the same, brows furrowing in thought. A minute or five of silence passing. He grunts lowly, pulling his phone out.

“Look at you two!” Mark jogs over sporting a huge smile stretched across his cheeks. Red and white striped apron covering what looks like an all white uniform.

“You work here?!” You sit up, eyeing the uniform. Almost too fitting, a too old altar boy working part time at a cheap fifties diner.

“Well of course, phone bills don’t pay themselves! Timothy 6:10 For the love of money, is the root of all kinds of evil!” Mark proclaims, finger waggling about like a mad man. Your lips pulling back over your teeth in...displeasure.

“Right..”

“Fucking shit” Jeno groans, kicking at a foot under the table. Tsking as thumbs slam down at his phone screen.

“Ah Jeno! Proverbs 21:23! Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble!” Mark places hands on his hips. Lips pursed together with disappointment.

“Yea..sorry Jesus. Whatever.” Jeno mumbles again, eyes not moving from his phone.

“Gamers right” Mark shakes his head your way. Eyes lighting up, taking your own phone out.

“What do you play??” you scoot in closer to Jeno. Closing the space between the two of you in the booth. His shoulders stiffen, curling in hunched over the table.

“Kartrider..” Jeno barely whispers. Catching enough of it, familiar with the game.

“I play too! Oh! I bet I have a better rank than you!” Laughing unlocking your phone, swiping the game open. “Look at my character, she’s so cute!”

“There’s no way you’re better than me....I’m always top ranking in this county..” Jeno’s eyes widen. Forgetting about his current race, watching you hold up your phone with laughter.

“Come on, let’s race. I’m gonna kick your ass!” You lean in closer, reading out Jeno’s ID as you enter it in. “Add me!”

“Language!” Mark sighs, head shaking with both of you. “God’s children have truly fallen. After everything the lord has done for us.”

“Come on Jeno! Play me! I’ll go easy on you” nudging at his side with a wink. Your smile grows, finally something you can do together. Jeno dragging you around downtown past rusty antique shops. The only thing that caught your interest a quant little family owned bookstore. Learning fast he wasn’t much for conversation. Face appearing pained and uninterested with every word from you.

“Don’t feel like playing anymore..” Jeno shuts his phone, screen turning black.

“What?! Aw come on. Can’t stand the thought of a girl beating you?” Jeno leans back, eyes taking in your face slowly. All he cared about was winning, competing in stupid games just to achieve a high ranking. You’d win of course, he’d never let you lose.

“Just don’t feel like playing anymore.”

——————————————————————————-

“Thanks for showing me around, the one street you took me to.” Your voice drips with sarcasm. Hopping off the back of Jeno’s bike. He removes his own helmet, hair flopping around messily. “Was fun I guess.”

“Yea well” Jeno holds out his hand for the helmet you borrowed. You hold it under your arm, brow quirking in confusion. Your hand slowly lifting, placing in his. Jeno’s eyes widen, staring at your hands held together. Too many feelings rushing at him all at once.

“Helmet!” Jeno shouts abruptly, hand flying away from yours like you’re too disgusting to touch.

“Geeze, fine. Sorry...” you place the helmet on the back end of Jeno’s bike. Turning away, without even a goodbye. He grabs your elbow, your foot stopping mid-air.

“You..” head turning, staring down where he holds you.

“Yes?” You implore him to continue. Jeno’s hand dropping from you when you fully turn to face him again.

“You.. you really like my brother..?” Jeno’s eyes fall to the ground. Thick dark eyelashes shadowing across his cheeks.

“Yea of course. Is that what this is about Jeno? I really do like him, I would never use someone.” You smile, bouncing back on your heels. Jeno’s lips suck in with frustration.

“Wish I could say the same about him.” Jeno mumbles, turning his engine back on.

“What was that?” Voice raising, trying to speak above the loud roar from the motorcycle. Jeno flicks down his helmet shield, speeding off. Cloud of dust surrounding you. Smacking at the air coughing out, bike disappearing behind dusts.

“Fucking jerk.”

—————————————————————————-

“Haechan! Where are we going? The church?!” Your shoes lift up dust. Arm in his hold pulling you toward the small old building.

“Where else would we go baby? Can’t go to my place, the holy spirit’s home.” Haechan laughs, pulling a lanyard from his back pocket. “Besides, this is my dads church you know right? It’s like my property too, we’re safe here under God’s watchful eye.”

“Isn’t this.. I don’t know. Sacrilegious?!” You anxiously follow him inside. Haechans easy smile comforting you, arms wrapping around your waist. He steps back down the center aisle. Pews displayed at your sides, Haechan leading you one in front. He pulls you to the center of the pew, sitting with hands on your hips.

“This feels..” you start, chest rising and falling faster as guilt passes through you.

“Wrong? God didn’t make us this way..” his hand smooths down your bare thigh. Passing the fresh new dress just for your date tonight. Fingers skirting between your thighs, one playing at a side covering your mound. “..for us to not touch and explore..”

“It’s just..” your hands grip at the front of the pew behind you. Where you’d normally kneel to pray..

“Just?..” Haechans eyes gaze up at you. Pure sin and danger hidden in the face of an angel. Tongue sliding up your other thigh. “You’re so sweet.”

You sigh in defeat, legs quivering, upper body doing the work to hold you up. His head dipping under your dress, nose pressing into your slit. Cotton from your panties shoving between you. Soft moans sounding from underneath, Haechans tongue licking at your underwear. Enough to properly soak them up, allowing drool to freely fall from his mouth. You gnaw at your lip, gathering up your dress fabric in one hand. Admiring the way the beautiful boy between your legs eats you up.

Haechan lets out a dreamy sigh. Long fingers stroking up and down your thighs. Teeth biting your at core with cloth between. Your stomach folds in, curling closer to where he sits below you. Fingers wrapping around the sides of your panties, tongue lapping at your inner thighs.

“Body of a virgin can heal more sins than body of christ you know..” underwear at your knees. Haechan leans back in, lips wrapping around your clit. Tongue swirling around, suctioning between. Your other hand lifting to your mouth, biting down on your thumb. Muffled moans and whines echoing around the church walls.

Haechans eyes stay on your face, tongue rolling your clit around. Hands squeezing your inner thighs, pulling back, clapping down slaps. Your hips jolting forward with suppressed cries. Everything about him was absolutely depraved. Looks deceiving from the boy your mother had always warned you about.

“Don’t hide your pretty sounds baby.” Haechan pulls away. Lips shining, coated in your wetness. Glares from the colored glass reflecting off his skin. Red tinted eyes sparkling up at you. Haechan reaches for your wrist, yanking your hand out from your mouth. His lips part open, tongue swirling around your entrance. Sucking up the wetness gathering around.

“Oh God!” You shout out, neck loosely dropping back. Tears on the brink of escaping the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it baby. You pray to me now.” Haechan groans, mouth closing over your entire mound. Eyes rolling back into his head, swiping up and down your core. Hands finding his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. Haechans tongue thrusts into your tight entrance, muscle working extra hard to enter.

“Oh my God!” Body shaking, ass digging into the pew. Hips twitching forward, grinding against Haechans face. Chin covered in your wetness, tongue wiggling inside you. Fingers finding way to your clit, pinching and rolling the bud. “Oh my God!!”

Haechan groans inside you, scalp in pain from your pulling. Cock hardening in his jeans, taste of innocence in his mouth nearly orgasmic. You taste too fucking good, nothing like that used up whore from earlier..

“I-I c-can’t!” Haechans fingers work at your clit. Rapidly sweeping back and forth. Tongue sliding out, jaw hung open. Eyes return to your face, smile breaking out over his cheeks.

“You can.” He pants, tongue hung out lazily lapping at your hole. Clit pinched between two fingers, massaging every little nerve. “Cum on my tongue.”

Your head drops forward, tear slipping free. Haechans raspy tone saying those words driving you past your limit. Ass lifted off the pew, core convulsing. Haechans tongue placed against your fluttering entrance. Catching all of your release. You weakly fall forward again, forehead resting on top of his messed up hair.

“So good.” Haechan moans words out, licking clean the wetness seeping from you. Neck lifting, hands cupping your cheeks. “Taste.”

Tongue pushing between your parted lips, trying to catch your breath. Haechan laps at your tongue, realization hitting you in seconds what he’s making you do. Tasting yourself between your lips. His tongue covering every corner inside your mouth. Haechans hands return to your hips, pulling you off the front of the pew to straddle his lap.

“You want it?” His hand digs into the back of your hair. Jean clad dick shoving between your thighs at your heated core. Weakly nodding, eyes half open lazily pecking pouty lips. Haechan lays back down flat across the pew. Warm hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. “Come here.”

Your head nods, under his command. Mind controlled by whatever he’s saying, telling you ‘I want it- no matter what it is.’ If it’s from Haechan- give it to me, now. You lay down on his chest, kisses continuing. Hands squeezing around your ass, pulling up your dress. Hands flying down hard with mean slaps. Fingers gliding down finding way between your legs again. Skimming up and down your slit from the back. Soft moans passing between your swollen lips.

Body tensing, sounds of the large entrance doors opening up with a slam. Haechans eyes open up staring into yours, brows lifted. His lips purse out with a silent ‘shhh’, earning a rapid head shake from you. Familiar smirk pulling at his lips, free hand clamping over your mouth. Your eyes widen, lips pressing into the palm of Haechans hand. Fingertips circling around your needy entrance. Panic rushing through you as loud foot steps approach closer and closer.

Your forehead shoved up against Haechans. Mouth closed off, silent whimpers falling out behind his hand. Finger sliding inside you, his lit up eyes watching your expressive eyes react. The fear and curiosity alone could make him cum.

“Are you kidding me!” A flash light shines over your faces. Mark standing at the end of the pew in disgust. Your head lifts quickly, ripping Haechans hand off your mouth. Cheeks heating up absolutely mortified. Moving fast, adjusting your dress to cover up. Haechan stays laid down, eyes fluttering shut with irritation.

“Fucking cock block.” He whispers to himself, sitting up. Tent in his jeans extremely evident.

“I knew you stole my keys again Haechan!” Mark clicks the flash light on and off angrily. Both of you covering your eyes. “and you! Mary of Magdala! You should be ashamed! Think of your mother!”

“Dude, chill.” Haechan stands, hands held up trying to block the bright light from his eyes. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Weren’t doing anything?!? If people found out what you were doing, this one would be getting pelted with stones!” Mark passes the light over your face. You cringe, hands coming up to hide yourself.

“Mark, quick, what’s the verse about fucking that really cute voice of an angel choir boy?” Haechan throws him a knowing look, pulling a lanyard from his pocket. Marks eyes widen, snatching his keys away.

“Don’t steal my keys again! Next time I will be telling your father!” Mark scurries away, door slamming behind him.

“Oh my God he’s gonna tell your dad!” You panic, pulling your dress down. Attempting to wipe away any mascara that could be on your cheeks.

“Nah he’d never, can’t risk everyone finding out about Renjun. Don’t worry baby, I got something on everyone.” Haechan pulls you in, gently pecking your lips. Your senses relax, mind torn with stress still. Who the fuck were you right now..

“You know..” Haechan turns you around, hand scooping your chin. “I’m gonna fuck you. Right there.” He holds your jaw up. Eyes on landing on the altar.

“Jesus will know all your sins after I’m done with you.”

Part 3–>

Taglist:

@seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @safariria @nctlover94 @underjeno @nanascupid @jenorenle @scruffiejelly @mel-yjh @count-your-shadows @sunflowerhae @johnjaespeach @nctflix @notsooperfect @skrtbeepbeep @lanadreamie @nctstrawberrycow @meonlightuniverxse @sunshinedhyuck @haechanswhore @brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr @kpopmultiifandomm @d1nne @neobanguniverse @pewpewpwe00 @abitofafan @haechansworld @born5sos @bockhyun @prettychannie @xuyiyangstan@alexameliamg @ahsshilee @jeon-jungkook-is-actually-god @xwanna127x @heyitsbreeeeee @tarolovebot @loveyukhei @eleanorfreakingchan @classic-antifood @winwiniee @sheytanni @player23 @wavetease @nahyuckk @n0hyuck @doyoungssouthernbabygirl

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jawabear · 3 years

Text

Brown Eyes (Din Djarin X Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: So did anyone else LOSE it during Chapter 15? I know I did. I actually had to take a break from watching it because the excitement was too much. But it was absolutely incredible. So I wrote this short little thing. I really want to write more for Din because I think he’s an absolute sweetheart. But there are so many AMAZING Mandalorian fics out there that its a little intimidating to write for a character like him. But maybe I will in the future. But I hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, Soft!Din, aka the best Din, spoilers for Chapter 15, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: After the events on Morak, Din gets to thinking about the direction of his relationship with the girl he loves

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly as she sat in front of him. It had been difficult to find the time to ask him that since he re-boarded the Slave I. He seemed unusually quiet.

