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fweasleyswhore · 3 years

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Commitments - Smut

pairing: Oliver Wood, Fred Weasley, George Weasley x fem!reader (no incest just sharing)

a/n: I would like to do a pt 2 to this because I just have so much more I can fit into this dynamic and I like it (hornhee disease really takin over)

word count : 4.9k

warning: smut, 18+ themes, face fucking (male recieving), oral and fingering (female recieving), unprotexted sex -wrap before you tap kids-, choking, dom/sub themes, slight bdsm themes, subby reader, titles are given, its pure filth, friends with benefits relationship

mature readers only, this has heavier themes in it and i only want people who are completely ok with those themes reading

My head pounded and my stomach growled. It was the first feeling I registered as I opened my eyes. I was cold, hungry, and in pain. I blinked a few times, pulling my head up from its position on the table where I had been napping. I focussed my eyes on my unfinished potions essay. Groaning I rubbed my eyes. Not only did I not finish it, but I also fell asleep. It was due in two days and I had barely started. I still needed to-

Quidditch Practice. The potions essay fell to the depths of my mind as I scoured the library walls for a clock. Unsuccessful in finding one, I decided I was probably only late. Shoving my papers into my bag I ran out of the library, ignoring wandering stares from students I made my way to the changing rooms.

The door flung open and slowed down for the first time, panting slightly I made it over to the lockers, ready to get out my equipment. I picked up my shaky hands to do the combination when a voice interrupted me.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Oliver spoke. Based on the volume of his voice and the slight temperature change in the air, he was right behind me. Pulling my bottom lip between my lip I turned around, his toned chest was dripping, a towel hung low on his hips and his hair was ruffled slightly and damp. Our bodies were merely inches apart and I could see the anger in his eyes as I looked up at him.

“Ollie…” I tried but my nickname for him only caused an annoyed look to grace his features.

“Don’t,” His voice was stern and it made me feel cold. “You knew how important practice was today but you skipped anyway. We play Slytherin in two days! Where were you? Giving our play strategies to Adrian Pucey probably.” He rolled his eyes and walked next to me. He turned his attention to his locker, presumably to get clothes as I was left there with my mouth feeling dry and a ball of guilt in my stomach replacing my hunger.

“I fell asleep in the library, I don’t have an excuse,” I spoke truthfully and watched my hands as I spoke afraid to meet his gaze. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately and I dozed off. I really am sorry.”

He sighed and I wished at that moment I could crawl inside myself and disappear. “L/N, I don’t play favorites, you know this, but you are an essential part of this team. In this practice, we were working in groups, Fred George and I practically sat there the entire time because you were missing from our group. The other chasers were running well-needed drills and we had devised a strategic plan that would push not only you but the three of us too and you weren’t there. Today’s practice was a waste of time for us.” His words hurt me, they were filled with anger and it wasn’t a feeling he had ever directed at me.

“Ollie I truly am so sorry. I know this and I wish there was anything I could do to make it up to you. I know how stressed you are about the game, I just, I’m so sorry.” I finally looked up and he was facing me again, his locker forgotten. He was close to me again, his body heaved as he breathed heavily.

“Stress relief?” He asked, causing me to furrow my brows. Before I could ask him what he meant he spoke again. “You are right, I am stressed, that’s why I’m asking if you will help me with stress relief.”

I nodded understandably. I couldn’t fight the smile that found its way to my face as I realized what he was asking for. “You want me to massage your shoulders Wood?” I asked teasingly. He let out a short breath before taking a step forward. He toward over me, our chests almost flush as his hand caressed my cheek. His touch was sending shivers down my spine and butterflies to erupt in my stomach. Oliver was a good friend of mine, I always left my lingering eyes on him for too long but never admitted my feelings for him. I wasn’t sure if they were real feelings or pure lust. Being on the quidditch team I was never sure if I liked him or seeing his half-naked body as he ran down drills.

“Not what I had in mind,” I bit my lip as the nerves began to build up. His hand trailed down my cheek and under my jaw which he grasped semi firmly, pulling my face up to his. Our lips met in a messy heated kiss. I gasped into his mouth as my hand found its way to his neck pulling him closer to me. His legs parted my own and he pushed his hips flush against mine. An unintentional moan slipped from my mouth at the contact but that didn’t stop him, if anything it fueled his motions. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, it was a short fight that he quickly won. He pulled away suddenly, my face remained in his grip, the stern hand he had on my face caused my lips to part slightly. I looked up at him, blinking my lashes and grinding my hips softly onto his leg that was positioned in between my legs.

“I want this but I need to know you do too.” His voice was usually cheery but now it was stern and low, a side of him I had never seen and god I wished I did sooner. I pushed my hips down with more force, the friction finally hitting where I need it most and I moaned.

“Godric, yes Oliver, yes, yes, yes.” His gaze was cold and his face didn’t change when I gave my answer, instead he pushed his thigh harder into me, adding pressure I didn’t know I needed. “Fuck.” I whimpered shutting my eyes.

“Tsk, Tsk,” He tutted, pulling my eyes open I looked up at him. “If you continue to have a dirty mouth like that I’ll fill it up. Understood?” Growing wetter at his words I nodded feverishly. “Words darling.” He pushed his thigh into me harder. I let out a short breath, trying to compose myself.

“Y-Yes Sir.”

“Good girl. Keep being good maybe I will forget about the punishment I had planned for your absence.” I let out a whimper at his praise, the promise of punishment striking my core, had he thought of this before? He smirked down at me as I began to rut my hips against his thigh. Occasionally he would pull his leg back causing me to whine only to push it back with more force than before causing my legs to lose feeling as the pleasure built up. We were so wrapped up in our display we didn’t hear the two prominent footsteps grow closer until they were right next to us.

“Bloody hell.” Geroge’s voice interrupted. I opened my eyes and pulled Oliver against me to shield myself, in doing so I could feel the prominent bulge that formed under his not so restraining towel. “We heard Y/N came to the locker room and Fred and I were half sure you were killing her, not…” He trailed off and I watched as his eyes looked me up and down, my hair was no doubt a mess and Oliver’s leg was still in between mine applying a wonderful but also horrible pressure to my clit.

“Glad you’re not dead Y/N, but if getting off is what you wanted you could have always just come to my dorm,” Fred spoke from beside George. Leaning against the other row of lockers he looked significantly more comfortable than George, his trademark smirk plastered his face and his eyes kept flickering to where Oliver’s leg was positioned. I grew hot at his words as I looked between the twins. My eyes flickered up to Oliver who was giving both boys, especially Fred, a hard glare. Before I could protest Oliver’s hand found my hip and he pushed my hips into his thigh, pulling me forward into a rocking motion. I reacted by throwing my head back and letting out a moan, the feeling was too good to hide it. I didn’t let myself get too lost in the pleasure as I remembered our audience. Pulling my head back I eyed the boys with half-lidded eyes. Oliver was still guiding my hips against his thigh, his eyes were trained on my face as I whimpered trying to blink and focus on what was happening, my brain was fighting not wanting to stop but also worried about Fred and George’s presence.

Fred’s eyes were wide and hungry, he was still leaning against the lockers but his eyes were trained on the way my body moved. George was too watching, he took his brother’s stance, leaning on the lockers next to me. I could see two significant tents forming in both of their trousers, George’s hand slid into his pocket and he silently palmed himself at my display.

Seeing that they were enjoying themselves I let my worries dissipate, throwing my head back I moved my hips in time with Oliver’s guiding hands. Oliver ducked his head and began sucking on my neck. Rutting my hips faster I became more vocal, Fred and George let out small grunts here and there that I assume was due to their hands work which only egged on my ministrations. Soon enough the feeling became too overwhelming to bear, my legs began to shake and my breathing was becoming labored. “Ollie please, I need to-” My words were cut short as Oliver harshly nipped at my neck causing me to gasp.

“That’s not my name.” He whispered in my ear. I felt his arms stop their guidance slowing me down.

“Please Sir, please let me cum.” I begged submissively, not worried about the whine in my voice but rather the orgasm that was so close which was starting to vanish.

His hands grasped my hips with a different purpose now and he brought me back to the same speed that had me whimpering and moaning a few seconds ago.

“What do you think guys? Shall we let Y/N cum? Has she earned it?” I snapped my eyes open looking between the three boys frantically, letting out whines as Oliver applied more pressure with his thigh.

“I’m not sure she has,” Fred spoke up, he had a drunken look of hunger that made me shiver.

“I don’t think so.” George agreed.

“What a shame,” Oliver said looking down at me. “Guess you have to wait, darling.” With those few words, he held my hips firm and removed his thigh from me. I wouldn’t be surprised if his thigh had gotten wet through my trousers but I was too upset to be concerned with that at the moment. I whined lightly at the loss of contact and tried to stabilize my shaky legs.

“How can I earn it?” I looked between the boys who all adorned with wide grins. When I got no response I decided to push a little. “If you don’t tell me I’ll just get myself off.” All three boys lost their grins, not completely but their eyes went dark at my words, and they stood up straighter, they watched my hands as they trailed down to my trousers, popping the button.

“Brats don’t get rewards,” George said softly from next to me. His hand grasped mine and halted my motions, his grip was iron tight as he looked down at me. I angled my body so I was facing him, with my free hand I cupped him through his trousers.

“Then tell me what to do, sir.” I looked up at him with the most innocent face I could muster, cocking my head to the side slightly. I’m sure the markings on my neck from Oliver ruined the innocent facade a little bit but watching George swallow hard and breathe heavily through his nose was enough to tell me it was working.

“On your knees, now.” His voice was firm and it sent shivers down my spine as I sunk to my knees. My face was level with George’s clothed cock, I placed my hands behind my back and looked up at him waiting for permission. He brought his hand down, pulling my head up from my chin, he swiped my bottom lip with his thumb. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

I smiled at the name, undoing his pants with ease I heard a slight groan as I pulled them down freeing his erection a bit. He was big, much bigger than I’ve had before. I tried to swallow my nerves as I pulled him out and stroked him slowly. I wrapped my lips around his tip, circling the tip with my tongue that elicited a moan from above me. I smiled and began to take him, or as much as I could. He hit the back of my throat before I got to his base, I gagged lightly and began to bob my head, stroking what was left with my hand. I felt a foreign hand in my hair, straining my eyes I looked up to see Oliver pulling some strands of my hair back. I rubbed my thighs together my arousal building to extreme heights.

“Fuck,” George moaned. He pulled out enough so his tip rested against my lips. “Do you think you can take all of me?” I stroked him slowly as I thought to myself.

“Will it get me my reward,” I asked in a sweet tone. He opened his mouth to reply so I kitten licked his tip, twisting my wrist as I continued to pump him. His words were cut off by a sharp intake of breath as he hissed.

“Definitely, and if you stop being a brat it will probably get you two.” I smiled at his response and pulled back my hand, opting to rest both of them on my thighs. Opening my mouth I relaxed my jaw and stuck my tongue out. George took his dick and slapped my tongue with it a few times.

“Such a good girl, so ready for me aren’t you, whore?” He asked with a devilish smirk. I nodded and let out a small involuntary whine at his words.

“Such a little slut, you’re gonna let him use you like that?” Fred asked. He walked over, his dick now free from its restraints he pumped it slowly. He ran his fingers through my hair, grabbing it tightly and pulling my head back to face him, his harshness made me whine and I squeezed my thighs together, growing wetter. “You like this don’t you? Such a dirty girl.” He let go of my hair and my head fell forward, George’s dick slapping my cheek lightly in the process.

“Our dirty girl.” Oliver praised smoothing my hair. I smiled before opening my mouth again, making eye contact with George to let him know I was ready. He smiled and slid in slowly, I wrapped my mouth around him and tried to maintain my composure as he began to slide down my throat. I gagged lightly which caused him to groan and go deeper. I breathed out through my nose as my eyes began to well up, I closed them and focussed on keeping my throat open for him.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my thigh, opening my eyes, blinking some tears away. I could make out Fred smiling as he kneeled next to me. I shut my eyes spreading my legs for him. He dipped his hand into my trousers tracing my lips from outside my panties. I moaned at the contact around George making him groan.

“You’re getting off on this aren’t you, completely soaked for us,” Fred whispered in my ear pushing my panties to the side. I moaned again which caused George to pick up his pace. I was gagging and tears were streaming down my face but I was enjoying it so much. Fred circled my clit with his nimble fingers making me gag and moan more but I didn’t care. George’s thrusts were becoming erratic and I knew he would come soon. Purposely swallowing around him caused him to meet his end. He buried his dick inside of my throat, my nose pressed up against his abdomen I moaned, swallowing his cum that shot down my throat. He pulled out of me, a trail of spit followed connecting us until it broke, slapping against my chin. Panting, I gasped for air and leaned my head on Fred’s shoulder. Fred picked his speed up on my clit causing me to yell out his name. He continued his brutal pace and I felt my orgasm catching up to me yet again.

“Please, George,” My words were cut off by a moan and I jerked my head back. “Please I’m going to cum I need your permission.” Fred was chuckling in my ear from my desperation but I couldn’t care right now. My legs were shaking and my abdomen was cramping up as I continued to fight it off.

George knelt in front of me, grabbing my neck with a strong hand he pulled my head forward. I fought against my body to open my eyes and look at him. “Cum for us, cum like the whore you are.” As he spoke he increased the pressure on my neck. My eyes rolled back as my orgasm washed over me, I shook violently, screaming out I felt myself release. Fred didn’t stop his fingers, they continued his brutal pace and his smirk grew as I began to shake from overstimulation.

“Good whore.” Fred whispered pulling his hand away from my core. I leaned back against Oliver’s leg and watched as Fred sucked his fingers clean. Oliver looked down at me with his dark eyes, filled with lust and hunger. Fred linked his arm around my waist and pulled me up. We walked over to a bench at the end of the row of lockers, he laid me down on my back. I giggled to myself watching him struggle to pull my trousers off. My laughter was cut short as he landed a short slap to my bare pussy, I moaned at the harsh contact.

“Don’t be a brat.” He warned and I nodded. I pulled my shirt off and unhooked my bra. Fred inserted a finger inside of me, slowly he began to pump in and out before adding another one, I moaned at the light stretch as he pumped faster, curling them to hit my G-spot.

“Such pretty moans.” George praised. He was knelt beside me and began to massage my breasts. I gasped as he began to suck on my nipple. Pulling my hands up I ran my fingers through his hair. Oliver stood on my other side, he was slowly pumping his cock at the scene below him. I felt Fred pull his fingers out and I whined at the loss. Fred spit directly onto my clit, I felt the liquid drip down and mix with my own juices.

“Spread your legs for me, darling,” I did as he said and opened my legs for him. “So pretty, princess, are you ready for me?”

“Yes, please,” I whined out. George was now attacking my neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh that took my breath away. I stopped breathing completely as Fred pushed into me. Slowly he filled me to the hilt, he had to be the same size as George. I felt him bump my cervix when his hips met mine. My mouth was open in a silent scream as he let out a slow groan. He stayed there for a moment, letting me get used to the stretch that came with his impressive size. When he felt me relax he began to slowly thrust in and out of me.

“Faster, fuck, please faster.” I moaned out. He quickly obliged by setting a ruthless pace that had my brain cloudy with the pleasure I was feeling. Oliver leaned down, kissing me roughly, our teeth clashed due to my shaking from Fred’s pace but that didn’t stop either of us.

“Such a whore, putting this show on for me, is this supposed to make me forgive you?” He asked, one of his hands trailed down my torso, he left feather-light touches on my breasts.

“Y-Yes all for you.” I struggled out. He suddenly pinched my nipple, pulling it lightly causing me to moan out loudly.

“Hm, all for me? You let them down too, it’s not very kind if it’s all for me now is it?” I nodded in agreement unable to speak as Fred propped my leg onto his shoulder, the new angle intensifying the pleasure I was feeling. “What are we going to do about that then?” Oliver asked.

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. I couldn’t conjure up a sentence much less a viable answer that would satisfy him as my orgasm steadily approached.

“What a shame, it looks like I will have to punish you after all.” He whispered in my ear. I moaned at his words. Fred continued to hit that spot deep inside me that sent me closer to heaven and hell at the same time.

“I need to, please, I-” My words drowned out into a moan as Fred thrust harder.

“You need to cum, slut?” Fred asked, words spaced out with his thrusts. His hair was dripping with sweat, his chest was glistening with sweat, somewhere in the process he had lost his shirt.

“Yes, yes please!” I begged.

I could hear the smirk on his face as he replied. “Cum for me princess.” My second orgasm washed over me. My legs shook and I tightened my walls, screwing my eyes shut I let out a long moan as Fred continued to pump in and out of me, riding out my orgasm. His hips began to slow and he stopped, flush against me I felt his dick twitch, shooting long ropes of cum painting my insides.

Fred’s hands rubbed up and down my thighs, soothing their shaking. He kissed my knee and unhooked my leg from his shoulder, gingerly pulling out, I whined feeling sensitive and empty at the loss. Fred walked to the side of me, replacing Oliver who was now out of sight. He kneeled beside me and stroked my hair. “You did so good.” He praised.

George hummed softly, his head rested on my stomach under my breast where he was leaving soft kisses earlier beforehand. “Such a pretty slut for us.” He added.

“She may be pretty but that’s not going to make up for what she did.” Oliver said, he was circling his hands on my thighs, his towel now long forgotten, his erection was prominent and it prodded my legs as they shook. His tip was red and needy with precum, I could only assume how much it ached.

“Hm and what did she do?” Fred asked, feigning confusion, a slight smirk on his lips. Oliver had a smile playing on his lips as his hands trailed toward my core. He started to tease my folds, rubbing around spreading the shared release between me and Fred everywhere except my throbbing clit.

“She skipped practice, you know that.” Oliver growled.

“I didn’t mean to-” I trued but Oliver suddenly slapped my pussy, the harsh contact with my clit made me moan.

“You skipped.” He said sternly. I took that as a signal to shut up so I nodded, feeling the excitement buzz in my veins. My pussy throbbed in anticipation as his fingers ghosted over my entrance and up to my clit.

“Hm, I didn’t think about that, should I have punished you princess?” Fred asked. Before I could answer George attached his lips to my nipple, he lapped it and bit it lightly causing me to gasp. He pulled off with a pop, grinning.

“I should have bent you over my knee, showed you who you belong too.” George purred, he trailed up so his breath fawned over the shell of my ear. “Would you have liked that sweetheart? Being so marked and bruised you can’t sit straight? Everytime you sit down you will be reminded of the little whore you are for us, how you bent over willingly, swallowed my cock and came on Freddies fingers. You would like that wouldn’t you?” His voice was deep and it sent shivers through me and took the air from my lungs.

“I think she likes that George.” Oliver said grinning. “Shes practically dripping.” Suddenly he inserted two fingers into me, pumping at a relentless pace. Sounds of squeltching filled the air as he began to hit that spot inside of me, over and over again. I screwed my eyes shut feeling blissed out as George nipped my ear whispering small taunts while massaging my breasts, Fred on my other side whispering praise and playing with my hair.

“You like being used don’t you?” Geroge would ask, licking the shell of my ear.

“Such a good girl, you gonna moan princess?” Fred would add, kissing my cheek.

They continued the process until I was a writhing mess. I was about to ask for permission to cum when Oliver wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue that just sent me over the edge. I came for a third time, shaking crying out, I felt a few tears fall from eyes as he didn’t slow down until I was convulsing and my eyes were rolled back in my head. Oliver pulled back and I gasped for air now that I was given a slight break. Suddenly he slammed into me, his dick stretched me in a delicious way. I yelped at the sudden contact. He didn’t give me time to adjust like Fred, instead he pulled out nearly all the way before slamming back into me.

“O-Ollie.” I moaned out throwing my head back.

“What do you call me?” He growled, slapping my clit lightly and thrusting in forcefully. He halted his motions for a moment, grinding his hips into me and it felt heavenly.

“I’m sorry Sir! Please keep going!” I whined.

“Good girl.” Oliver praised pulling out an slamming back into me. He continued his relentless pace, slapping my clit and tits, pinching my nipples, occasionally leaning over to nip at my leg. I alternated between kissing Fred and George who whispered dirty things to me and swallowed the moans I left in their mouths. I felt Oliver speed up and I felt yet again that I was teetering on the edge.

“Sirs, please I need to cum,” I whined looking between all three boys. Fred and George nodded with cheeky grins and my gaze fell forward to Oliver between my legs. Oliver grabbed my hip with one hand, reaching down and grabbing my neck with the other in grip that could bruise.

“Cum then, cum on my dick slut.” Oliver grunted tightening his grip on my neck. I gave in, letting go and cumming harder than I have before. I let go, squirting onto his torso. Oliver kept pumping into me riding out my orgasm until he pulled out, cumming on my pussy, throwing white ropes on my glistening cunt. I was breathless and lightheaded, Oliver let go of my neck, my head fell back against the bench and I panted. Oliver spread my legs whistling lowly to himself.