He just gave a silent nod, but she wasn’t convinced he was telling the truth, something was off about him. “Din,” she whispered his name which seemed to catch his attention “what is it? You’ve been pretty much silent since you came back. What happened in there?”

Din didn’t say anything at first. But she waited patiently for him to talk. He looked around the small space they were in to see if any of the other passengers were around but it seemed they were in the clear. But he still spoke in a hushed manner. “I-I don’t think...” he paused again, his voice sounding strangled as if his words were painful “I broke the code...” he admitted.

“What?”

“I had to...it was to save the kid...there was a face scan...I didn’t have a choice” (Y/N) didn’t really know what to say. To her, it wasn’t a big deal but to him it was everything. “B-But I was thinking...you should...you should be able to see me. Otherwise your words are empty...how can...how can you love someone you’ve never seen”

(Y/N) was about to say something, what, she didn’t know. But that had to wait. She watched as he lifted his hands to his helmet, preparing to take it off.

Her hands fell on top of his and pulled them off his helmet. “I don’t need to see your face to know that I love you Din. I can see that having to do it once has...broken you. I won’t ask you do to it a second time. I know what you look like. I know what you are. You’re a Mandalorian. You always will be”

Din was silent at this. He looked at her through his visor. And he just looked at her. He thought how it wasn’t fair that Mayfeld, a guy who Din didn’t care much about, looked him in the eyes, his real eyes, saw his face and spoke to him. And there was (Y/N), the absolute love of his life not having that. It wasn’t fair. But she was right. Although it was for the sake of Grogu, having to break the creed that he held so closely to his heart almost completely broke him.

But now he was at least like all the others. Like Boba Fett and Bo-Katan. He had shown his face and he couldn’t undo that. He had gone against the creed, nothing could change that. And (Y/N) was right. He was still a Mandalorian. He always would be. But he didn’t care about that. He wanted her to see him.

Before she could say or do anything to stop him, he removed his helmet and set it beside him. She turned her head and closed her eyes tightly. He shifted closer to her and took her face gently between his hands and turned her head so she was facing him again. “(Y/N)...”

Her heart swelled at this. Hearing his voice. His voice with out the barrier of his helmet. His voice was clear as day in her ears. “Look at me...” he whispered to her. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment before gradually opening her eyes.

She could’ve burst into tears when her eyes fell on his face. He wasn’t much like what she had imagined, he was ten times better. Her hands rose to his face and stroked over his beard covered cheeks. She traced the sloped shape of his nose, the outline of his lips, she ran her hands through his soft and messy hair. And she stared into his eyes. That was one thing she had guessed right. The colour of his eyes.

“You have brown eyes” she whispered, more to herself then to him. “I always thought you had brown eyes” She smiled. “I always knew they would be kind eyes, that they would be beautiful. And that they would tell me your story. And they do”

“Is it...” he paused for a moment thinking over his words “am I...okay?”

“More than okay, Din. You’re perfect” Din couldn’t help but smile at this. And she smiled back “you have a beautiful smile” she said.

“Can I...kiss you?” He asked hesitantly as he moved a little closer to her.

“Please..” she couldn’t get the words out quick enough.

Now that she had admitted it, he suddenly felt a little put on the spot. He hadn’t ever kissed someone before. How were you ever meant to go about it?

Noticing his hesitation, she jumped to the conclusion that he hadn’t kissed anyone before. So she took initiative shuffled forward bringing her lips onto his in a soft kiss.

Din seemed to let out a shaky breath against her lips and moved even closer to her, pressing his hands against her cheeks in desperation. He never wanted to let her go. “I love you” he whispered.

She smiled into the kiss “I love you too” she pulled away from him and removed her hands from his cheeks and reached over to his helmet as slipped it back over his head. “Helmet or no helmet”

12/12/20

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars #Pedro Pascal #fanfic

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snarwor · 3 years

Note

i think it’s impossible to not do codywan + “war’s over” kiss like... that’s an entire genre of its own

You’re absolutely right. Ideas for this came from @keldabekush giving “acoustic weaponry” to our beloved clone commanders. So like. cw for implied beheading, medieval punishment LOL

“Fox did what?” Cody’s voice jumps about eight octaves over those three words. “He-?!”

“Is everything alright, Commander?” Obi-wan asks from behind him, guarding him from the stray blaster bolts while he took the comm. They’re both covered in dirt and dust, carbon scoring having blackened up their faces since Cody lost his bucket after that last explosion was filled with ink, of all things.

“I--”

Cody doesn’t have time to answer before one of his lieutenants is shouting and pointing, joined by many other vode who see something important enough to stop pressing the front line.

One by one, the Separatist ships retreat. No, that’s not quite right. The Separatist ships...crash. The noise is unbelievably loud without his helmet, but Cody can’t make himself look away, as B1s and B2s and vulture droids collapse into the earth. It’s almost a beautiful enough sight for him to forget about the absolutely banthashit news he’d just gotten.

“The Chancellor is dead.”

“What?” Obi-wan asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Long live the Chancellor?” one of Cody’s brothers says tentatively from the side.

“F-Fox, he. There was a sword, I think he. Wolffe didn’t tell me all of it, but--”

They’re interrupted, again. “Commander, you’re going to want to see this!” A datapad is shoved into his hands, and cheek-to-cheek, they watch a replay of a clone that’s clearly Rex with an axe taking a swing at--

“Is that Dooku?”

“That was Count Dooku,” Obi-wan corrects.

A new message comes in after that. GENERAL GRIEVOUS DRAWN AND QUARTERED BY CLONE FORCE 99 ON UTAPAU.

Cody pushes a hand through his hair. “Uh.” He looks to Obi-wan, who is getting an increasingly frantic message on his own comm. “Uh?”

Obi-wan has a strange look in his eyes as he closes his commlink. “I think...” He takes a step forward, and Cody’s heart is in his throat, he’s surprised he hasn’t spat it out onto the ground at this point. “I think the war is over, my dear.”

Cody makes some kind of weak noise that must convey please get over here and kiss me right now, you incredible man, because that’s exactly what Obi-wan does. The kisses they’d stolen, unsure and shy in darkened rooms where no one could see them, they fade into fond Befores. Every kiss, every breath, every possible moment following this kiss is considered an After, at least it stacks up that way in Cody’s head. Through the Force, Obi-wan can feel Cody’s mind both surging and melting at once, his soul screaming nothing but love and relief. Cody’s hands come up to rest on Obi-wan’s waist and shoulders, mindful of the armor and an injury he’d hidden from Cody for all of three seconds earlier in the battle.

There are people hooting, cheering. Cody can’t hear them over the rush in his ears, can’t see them because he’s smiling too wide for him to see anything but Obi-wan in his field of vision. He’d take a hundred more battles, a thousand more wars, if he could relive that kiss again.

Obi-wan doesn’t let him get very far before he makes him relive it right there.

#my writing #codywan #prompts day #I HURT AND THEN I HEAL THIS IS WHO I AM #bookslutskye

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 3 years

Text

BTS DRABBLE-Jeon Jungkook

You had been inseparable. Best friends. Joined at the hip. No one could say your name without it being directly followed by the name Jeon Jungkook. But somewhere along the way, things had changed, had gotten complicated, and now, you're not quite sure where the two of you stand. You know how you still feel about him-how you've always felt about him-but your once best friend is a little harder to read, and unfortunately, right now, he's thinking the same thing about you.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Jeon Jungkook, Jungkook, JK, Jungkook x you, Jungkook x reader, Jeon Jungkook x you, Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining

Soundtrack: Love Race by MGK ft. Kellin Quinn

Title: Make a Change

"Dude, just go and talk to her." Taehyung elbows Jungkook again in the ribs, making him hiss and take a step away from the other man, where they stand, leaning against the lip of the bar.

"Dude, I told you." Jungkook mocks back, shooting his friend a sharp glare, as he rubs at the now sore spot on his ribs. "It's not that simple."

Taehyung scoffs. "How hard can it be?" He gulps down the last dregs of his drink and motions to the bar tender for a refill.

He looks jaunty and handsome-Jungkook thinks-dark hair pushed off his forehead, jacket loose and open around his dress shirt, revealing a swath of tan chest. Confident and cool.

Just how Jungkook wishes he could be in this moment, but instead, he's filled with dread and something akin to nervous indecision.

"Weren't you guys like best friends growing up?" Taehyung asks, nodding in thanks to the bar tender who has slid another drink to him, before he cocks a dark brow in Jungkook's direction and pins him down with a knowing stare.

Yeah, and that's the problem. Jungkook thinks morosely to himself, as he dares another quick glance across the restaurant to your table.

You look happy. You're laughing at something one of your friends has said-Jungkook thinks he remembers her name is Ryunjin-head thrown back, eyes alight.

Happy without him.

Jungkook tears his gaze away, reaching for his drink to take another gulp, and as the whiskey burns its way down his throat, he forces himself to swallow any lingering hope with the alcohol.

******

"Hey, isn't that Jeon Jungkook?" Ryunjin, wiping tears from her eyes after laughing too hard, asks, as she reaches for her margarita which is now condensing onto the slick surface of the table.

"What?!" You whirl around in your seat a little too fast, and the other girls snicker at your eagerness.

But Ryunjin is right, because as soon as your eyes land on the broad shoulders and narrow waist of the man standing at the bar-back to you-you know, with a loss of breath and punch to your gut, that it is indeed Jeon Jungkook.

Even though he has changed his hair-it's long now, almost to his shoulders, and dyed a dark purple blue that makes his skin tone seem to glow caramel in the overhead lights-and you're fairly certain you catch a glint of an eyebrow piercing as he turns to his companion and says something too low for you to hear, your soul immediately recognizes him.

How could it not, when you've been in love with him ever since you first met at the tender age of seven.

"Oooh, Jungkook is back in town." Wheein nudges you playfully, and the other girls giggle once more around the table. "Why don't you go say hi, (Y/N)?"

You know she's teasing, but you can't seem to return the joke, or even a smile in her direction, because suddenly, you can't breathe, and though it's crazy, the only thing you can think about is tapping him on the shoulder, saying his name, watching his eyes light up and his lips part to reveal bunny teeth as he turns and recognizes you and then-

And then what?

Nothing. You think honestly to yourself, as you force yourself to look away from Jungkook and turn back to your friends, who are all watching you expectantly, but you don't meet their eyes, as you take a gulp of your drink.

Nothing will happen. Because Jeon Jungkook seems fine without you.

*****

Jungkook manages not to think about you for a whole day-it takes a lot of mental gymnastics and conscious avoidance of his thoughts-and he thinks he might be okay, when you run into each other at the local coffee shop.

With one accidental bump in the doorway, all of his hard work from the last twenty four hours disappears in a cloud of nonexistent smoke.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" You yelp out, trying to avoid spilling your fresh coffee all over yourself, and he thinks you're going to say something else, but when you look up and your eyes meet his, the words seem to die on your lips.

He knows the feeling.

He forces himself to say something, anything, as he stares at you dumbly, coffee cup clenched a little too tightly in his fist. "I didn't-I'm sorry-" He's stuttering, something he knows he does when he's nervous or overly excited, and in this moment, the harsh pounding of his heart in his chest is probably a testament to the fact that he's both.

"Jungkook." You breathe out his name, and dammit all, it makes his knees weak, because he doesn't know how long it's been since he's heard you say it, or had you look at him so intensely.

"Get out of the way." A hurried patron, probably tired of the two of you frozen in the doorway, pushes past Jungkook and leaves the shop in a blast of winter air and jingling bells.

It's enough to force Jungkook into moving.

"Do you want to-" He motions toward a nearby table, not missing the fact that you check the clock on the wall with a flick of your eyes, as if you have somewhere to be, and suddenly he feels like an inconvenience.

"Sure." You smile at him, and it takes his breath away, because it's brighter and more beautiful than he had remembered. You nod. "I have a couple of minutes."

He feels the air release from his lungs as he follows you toward the table beside the window, fingers still clenched around his coffee a little too tightly, and heart still beating a little too loudly.

******

You take a sip of your coffee and try not to stare at Jungkook where he sits across from you at the small table.

The quiet between the two of you isn't awkward-like you had thought it would be-but is instead, almost comforting, as if you can just fall back into place where you left off.

Though you know that's far from the truth.

"You changed your hair." You blurt into the silence, offering him a sheepish smile at the volume of your voice. You swallow, and try again. "I like it."

"Thanks." Jungkook replies, offering you half a grin, and the glimpse of his strong front teeth has you feeling as if you're going to fall through the floor and disappear completely into the mess that is your own feelings.