“So pretty.” He muttered before ducking his head down and running a long stripe up my folds with his tongue. I jolted at the feeling, my body spasming as his tongue hit my clit. I felt him suck lightly and I whined. That’s when he pulled his head up, and leaned over me, his lips were in a tight line and his body caged me. He took one of his hands and placed two fingers on my chin, applying light pressure signaling for me to open my mouth. I did, sticking my tongue out as I made eye contact with him. He spat our combined juices into my mouth, some of it getting on my chin. He used his thumb to lap it up, wiping it on my tongue.

“Swallow it.” He commanded. I did as I was told, opening my mouth to show him when I was done. “Good slut.” He praised.

“Beautiful.” George added.

“Breathtaking.” Fred quipped. I felt my cheeks heat up at their praise.

“T-Thank you.” I said timidly. Oliver smiled, it was his usual soft smile that made me melt. He stood up, offering a hand I gladly took and stood with him on my shaky legs. I slipped slightly and George stood on my side grabbing my hip. I felt Fred’s gentle hand on my back offering his support should I need it.

They cleaned me up, offering support and praise every second of the way. The game with Slytherin went well, Gyrffimdor won by a landslide, and once again we found ourselves in the locker room together celebrating.

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kimnjss · 4 years

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more than ready | myg

⤑ series: be my baby

⤑ pairing: rapper!yoongi x mom!reader

⤑ genre: smut!! nd fluff.

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 5.6K

⤑ warnings: here we goo... cursing, dirty talk, neck kissing, hickeys, slight biting, oral sex (f. receiving), oh my god spitting, squirting, yoongi has an impreg kink, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cum inside, unintentional cock warming (he’s gotta get it in there), multiple orgasms.

⤑ A/N: so hi! this was only supposed to be just that first scene... but then i got sad that it was ending so i added more :( - so yeah ,. it took longer than i expected . but i hope you guys really like this!! i can’t believe it’s over omg :( i’m gonna miss them sm .

⤑ impreg dialogue credit goes to @taetaewonderland, go check out her work, she’s soo talented!

JUNE 5TH, 2020 | 16:09 – TWO WEEKS LATER.

It had been a long day, spent lifting boxes and reorganizing your things into Yoongi's house. Not sure who was more excited about the move, Hyunki or Yoongi but both of them couldn't stop going on about how much fun they'll have now that they'd be together all the time. You were happy too, of course, felt right to be redecorating the room that you'd now be sharing with Yoongi.

Yoongi. Your man, your boyfriend. Yours. It only made sense that way. Being with him, happy with him. The two of you were made for each other and now you could finally be together. As a family.

And you didn't want it any other way.

He's laid sprawled out on his bed, watching with hooded eyes and a large smile as you arrange your clothes in his closet. All while organizing the messy clutter that came with the way he tended to carelessly toss his clothes in once they were washed. Happiness settling in his chest, paired with the domestic feeling from watching you.

Not done up like how you usually liked to walk around. Fitting sweats hanging off your round hips, one of his plain shirts swallowing your figure. Hair effortlessly framing your bare face. He felt almost privileged to get to see you like this, knowing that not many people have.

“How many of these shirts do you need?” You're asking with a slight laugh, lifting the plain white FG shirt for him to see. The shirt identical to the one that you're wearing now and the other four you had just put away.

Yoongi only shrugs, lips twitching into a smile. “They're comfortable,”

A simple roll of your eyes is your answer, folding the garment before reaching for the black one. Tiny feet pad into the room, Hyunki silently climbing onto the bed with a pout on his face. Sitting up slightly, Yoongi prepares to ask what's the matter – but Hyunki is beating him to it.

“Daddy! The batteries keep falling out.”

Even if you hadn't been watching them, you could perfectly picture the large smile that took over Yoongi's features at hearing his son call out to him. The same smile that broke onto his face each time Hyunki was referring to him as 'Daddy' as if he was hearing it for the first time each time.

“Here, let Daddy take a look.” He speaks softly, pulling the toy from his son's hands. It's an easy fix, the back of the toy needing to be tightly secured. But Hyunki is looking at him as if he had just figured out world peace. Thanking him loudly before taking his toy back into his room.

The triumphant grin doesn't leave his lips, the entire time he's watching you walk around the room. “Did you see that?” He's asking you and you're only now realizing that he had been waiting for you to comment.

“See what?” Playing dumb while leaned over his body on the bed, attempting to fill the bedside table with your undergarments.

An arm swiftly wraps around your waist, tugging you down a bit so you're directly over him. “'Daddy, the batteries keep falling out',” He mimics his son's voice, smile shifting into a large one that shows off his gums. “I think I'm his hero,” He's concluding and you can't help the laugh that slips past your lips.

“You might be,”

His eyes shine at your agreement, head tilting to crash his lips onto yours. The kiss sweet, slow, all of his love and adoration being poured into every movement of his lips. He's holding you close, hands resting lightly on your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin.

It's not until his lips are slipping from yours, finding your neck does the mood shift. Teeth and tongue marking up your skin, soft giggles falling from your lips, and filling your bedroom. He's pulling away only to tug down the collar of your shirt, revealing more of your neck to his greedy lips.

Fingers knitted in his hair, you're tugging at the strands slightly – eyes rolling at the soft scrape of teeth against your skin. His fingers have crept underneath the fabric of your shirt, sneaking their up toward the wire of your bra.

“Daddy! It happened again,” The screech breaks through the haze of desire that started to fog up the room. Yoongi's mouth pulling from your neck with a pop. Hyunki's call ringing from his room. “Daddy, come look!”

There's not even a moment of hesitance before Yoongi is pressing his lips to yours quickly before lifting his body and exiting the room. A huffed, “Daddy's coming, buddy.” Falling from his lips as he exits.

Had wanted to stay in there with you, continue to the obvious place his wandering kisses were going – but duty as a father calls. And he was more than ready to answer the call. The sound of them playing together fills your ears, a wide smile spreading across your lips as you stand from the bed.

Going back, you listen to them together – happiness filling your heart from the sound of their laughter. And you're sure nothing would ever sound as good as them.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi's voice rings from behind you. Stood in the kitchen, after putting away your clothes in his room. His arms snake around your waist, head finding your shoulder, watching as you slice out bite-size pieces.

His lips have started to suck soft kisses into the back of your neck, fingers toying with the band of your leggings. “Making a snack,” You answer, nonchalant. Trying to act like his simple touches weren't driving you insane.

“You're a snack,” He replies lamely, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. And you're convinced you're in love with this man because there's no other explanation for how a phrase like that could turn you on that much.

But of course, his ego didn't need to know that. “Aren't you supposed to be entertaining your son,” It's hard to mask the breathy tone of your voice, body reacting to the feeling of his lips on your skin, his hips pressed into the curve of your ass.

“Animal Planet came on. And after the third time he shushed me, he told me to come see what you were doing,” The snort of laughter that comes from your nose is automatic, amazed how alike the two of them were. Couldn't help but wonder if he noticed it too.

Although, his mind is somewhere else. Tongue now rolling hotly against the shell of your ear, gently sucking the flesh into his mouth while his fingers tease their way down past the elastic band. “Think I can eat my snack in the room?” Words murmured into your ear, sending a pang of arousal throughout our veins.

Your giggle is obnoxious, but you can't help it with how giddy this man makes you feel. Head tilting slightly so you could see him, catch glimpse of those lust-filled eyes. Not a lot of time granted to admire them before he's covering your lips with his in a hungry kiss. Twisting your body easily, so your back is now pressed against the counter.

“Yoongi,” He's meeting your panted moan with a grunted curse of his own. Cock stiffening in his pants just from the sound of you saying his name. He loved to hear you say his name.

There's no need for you to say much else, his hands grasped around your thighs to easily lift your body onto his. If this had been four years ago, he'd be fucking you on the counter without an ounce of hesitation. But he takes the moment to walk you toward your room, lips never detaching from your neck.

Hard cock grazing over your crotch with each step. Lowering both of your bodies onto the soft mattress, after gently kicking the door closed. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you can feel every ridge and curve of his dick through the thin fabric.

“Take those off,” He pants, leaning back just enough where he's able to remove his shirt from his torso.

Only allowed to a moment to admire the dips of his collarbones, the browned pink of his nipples, each indent that nicely outlined his abs, a trail of hair traveling from below his belly button and disappearing underneath the waistband of his boxers.

He's stealing the image from you, ducking down to tug at your joggers. Hastily, he's pulling them down your legs, cutely grumbling to himself about your endless staring. But, could he blame you? When he looked that good over you like that?

Hooded eyes follow his hands, grin growing as more and more of your smooth skin is revealed to him. You're sighing at the delicate way he lifts your foot, tugging the fabric from around your ankle, before placing a soft kiss to the bone. Tongue just barely grazing over your flesh, painting blotches of saliva all the way to your knee.

Squirming underneath him, needy to feel him where you wanted him most. Each swipe of his lips has a fresh gush of arousal heating up your core and he was ignoring the way your sweet scent tickled his nose.

Breathing picks up at the feeling of his mouth marking up your inner thigh, teeth determined to create a bruise and you're so concentrated on the movement of lips that you don't notice the hand that has crept its way between your legs. Not until the tips of his fingers are brushing against your covered clit and your body is jolting.

“So sensitive,” He murmurs and you can feel the stretch of his grin against your skin. Head lifting to watch your fingers move between your legs, loving the sound of the soft moans he's able to pull soft whimpers from the back of your throat. “So wet too, baby. Bet you taste so sweet.”

Even through your panties, a clear string of slick connects his fingers to your mound as he pulls his arm back. He watches with fascination, taking his time to break the connection before he's pushing his those same fingers into his mouth, wantonly sucking your juices from his fingers.

You'd guess he was just putting on a show for you, wanting to make you as delirious as possible while watching the way his tongue caresses his fingers. But you'd be wrong, especially with the way his cock twitches underneath his shorts. He was enjoying this just as much as you.

“I want to feel your tongue, Yoongi.” Knowing him well enough to know that he wasn't going to give in until you were asking for it, sometimes holding out until you were full-on begging for a bit of relief.

It's like a switch was flicked inside of him, the smirk that takes over his features as his hand drops. Wet fingers latch onto the thin string of your thong, pulling it down until he's able to discard the wet bundle elsewhere. He doesn't waste a moment with diving in.

The first initial swipe of his tongue has your hips lifting, a hummed moan leaving your lips, your fingers tangle into the roots of his hair. So long since you've felt his mouth on you, you're way more sensitive than usual. Yoongi isn't complaining about that in the slightest bit.

His tongue parts your folds, the sweet drops of your arousal quickly coating his tastebuds. Lips quickly wrapping around your clit as a moan slips past his lips from the taste of you, the sound sending a vibration throughout your core. “Shit, Yoongi.” Voice hushed, vaguely remembering to keep quiet.