He reaches up to twirl a finger around a loose lock of purple hair. "I just needed a change I guess."

You nod. "I get that."

And you do. Because ever since he left, you have felt like your life has been nothing but changes, all in the lame attempt to distract yourself from thinking about him.

The man sitting across from you now, as if nothing has changed, Jeon Jungkook.

"You got a tattoo." Jungkook remarks, eyebrow cocking slightly, as he reaches out suddenly to tug your forearm toward him across the table.

The touch of his fingers on your skin feels like electricity and you have to force yourself not to jump.

"Yeah." You say faintly, clearing your throat, as you meet his gaze-irises warm and caramel-and suddenly, you feel as if you're warm, regardless of the brisk breeze that keeps assaulting you every time the shop door is opened to admit another winter swept customer. "Just needed a change." You parrot back his own words lamely in an attempt to focus on something-anything-else.

"I like it." Jungkook sweeps a careful finger across the lines of the tattoo, tracing the curling black ink where it marks your skin, and he seems calm, unaffected, by the fact that he's suddenly touching you after years of being apart.

You, on the other hand, feel as if you're going to pass out from lack of air.

Your feelings are dangerously close to the surface, so you pull your arm gently from his grasp, and glance once more at the clock on the wall, before you say apologetically, "Ah, I have to go." You stand, almost knocking your chair over in your hurry to escape before you say something vulnerable and stupid.

Jungkook stands with you, and he offers you a smile-and it might be your imagination, but it's tinged with something akin to sadness-as he says carefully, "It was good to see you again (Y/N)."

You swallow hard. "You too, Jungkook."

And then you hurry from the coffee shop before anything else can escape your lips and potentially bare your soul.

*****

The next time Jungkook sees you, he's more than a little surprised to witness you getting off a motorcycle in the library's parking lot.

As you pull off your helmet and shake out your hair, the only thing-shamelessly-that crosses Jungkook's mind as he openly stares at you is shit, you're hot. Like, really hot.

You must notice him staring, because stowing your helmet at the back of your bike, you flash him a sheepish grin and give a little wave in his direction.

Jungkook makes his feet move toward you, and before he can stop himself, he's running a hand over the body of the motorcycle, admiring the way it gleams in the early afternoon sunlight, as he says stupidly, "You got a bike."

You laugh, and god, he hadn't remembered how much he had missed that sound until that exact moment.

"Yeah." You shrug and offer him a mischievous smile, as you knock shoulders with him gently in a gesture that shouldn't, but nonetheless, gets his heart racing in his chest. "I needed a change."

"I get that." Jungkook realizes you're just repeating your conversation from the coffee shop-noting each other's differences that have developed in the time you've been apart-but he can't bring himself to care, because maybe this is a new thing developing between the two of you, and he kind of likes that.

"You got a-" You hesitate for a moment, as if searching for something to give away how he got here, and then finally seem to settle on, with a slightly teasing look, "New pair of shoes."

Jungkook sees you wince, as if silently berating yourself for the bad joke, but he grins, and that seems to relax you a bit, because you return the smile.

And he hates to admit it, but being around you is just as easy as he remembers.

You scuff the cement of the parking lot with the toe of your boot, and glance toward the library, and suddenly, Jungkook remembers he has stopped you from whatever errand you were in the middle of.

He blushes, he can feel the heat on his cheeks, and then motions with his head in the direction of the library. "Sorry. I'll let you go."

You seem to battle with yourself for a moment-the silence suddenly between the two of you makes Jungkook feel smothered-but then you stick your hands in your pockets and without quite looking at him, ask casually, "Well, I mean, if you're not doing anything else."

You glance away, and he can't tell if you're embarrassed or feeling as awkward as he is. You push on, as he holds his breath. "I mean, you're welcome to come if you want. We could get coffee afterward?" You finally look up at him again, and Jungkook thinks is heart is going to bottom out, as you offer him the hint of a smile and shrug, as if you don't really care either way.

But he cares. He cares way too much.

So he nods-trying to act nonchalant-and you walk side by side into the library.

*****

The next time you spend time with Jungkook, things feel a bit more like a new normal, rather than an awkward happenstance of bumping into each other in a coffee shop or the parking lot.

This time, it all feels a little bit more deliberate.

And maybe, it's the cheap wine cooler you're both sipping from as the night progresses, but suddenly, you don't feel so bad inside when you're with him.

As if-maybe-things are getting easier, feelings are being buried, you're healing from the last time you saw him so many years ago.

And you've never seen Jungkook laugh this much, so maybe-possibly-he feels the same way.

"Whoa, whoa." Jungkook says in between laughs and another drink from the wine cooler, as he catches his breath and leans against the pool table, looking at you with doe eyes wide with mirth. "You did not. Sehun from high school? That guy was a dick, (Y/N)!" He grins at you, all bunny teeth and bright eyes. "Oh how the mighty have fallen."

"Shut up, Jeon." You snap back, though you're not serious, not in the slightest, as you shoot him a playful glare, and lean over the pool table to shoot another striped ball into your pocket. Straightening up, you grin at him triumphantly, before saying, "I had some bad years, okay? Don't judge me."

"Yeah, but Sehun though." Jungkook whistles, eyebrows raised, as he leans over to take his own shot, sinking the ball easily, in a way that has you admiring the ripple of his curled muscles over the table. "No judgement. Whatever gets you off."

"Oh. Really?" You scoff in offense, as Jungkook straightens and shoots you a slightly wicked grin across the pool table. He wants to play mean and he wants you to know it.

Well, two can play at that game.

"That's how you want to play?" You fire back, noting that Jungkook has set aside his pool stick and is moving around the pool table toward you, most likely trying to intimidate you. You won't let him, so you say the first thing that comes to your mind. "And what would you know about getting me off, Jeon? Hmmm?"

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you regret them, Jungkook's expression instantly turning from teasing and open and playful to close and guarded, as he stops in his tracks, barely inches in his advance from being within touching range.

You part your lips, mouth suddenly dry, and you want to apologize, to take it back, but you can't, because all the feelings between the two of you are back, in the open, stifling the air you breathe.

And the only thing you can think, in that moment, watching Jungkook's eyes close off to you and turn dark, is shit, you've lost him again.

****

Jungkook is stunned into silence and frozen in place by your taunting words.

He knows-by the sudden horrified look in your eyes-that you hadn't meant to say them.

But they're out now, sitting tense in the air between the two of you, and as he watches the way your fingers turn white on the pool stick you still hold, he knows.

He has two options.

He can run away again-relive all the hurt and the distance and the unsaid feelings and ideas that he had been allowing to plague him ever since that last night years ago-or.

Or.

"You're right." He admits into the thick, tense atmosphere between the two of you, and the words, the words as they leave his lips, seem to release some of the pressure in the air, as if deflating a balloon. "You're right, I don't know anything about it."

He sees the way your eyes flash with surprise behind the guard you have put up, and his heart is pounding behind his ribs, threatening to choke off the air supply to his throat, but he can't, he can't, leave again, can't just let everything be unsaid, not like last time.

Because this time is different. This time, he knows what he's giving up if he doesn't stay.

So he makes himself face it. Makes himself say the words to you. Makes himself stay, makes his feet walk toward you, instead of away from you.

Because this time is going to be different. Because he'll make it so.

"I don't know what gets you off, (Y/N)." He repeats, because you're still staring at him like he's grown a second head, and hes careful, as he steps toward you, not to scare you off, because you're staring to look like a deer in the headlights behind the shock. "But I was hoping-"

He stutters over his words, his breath locked in his throat, as you stare back at him.

He forces himself to go on.

"I was hoping, maybe, this time could be different. And maybe, you'd be willing to teach me."

******

You can't think of a single thing to say in response to his quiet request, and as you stare dumbly at Jungkook standing before you-so close that you can feel his breath on your face-you have to force yourself to remember to breathe.

He's asking you to teach him? He's asking you to repeat that night over again, just in the hopes that it won't end the same? That you won't end up heartbroken and regretting ever messing around with your best friend?

He's asking you to relive the heartbreak, and trust that he won't run away like he did before?

He's asking you to tell him-stupidly, naively-just how you feel about him in no uncertain terms? And expect him to act differently this time? Expect him to be okay with it this time, all these years later?

Maybe you're looking too deeply into this.

Maybe you're being crazy, and all Jeon Jungkook-purple haired, eyebrow piercing, sneaker wearing, Jungkook-is actually asking you to do is teach him what you want, what actually gets you off in bed and nothing more.

But you can't help but read into it-not when his wide doe eyes are holding yours so intently, not when you've wanted nothing more since the day he left-and so, without thinking, ignoring the voice that's calling you a stupid over and over again in your head, you nod.

Jungkook's eyes widen, and you're cursing your future self already for the heartbreak she's setting you up for.

But It's Jeon Jungkook.

Your best friend, the boy you've been secretly in love with for years, and his words are ringing true in your head.

This time really does have the potential to be different.

So without a word, you step past him and lock the door to the apartment rec room.

*****

Jungkook's brain doesn't register the click of the door lock until you're back standing in front of him and reaching for his hand.

"Ever done it on a pool table, Jeon?" You ask, and the way your lips are curling at the corners into the start of a mischievous smirk has Jungkook's heart racing in his chest as you pull him forward toward you.

"No." He's proud that he manages to keep the stutter from his voice as your back hits said table and you guide his hands to your waist, buts he's certain you hear the way his breath hitches as your body meets his. "Have you?"

"No." You grin and cock your head in an innocent sort of way that belies the fact that your fingers are creeping beneath the material of his shirt to stroke hot patterns across his skin. "But it could be a nice change."

Without thinking, because he can't think anyway when you're touching him, Jungkook lifts you up onto the ledge of the table and he can only marvel momentarily at how easy it was, before your legs are wrapping around his waist and you're pulling him even closer, if that's possible.

Your lips are so close to his that he's pretty sure he can already taste the mint chapstick you have always worn, and trying to distract himself from the sudden urge of need that has swept over him at your closeness, he teases hoarsely, "You're pretty into changes aren't you?"

You shrug, and your exhale washing over his face has Jungkook trying to hold back a shudder of anticipation, fingers digging into the pool table on either side of your hips, and you must notice, because you're doing that little nose crinkling grin again as your arms find their way around his neck.

"I dunno. I guess." You murmur under your breath, and you must know the way your body fits to his and the sudden low lilt of your voice is driving him mad, because you're leaning back, pulling him down onto the pool table with you. "But only if they're for the better."

******

You note the way Jungkook's pupils blow as you pull him down to you, and you like feeling in control as you hover your lips teasingly over his, although on the inside, your mind is screaming at the way his rock hard body feels covering yours, and you have to remind yourself to breathe as you tease his name quietly into the space between you, "Jungkook."

"Hmmm." He hums beneath his breath, the sound giving way to the start of a low groan, as you dance your fingers along the edge of skin above the hem of his pants, playing with the button there for a moment, as his hot eyes meet yours.

"Will you teach me?" You ask, only partially teasing, as you finally allow your fingers to open the closure on his pants.

Jungkook's hands slide down the line of your body, his fingers digging into the divet of your hip bones, and suddenly, he's leaning forward and capturing your mouth with his in a wet, sloppy kiss-teeth knocking together, tongues fighting for space-as if he can't wait any longer.

But regardless, as his body melds to yours on top of the pool table, you're pretty sure it's the best damn kiss you've ever had.

"I'm pretty sure you don't need me to teach you anything." Jungkook pants out when your lips separate for just a moment, his words once again biting off on a sharp intake of breath, as you guide his fingers further down to the bare skin of your thighs.

"Maybe." You shrug, your own breath caught in your throat, as Jungkook takes over.

Maybe he didn't need as much teaching as he thought either.

*****

Jungkook collapses beside you on the table, out of breath, skin hot and sticky, thoroughly spent, and he's not ashamed to admit-as the two of you lay side by side, gasping for air-that he's just had the best sex he's ever experienced.

He feels you lean up and over him, and cracking open one eye, he reaches up to push sweaty, purple bangs out of his gaze, as he asks hoarsely, "What?"

You shrug, still staring down at him, and a sly grin cracks your lips, still swollen and flushed from kissing. "Nothing" You lay back down beside him, and somehow, his fingers tangle with your own. "You're just really good. Thanks to my careful tutelage."

"Ha." Jungkook barks out a sarcastic laugh at your jibe, and closes his eyes once more, allowing himself just to feel, just to be, in the moment with you for a little bit longer.

The quiet stretches on for a few more minutes, and once the shaking in Jungkook's legs has subsided, he props himself up on an elbow, running a hand methodically over the green felt of the pool table as he stares down at you.