Yoongi's eyes are darting up to catch the expression on your features, how fucked out you look already and he's just getting started. Just barely, you feel the curve of his smirk against you, the suction behind his lips getting harder. Hips push down against his mouth, offering more of your dripping cunt to his tongue.

“Fuck, I don't remember you being this sweet.” He groans into your heat, tongue traveling down to lick into your entrance. A large hand lifted to set on your mound, thumb finding your clit. “I love this pussy,”

Whether it's the desire that coats his voice or the words he's saying to you, your walls are clenching around nothing. Throbbing for release already, a drawn-out moan falling from your lips as his mouth latches back onto you. His tongue moves much quicker into you, breath trapped in your throat while your fingers tighten in his hair – keeping his face pinned between your legs.

He can't take his eyes off you. Your head lulled back, your hips desperately grind against his face. Chasing the orgasm that you know is close, speeding to the end that he's more than ready to bring you to. “I-it... feels so good,”

Yoongi's humming into you, arms looping underneath your thighs to pull your body closer to his face. Stilling them in their frantic rolls, he shifts into pressing wet kisses onto your clit. “You like that, baby?” Tongue flicking against your sensitive nub quickly. “Want me to make you cum?”

“Please, please! I need-” He's cutting your begging short, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking down harshly. With little to no warning, his fingers are slipping past your folds, curved so he's instantly meeting that rough patch of skin buried inside of you. Walls clench in response around his fingers, protesting as he draws his fingers back.

A gasped moan breaks through your lips as he's pushing back in, pressing deep inside of you before pulling back again. He's fingers are quickly falling into a steady pace, head lifting and his eyes lock with yours. “You gonna cum?” He only holds your gaze only for a moment before his attention is flickering back between your legs.

Watching in fascination as his fingers disappear inside of you. He's still waiting for your answer, eyebrow raising when it doesn't come. Breathless moans the only thing that falls from your lips. “Hm?” He prompts.

Pink tongue pokes out between his lips, coated with his spit. You watch as he lets it roll off the tip, landing directly on your clit and he's lifting his thumb to rub it in. “You close, baby?” A strangled cry emits from the back of your throat, nodding frantically as you begin to shake underneath him.

“Yes, yes! P-please make me cum,” Words fighting their way out of your mouth when you feel his fingers start to slow. He's grinning at the sound of you begging for him, lowering his body back between your legs. Fingers slowly sliding out of you to be replaced with his open mouth, wet digits easily finding your clit. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me,”

It's as if your body was waiting for his command, pulsating, and arching in pleasure. Hips pinned to the bed and you have to muffle your scream as your orgasm leaves your body in waves. Splashing his lips and your thighs, soaking the sheets underneath you. Your eyes squeezed shut, the wetness clumping your lashes.

Yoongi's groans are muffled by your pussy, lapping up your juices like a man starved. His eyes are on you the entire time, watching as you ride out your high until your body is falling limp on the mattress heavy breaths lifting your chest.

All at once, he's lifting his body to hover over you, nose nudging against yours slightly and on instinct, your mouth is falling open. There's a hint of a smirk on his lips before he's opening up his mouth, a mixture of his spit and your cum trickling down his wet muscle and landing onto yours.

You're swallowing it down with no hesitance, dark eyes never leaving you, and only growing darker when you're parting your lips to show him your empty mouth. His lips are attached to yours in an instant and you're welcoming his tongue and the warm wetness that comes with it. Swallowing that too.

“You're so fucking perfect,” He groans, fingers tracing over the softness of your stomach. “Take everything I give to you,” His eyes flicker down to watch the movement of his fingers and you follow his gaze. Not missing the painful-looking strain at the front of his shorts, one odd move and he'd be bursting through the fabric.

He's reaching lower, spreading your legs apart so he's able to fit his body in between them. Groaning at the unintentional friction over his cock. Slowly, his fingers walk their way back to your stomach, brushing over your skin delicately. “Should I put another baby in you?” His cock twitches against you at the mere mention of it, but he pays it no mind – keeping his glued to yours.

“Please,” Something changes in his eyes with your agreement, turning dark as your legs lift. Toes hooking into the waistband of his shorts, pushing them the best you can with your angle. “Want you to fill me up,” You whine and the growl that leaves his throat can only be described as primal.

His hands are quickly wrapping around your ankles, tugging your body into his before pushing his shorts down the rest of the way. Cock bouncing against your folds the moment his clothes are out of the way. “You want me to?” Lowering himself onto you again, his hips roll; coating his shaft with your arousal.

“Give you a little girl this time?” He's more turned on then you've ever seen him. And it only deepens as he continues speaking. Egging himself on. “Can't wait 'til you're all big and swollen with my baby. Want that?”

Head bobbing in a nod, a breathy 'yes' leaving your lips followed by a string of like sounding ones. A single hand wraps around his shaft, squeezing out a dribble of precum before he's lining himself up with your entrance. Teeth cutting into his lower lip, eyes fluttering as he slides into you inch by inch.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He huffs once he's bottomed out, your walls clenched tight around him. “Always so fucking tight,” Yoongi whimpers, like actually whines as he pulls his hips back. In one swift movement, he's pushing forward, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

Head bowed, he watches his cock drag in and out of you. Your moans filling the room as the strength of his thrusts grow. His hands set on your hips, fingers bruising into your skin as he fucks you into the mattress. He's groaning out your name, lips close to your ear, and you whimper when he's catching it between his teeth.

“Gonna get you nice and pregnant. Fuck my baby deep inside you,” Yoongi's gasping out against your skin as you clench around him. Cock twitching against your walls. He's close, already. And you have a feeling it has everything to do with the thought of filling you up.

His hand fingers are quick to find you clit, rubbing frantic circles against it as his grip tightens around your waist. “God, I can feel you trying to milk me... you gonna cum again?” Nodding, breathless moans fall from your lips. Hips lifting to meet each one of is powerful thrusts.

“Yoongi, fuck-” Words breaking on a sob, clit being pinched between his knuckles. Your lashes flutter, hips lifting off the mattress as your walls squeeze tight around him. He's urging you on, mumbling dirty things into your ear that only prolongs your orgasm.

And the moment your body stops shaking, Yoongi is fucking into you with a newfound strength. Face buried in the crook of your neck. The power of his thrusts makes your tits bounce, pebbled nipples brushing against the fabric of your t-shirt.

He's delirious, it seems. Incoherent mumbles about how pretty you'll look with his baby. How he's ready to fuck you over and over again until you're full of him. And you moan in response, wanting everything he's offering. Yoongi's teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder, hips stiffening before he's spilling his speed into your womb. Strong hands keeping your body in place and whines fall from your lips at the feeling of his warmth coating your walls.

The tiniest of orgasms wash through your body, walls clenching around him, attempting to milk him of every last drop. And he doesn't move until he's empty, pulling out slowly despite the protest your pussy puts up. His cum dribbles out of you, toes curling at the familiar feeling.

Yoongi's quick to push it back in, using the tip of his cock as a shovel. Dazed eyes glued to your core and you're sure he's barely thinking when he's sliding back inside of you. Arms wrapped around your shoulder as his face nuzzles the crook of your neck. “Gotta get you nice and pregnant,” He's mumbling before his body falls slack.

It doesn't take you long to realize that he's fallen asleep, the intensity of his orgasm getting to him. A giggle falling from your lips, fingers running through his slightly sweaty hair. “Really hope you do,” Voice barely above a whisper, you press a soft kiss to his forehead.

Holding him as he falls deeper into dreamland, his soft breath tickling the side of your neck. And you let your mind wander, thinking about how different things are now... how they're the same. How they'll change three years from now.

More than ready to grow your family with him.

JUNE 8TH, 2020 | 11:27

“I just can't have anyone working for me that my girl doesn't trust. That I don't trust.” Yoongi sits at his studio desk, a nervous looking Jiso stood in front of him. Sort of knew what the ordeal was when he was calling her into his studio in the serious tone he almost never uses.

Of course, you weren't keeping it to yourself just how you were finding out about Yoongi's addiction. And while it worked out in the end, having someone who was so willing to share his business on his team... just couldn't happen.

Despite the apologies, her promises to never do something like that again – he couldn't budge. Not someone that could be trusted, not to mention the sly attitude she had toward you. No way would he keep someone like that around, working so close underneath him.

“Mr. Agust, it was just a mistake. Do you really think I'd intentionally wrong you?” Long eyelashes batted at him, pouted lips pouted in his direction. He uses to consider her pout cute, especially when she first started out and was constantly making tiny mistakes.

Never something he acted on. Jiso was his assistant and that was it. But the guy wasn't blind. A good looking girl and that had a lot to do with why he kept her around, ignoring his bosses when they told him to hire someone better. All she did was make mistakes.

“I know you weren't trying to hurt me. You were trying to hurt my girl and that doesn't sit well with me.” It's automatic, how her eyes roll at the mention of you. A soft scoff falling from her lips.

But the hard stare that Yoongi gives her, daring her to say one thing wrong about you keeps her mouth shut. Realizing that her cute pout won't get her anywhere in this situation, Jiso allows her shoulders to slump. “Okay,” She sighs, “Thank you for the opportunity.” He almost feels bad for the girl, because it's his fault.

Entertained her crush for a bit too long. Never made advances, but he never corrected her flirting. Acted as if it was okay, never set her straight. And now here they were. Jiso turns with a sigh, heavy steps taken out of the studio and into the hallway.

Not paying attention she almost tumbles over Hyunki, who's running full speed down the hall. You're a few steps behind him. He stops short before his face is smacking against her knee, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Sorry, Miss Jiso!” She's quick to tell him it's alright, gaze lifting to find you had caught up to them.

Her stare turns cold. “Hope you're happy, I just got fired.” Arms crossed over her chest, the weight shifting onto one leg, popping her hip out. Was she serious? You don't even bother to mask the laugh that falls from your lips at her ridiculousness.

“You're a shit employee,” Gentle fingers run through Hyunki's soft hair. “Baby. Go tell your father it's time to go,” With a quick nod, Hyunki is back to running at full speed. On his tiptoes he taps in the code he's seen you both punch in a ton of times. The door clicks open and he's rushing in.

Jiso only offers an annoyed scoff, before she's brushing past you. Heels clicking as she leaves the corridor, mumbling angrily to herself.

“Daddy! It's time to go!” In the middle of rerecording the spoken bit of his song, Hyunki's voice overlaps. He's stopping the track, just as he steps further into the room. Hitting play, the sound of his son calling for him echos throughout the room.