Now it's your turn to crack open your eye and shoot him a glare. "What?"

"You top now." He acknowledges, trying to bite back a grin, as your eyes widen and you reach out half heartedly to try to smack him, palm warm against the bare cooling skin of his chest.

"I needed a change." You quip back, sticking your tongue out at him, as you sit up and reach for your discarded clothing.

Jungkook slides down from the table, pulling on his pants, as he mulls over the thought that keeps returning to the forefront of his mind, and he knows, he knows he should just bite his tongue, not say something stupid,

But he can't. He has to. Because he promised himself-and you-that this time would be different.

"I love you." He blurts it out before he can talk himself out of it and instantly berates himself for being so stupid, as the sound of your rustling clothes stops from behind him, and the room goes silent.

Jungkook swears he can hear his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.

He forces himself to turn and face you, arm halfway in his shirt, and is surprised to see a soft smile flicker across your lips as you stare at him, eyes warm and open and affectionate.

His breath returns to his lungs.

"You said it first this time." You remark carefully, and Jungkook wonders how often you have replayed your last scene together in your head over the years, how long it has hurt you.

"Yeah." Jungkook nods, and bites his lip, suddenly feeling so much in one moment that he doesn't know where to start. So he settles on the easiest thing for now, the rest will come later. "I thought we needed a change."

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jd-loves-fiction · 3 years

Text

➤”I’d like one order of Mando adventure angst with a side of fluff and a dash of spicy bickering. Enemies to lovers or friends to lovers flavor (whatever’s on the house) and a nice hot bowl of ‘there was only one bed’

Give my compliments to the chef”

➤ genre: Fluff, Adventure, Comedy(?), Enemies to Partners, Angst

➤ wc: 4.9k (holy shit might be my longest request🥴)

➤ 🌙 Requested: @batarella ❤

"Listen, buddy, I got here first." You attempt to reason with the wall of beskar currently pointing his blaster directly at you.

Maybe not the smartest thing to say when first meeting someone of his reputation, but he can only be doing this for one reason.

He's after the bounty squirming nervously at your feet. And you're in the way.

Why else would he be out here, in the middle of a rocky desert on some faraway planet?

"Step away from him." The voice you hear startles you with its modulated dept. It's more surprising that he even spoke at all, given what you'd heard of the Mandalorian. Although his stature and the silent tension he brings with him is no doubt intimidating, you will not give up so easily after following this bounty so far out from the nearest town. “No.”

His visor tilts to the side, like a frustrated twitch, at your answer. “Maybe.” You rectify, which makes him raise his head in interest. “Do you have a fob?”

“No, I don’t.”

Not that it matters anymore considering yours is broken, but at least now you know he can't follow you if you make a break for it with the bounty.

“How did you find us?”

“I have my ways.” You nearly roll your eyes at his cryptic response, not like you expected anything else from a Mandalorian.

“Do you know why they sent you?” Knowing your employers, you had a clue on what the reason was. They got impatient.

They’d been pretty determined to get a maximum time needed out of you. You’re almost sure you overstepped it.

But to send a Mandalorian? Seems like a bit much.

“They were afraid you’d run off. That you gave the bounty away to the Resistance.” Of course, those bastards can barely trust themselves, let alone a foreigner.

“Well I didn't, and I won't. So you can lower your blaster and we can do this together.” You offer amicably, not yet loosening your grip on your weapon upon his lack of movement.

“You’re out of time. Your deal is off.”

“That’s just-!” You're cut off by a shot buzzing past you.

"Last warning."

Your jaw drops. How can someone be so damn cold?

You raise your finger assertively, about to give him a piece of your mind, when you notice something move by his hip.

And it's green. With gigantic ears. And huge dark eyes that blink at you curiously.

Your head tilts, mirroring the creature. The Mandalorian follows your eyes to find you looking at the child he’s supposed to be caring for.

“Huh. And who is that cutie?” The blaster already pointed at you raises from where it had begun to slouch, alert and cautious. Noticing this, you readjust your grip on your own weapon.

You and the creature continue to study each other, until the Mandalorian pushes the brown bag to where it rests behind his body protectively.

“Are they yours? I mean, doesn't look like the ears would fit.” You speak just to make conversation, stepping closer with miniscule steps. His gloved hand tightens around his blaster, hoping to remind you that he can still shoot you point-blank.

But he hasn't.

"Can you really do much in front of a kid?" You challenge smugly, still advancing slowly.

"He's seen me do worse."

"That right?" Another step. "You planning to shoot me today or would tomorrow work better?"

"Are you always this difficult? Just put the gun down-"

You jump towards him, hooking your foot around the back of his knee which makes him fall to the rocky ground immediately, dropping his blaster. Unfortunately, taking down a Mandalorian is no easy task, so he takes you down with him.

He throws his satchel to the side in the nick of time, it lands on a sand pile. His other arm grabs hold of you to pull you down with him.

You point your blaster at him as he lays beneath you, except it is no longer in your hand. Shit. He punches you in the face hard enough that something will turn black soon enough.

As you fall to the ground he gets on top of you, or tries, as you place your feet against his firm chest to keep some distance. You kick him in the helmet, silently thanking the stars your shoes are steel toed.

Your hand only scrapes against dry, red, sand covered rock as you search for a blaster, either would serve. Despite your momentary advantage in light of the Mandalorian’s confusion after being kicked, his hands quickly come down to cover your throat. You feel the creases in the leather as they’re pressed against your skin, and the beskar over the back of his hands against your chin.

But you still attempt to reach a weapon, a rock would do at this point.

Your arms flail wildly with no real direction, only the need to stay conscious, as if movement would help it. You do, however, notice that he’s purposely avoiding your traquia.

He still does not want to kill you. How sweet. Probably just wants to take you back to the bastards who hired you. They’d surely kill you, and much faster too.

Just as the spots in your vision start becoming overpowering, his grip loosens. You inhale greedily, desperately, gasping and coughing at the released pressure.

You can see his visor move to and fro, searching for something. Once you look to the side, you the child safe in its pile of sand, so it can't be that.

"Dank farrik! He's gone." The bounty. Right. Shit.

"Now," you pause, heaving as your lungs struggle to fill up again, "what?"

He places his hands on his hips, thinking for a moment, before turning his visor to where you lay clutching your sore - but not yet bruised - neck. "I'm going after him."

"I'm sorry-?!" You cut yourself off with a cough as you sit up, feeling grains of sand make their way inside your boots and other places. "You're going after him? This is my bounty! I had him, and I would've been fine if you hadn't shown up."

He keeps his stance, probably glaring disapprovingly beneath his helmet. You huff at his unyielding silence, getting up in his personal space and jabbing a finger into his chest plate.

"I'm about to give you a piece of my mind, so you better listen very carefully. I had it! It was my catch. And from what I can tell, it still is. So you better back off, Mando." Venom drips from your lips as you glare at the tin can on his head as if you could put a hole straight through it.

He relaxes, raising his hands again peacefully, palms up, "Alright, I get it. But do you think they'd take him from you now? Let alone later when you actually catch him? They seem pretty vindictive."

"Well, what do you suggest? You're not going on your own."

"And why not?" He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans towards you.

"You don't have a tracking fob." You retort, leaning towards him as well with your hands on your hips.

The Mandalorian pats himself down where he believes to have stored the small device, only to find all those pockets empty. "You little thief!"

"And you're a liar! Plus, you think I'd just let you take my credits? Come on, with your reputation, you should know better than that." You shrug and suddenly Din is acutely aware that the beeping now comes from your hip instead of his.

"Alright, fine, let's do it this way. We'll look for him together and once we catch him, I'll hand him in and we'll split the reward." He explains slowly, carefully, afraid to set you off.

"Seems good to me." You speak resolutely, thrusting your hand forward firmly, expecting a handshake.

His helmet tilts down slightly as he looks down at your hand, before he reaches out with his own. Just as the leather meets your skin - in a now less life-threatening way - a coo sounds from somewhere at your feet, making you both look down to see the little green creature looking between the two of you curiously.

You look back at it, mirroring it once more, before it smiles wide revealing its tiny little teeth and, oh, your heart might just actually melt.

It's large eyes move down from your face, towards your hands.

You suddenly realize neither you nor the Mandalorian had let go of each other's hand and that a large grin has formed on your face due to the adorable baby. It is promptly wiped off as you pull your hand back just as he does. He looks away while you shrug at the child's inquisitive stare, unaware that the bounty hunter had been watching you and marveling at the bond you'd both formed already.

And so you set out together to look for your target, back towards town, where you had begun your chase.

He can't have gone far or in any other direction, not with the unbearable heat and certainly not while handcuffed. He'd die for sure, you just have to hope he's smart enough to know that.

You walk through town with the fob in your hand, just out of sight. No need for unnecessary attention. The town is tightly crowded, much to your chagrin, so you move slow and are barely able to see over the moving bodies. There’s just too much going on, too many people moving back and forth, shoving past you rudely. If it’d been anyone else - not an experienced bounty hunter - you would have probably been knocked down by the last two men that had scurried past you in a rush.

Without warning, you feel a hand grip your bicep. You immediately ready yourself for a fight, before you realize it belongs to your associate. Once he has your attention, Mando nods towards the edge to the street, against red stone buildings, urging you to follow him. You do, nudging anyone out of the way as you walked against the crowd’s stream.

You’re about to shout over the noise to ask just what the hell he pulled you aside for, considering you’re running out of time, before you follow his visor. Right to a wanted poster of a very familiar scoundrel. From the Resistance? Wanted alive for 8,000 credits?

“That’s one big fish, huh?" You continue to shout in order to be heard over the crowd, which you immediately regret, looking around, paranoid. "Must be important." You comment to yourself.

You look up to see the Mandalorian's back disappear behind the corner. You quickly follow, catching up to his long strides, "What are you thinking?"

He ignores your inquiry, continuing to practically stomp his way through town. "Hey. Hey!" You call out to no avail. Well, you asked for it.

You reach out, grabbing the man by the back of his cape, tightening it around his neck and making it so he had to lean back to follow your hand in order to keep breathing. Your heart beats faster at the rush of power you feel for a moment. "You better tell me what you're thinking, or this is not gonna work."

He taps your hand repeatedly until you let go, rising to his full height and you're back to feeling slightly intimidated as he stares you down, silently.

"I'm thinking that with a price that high you might actually take the bounty yourself."

"Why-?"

The tracking fob. The small object suddenly burned a whole in your pocket.

"Oh come on! You were trying to kill me!"

Your voice raises, arms flailing about. You know you're making a scene, considering this street is so much emptier and therefore quieter than the main one, but for the moment, you don't care. Right now, all you want is to put Mando in his place. Something you know is foolish given that he nearly killed you before and could actually do it this time.

"Yes, but it's still stealing." He spoke with that know-it-all, I'm-better-than-you, tone that just gets on your nerves. Bastard.

You raise a finger in the man's direction, fully intending to continue this conversation and clear your name in his eyes - the reason why is unknown even to you - when a shrill giggle cuts through the air. You look to Mando's hip, where the creature (who's name you have yet to learn) sits, pointing ahead to the entrance to the cantina.

Right at the man of the hour.

What? How?!

The man looks back at you and Mando for a moment, eyes widening as he recognizes you and the fact that this might be it.

Before he takes off running.

You start running before Mando does, easily catching up to the stout man, who's no longer in cuffs. As you get too close to his liking, he takes out a blaster (that you know isn't his) and tries to shoot you in the head. Only to miss and hit your forearm instead.

Hurts like a bitch, but it's better than death.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a steel rope of some kind shoot out and wrap around the fugitive's leg, sending him stumbling face first onto the ground.

Mando walks over to him, barely winded, standing over the panting man and blocking the sun with his body. You can only imagine the man's terrified expression.

You quickly take care of your wound as Mando ties the man up enough that he can't move, wincing as you look at the damage made on your skin. The burning nearly stops the bleeding and it hurts so bad you can barely process it, so you don't think about it, you simply level your breathing while wrapping a cloth around the wound and hope for the best considering it's not too big.

You clutch it to your chest as Mando approaches, pointing at your arm, intending to ask you if you're alright, but you move it to your side before he can. "Are you-"

"We should give him to the Resistance." You speak resolutely, holding back from wincing as your injury rubbed against your pants. It hurt even from beneath a (barely) protective cloth.

“I said ‘we’, so don't you start giving me shit, alright?” You tell him sternly after he crosses his arms, probably getting ready to call you a thief again. “You can't give him to the Resistance because they’ll arrest you, correct?” He nods.

“Well you know bounty hunting isn't exactly legal.”

“You don't have to tell me that, Mando.” You remind him firmly. “So, if we give him to them, we can ask for them to clear your name! And we’ll get double the reward. Two birds with one stone!”

“Do you really think they’d just do that?”

“If someone’s paying 8,000 credits for one guy and specifying they want him alive, then I’d bet they’d do anything to get him, even something as seemingly insignificant as clearing your name.” You explain, gesturing avidly as you do.

A long moment of silence passes before a modulated sigh crackles through Mando’s helmet. “Fine. I’ll go get the Crest.”

“Wait, woah woah woah. Why are you going? How do I know you wont leave me out here?”

“How do I know you wouldn't?” You take a moment to consider his words. He did lie to you, but you did steal from him in a way.

You look down in contemplation, eyes meeting the creature’s. Right, Mando has the kid, who probably isn't fit to be out in this heat for as long as it has.

“He got a name?” You point to the child, who smiles and giggles gleefully.

“Grogu.” You nod, sighing and rubbing your temples. Stars, it’s so hot it feels as if your brain is melting and you can feel a headache coming on.

“You can go. But I want you to swear on your,” You pause for a second, searching for the right word, “honorable code. Swear you’ll come back.”

“You-” The Mandalorian starts, before giving up on protesting at your determined stand, crossed arms and raised chin. “OK, alright. I swear that I’ll come back for you and the bounty. That we need.” He whispers the last part.

“Get to it then. I’m sweating bullets in this heat!”

You sit, back against a nearby rock, searching for as much shade as possible. You don't want to move the bounty back into town for a multitude of reasons, so now you’re stuck just outside of town. Sweat making your clothes stick and it gathers while the headache gets worse and more blood soaks your makeshift bandage, but at least it's silent. That's what you thought about 20 minutes ago, now, you’ve changed your mind.

“The hell did you do to get 8,000 credits on your head?” You ask suddenly, seemingly startling the man who seems to have accepted his fate already.

He sighs, probably just as bored as you, “I have some information they want. That's why they want me alive.” You purse your lips in interest, humming in understanding, before silence falls over you two once more.

Stars, it's hot.

You could cry from relief once you hear the sound of a loud engine getting closer and closer. The 'Crest', as Mando had called it.

You grab the bounty by the shirt, hauling him to his feet rather roughly and shoving him towards the flying hunk of metal that had just landed.

The ship. Mando doesn't come out to greet you.

As the ramp closes and the air is blanketed in a sheet of silence, your mind starts to wander without your permission. You know he has to be handsome under there, what with his broad shoulders and slim waist, deliciously thick thighs and a wonderfully smooth and deep voice that seems to caress your very soul as you hear it. You caught a glimpse of his skin when you pulled at his collar, delightfully tan just begging for you to sink your teeth into it.

Must be the heat. Surely that is the sole reason why you're fantasizing so vividly about a man whose real name you don't know, whose face you've never seen and oh, a man who tried to kill you. But didn't.

Sick of your own thoughts and the loud snores of the bounty, you rise to your feet, climbing the ladder that leads to the cockpit. You wince as you put part of your weight on your injured arm, deciding to climb the rest of the ladder one handed instead.

“Are you decent?” You shout through the thick metal door, hoping Mando can hear you inside the cockpit. When the heavy doors hiss and open, you’re sure he must be.

You sit down in the passenger seat silently, looking up at the stars above for a long moment. The mesmerizing, endlessly dark sky is all that you see at first, from being partially blinded by the fluorescent lights inside the Crest, before the stars come to you, bright speckles that dust the planetary systems all around you. Breathtaking.

You look back in front of yourself to find Grogu already staring at you, head tilted with a smile that shows the slightest hint of tiny teeth. You smile, leaning forward with a raised brow. He leans closer to you, eyes lingering in the side of your face, the one already darkening from Mando’s blow, before dipping down to the arm you hold close to your chest. You let go of it immediately as he does, wanting to shield him from seeing the blood you know can be seen through the cloth.

The child steps closer, as far as he can while up on the dashboard. Mando has to be avoiding you, before he would've seen that movement otherwise.

It reaches out his small hand, squeezing his eyes as tightly as possible while the green limb twitches. You furrow your brows in confusion, what?

The ache on your skin lessens gradually, as if the wound was being lifted from your skin. You can feel it on your arm, it tickles as your skin connects itself around the wound while the burn disappears as if you’d just placed ice over it.

At some point, your eyes close, lulled nearly to sleep by the lifting of the pain, the feeling left behind makes your skin tingle with energy just beneath, your head feels light for a second, as if the blood moved from there down to heal the wounds.

When you open your eyes, you’re met with Mando’s visor trained on your face, silent in a way you can tell he’s speechless. “Eyes on the road, Mando.” You tell him cheekily, voice cracking unexpectedly.

He turns back forward, pausing his steering to pull Grogu forward and away from the edge, before his hands return to the commands. “So, is it far still?”

“No, just a few more hours. The closest Resistance base is just on the next planet.” His fingers flick switches and pull levers, before he seemingly puts the vehicle on autopilot and turns to you. “You can take the cot, you must be tired.”

You blink at him, “And what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He answers gruffly, not sparing you a glance.

“No, it’s gonna be a few hours, and you’ve been awake for about as much as me so if anyone is taking the cot, it’s you.” You argue back firmly.

He sighs, loosening the cape around his neck as a way to calm himself down, you and your selflessness.

“Alright. No promises that I’ll sleep though.” He acts like it’s a huge burden, as if it pains him deeply.

He takes Grogu in his arms and towards his sleeping nook. The small child smiles at you from over his guardian’s shoulder, and you smile back.

Once he’s safely put away and the bounty checked on, Mando leads you to a space just off the main hull space, where a bed - with the thinnest mattress you’ve ever seen - is pulled from the wall. Oh boy, you can already feel your back aching, but it’s better than sitting in the cockpit on those hard chairs.

So you lay down your weapons while he takes off the bulkiest of his armour. You lay down, curled on your side and away from him, knowing he’ll have to cuddle close to fit. You feel his warmth against your back, but you don't feel his touch quite yet, only the ghost of it. Your gut tightens with pity as you know he can’t take his helmet off. That has to be very uncomfortable.

The lights are dim enough that there is no shadow from your bodies on the wall. You can tell by the space he’s put between you, that he’s about to fall off.

“Are you scared of me, Mando? Can I call you Mando?”

“Sure and no.”

“Which one?” You ask mischievously, smirking to yourself while knowing full well what he meant.

He sighs in exasperation, so you let him be. For only a moment before you're back to being snarky. "Surely you've been this close to another human before, perhaps in a more compromising context."

"Yes and it's usually quieter." You think he might not realize what he just said.

You snort, "Must mean you're doing something wrong."

"That's not-! Just, get some sleep." He says tiredly, giving up on the banter you're pushing. You do as he asks, closing your eyes as you feel the heat of his body move closer to you.

You wake up to a rough whisper of your name and a shaking of your shoulder. Eyes open slowly, squinting against the light shining right at them, before something blocks it and eases your discomfort. The large hand on your shoulder doesn't yet move from its place, gently perched and waiting for you to wake up fully.

You look up to see Mando's helmet over you, seemingly way too close (not that you're complaining), as you can clearly hear him breathe through his modulator. "We're here and we need to talk before you go in."

You follow him to the hull without question, stopping just before the door that leads to it. You rub the sleep from your eyes before blinking up at the bounty hunter, trying to nonchalantly fix your messy hair.

And though he'd never tell you, he thought you looked adorable in that moment. Rosy cheeks, a faraway gaze, lips pursed to hold back a yawn as you brushed down your hair. He was certainly thankful for his helmet in that moment, considering the heat he felt crawling up his neck and settling on his cheeks.

"Plan?"

You clear your throat before speaking, "Right. So, it's easy." You raise a hand to his face when Mando sighs deeply. "Simple, really. I go in, tell them I have the bounty and ask for a little something as compensation along with the credits. See? Easy and simple!"

"Do you think they'll take it?" It doesn't sound as skeptical as you would've expected from him. It's sort of hopeful. Even Mando has to admit to himself that getting chased around and having to avoid and run from x-wings at every turn, got pretty exhausting.

"Let's try it before we start getting doubts." You tell him, determined. "Besides, nothing to lose if you stay hidden, right?"

The planet you landed on is small and green - perfect cover for a Resistance base. You walk along the dirt path leading to it and away from the Crest, coming up to a clearing where you can see the humongous metal doors of the base which seemed to have been dug into a small mountain.

"Stop! State your business." A voice says through a speaker once you get close enough.

"I've come to deliver a bounty!" You keep it simple, no use even attempting to be charming with these folks.

Not long after, the doors part to let someone through, who you presume is a general or something of the sort given their intimidating presence and the flock of guards with their weapons trained on you that follow them.

"We have your credits. Thank you for bringing him to us." You keep your face neutral even as it urges to tremble beneath the pressure of their gaze. You feel the man in question squirm against the arm that grips his bicep. Must really not be a fan.

"That is not all I want." The supposed general, no need to try and figure that out considering you don't want them to remember you more than necessary, raises a delicate brow. "I would like for you to clear someone's name."

"That is not what we agreed on."

"Yes, well, I didn't agree to it myself, so." You shrug, impressed that the general's face remains stone cold, especially considering how much they probably would like to dispose of you given you're dragging out this exchange for longer than what's really necessary.

"You are in no place to make demands." One soldier tells you, pulling out his blaster and pointing it at you, getting more of a reaction from the bounty than from yourself as he flinches.

"Oh, I am in the perfect place to be making demands." You tell him venomously, grip tightening on the man's arm.

"We have you surrounded."

"Just the way I like it." You respond with a wink just to hear the person's stuttering over the modulator on their helmet.

"Very well." The general calls out in order to gain their minions' attention, "Just tell me what name they might be under in our system."

"The Mandalorian. Mando for friends."

Epilogue

"Fuck! Shit, fuck! What was I thinking?!" You yell out in frustration, standing before what remains of your ship, the rest most likely taken by Jawas, who must be long gone by now. "Of course someone would take it apart, why not?! Oh, stars." You wail miserably, crouching into a ball in search of some comfort.

"Hey, it'll be alright. Don't panic." Mando tells you gently after pulling you to your feet and grabbing your shoulders tightly to ground you. "There's two ways we can do this: we go after those Jawas, get your pieces and fix the ship or," Mando hesitates for a moment, fingers drumming along your skin as he turns the words over and over in his tongue until he feels as if he'll get them right once he says them. "you can come with me until you get enough credits for a new one. 4,000 might not be enough yet, but it's a pretty solid start."

His rare optimism brings a small smile out of you and makes your anger settle down almost completely. You'll no doubt have an even deeper hatred for the little shits, but you don't feel as if you'll punch the next living thing you see.

"I guess catching a ride with you can't be so bad, huh, Mando?"

#din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din dijarin x reader #din djaren #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandolarian #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x oc #mando x reader #mando and grogu #mando #din

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obirains-archive · 3 years

Text

Dark Eyes

Characters: Din Djarin, Boba Fett, with appearances by Grogu and Din’s mother Word Count: 1387 Genre: light angst Summary: Aboard the Slave I, Din finds himself in need of a haircut for the first time since his life on the Crest, and his life with the kid. But don’t worry; he can do it himself. (post-season 2) Warnings: minor injury + blood mention. I didn’t revise a damn thing and will probably hate it by tomorrow but! here it is please enjoy

Masterlist + Taglist

Din's hair was too long. It chafed at the base of his neck against his clothes and stuck down on his forehead, slick with sweat beneath the beskar. It was weeks since he'd cut it—maybe months—in front of a mirror hardly bigger than his fist and a little too low on the wall on a night when he'd gotten the kid to sleep early. Or maybe it was a morning. Not that it mattered out in space, but it did bother him that his memory was so foggy. It couldn't have been that long ago... Not that it mattered.

"I need to borrow some scissors, if you have any," he told Boba in the cockpit. His pair had been on the Crest, and of course wasn't made of beskar. They'd been blasted to smithereens.

"Fresher cabinet, bottom shelf," Boba answered without so much as a glance at him. There was a silence. "Need help?"

Din blinked—he was still standing there in the cockpit, motionless. "No," he said hoarsely. "No, thank you."

He was painfully aware of his footfalls against the metal floor and the pinpricks in his neck. And the Slave I fresher—though more private—was somehow even more cramped than he was used to. Din was by no means a slight man but he definitely wasn't beefy, either; some of the more thickset Mandalorians used to tease him for his stature. All in good fun, of course. But now, shuffling in full armor into the four by five space, a space he was already well-acquainted with, Din had never felt like more of an oaf. He glanced out the open door. No Boba. No Fennec. He shut the door, and pulled off his helmet.