Hyunki gasps. “That's me!” A hand clamped over his mouth as his eyes go wide. Yoongi lets out a laugh, turning in his chair so he can fully face him. “I think we should keep it, what do you think buddy?”

Something of an intro as the beat starts. “Yup!” Not needing any details before he's agreeing. Small hands tug on Yoongi's large one, attempting to pull him from his seat. “Mommy said she was very hungry.” He allows himself to be pulled to his feet, arms reaching down to lift Hyunki onto his side.

“Ooh, we better hurry. Mommy's grumpy when she's hungry.” Hyunki's head is nodding quickly, eyes widening slightly as he tilts his head to look at his dad. “And she talks too much too,” Despite the laugh that breaks through Yoongi's lips, he's quick to remind Hyunki not to talk about his mom like that.

A tiny huff leaves his lips, hand lifting to rest on his cheek. “You said first,” He says, but mostly lets it go. No doubt saving it to get him in trouble later on. Sometimes it shocked him how alike they were.

JUNE 13TH, 2020 | 20:39

Yoongi enters the room, damp shirt sticking to his stomach. A bright smile brightening his features, his eyes landing on your body curled up under his sheets. His heart pounds, the way it always does when he sees you. Basically skipping over to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Nearly stuttering when he sees the smile that pushes onto your lips.

“See? Bedtime is not that hard.”

Pretty eyes roll at his words, fingers dropping to graze over the wet fabric of his shirt. Peaking down to admire the bit of skin you can see through the material. “Yeah? Your shirt's all wet. He splashed you, didn't he?” Eyes finding his, soft strands of hair bouncing as he shakes his head slightly.

Yoongi steps back, putting a bit of distance between the two of you so he's able to pull his wet shirt from his body. You watch him shamelessly, in silent awe as he carelessly reveals more of his skin to you. Acting as if you hadn't seen him like this a million times before.

“I don't know who he thinks he is,” He strips down until he's in his boxers, ruffling his hands through his hair before sliding into bed beside you. Body turning at once, he doesn't hesitate to tuck you underneath his arm.

Lips finding the soft skin just below his jaw as you settle into his side. “He's literally you,” Your laugh vibrates against his neck and now it's his turn to roll his eyes. Mockingly, he repeats your words. Playfulness coating his tone

His head shifts, body twists until he's able to crash his lips down onto yours. A satisfied hum leaving his lips as his mouth moves over yours. Slowly, lovingly. Taking his time with the way he kissed you as if you had all the time in the world. Because you had all the time in the world.

Gentle teeth tug at your lower lip, easily pulling your lips apart enough so his tongue can slide past them. And you accept him without a moment of hesitance, fingers curling into his hair as your wet muscles roll and push against each other. He's holding you close to him, hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt. Pleased to find the only thing keeping him from the warmth of your skin is the lace of your panties.

Seemed to be your uniform in his bed. His shirt, preferably one that smelled most like him, and a pair of panties. It was his favorite thing to see you in. Right next to nothing at all. Slowly, Yoongi's letting his lips part from yours. Kissing away the clear line of saliva that keeps your lips connected.

“Can we have another one?” His fingers toy with the lace of your panties, no doubt poking holes into the already holey material. Still on your birth control the night he had been so determined to put a baby in you, so deep in the moment that it had slipped your mind.

But the next day you were making the appointment to get it removed and now you were physically ready to grow your family. As well as mentally. “Yes,” His grin groans, nose nudging your head to the side so he's able to press his lips to your neck.

“Right now?” His words are muffled by your skin, flesh sucked between his teeth. His hands are sliding underneath your panties, gripping the flesh of your ass in his palms. Kneading and molding the flesh as if he could shape it.

You're laughing loudly at the giddiness hidden with his tone, hands reaching back to bat his hands away from your butt. “No, not right now.” You're turning in his arms easily, back pressed into his chest. He doesn't lift his hands from your body, instead allows his fingers to dance over your soft belly.

The tips of his fingers brushing against the slightly raised scar on your lower belly. Face nuzzled in the crook of your neck as his index finger runs over the long line leading from one hip to the other. His fingers repeat the motion, gentle kisses planted on your neck.

You don't notice the way your body has gone tense against him. Not use to the feeling of someone touching your scar. Always politely ignored. Yoongi's picking up on your rigidness instantly, fingers stilling.

“It hurts?”

Hand coming down to meet his, your fingers intertwine with his. Urging yourself to relax. Just Yoongi. There was nothing to worry about. He had already proved to you time and time again that things like this didn't mean anything to him.

“No, just... no one has touched it before. Feels weird,” He's nodding in understanding, lips planting one last gentle kiss to your neck before he's lifting his head to set his chin on your shoulder. “I like it,” Yoongi is deciding after a momentary silence.

The feeling that washes over you can only be described as happiness. “Really?”

“Of course. It's what got our son here. I think it's pretty... I think you're pretty.” Body leaning back into him, your head finds his shoulder. His fingers continue to rub against the scar, feather-like kisses placed over the side of your face; slowly making their descent lower on your body.

Along with his hands.

“Your hands seem to be going a bit low there, Mister.”

The laugh that leaves his lips shakes your back and warms your heart. Subconsciously spreading your legs for him, hips pushing back into his. “Are they? I didn't notice...” The tips of his fingers dip underneath the band of your panties, crawling their way further between your legs.

You open up your mouth to speak, words caught in your throat as the sound of your bedroom door slamming open fills the room. “I'll sleep here!” Hyunki shouts, and Yoongi is quick to pull his hands away from him.

He runs at full speed into the room, slowing only to climb onto the bed. He stands on the edge for a moment, a mischievous look in his eyes as he grins. Two bends of his legs and he's SuperMan jumping directly onto Yoongi's chest. “I'll sleep here!” He screams through a laugh as Yoongi's arms wrap around him.

You're turning onto your side so you can face them, smiling at the way he's spread himself on his dad's stomach, using him as his own makeshift mattress. Elbow propped up on the bed, you rest your cheek on your palm. “Do you not like your big boy bed?”

“Sometimes no.” Hyunki shrugs. His arm wrapped around Yoongi's torso, cheek smushed against his chest. “Daddy makes me sleep,” And if the sleepiness in his tone wasn't proof enough, you had no idea what would be.

Yoongi is grinning proudly at his words, arm reaching out for you. He's easily tucking you into his side. “Let Daddy make you sleep too.” The happiness in his words has your heartwarming, an arm wrapping around both of them you settle into his side.

You're falling asleep instantly in his arms. Feeling as happy as he sounds. Positive that you've never felt this content. This at peace with anyone. Yoongi. Hyunki. Your family. You loved them. Not realizing you had spoken out loud until Yoongi's smiling lips are finding your forehead.

“I love you too.”

— when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. to be added to the taglist, send me an ask !! feedback is highly !! appreciated, it’s the motivation i need to keep the fic going nd fun for you guys!!<33

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bees--in-my--bones · 3 years

Text

Sunset

Character: Natasha x gn!Reader (please note I did write this with a female reader in mind, so I'm sorry if there are unintentional biases but there were no pronouns or indications of gender at all)

Note: soulmate AU where you can only see color when you look at your soulmate for the first time. i hate to admit it, but i did get this idea from tiktok.

Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, major character death, no happy ending

Word Count: 1,859

A/N: This is my first fic ever! I'm actually really proud of how it turned out and I hope you like it and stick around for more! :)

You had never seen your partner.

It was just protocol. The nature of the missions you two worked, it was safer if you couldn't identify each other.

You had been near her, of course, and heard her voice whispering to you in the train station or over the phone. But you had never once laid eyes on her.

You were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, and one of Natasha Romanoff's most important and most trusted contacts.

Over the years of working together, you two had become the closest of friends. Fury had no idea that you two were that close, but what Fury didn't know couldn’t hurt him. If it was any pair of spies operating at your level, a close personal relationship would be a problem, but you two were the best in your field, and more than capable of handling it.

It had taken a while for the two of you to talk, really talk, the extent of your interactions being whispered conversations back to back on a set of park benches, or a flash drive set subtly on a table next to an untouched coffee, but one day, probably the best day of your life, you had asked the question and she had answered.

Every phone call with her, you would ask the same question before hanging up.

"How are you doing, Nat?"

And every time, without fail, you would receive the same, gruff, "Fine."

She clearly wasn't one to talk about the touchy-feely stuff. Which was fine by you, you didn't open up often either, most spies you met didn't, but you still gave her that chance, every time.

Until one day, much to your surprise, she responded, "Not great."

It wasn't much, but it was something different. It was an invitation to keep talking. Containing your excitement at the change in conversation, you kept your voice steady. "What's the matter?"

She sighed, the sound crackling faintly over her phone's mic. "I'm back in a place I haven't been in for a long time."

You had no way of knowing exactly where she was- S.H.I.E.L.D took plenty of precautions to be sure of that- but you could make an educated guess. The information you had passed along to her a few days ago had been about a weapons smuggler currently in Russia.

"You know what?" she said, "I don't really want to talk about it. I'll check in with you when the mission's over."

"Natasha, wait!"

Silence from the other line, but she was still on the call.

"Let's just talk. About something else. I think we could both use some casual conversation."

She let out a small chuckle. "Sure, why not? This is a burner phone and I've got time to kill."

It was a bit awkward at first, but you soon fell into a natural conversation. That night you talked about many things. Small things, like favorite foods, and big things, like plans for the future if you ever left S.H.I.E.L.D.

That's when you learned that she couldn't see color.

You weren’t surprised. You couldn’t see color either. It wasn't uncommon for S.H.I.E.L.D to hire people who hadn't met their soulmate. It was a lonely job, and soulmates were a liability.

It was a small moment in your conversation and you continued talking about all sorts of other things late into the night.

Unfortunately, though, all good things must come to an end.

"I'll have to talk to you later, Nat. I've got a big job tomorrow I need to get ready for."

"Goodnight Y/N, and thank you."

"Let's make a habit out of this, okay?"

"Gotcha, Agent."

You smiled and hung up the phone.

From then on, you always lingered on calls. Never quite as long as that first call, but the two of you were quickly becoming each other's closest confidantes.

Soon you began talking in real life, too. You never turned to face each other, never broke that boundary, but you relished the feeling of her shoulder brushing yours as you watched the pigeons in a park.

You called each other before and after every job to check in on each other. You had drop spots outside of Fury's radar where you left each other small gifts. Your life was lonely and cold, but she gave your days warmth and light.

-----

Around a year and a half after your initial conversation, you met in a smokey French cafe, sitting in nearby booths.

“Nat.”

“Agent.”

“Whaddya got for me?”