Even with the helmet off there was hardly enough room to open the cabinet. And even when he managed it, the scissors were smaller than he'd imagined. Smaller, at least, than his old pair. He'd have to take his gloves off. Din began to sweat. His hands were clammy; they felt slippery against the cool metal. Dank farrik, he was gonna cut his own fingers off. Din almost stuffed the scissors back in the cabinet, pulled his gloves and helmet back on, and left right then. His hair wasn't that long. It wasn't that much of a nuisance. But no sooner had he thought it than he was blinking back strands of hair from his eyelashes.

Din breathed deep, breathed with his whole chest, and turned to face the mirror. He choked on nothing but the air in his lungs.

Before him stood a man more bent, more pale, more haggard and disheveled than he'd ever seen, not in all his time as a bounty hunter. And—dank farrik—that was him. He grit his teeth and took a chunk of his hair between his fingers, and raised the scissors.

Snip. A good two inches of dark brown fell to the dingy and age-streaked polycarbonate sink. Din looked back up. He'd cut too high. The half of his hair not laced with his lashes stuck out choppy and slanted against his sweat-beaded temples. He flexed his fingers, trying to swallow down the panic bubbling in his chest, and cut the other side.

Snip. His face felt cooler now, but without the overgrown bangs his skin looked paler and his eyes darker than ever. Rings of gray and purple hung beneath his sockets with nothing to distract from them but the uneven rectangle that reluctantly lay on his high forehead.

Dimly—very, very far off, a neighboring galaxy away and its silvery slivers of stars—he remembered his mother, the one he'd been born with. She'd been tall, dark-eyed and dark-haired and pretty to his childish eyes. Such a handsome face, she whispered to him with his cheeks in her hands. She said it like it was a secret, something fun and exciting for his ears only, and the promise of more. Strong forehead, like your father. And she'd press kiss after kiss between his brows, holding him firmly in place as he squirmed.

He'd always wondered if she had survived, somehow. His father, too. Long after he'd forgotten his love for them, he still pondered their fate. It had probably been bleak; the Mandalorians who found him found few other survivors. They'd have to have been very, very fast runners.

Snip. His hair had grown bushy around the ears; Din hated having these things so close. The helmet muffled most sounds for him and made them tolerable, if a bit monotonous. He hated how each swipe of the blades echoed through his ear drum and reverberated in his skull. It was enough to drive a man insane. His hands were shaking.

"Damn it!" The scissors hit the sink with a clatter. He'd nicked himself. The wetness in his ear felt foreign and made him shiver; his blood looked almost indigo in the cold, blue-ish light. He found a wad of cotton in the cabinet and pressed it against his head. He should have left his hair alone when he had the chance.

But he couldn't stop now. Even he had that much self-respect.

Snip. Snip. Snip. He took deep breaths, regular breaths. His hands steadied. He didn't nick himself again, not even when he had to reach around to the nape of his neck where the metal felt coldest. Locks of hair landed in his undershirt and cloak; he'd have trouble cleaning that out later. It'd be a very scratchy next few days but at least he'd be cooler. He set the scissors down on the sink—more gently this time—and brushed what he could from the fabric. And a little less dimly—a candle in the next room—he saw a little green fist clutching a clump of dark brown hair, waving it like a flag.

Where'd you find that, kid? Din scooped him up in one arm. I think you've been climbing where you shouldn't. Hm?

He only cooed and stared up at him with those enormous, dark eyes. He was smiling, Din thought; he could see his tiny teeth peeking out. Hell, the kid knew he shouldn't be crawling onto the fresher sink. Did he care? Apparently not.

Give it to me. Grogu only clenched his fist tighter. Open, Din said louder, holding out his other hand. Grogu's fingers relaxed, leaving the fine strands to fall between Din's cloak and his cuirass. He sighed. Thank you.

Din lurched to turn on the water and leaned over the sink, gripping the sides with both hands. A cold flash washed over him even as he sweat through his clothes. He was not gonna be sick. He was not gonna be sick. The dark strands floated down the drain. Dimly, far off, he remembered that hair belonged in the waste basket. Not the plumbing. But by the time he remembered it was almost all gone, along with his cold sweats.

He went to clean the scissors on his cloak of any remnants and noted a rusty smear at the tip of each blade. It was his blood, now dried. Some of it had gotten into the rest of his hair, no doubt. He'd have to shower it out later. For now he only ran them underneath the cold water, dried them with his cloak, and put them back in the cabinet. Bottom shelf, though he couldn't remember if they went in front of or behind the package of bacta patches. Not that it mattered.

Satisfied that he'd more or less cleaned up his mess, Din looked back in the mirror. A crack job. Clumps of hair still stuck out at odd angles—not to mention the too-short, too-crooked bangs in the middle of his forehead. But when he put on his helmet, all of it disappeared: the haircut, the dark circles, the flushed and pale patches. The cut on his ear. Only the cool blue light on polished beskar, impenetrable by blasters and sabers and scissors alike. He slipped on his gloves, opened the door, and turned off the light.

"Find what you need?" Boba asked him back in the cockpit, helmet still fixed ahead.

"Yes," Din answered. He sat in the passenger's seat and gripped the armrests with a silent, shuddering sigh. "Yes. Thank you."

Tags: @mcu-padawan, @thespareoom, @wille-zarr, @cherrykenobi, @acciokenobi, @lloveyouinsecret, @catsnkooks, @morganas-pendragons, @beskar-tano, @anakin-danvers, @kyjoraven,@meshlamando, @senator-nahberries, @nobie, @princessxkenobi, @liadamerondjarin, @captainrexstan, @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky, @saltybreaddream, @unlockyourmind-wp, @softly-sad, @marvelinsanity, @notreallybeccab, @obihoekenobi, @soveryhowvery

#if u see me post this now at 11 pm and delete it as soon as i wake up tomorrow - no i didn't #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin angst #grogu #boba fett #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #pedro pascal #unlockyourmind-wp #userthesaltyone #usernobie #userobihoe #obirainwrites

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minachuuu · 3 years

Text

Something About the Sunshine

❣Something About the Sunshine❣

❤ Pairing: Ryujin x Reader

❤ Genre: Fluff

❤ Word Count: 4.2k

❤ Song Suggestions: Surf & Nobody Like You by Itzy and Something About the Sunshine from Starstruck

Literally everyone but Ryujin found suspicious the amount of times she had been repeating the words 'It's just a friend's trip!' when asked about your upcoming vacation together to California. Her bandmates laughed the first time, but by the twenty-seventh time they were around to hear it they just mockingly imitated Ryujin. They were a hundred percent sure every single employee on JYP knew she was going on a ‘just friends’ trip’.

But it’s not like they didn’t notice how Ryujin’s eyes glow when she’s talking about you, how she messes her hair when somebody asks her about you, or how she goes from the fiercest and bravest person when you are being attacked by a nasty spider minding its business on wall, to the softest and clingiest girl when she cuddles with you on movie nights.

Maybe the ‘it’s just a friend’s trip!’ wasn’t trying to convince anyone, but herself.

The day arrived, and you were sitting in Itzy's living room, waiting for the car to arrive to take you both to the airport.

Yuna sat down by your side eating a tuna wrap, still wearing her night suit and the messiest mane you had ever seen. You were very used to seeing them all like that, since you are really close to Itzy, others have even mistaken you for their manager since you are basically always around them.

“Want some?” The younger girl extended her snack to you courteously, her voice still raspy from being awake so early.

“I’m okay Yuna, thanks!” You tried to hold back a giggle at the sight of Yuna clumsily existing at five o’clock in the morning. “Why are you up so early?”

“Schedules, practices, couldn’t stop thinking about this wrap…” She got lost in her own subconscious as she stared at the piece of food embraced by her hands. “It’s not even mine, but why would someone leave it abandoned in the fridge like that?”

“The car is here!” Ryujin rushed out of her room with her suitcase in hand. She fashioned a huge smile and a weirdly big enthusiasm for this time of the day. “Time to go Y/n!”

You stood from the couch, scrambling the younger girl’s hair to which she just looked at you drowsingly dumbfounded. You both headed towards the door carrying all your luggage.

“Have a nice trip! Bring me a gift, and don’t come back unless you’re dating” She whispered the last part, urgently took another bite of her tuna wrap and a smirk teasingly appeared on her mouth.

The last thing you saw was Ryujin throwing a beanie straight to the younger member’s face before closing the door behind her.

Even though the flight was long, the 12 hours passed swiftly in between naps, movies and little scattered conversations with Ryujin. You could talk about anything all the time and never get tired, but couldn't fail to see something bothering her, deep inside her conscious the entire journey.

After picking up your luggage and grabbing a taxi to your hotel, the effects of hour difference and the hustle of the trip started to dawn on you. And you were both so tired that you failed to realize the room they gave you had only one queen-sized bed. It still wouldn't have bothered you, you both had shared even smaller beds before.

Ryunjin jumped into the bed as one should, patting the side for you to join her. You laid beside her, as she wrapped her arms around you. Both not hesitant to fall in a deep slumber.

The clock marked 7 O'clock, and a little ray of sunshine peeked through the disheveled curtains and rested over your eyes, waking you up with its warmth. You stretched your body grasping your reality, this was not your house and you were not in Korea anymore. Carefully stretching your body, you recognized the presence of the girl beside you. Turning around, you saw her calm and resting expression, the image plastering a smile on your face.

You silently rose from the bed, tip-toeing towards the sunrays. You warily slided open the door to the balcony, being welcomed by the sights of a waking city, illuminated by the dawn of a new day. That's when suddenly you felt a pair of arms surrounding your neck. The familiar embrace made the moment even more special, as you took in your hands those that rested in your chest. You stayed there in a comfortable silence, feeling Ryujin's breath and smile forming against the back of your neck.

"Hey…" Ryujin broke the silence first. "Sorry about what Yuna said back home, she was just-"

You released a light chuckle, finally having the answer to her worries. "I know Yuna, she's not the serious type."

"Yeah…" Even with a weight lifted from her shoulders, Ryujin couldn't help but dwell on the matter. "I guess she was just joking."

"But hey, we didn't come here to be locked down in the hotel room, did we?" You turned around, jokingly punching the other girl's arm. "Let's go!"

"Twelve hours of flying are pretty heavy," She watched your enthusiasm fly as you scattered throughout the room, grabbing some things from your suitcase and heading to the bathroom to take a shower. "Are you sure you don't want to stay a little more and-"

"Oh, c'mon!" You grabbed her by the hand, shaking her mind up. "We'll just go for a walk, grab something to eat. It's not like we're going to Disneyland right now."

"Sounds good to me!" Ryujin didn't hesitate to match your enthusiasm and rushed to get her stuff ready. "Where do we go?"

"Actually…" You fidgeted your hands playfully. "It's a surprise."

-❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️-

“Venice beach?” Ryujin’s eyes grew as big as the moon. “This is where I-”

“-filmed the Nobody Like You music video!” You both said at the same time.

“Yes!” An eager smile was painted across your face at the sight of the shimmer in the other girl’s eyes. "I thought you might like coming back…”

"And I prefer the company a whole lot more this time!" Her fingers interlaced with yours as she chuckled at her joke. "Please don't tell the girls I said that."

"I'm texting Yeji right away-"

"What, no!" Ryujin threw herself for your phone but you reacted quickly, prompting a whole game of tag for your phone.

"Hi Yejiii-unnieeeee!" You started a voice note at the same time that you tried out-running Ryunjin in the still calm paths of the boardwalk. "The flight was fine and we landed perfectly! The hotel is very cosy and the sight's amazing. But Ryujin just said that she prefers me over yo- AH!"

You felt your body be wanked from the floor, your back landing against the sand. Your phone flew from your hand, and Ryujin dove to reach it, landing beside you. An endless stream of laughter followed, one of those that make your eyes tear and your belly ache. Ryujin made sure the voice note didn't send, but to her bad fortune, Yeji had already listened to it and typed her response:

Glad the trip went alright! And don't worry, we already knew Ryujin prefers you. Not only over us, she prefers you over anything or anyone really.

Ryujin's cheeks flared up as she read the message, the laughter in her disappearing abruptly. She sheepishly handed your phone back, playing nervously with her hair as you read it too.

"Awwww!" You mockingly teased her, wrapping your arms around her head. "Do you really love me that much??"

"I… Well, maybe, yeah- I don't know-" She couldn't even finish a coherent sentence, trapped in between her nerves and your teasing.

You stood up, still giggling at everything that just happened, glaring at the fine line separating the sky from the sea as it shined a light blue with little hints of orange and yellow as the last minutes of sunrise bathed you in their light.

This gave Ryujin a perfect view of you, as your silhouette was perfectly enframed on the sun rays hitting your body. She smiled at the way the sun rested on your soft cheeks, your smile competing against it for the brightest thing in her life.