“No intel on the current mission, but I’ve got news from HQ. Fury’s pulling us from the field.”

You felt your blood run cold. Spywork was dangerous, but it was what you knew. You were good at it. If you were fired, you would be thrown into suburbia with a fake name and fake past- maybe even fake memories, if Fury deemed you untrustworthy- and you would live the rest of your days out in the rat race.

And worst of all, you would live out the rest of your days without Natasha.

“What did we do?” you asked her, putting a massive amount of concentration into keeping your voice from betraying your panic.

“We did good,” she said, a smile in her voice. “We’ve been selected for an elite team to protect the entire world. You and I, Barton, and if we can convince them, Tony Stark, Steve Rodgers, and Bruce Banner.”

“That gamma radiation guy? Do we even know where he disappeared to?”

“We never lost tabs on him.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me, Nat. I thought Fury had benched us.”

She laughed. “No, we’re still in the game for now. And when Fury gives the word, we’ll head back to New York and hang out like normal people for a change.”

“That would be nice,” you said, your voice quiet.

You heard her move around a bit, then swear. “I have to run," she said. "If I don’t make this drop Fury'll kill me.”

“I’ll talk to you later Nat,” you said. “Hopefully face to face.”

You waited for a response, but heard only silence. You turned and her booth was empty, like she had never been there.

------

"Hey there, Agent," came her warm voice over the receiver. You couldn't help but smile, remembering how cold her voice had been when you had first been partnered together.

"Hey there, Black Widow," you said, using the alias that some younger agents had been whispering behind her back.

“Very funny,” she laughed, “but I’m no Tony Stark. I don’t need a fancy code name.”

“You never know,” you said, your voice still light and teasing. “We should probably both come up with some cool code names for that team Fury was talking about. I think Black Widow suits you.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“No, it means you’re badass. How did your drop go?”

“Good,” she said. “Pretty standard, didn’t run into any problems. How are things on your end?”

“Not bad. I’ve got one thing to finish up this evening, and then I should be good to go. I’ll meet you at the airport at around 5:45 tonight?”

“I’ll be waiting for you, Agent.”

“I’ll be there, Black Widow.”

-----

You snuck around the corner of the warehouse. It was supposed to be one guy. Take him out, take down the whole operation, but apparently, the whole operation was being run out of here. You glanced at your watch. 5:42. Shit. You were gonna miss your flight. A guard passed by, and you froze in place.

You thought he hadn't seen you, but suddenly the sound of his footsteps stopped, then became louder as he ran back towards you, brandishing a weapon. Ducking under him, you grabbed the gun and twisted it away from you, and knocked him over the head with your own pistol.

Suddenly, a loud sound blared over the intercom. Shit. He had sounded the alarm.

You grabbed his gun and made a break for it.

-----

Natasha glanced anxiously at her watch. 5:50.

She glanced around nervously. You hadn’t answered a single one of her calls. She picked up her phone and dialed Nick Fury’s number.

“Fury? Yeah, I know I’m supposed to be getting on a plane, but Y/N isn’t here. Yes, I tried calling. No, Y/N told me 5:45. A good agent is not late, and Y/N is the best agent I know. Where was the mission at? I’m going in. Fury! Tell me now or so help me God... Thank you, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

She snapped her phone shut. You weren’t too far from where she was.

------

Natasha pulled up to a worn down warehouse with boarded on one side with a forest. Truck after truck pulled away from the building, and she grimaced as she realized what had happened. This was not a simple job like you had thought. Whatever operation you had infiltrated was now fleeing after being busted, and they were likely on shoot to kill orders.

Suddenly she saw you figure limping towards the woods, and before she even knew she had moved, she was racing towards you.

-----

Pain tore through you.

Your abdomen was on fire. You had been shot before, but this hurt. You struggled to get to the cover of the woods. Suddenly a firm hand was on you back, arms were cradling you, and lowering you down to the ground.

“Shh, don’t move,” came Natasha’s voice. “They aren’t worried about finding us, they’re too busy running.”

You looked into her face, making eye contact with your long-time partner for the first time ever, and the world exploded in color.

The grass and trees became vibrant with life, and you turned to look at the new world around you. When you turned back to look at Natasha, her eyes were filled with wonder.

“You hair…” you said weakly, your voice trailing off.

“They tell me it’s red,” she said, her voice wavering.

“Red,” you said, relishing the word on your lips, the feeling of knowing what it meant. “Red is my favorite.”

She smiled, but tears trailed down her face. “Shh, don’t talk. Save your energy, we’ll get you somewhere where they can fix you.”

Ignoring her, you shook your head. "I'm not gonna make it."

You reached up your hand to touch her face. She grabbed your hand and pressed it against her cheek. “I’m glad it was you Nat. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N”

She pressed a gentle kiss against your lips and cradled you against her chest.

“Look at the sky, Nat,” you said. “It’s beautiful.”

The sun was setting, and the myriad of brilliant colors spread over the horizon.

"As far as ways to go out," you said, "it could have been worse."

Nat said nothing, only held you tighter

The two of you sat like that until Natasha saw the sunset fade to black and white and the tears blurred her vision.

---------------

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked it! @love8loki here's one of the reader death stories I was talking about. thanks for your advice lol

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #marvel imagine #x reader #soulmate au #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov x you #gender neutral reader #major character death

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13atoms · 3 years

Text

Cyberium [Dh!Master x Reader]

Post-Timeless Children, 2.8k :) fluff, angst, you know the drill.

You huffed, a little irritated you’d been left alone on the TARDIS.

The Master had been unusually adamant that you stay, and you knew him well enough to respect when his mood swung firmly to the realm of ‘serious’.

He’d kissed you properly before leaving the ship, all clasping hands and desperate lips against yours, rushing off to meet the Doctor at the boundary with the barest hesitation outside at the doors.

For days before he’d been getting more and more wound up. You could see the sleeplessness on his face, the desperation, ever since he’d started playing with the damn Matrix all those months ago. He didn’t like you being on Gallifrey – in fact he’d only let you sneak around with him once, giving you a tour one last time before it was destroyed.

Once the entire citadel sat in ruins, ash all around, he refused to let you see more than a glimpse of it. Perhaps, deep down, he worried you’d be horrified by the extent of the destruction he had caused. You had grown used to it, sneaking glances out of the door, watching live feeds from outside on the TARDIS monitors while he cooked up plans.

The night before he had finally snapped, dragged you into bed just to strip you both down to your skin and pull you to him so tightly you could feel the tremor in his bones and the double-beat in his chest.

“If I don’t come back, the TARDIS should dematerialise,” he had whispered in your ear, “she’ll protect herself, she should drop you back to Earth. You know how to land her, you’ll be fine.”

He had been convincing himself, hands toying with the ends of your hair as he forced himself to sound normal, casual. You wondered if there was doubt in his mind. Fear. Certainly, there was nervousness.

This was all so big, you wondered how he tackled the magnitude of what he was doing inside his own mind.

“You’d better come back,” you had insisted, planting a soft kiss to his sideburn, fingers wrapped in his hair.

“I’m sure I will.”

You could hear the shake in his voice, your heart aching at the thought he might not want to.

But he always came back. Always clawed his way back to life, even as parts of him seemed to be chipped away, his very sense of self shaken again and again for the entire time you’d known him.

His eyes had been bloodshot, deep eyebags plaguing his features as he left that morning. You’d spent hours and hours kicking around the ship, unable to focus on anything and yet far too sensible to ignore his warning and leave the ship.

You kept waiting onboard, trying to ignore the whispered words you’d heard from his lips. The whispers of resurrections and death particles and cybermen and maybe, finally, ending it all.

The tiny tremors of the TARDIS’ living floor felt seismic, each minute passing with the threat of a dematerialisation without him. As the hours grew longer you gave up on trying to do anything but sit perched by the door, begging the universe for the Master to stride back through that door, victorious.

You somehow dozed off.

The metallic crunching of feet woke you up, huge metal soldiers ducking to enter the TARDIS, making you shrink back and look around frantically, until you saw the figure of the Master instructing a few of them.

He was shouting, commanding them.

You watched in shock.

“Here! Inside!”

The Master stumbled, and you grasped for purchase on your seat, as the TARDIS suddenly dematerialised. Through the open door you could see the metal creatures outside disappear, fire engulfing them and licking at the doorframe of the ship before the doors slammed closed and the time vortex appeared outside the windows.

You gasped, your breathing suddenly ragged as you realised how close the Master and yourself had been to death. You could feel the ghost of the flames on your face, that split second of their heat enough to make your cheeks feel warm and dried out.

Those blank, soulless creatures stood unmoving as the Master looked around, pushing through the crowd of them to get to you.

“You’re here,” he smiled, the tears in his eyes amplifying their redness. His skin was palid, oily, dust settled visibly across his features. His hair was mussed up in a distinctly unintentional way, greasy, and you pulled away instinctively as his scuffed hands reached for you.

He searched your eyes as desperately as you searched his, trying to figure out what happened.

“I’m so glad you’re safe. That you stayed,” he laughed, baring his teeth, mania coursing through his veins.

He hadn’t won. That much was obvious. If he had won, he wouldn’t be on the verge of breaking down in your eyes, concealing his sadness with that shark-like grin that made you wince.

There was something else. Something lurking at the edge of the whites of his eyes, making his fingers shake as they dried to cup your face, a silvery hue to his sweaty face.

The creatures behind him remained unmoving, even in the harsh rock of TARDIS-travel, and you caught yourself watching them suspiciously. They were creepy, too tall, their half-moon headpieces making the small group of them look more numerous, more threatening.

“It’s okay,” he Master told you, his words wheezed out on a hysterical laugh. His fingers were still reaching for your face, and you found your whole body tensing as their rough grasp met your skin. You could feel the dusting of ash he left on your jaw as he clutched your face between his hands, crouched over you.

For once, you felt intimidated by him. The slight tremble of his body made him clench you more harshly than was comfortable.

“We’re okay,” he told you, demanding and firm in his tone as the creatures behind him all stomped at once, the small legion of them turning to face him.

You looked to the creatures with obvious fear, eyes wide. Something about them was unnerving, beside their obvious intimidating build. They seemed… empty. Haunting.

“What are they?” you managed, your tongue feeling unnaturally heavy in your mouth.

He looked over his shoulder with a glare at the creatures, barking to them wish distain as he continued his tight grip on your face.

“First room. Left.”

The creatures followed his command, marching in a military unison which made you tremble. The Master looked back to you with an attempt at a gentle smile, crouching and then kneeling in front of you.

He refused to let go of your face.

You brought your hands up to dislodge his, gently pulling them from your cheeks, and he let you. His hands didn’t drop far, only to your lap, but that was a little better. His unnerving smile doing nothing to comfort you as it stayed plastered across his features, completely bizarre in its poor imitation of ‘comforting’.

The was something so wrong. Even without the creatures in the room, there was something else here. Something unsettling you and making you want to run from the man you trusted so deeply.

You caught a glimpse of it.

Flashing across his eyes.

As fast and intangible as a shape beneath dark water, just as menacing as silver darted across his dulled irises.

It was like you were finally seeing what you had suspected all along. The deep brown of his eyes was muted, strangely lightened by the silvery film which seemed to sit over his gaze.

“Master…” you began carefully, the name making his hands clench to fists in your lap. “Is there something wrong?”

He blinked slowly, the flutter of his dark eyelashes strangely different than usual, the sheen of sweat on his cheek reflecting an impossible whitish-grey under the warm TARDIS lights.

“Nothing’s wrong, love.”

“Something’s wrong,” you pushed, watching as he shifted his weight, his knees no doubt aching from the bare floor of the ship beneath them.

“Something’s… different,” he conceded, looking away from a moment, hands shifting on your knees.

“What?”

“There’s… those are Cybermen. Sort of. Give or take. I took their consciousness from their leader,” he was smiling, but those eyes. It was unnerving you, the mistiness which had started to swirl across them. The sweat on his brow made him look feverish, the trembling in his hand had worsened. His whole body was shivering. “Cyberium. I took it into my own consciousness, and now it’s mine. All of Cyberman knowledge, control, it’s all mine.”

He was struggling for breath, and you sank to the floor beside him, letting him sit back and pant as his pride started to falter.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you demanded, and he raised his eyebrows in shock, looking up at you.

“Excuse me, love?”

“Why would you do that?”

You were worried. The Master’s jaw clenched, whether from irritation or pain you weren’t sure. His clothes rumpled as he fought to stay sat up on the ground, his coat buttons strained as the dusty material tugged across his chest. He looked sick. Worryingly so, his fringe plastered to his forehead with sweat. You thought of those monsters in the next room, and wondered why on earth he would want to be more like them.

“Are you telling me what to do?” he argued, but it was half-hearted. You could see concern starting to creep into his expression as your worry grew.

“I’m telling you I’m worried about you! And I don’t understand why you’d let this… parasite, or whatever, into your body willingly!”

With a roar of pain, the Master writhed, his head thud-ding against the floor as the Cyberium fought against him. Your anger was instantly forgotten. You surged forwards, one hand bruising behind his head as you protected his skull from hitting the floor again, your hands useless trying to find purchase on his body to offer comfort or... or something.

“I can see why you’re angry, in hindsight,” he ground out, doing his best at offering an award winning smile as you leant over his thrashing body.

“What’s happening?”

The silveriness of his eyes was swirling now, less settled, like it was fighting his own deep brown eyes for dominance. You wondered what war was going in that incredible mind of his.

“Taking over… it’s taking over my mind.”

“What can I –”

“There’s nothing you can do,” he panted out.

One of his hands had found your waist, a tragic imitation of the possessive hold you liked to keep on one another in public as he grasped for you. You found his hand and held it against your body, a clumsy mess of fingers as you tried to comfort him.

“It’s telepathic. It must be strong, to be a match for a time lord. I’ll give it that.”

You didn’t believe his desperate attempt to sound jovial for a second. Each word left his body in a huff of frantic breath, like he might not make it to say the next. You swallowed down tears as his legs kicked out in pain, a deep roar emerging from deep in his chest. Your hand behind his head took a beating as he writhed forwards again, only to seem possessed to throw himself back into the floor.

Not for the first time, you suspected he was cursing your humanity. Whatever was happening required a kind of telepathy your species just didn’t possess. The TARDIS hummed around you, and you gasped, staring up at the ceiling as the Master’s eyes fell closed.

His body was suddenly eerily quiet, and it scared you.

“Can you help him?” you asked the ship, forcing your ragged breath quiet and straining your ears for any sign from the ship.

A weird feeling of calm overtook you, and you understood her.

The console was lit up, a small door beneath it quietly clicking open, and you threw a ‘thank you’ to the universe that the Master had a ship as crazy as he was.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you called to her, scurrying over to the cubbyhole she’d opened, spotting a hose with a football-sized sphere at the end.

She must have sensed your confusion, because the TARDIS made the ball glow green in your hands.

“I can give him this?” you tried, still frowning as you saw his body begin to writhe again, another round of fighting starting.

You wondered how long he could hold out, he seemed exhausted. The ship around you hummed, a vague sense of ‘affirmative’ washing over you.

“Thank you,” you muttered, tugging the cable back to his body, forcing his clammy hands onto the white light of the sphere.

“Please work,” you begged, not sure who you were asking, stepping back from the connection between the Master and his ship.

He seemed semi-conscious, eyelashes fluttering but so deep within his own mind that his body had been forgotten. You could only sit back and watch.

It felt like hours passed before the Master roused, the ball in his hands an angry, pulsing chrome when he finally discarded it beside him. It slowly returned to white as the TARDIS absorbed the AI which had left his body.

“It’s gone. Well, not gone, trapped in the TARDIS systems. She’ll keep it locked away,” he seemed genuinely thrilled, and you caught yourself smiling in bemusement, “so I can reference it. But not… be it.”

“Good,” you cut him off, “I prefer you one-hundred percent time lord.”

He beamed as you planted a sweet kiss against his forehead, pulling you onto his lap, your legs bracing yourself either side of his thighs. He was still weak, exhausted. You didn’t want to risk hurting him.

“Are you sure you’re not time lord?” he teased, “You are far too clever to be a human.”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you laughed, giddy with the relief of saving him.

“I think you underestimate humans.”

He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust, and you stuck your tongue out at him. You watched his face morph into a smirk as you leant forwards to kiss him instead, eyes closing.

Distantly you registered the metallic footsteps of those creatures behind you, wondered when the Master had time to call them, but you were preoccupied. There was a time lord kissing you and you were incredibly glad he was still alive to do it.

His hands snaked behind you, one pulling you closer to him against your back, the other making its way up your spine to gently cup your neck. The touch felt like him again, none of the hostility he’d had with the cyberium in his mind.

You took a moment to be grateful for the TARDIS again, projecting the thought, and felt the Master laugh against your lips.

“She’s the real genius between us,” you mumbled against the corner of his mouth, tasting the ash and sweat of his skin and not caring in the slightest.

How could you care, with him laughing and smiling beneath your lips?

“Don’t say that, it’ll go to her time rotor.”

“Ew.”

His body was soft beneath you, the colour returning to his face, and you were beyond glad to look into his eyes and see nothing but their usual blood-shot appearance.

“You are so stupid for doing that,” you chided jokingly, knowing he would roll his eyes before he did it.

“I got caught up in the moment,” he argued, never one to concede a mistake. You smirked.

“Idiot.”

A squeal of shock left you as he flipped both of you, pining you underneath him, careful not to hurt you as he feigned irritation.

“I’ll have to punish you for that, I’ve burned planets for less.”

“Scary,” you jabbed sarcastically, pulling a face at him.

As he laughed, too exhausted to follow through on any kind of ‘threat’, you froze.

The Master knew something was wrong immediately, as he saw you staring over his shoulder at the huge, metallic creature staring blindly down at you. The void behind those eyes was chilling, even the Master’s body over yours doing nothing to stifle your shiver.

“Did you tell it to do that?” you whispered to him, your stomach plummeting as the creature’s head tilted slightly to the side in comprehension.

The Master shook his head, hands guiding you to stay behind him as he slowly moved to stand, a sudden silence settling over the console room.

The creature stepped forwards, arm outstretched, the metallic ring of five others following it. The lights of the TARDIS had turned a deep, unpleasant silver, the ship dark and shadows shifting. The time rotor was red.

The Master’s fingers trembled as his left hand reached for his TCE, his right hand making its way behind his back. His sleeve slipped to reveal a vortex manipulator on his wrist, and you felt your stomach plummeting at the thought of what those creatures might do with a TARDIS at their disposal.

You took a deep breath, holding onto him tightly. A shot rang out across the room, and you felt the ground whipped from beneath your feet, the Master’s victorious cheer following you through the teleport.

#dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #the end felt so 2011 doctor who lol #love it #fic #13atoms #request

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Night Dream Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Disney Dates Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Lucien

The date begins with MC in another city to attend a Film and Television Culture Summit

She hasn’t had the time to look around the city

A random woman who got along pretty well with MC during the Summit starts advertising for Disney:

Woman: Want to go to the famous amusement park? No matter who you are, you can find your own form of happiness there.

MC refuses because she finds it too lonesome to go on her own

The woman responds by pointing at Victor who's standing at a corner

Woman: Don’t you have someone with you?

After the meeting has ended, Victor finally has a rare moment of leisure.

MC: Would Victor really be willing to accompany me?

I lower my head and mutter softly, not noticing that Victor has already walked over to my side.

Victor: What are you mumbling about again?

While I was originally hesitant to ask, I decide to give it a try after meeting his eyes.

MC: Victor, do you want to...

Victor: Do you want to go to the amusement park?

MC: Eh?

Victor: I guessed you would be interested.

MC: Mm! I’m going, I’m going!

I hurriedly nod, as though afraid he would change his mind. I pull him and we leave the venue.

Victor: What’s the rush?

MC: This is such a rare chance, of course we have to grasp it. Also, we don’t know how long we’d get to play since a lot of the incredible attractions would have pretty lengthy queues at this time. Basically - every second counts! Let’s go, let’s go!

By the time they reach the amusement park, it’s already sunset

It’s completely empty apart from a few staff members

MC wonders if the park has already closed, but Victor just holds her hand and walks to the entrance

Ticketing staff: Welcome! This is an amusement park handbook specially created for you. We hope you can enjoy today’s dream journey to your heart’s content!

Upon seeing us, the ticketing staff enthusiastically greets us and allows us to enter the park. He also gives me an amusement park handbook.

Before I can make sense of what’s happening, a line of staff members walk towards us with an enthusiastic welcome.

Before the last staff member leaves, he even helps me put on a delicate necklace with a heart-shaped pendant.

As far as I can tell, the two of us are the only visitors in the entire park.

The attractions, which always have long queues of visitors, are now waiting for us to enter and experience.

MC: Am I dreaming?!

With a bend of his finger, Victor flicks my forehead gently.

Victor: Does it hurt?

I cover my forehead and give it a rub.

MC: So it isn’t a dream! But there isn’t a single person here at this time... is there a special activity today?

Victor: I rented the park.

The way Victor casually mentions this fact leaves me with no idea how to react. I’m frozen to the spot.