It started dawning on her, that maybe it was true. Maybe she did prefer you over anything and anyone.

"Care to give me a tour Mrs. Shin Ryujin?" You proposed with a fruity and jestering voice while extending your hand, breaking her daydreaming.

She took your hand as she stood and shook away some sand in her clothes. That Ryujin from the hotel room who wanted to rest and who was a little too much inside her head banished in a matter of seconds, pulling you around the stores and streets she visited with her group mates. You weren't complaining at all, aside from being Ryujin's best friend you were also a huge fan of Itzy. Always present, front row on their performances, shows and even sometimes rehearsals. And there was nothing better than listening to an excited Ryujin showing you around and retelling her memories with the glow in her eyes reflecting all the light of the vibrant place.

You walked among the shops and food stands, halting in front of a familiar stand, with displays full of sunglasses of different shades and shapes. You both tried a thousand different styles after finally deciding on a matching pair. A round dark frame with the crystals tinted to each of your favorite colors. You kept walking along that ally, hands intertwined as you pointed to all of the little details you found along the way.

“And here…” Ryujin smirked teasingly at you, stopping in front of the skate rental where Itzy got theirs when they filmed the Nobody like you MV. “It’s where the fun starts.”

“Oh no.” You pushed her away from you, a nervous but playful giggle escaping your mouth. “There’s no way you’re going to get me on one of those.”

“You asked for the full Itzy Experience Tour didn’t you?” She lowered her new sunglasses to glare at you teasingly.

“I- Yes but…”

“Then it’s time for you to learn how to skate.” She turned around, quickly renting a pair of skateboards from the man tending the local. She came back, holding the skateboards on each hand, handling you one of them with a triumphant smile. “Here Y/n, I even rented the helmet, knee pads and elbow pads in your favorite color, they will match with your glasses!”

“It’s not like I don’t like how they look Ryujin.” You sneered, taking the board on your hands. You examined its weight, hesitating to put it on the ground. “I don’t know how to ride one.”

“Oh I know, I’m going to teach you!” She confidently rejoiced in her talents, as she fastened the safety equipment around her body. “If I was able to make you dance Wannabe, do you think I can’t do this?”

“How many times have you rode one of these?” Ryujin stopped her movement at the question, clearing her throat pretending not to listen to you. “Ryujin-ah…”

“Maybe like…” She stood up, her face trying hard to convey a sense of security but only managing to sound arrogantly sweet. “...Once?”

“That’s it, we’re dying today.” You laughed as you put your safety equipment on, shaking your head in disapproval at yourself, since you still were willing to do anything for the girl in front of you, especially when a hit of her puppy eyes started peeking out of her.

“Okay first, one foot. Straight.” After you were both equipped and ready, she started demonstrating on her own board, stepping with her left foot on the board, turning around to make sure you were following the instructions. You imitated her movements with so much less confidence. "Now, you'll push with your right foot and…"

You only watched baffled, your body refusing to move as she glided through the plaza with no problem. Pleasantly surprised and relieved that she still had the muscle memory to remember how to stay on top of it. A smile emerged in your face at the sight of your bestfriend making an effort to keep herself going, giggles filling the air as she circled you with ease. You took your phone out to capture the moment, and the instant Ryujin noticed the camera, her idol-self came out, acting with charisma at it, flustering you with the winks and smirks she gave to the lenses.

“C’mon, now it’s your turn.” She approached you defiant, confident. Her presence and attitude helped you grab a bit of courage, but not enough to start without a little bit of help.

You innately searched for Ryujin’s hand, not surprised when you realized she was already offering to take yours. You firmly put your left feet on the skateboard, and pushed gently with the right, helping you glide, as the girl beside you jogged at your speed. You tried again, now gaining more speed, and then tried once more. The sea breeze hit your face, rampaging your hair, a big and refreshing change from the city air you were so used to breath all the time back home. Your body flinched at the velocity you were traveling to, but Ryujin didn’t let you fall, her support helping you stay on.

“You have absolutely no permission to let go of my hand Shin Ryujin.” You babbled, holding on for dear life to her hand which was probably the only thing keeping you from falling down.

“You know I never would.” For a moment, all those worries in Ryujin’s head dissipated. You blushed at her words and she smiled at your sun-kissed image.

It had a certain charm for her, you needed her protection and guidance, as she only focused on you staying alive and having fun. You stopped for a while, ecstatic at the thought of still being alive after that.

“You are a very quick learner. Or maybe I’m just an excellent teacher.” Ryujin joked, earning a slap on her arm as she helped you stabilize yourself to get off the board. “I think you're ready to go on your own.”

“I only could do that because you were grabbing on to me!” You whined.

“I’ll be close to catch you if you fall.” Her smile was kind, protective, the kind that made you melt into everything she said. A big part of your friendship was teasing each other non-stop, but when it came to serious matters, there was no one out there you trusted more than Ryujin.

“Promise?” You trembled.

“I promise.”

You, a little bit more confident now, repeated the steps to get over your skateboard and you pushed, gently. When you stabilized your body over the moving board, you repeated but with a stronger push. With a bit more confidence now taking up, you started steering with the weight of your body, your nerves releasing themselves in the form of giggles.

You noticed Ryujin skating close to you, now skillful enough to be focusing you with her phone while gliding around to get some pretty takes and pictures of you. She cheered, a wide grin adorning her face as little wrinkles appeared on the edges of her eyes, the way they did when something made her stupidly happy.

You were so focused on Ryujin’s antics and she was so into you too, that you failed to see a slightly raised sidewalk straight in your path. Ryujin caught a glimpse of it just in time to jump towards you, surrounding your entire body with hers. With her feet landing first in a patch of grass, the scenario of you both flying through the air and landing into concrete was avoided. But thanks to the speed your bodies carried and you not being able to stop them, you still tripped down, Ryujin falling on her back and you right on top of her. You were quick to raise your heads, realizing they were only a few inches away, blood rising, coating your faces in red.

“Maybe I should-” You were quick to get up, no scratches or bruises in sight. Ryujin seemed free of injury too, so you extended your hand to help her up. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t worry. I’m totally okay.” She took your hand and stood up, fixing her clothes. Her hands instinctively wished to check you, and help you fix yourself too, but a certain tension that filled the air stopped her from doing so. “Are... are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine too.” You responded, fixing your hair yourself and avoiding her glance.

Ryujin went to pick up the skateboards, leaving the silence between you lingering for longer than it should. While walking back, you both caught a glimpse of each other’s eyes, making you release an stressed giggle, easing the ambience around just a bit.

“Let’s take this back and grab something to eat.” Ryujin proposed as you walked side to side back to the skates rental, an strange and awkward quietness encircling your steps.

-❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️-

You sat cuddled between Ryujin’s arms, the sights of the sea in front of you as you both enjoyed the beach, snacking on some american-flavored chips that you found on a K-mart along the way.

“Close your eyes.” You playfully demanded Ryujin.

“Why, what are you going to do to me?” She asked.

“I’m going to give you one of these flavors randomly and you have to guess which one it is!”

She obeyed, closing her eyes and releasing you from her embrace as you reached for your target. You grabbed one chip from the five bags sitting in front of you and gently placed it on Ryujin’s tongue. She opened her eyes at the instant flavor that filled her mouth, confused and maybe even a bit disgusted.

“Is it really that bad?” Your laugh bursted at her expressions.

“No, it’s just that-'' She kept chewing the chip, her face contorting even more with each second passing. “It’s interesting?”

“That’s what people say when something tastes bad but they don’t want to be rude about it” You kept laughing, looking at her amusingly. “Well, what flavor do you think that was?”

“I’m gonna say…” Her eyes and brows exaggerated her thought process as they playfully moved up and down. “...salt and vinegar?”

“No, Pickle-flavored!” You raised the bad of chips, triumphantly. “I told you these were a bad idea!”

“No! I had some hope for these!” She grabbed the bag from your hands, disappointment in her eyes as she examined the chips closer as if that could magically enhance their flavor for better. Ryujin extended the bag to you. “Here, try one and tell me what you think.”

“After seeing your face? I’ll pass, thanks” You pushed away her hand with the bag and her eyebrows furrowed.

“You can’t make me suffer alone! The chips thing was YOUR idea!” She started throwing one of her usual tantrums, shaking the bag in front of your face now. You kept throwing your head backwards and she answered by leaning in even closer, mumbling her complaints in a cute tone. Neither of you noticed when, but suddenly you found yourself laying under Ryujin. The instant she realized your position, she stopped her fit and the blush in her cheeks flared up.

“You have some-” In your attempt of diffusing the situation, you reached your thumb towards her lips, paralysing even further the girl on top of you. She couldn’t take the flood of ideas invading her mind that the sight of you staring straight at her lips, caressing them gently created.

She quickly sat up, distress all over her face avoiding looking at you as much as possible. You were both just friends, nothing more. Why do those ideas start appearing now? No. Why was Ryujin not able to suppress those ideas now as well as before?

You followed her, looking straight at her conflicted face now being illuminated by the sunset in the horizon. Your hand reached for her chin, gently pulling it to meet your eyes with hers. You felt her breathing halting at the action, to what you offered a delicate smile.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” You skipped the ‘something’s bothering you’ talk, you knew your best friend enough to know she would deny everything, try and cover anything.

“Yes, I know…” Now Ryujin’s eyes were the ones who could decide to rest on your eyes or in your lips, with even more ideas invading her mind. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“Would it help if I start this time?” You smiled even wider, hiding the amount of courage you were trying to gather inside your mind.

Ryujin looked at you perplexed, as she expected you to keep pushing for her to talk but got this instead. She shook her head remembering your question, to which she nodded as an answer.

“It’s not new, I’ve been dealing with all of this for a long time but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. And maybe it’s not even the best time to tell you, giving that there’s an entire vacation together at risk…” You started mumbling, your eyes diverting all around you as your train of thoughts backed up from the enthusiasm.

“Hey…” She used your techniques against you, grabbing your chin and raising it to meet her eyes. Your nervous rambling woke up Ryujin’s protective side, as she now offered you an uneasy smile. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You deadlocked your eyes on her, serious. You jokingly slapped her arm for using your own weapons against you, but like a magnet, the silence between you only called for your eyes to be lost on hers. You couldn’t tell thanks to your nerves, but you were getting your faces closer with each second passing. A deep sigh from Ryujin’s side broke the tension, aided you to gain back your courage, you were going to blurt it out now or nev-

“I like you. Maybe I could even dare say that I love you Y/n.” Ryujin sputtered first, avoiding your eyes. Your breath halted, earning a gasp at the sudden confession, bringing your hands to your open mouth. Your mind was way too shocked to remember how to properly function, paralysed in the moment. At the awkward silence created, Ryujin gathered all her body strength to look back at you, her mind racing a thousand miles per hour to find a way to save the moment. “It’s okay if you don’t return-”

“Shin Ryujin, I was going to tell you that!” You moaned playfully, the entirety of your body relaxing now as you could help painting a huge smile across your face.

“You- what?” It was now her turn to be astonished. Your unusual response made it even more confusing to her, as the scenarios that her head created were of totally different colors from the one presented in front of her. It wasn’t until you stopped nervously giggling and locked eyes with her again that you realized that you had to explain yourself.

“I love you too dummy.” You cupped her hands in yours, happy tears blurring your sight from excitement.

“Oh. OH!” Ryujin’s whole face illuminated as the facts dawned on her, her worries floating away with the sounds of the sea in the background. She released a chuckle as she confidently put her hands around your waist, pulling you closer. “Does that mean I get to-”

“Yes! A thousand times yes!” You giggled, not even bothering to listen to the rest of her sentence, knowing exactly that what followed was something you’ve waited for a long time.

Ryujin excitedly cupped your cheeks, pulling you towards her. Your lips clashed with urgency, dancing at the rhythm of the tropical music in the background of Venice Beach, earning a smile from both that could only be eased as you joined your lips each time after breathing for air. The warmth of the sun setting in the horizon, filled your bodies from head to toe, as your beating heart took care of the inside.

Time is never the first thing that counts when you’re sure you just found the love of your life, but when you parted your lips again and looked around, the lamp posts started turning on, some neon signs from the stores behind you started coloring the streets. You sighed, resting your head on your girlfriend’s shoulder. A comfortable silence surrounding you both, with everything but your heartbeats synchronized resonating in the air.

“The girls are going to lose their mind when we tell them.” You broke the silence first, sighing at the idea popping in your head.

“We’ll worry about them later.” She laughed as her mind painted the picture too. “Let’s keep this between us for now, we’ll plan a prank in the plane back home. Deal?”

“Deal.” You chuckled at the suggestion, glad that your best friend was back. And even better than before, cause now you get to kiss her whenever you want.

The last rays of sun lighted you both like a spotlight in the end of a show, but what it really felt like was the beginning of the best adventure, by the side of the most amazing person in your life.

#girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #itzy scenarios #itzy imagines #ryujin imagines #ryujin scenarios #itzy ryujin

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yourmcu · 4 years

Text

Friday, I’m In Love

Pairings: Tony Stark x reader

Summary:

In which the reader is an Avenger and she just geeks out when she sees a bunch of musical instruments at the compound and Tony just fallsinlovewithherstraightaway because of her personality and music taste

Word count: 2,562

A/n: (moved to the end of the fic!)

Warnings: u have nothing to worry about :) fluff!

read it on ao3!

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

“I’ll drop this off at your room before I hit the hay, Tony mentioned about giving you a tour of the place first.” Clint patted you on the arm and walked pass you with your bags.

You nodded and smiled, really appreciating his help. You’ve been sorting things out at your apartment with Clint all day. “Alright, thanks. I owe you one.” You heard him say something along the lines of ‘buy me donuts’ before he was out of sight.

“Agent L/N, you’re finally able to join us,” Tony gave you a playful smile, finishing his drink to walk over to you.

You were officially one of the avengers, and now officially moving in. It’s been a few months since you assisted the team on a particularly huge mission. It was not planned of course, after that you started helping out when they needed it, and they thought you’d fit right in.

“Tony,” you gave him a small nod and a kind smile. “And please, call me Y/N.” The billionaire then offered you a drink but you declined.

“Good, didn’t think you’d be much of a drinker,” Tony stated and gave you one of those charming looks that would literally sweep any girl right off her feet. “Has anybody told you that you’ve got pretty eyes?”

The comment surprised you but then again, you remembered who you were talking to. “Stark, if we’re going to be working together you better cut the crap.” You laughed.

Tony raised an eyebrow, thinking that you probably ran into Pepper first before coming up. The small talk led to Tony’s said compound tour. He was making jokes here and there, even revealing secrets about the others that you didn’t need to know about.

After some time the both of you reached the last floor, the one that had your bedroom. Tony was still talking but your gaze was glued to the black, shiny piano out in the balcony. Why was something so grand and probably expensive doing in plain sight where someone could just swoop in and steal it?

“Earth to Y/N,” Tony waved a hand in front of your face. He stopped when you came back from your trance. “There you are. That’s a secluded, little balcony. It’s a great place to let off some steam or just to take a break for a while.”

“That’s nice,” you murmured. “You... uh, you play?”

Tony spun around to look at you again. “Play?”

“Yeah. The piano, I mean. It’s a good looking piano.” You admitted.

“Oh. That’s what you were ogling? For a second I thought I was a bad and boring tour guide,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t say I do. It’s a specific model my mother used to own and...”

You waved him off and smiled lightly, not wanting him to explain further as you already understood. It might kill the mood. It’s been a while since you’ve run your fingers through a set of piano keys, you realized, but you were also shy to ask Tony if you could play it sometime.

“Alright, just call for Friday if you need anything, or call Friday to call me,” he joked when you finally reached your bedroom door. “After you settle maybe you could stop by the lab? I could really use your help for something - it’s in your area of expertise, you know?”

“Sure. Tomorrow’s good?”

“Sounds great.”

You nodded and thanked him for the tour, and he gave you a salute before walking away.

----

“Good morning, metal man.”

From inside the Iron Man suit, Tony turned around to see you leaning against the wall beside the door to the lab, a cheeky smile on your face, one cup of coffee in each hand. He was certain that he pulled another all nighter, not even realizing that it was morning until you greeted him.

Surprised by your presence, the iron helmet swiftly revealed his tired face, then he opened up the chest plate of his suit to get out of it completely. “Time?”

“It’s six. I didn’t think you’d be working this early,” but you noticed the circles around his eyes. “...or you didn’t stop since last night.”

“Nope.” Tony snatched one of the cups from your hand and gulped it down. His eyes slightly widened when he realized you snuck in some bourbon in there.

He also couldn’t help but look at your nightwear. Slightly shabby sweatpants and a large band shirt. Green Day, he noticed. They weren’t bad. Heck he could’ve sworn he heard one of their songs on the radio once.

“You said you needed me for something?” You recalled, walking over to his computer. You were an all in one package: you practiced a lot of fighting as a teenager, now you trained with Natasha or Steve, so you knew a decent amount of hand-to-hand combat. Originally you were supposed to major in arts, but switched to the science stuff, engineering, so you knew a thing or two about building things. You also took interest in coding. Plus, Fury admitted to like your wit, one of the reasons why he wasn’t against you joining the avengers.

Tony just wanted you to try and make the security systems around the compound more tight, more secure. He’d do it himself but he wanted to see what you can do. You were the newest part of the team, of course he’d be curious about you.

You pushed yourself away from his desk, humming at the green bar slowly filling up in the monitor. “That should take a while,” you crossed your legs and looked up at the genius billionaire. “You’re awfully quiet, Tony, I think you need some sleep.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling. “I’m getting back to work.”

“Hey no, I’m serious. You need to re-”

You cut yourself off when you saw a beautiful, six-stringed instrument that hung from the wall when you turned. Tony wondered why you abruptly stopped talking and looked at you.

You got up the chair and carefully removed the electric guitar from the wall. You cringed a bit when you felt the rusty strings on your fingertips. Clearly this hasn’t been played in a while.

But nonetheless, you thought it was beautiful.

“You’re looking at it like it’s the love of your life,” Tony pointed out.

“Do you not know what this is?” You gestured to the instrument. It was a Gibson, 1960 Les Paul - its color scheme being cherry red and black. It greatly reminded you of Brian May’s red special-

Anyway, you sat back down, running your hands through the fret board a couple times to get used to the rusty strings, also tuning some that were out of tune. Then you pulled out a small pick from your pocket.

“So you just carry around a plastic plectrum everywhere you go, huh?” Tony heaved himself up to sit on top of his desk in front of you.

Playing a few sets of chords made you reminisce about your high school years. You were the type that brought a guitar everyday to school back then. “It’s a habit,” you chuckled. “When did you start playing?”

“Oh, no. I just collect them. I know a chord or two but that’s it.”

You laughed. Of course, he was a billionaire. “I could teach you if you want.”

Tony crossed his arms and playfully raised an eyebrow. Is this your way of flirting with him, or was it just an innocent offer? “Why, you a professional or something?”

“No - well, if I stuck to my original career choice, I should be.” You shrugged.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Tony made a mental note to himself to ask you more about that specific topic later on.

“Fine,” you giggled. “Name a band and I’ll play a song.”

He pretended to think. “Dunno, AC/DC.”

You slid your fingers up a bit to the higher frets to play the intro to ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’. It’s your personal favorite from that band. The guitar doesn’t sound as exciting as it is when it’s plugged in, but you manage to pull it off. You then played the opening riff a couple times then skipped to the chorus.

Tony watched your hand as you hummed along the chorus. It was a great song, yet simple chords, simple until you get to the solo part. He thought you played it beautifully but he’d never admit it to your face.

“C’mon, it was just one song, am I that good?” You teased when you saw a glint of amazement in his eyes.

“Please, anyone can play that song.” Tony rolled his eyes, grinning. Then he pointed to your shirt. “Green Day.”

You repositioned your hand on the frets, playing the fingerstyle to the band’s song ‘Minority’. “I’d never wear a band shirt if I didn’t know the band. That’s downright embarrassing.

“What’s your genre, Stark? I’m guessing a lotta rock?” You stopped playing for a bit to look at him.

“You could say that. But if I think it’s catchy then it’s going on my playlist,” Tony responded. “You can keep that guitar, by the way.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “I can’t. This - this model is expensive. The brand’s expensive-”

“It’s three grand.” He told you like it didn’t matter to him.

“Exactly! It’s expensive!”

“Boss, Miss Romanoff is on her way down.” Friday’s voice rang throughout the room.

On cue, Natasha walked in wearing her usual sparring attire. “Y/N. You were supposed to meet me at the gym half an hour ago.”

You cursed, getting up and hanging the guitar back up the wall earning a glare from Tony. He really did want to give it to you. “Sorry, got caught up. Uh... I think it’s done, Tony,” you rambled and pointed at his computer, green bar already full.

Natasha lingered at the door after you ran up to change. “I know you have a lot of those displayed around and I’m telling you, hide them.” She was referring to the guitar.

“Why?” Tony hopped off the desk and began working again.

“Mainly because she turns into a huge music geek, but I’m assuming you love it.”

----

Tony had a stressful time doing work one night. He’s in the middle of a suit upgrade and he just can’t seem to put it together right. Maybe he just needed a moment to breathe and relax.

So he went to the balcony, a glass of his preferred alcohol for the night in hand.

He wasn’t that surprised when he saw you in there too. After the first time you came over his lab you started coming over regularly, just to talk about random stuff, music and bands, assisting him with anything he needs assisting with. The both of you became close. You could catch and snap back whenever he made a smart remark, and when he would shamelessly flirt with you, you’d just play along, you don’t get insulted or take any of it too seriously. That’s probably why he likes you so much.

This time you sat in front of the piano, playing chords and doing random scales. Tony admired you quietly from the entrance of the balcony. You did look pretty peaceful humming along, he even found it adorable when your eyebrows furrowed when you accidentally hit a wrong note, sometimes you’d shake your head slightly.

You were definitely something else. As time passed, Tony realized his feelings for you only grew and grew. He even started listening to all the songs you recommended, which were all amazing, even though at first he wasn’t used to hearing songs without an electric guitar on full distortion.

“Sorry. It was just so tempting.” You giggled. You pat the vacant part of the piano seat next to you. Tony placed his drink on top of the piano before sitting down.

You began playing a new song and he was very much relaxed by it. He remembered that time he got to ask you why you didn’t grab the opportunity to play music professionally.

“Well why didn’t you?” Tony asked.

You shrugged, fiddling with his custom made Iron Man guitar. “People judged me. Told me I’d never make it as a musician, that it was just out of luck for the famous ones out there now. It’s fine honestly, I liked other stuff anyway. After that I started training, y’know, became a spy...”

“You know how The Cure’s ‘Friday I’m In Love’ is upbeat?” You asked as you transitioned to a new chord. Tony hummed. “I found a slow, piano version the other day and I... learned it. I think it’s pretty.”

“Let’s hear it.”

You smiled. You were always flattered when he wanted to hear you play songs.

Tony looked at your hands swiftly playing the piano keys, up to your face concentrating on what chord was next. You only learned it by ear, you were sure you’d mess up at some point.

“I don’t care if Monday’s blue,” you hummed. “Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday too...”

You believed your singing voice was shit, so you just did this thing where you hummed- but also sung the lyrics as you played. Tony believed differently though. He thought your voice was beautiful.

“Thursday, I don’t care about you... it’s Friday, I’m in love,” You glanced at Tony for a moment and then returned your attention to the piano keys when you saw that he’d been fully listening to you.

“Monday you could fall apart,” you fell into your own little world again, high-fiving yourself in your mind when you nailed that chord progression.

Whereas Tony was sure that he was falling for you as moments passed.

“Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart...”

The way you sung that last part made him feel things. It was just so soft, warm, damn, he wanted to make a move now.

‘Do it! You won’t have a chance like this again.’ A voice inside his head told him.

“Thursday doesn’t even start, it’s-”

You did an entirely different chord, messing up the song. “Oh god, that was horrible.” You laughed, closing your eyes and putting your hands around your stomach to contain your laughter. “But it was a good version, don’t you th-”

When you went to look at Tony, you were immediately cut off by lips pressing to yours. He cupped both sides of your face to gently deepen the kiss. He didn’t want it to be forced but seeing as you weren’t pulling away and you started to kiss back, he didn’t stop.

You were shocked to say the least. It was so fucking cliche but it was happening. Tony Stark was kissing you, and you liked it. Well of course you did, who wouldn’t? Maybe because it felt like it had meaning, not because he’s just lusting for you. It felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest and there were actual butterflies inside you.

“Friday, I’m in love.” Tony finished the lyric for you after he pulled away.

“Are - are you-”

“I might have to kiss you again just to shut you up.”

But this time you beat him to it. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, and you felt those darn butterflies again.

“It’s about time, sir.” Friday spoke.

----

so this is just a pure music-related imagine and also I’m sorry if you don’t like the band(s) mentioned (bc it’s an x reader), or have a different guitar preference, or play a different instrument or have a drastically different fav genre, etc.

(AND YES I THOUGHT THE TITLE WAS PERFECT FOR THIS SINCE IT’S A SONG AND HE HAS AN A.I NAMED FRIDAY)

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