Victor: Didn’t you say that the amusement park is very interesting, and that you wanted to play? Since we’re already here, why not ride your favourite attractions instead of standing dumbfounded? Who was the one who just said that every second counts?

MC: You’re not wrong to say that... but this is too sudden, and since we don’t have to queue, I really don’t know where to start...

Victor: Dummy. There’s still a lot of time, so you can decide slowly.

My mind still blank, I open the amusement park handbook to decide on a route.

The handbook has meticulously marked out a suggested route. There is a strange sentence on the title page --

“The key to entering the dream is in the hand of the dragon. Adventurers who dare to embark on this journey may even find the dragon’s lost treasure.”

MC: Eh? Did you plan this?

Victor leans over to look at the handbook in my hands, then thinks for a moment.

Victor: No. But the staff confirmed the prize for this small game with me beforehand.

Hearing this, my interest is piqued.

MC: Does this mean you’re the “dragon” in the handbook?

Even though the “evil dragon” is Victor, I, as the “Adventurer”, will do my best to see what exactly awaits.

MC: I won’t be soft-handed. I’ll definitely find that treasure!

Victor: ...

Victor looks at me resignedly, as though he wants to say something. In the end, he actually doesn’t call me “childish”.

Victor: Since I've already brought you here, you can do what you want.

The first place marked on the handbook is the Fountain Square

The hint: “Touch the stars and follow the river of light to take the first step.”

MC decides to walk through the water columns (the ones that spray water from the ground every few seconds) since they reflect light

MC finds a box

When she tries to go back, she realises the water columns have become more difficult to avoid

She almost gets hit by a water column and Victor steps in, taking her wrist and leading her out of the Fountain Square

Victor: Where else have you gotten wet?

Victor helps me tuck damp hair behind my hair, then signals to me to take off my drenched coat.

He’s always so prepared and at ease.

Since this is an amusement park, can I do things that I wouldn't normally do?

Emboldened for some unknown reason, I shake my head with force. As expected, water droplets splash onto Victor.

Victor: You...?

MC: This is an amusement park. You’re not allowed to say that I’m childish. You’re also not allowed to say that I'm a dummy after I've been serious with my work and learnt a lot over the past few days. Rest and relaxation are necessities for a human.

Without waiting for Victor to speak, I’ve already spouted a ton of odd logic in a single breath.

He watches me with knitted brows. After a long time, his expression smoothens slightly.

Victor: Sophistry.

Even though he says this, the corners of his mouth are curled upwards more than usual.

Opening the box, MC finds the next hint: “To ensure your safety, bring a present to meet the dragon.”

While MC is wondering where to get the gift, she spots a smaller hint: “I’m definitely not telling you that the present is in the souvenir shop at the next spot!”

In the souvenir shop, MC is struggling to figure out what she should get

She suddenly recalls the Donald Duck doll she bought a few days ago - she has been bringing it around because his expression looks exactly the same as Victor’s -

Eyebrows furrowed, but with an incredibly tender gaze and touch.

MC is about to hand the doll over to him but hesitates.

MC: I predict that you’re going to call me childish again...

I mutter softly, wanting to retract my hand.

With a gentle laugh, Victor takes the doll from me.

Victor: It suits you more.

He hooks the doll onto my bag. Even though he didn’t directly accept the gift, the smile on his lips is obvious.

Perhaps due to the unique magic of the amusement park, everyone is able to immerse in its gentle, lively atmosphere.

Come to think of it, even though Victor doesn’t look like he suits an amusement park, he has already cooperated with my “childishness” from the start.

Victor: Look around more carefully?

He points to the merchandise shelf at the side. With this, I realise that next to the dolls, there is a card, as well as a box the shape of a golden apple.

MC retrieves the card. In the golden apple box, there’s:

MC: Pudding?

Whether it was intentional or unintentional by the staff, this “meeting gift” is the thing that best hooks the sweetness in my heart.

Victor: If you like it, eat it. It’s fine with me.

Guessing my thoughts, Victor releases an amused breath.

MC: What about the gift for the dragon?

He points at the doll from just now.

Victor: This is enough.

I relax, using the spoon to give it a try.

The pudding is silky and tender, drizzled with just the right amount of sweet caramel. Coupled with the unique golden apple packaging, it is very delicious.

MC: Even though your pudding is number one in my heart, this one is not bad... it tastes very good! Do you want to try?

I ask with a smile, taking another scoop.

Victor holds my wrist lightly, leans over, and brings the spoon into his mouth.

Before the sudden heat from my wrist dissipates, the spoon trembles slightly.

Eyes half-lidded, his eyelashes cast a faint shadow.

I watch as he opens his mouth slightly, holding onto the spoon.

For some reason, watching his bobbing Adam’s apple makes my face turn red involuntarily.

Even though we aren’t standing very close, the surrounding air turns hot and dry.

I tear my eyes away and force myself to think about something else.

MC suddenly has a realisation

If I’m the “Adventurer” who is supposed to challenge the dragon, why has Victor been by my side all this time, even giving me hints from time to time?

Aside from containing a new clue, the small words on the card in my hand seem to be giving me a hint.

“The mighty black dragon’s most prized possession is perhaps not the golden treasure, but the thing he cherishes the most in life.”

Victor: What’s wrong? Have you thought of something?

I can only blink, continuing to share the pudding in my hand with him.

MC: Shall we go to the next location?

Even though I have a rough guess, I decide to wait till I’m more certain before telling him.

This guess makes me feel as though the temperature has risen by several degrees.

The final location is the Ferris wheel, which is lit up but not moving

The hint is: “Under the rotation of time is the treasure trove of the immortal black dragon.”

There’s a locked fence separating them from the Ferris wheel, but MC is unable to find the key

MC: I’ve lost this time, Mr Evil Dragon. Looks like I won’t be getting your treasure.

I pretend to pat Victor “magnanimously”, a sense of disappointment in my heart.

It’s so rare that we get to come to the amusement park together. I wanted to have a complete experience with him.

Victor laughs softly.

Victor: Dummy.

Victor comes closer to me, His forefinger, which has a temperature slightly higher than mine, trails along my collarbone and hooks the necklace the staff member had helped me put on just now.

He flicks the pendant gently. With a soft click, the pendant opens.

In it, there’s a small golden key.

MC: This is...

He hands the key to me.

Victor: To make things equal, I should give this to you.

The doll he hooked onto my bag earlier swings along with our movements, as though expressing its excitement and blessings in its own way.

The small golden key glistens faintly in my hand.

“The key to entering the dream is in the hand of the dragon.”

So this is what the handbook means.

With the final obstruction removed by the small golden key, the treasure is closer than ever before.

The Ferris wheel plays lively music and begins moving.

Victor: Not bad.

Victor pulls the door to the Ferris wheel open, and does a gesture of invitation.

The lights that are more beautiful than a dream, the gradually ascending Ferris wheel, and the final treasure box paint a full-stop on today.

MC: Is this the treasure?

I look at Victor. He simply lifts his chin, signalling that I should open the box.

An adorable doll sits obediently inside it. There’s also an invitation card which reads: This is an invitation to Miss MC to enjoy tonight’s firework display, specially customised for you.

The small font at the bottom leaves me feeling slightly confused.

“The Brave One has not yet appeared. The treasure is once again under the dragon’s wing: The end of the dream is a new beginning.”

MC: “The Brave One has not yet appeared”?

These two short sentences are the answers to the guess I had before.

If I’m not the Adventurer...

If my appearance has made the treasure return to the dragon’s nest once again...

And since the key has always been with me from the start...

MC: If I’m not overthinking all of this, could the dragon’s treasure be...?

I hold onto the invitation card, unsure if I should ask.

Victor doesn’t say a word, and seems to be waiting for me.

MC: Did someone tell you about this game?

Victor: Yes.

MC: You also know the final prize.

Victor: You’re right.

MC: So the “treasure”...

Victor: Is the dummy who walked right into the trap.

In a moment, his breath invades my senses.

The Ferris wheel gradually makes its ascent, and the firework display is about to begin.

The steady movement of the capsule brings us to the border between reality and fantasy, and we enter a most magnificent dream.

At the highest point, we don’t welcome the descent.

The Ferris wheel halts where the scenery is the most vast, and is facing the nearby castle.

Our eyes soak in the night colours of the entire amusement park.

The fireworks are like shooting stars, blooming around us, dyeing the sky in dazzling colours.

I hold the doll up, putting it close to Victor’s ear.

MC: I’ve been found by the two of you! Thank you~ MC wants me to tell you that she hopes you can find eternal happiness!

Victor: That’s all you want to say to me?

I put the doll down. Although I feel slightly shy, I try my best to look at him seriously.

The night colours in his eyes are a hundred times deeper and more magnificent.

MC: Thank you. I’m really very happy today. I hope I never have to wake up from this dream.

He releases a light breath. He shifts the doll away slightly, and hugs me more tightly.

Victor: Didn’t you already confirm earlier that this isn’t a dream?

MC: I want to do something for you, and hope that today is a very happy day for you too.

I give my entire focus to Victor, wrapping my arms around his neck.

MC: Even if it’s just by a little bit, I want to increase your happiness meter.

My voice is very soft, and I’m not even sure if he can hear me.

Victor: I already have everything I want.

His silhouette looks especially tender under the sparkling lights.

The midnight bell sounds, but the magic does not disappear. Everything in our surroundings halt.

We’re the only ones left in the entire world.

Victor tugs my hand lightly towards him, and plants a kiss on the back of it.

This light touch is akin to a burning seal.

I seem to have forgotten how to breathe.

Victor: You’re really a dummy.

He laughs, his warm breath brushing my fingers.

In the next second, the soft touch is on my joints, between my fingers.

The only thing I can see and think of are his eyes - they are calm, yet contain a faint flow of emotions.

The black dragon protecting its treasure since the beginning of time, and who has left a mark on my soul, is the most important person to me.

This amusement park, where all fantasies are allowed and fulfilled, weave the most romantic magic to all who visit.

Victor’s Post: Looks like a certain person is very satisfied with this trip to the amusement park.

MC: You were very happy too!

Victor: I don’t deny that.

Victor’s Post: Looks like a certain person is very satisfied with this trip to the amusement park.

MC: If there’s a chance next time, we have to come back again!

Victor: There will be many chances - it depends on your performance.

Victor’s Post: Looks like a certain person is very satisfied with this trip to the amusement park.

MC: Satisfied! Very satisfied! What about you?

Victor: Seeing you running here and there was quite interesting.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #my favourite from the collection

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justanobsessedfangirl · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Shy - Chapter 6 - The Maze Runner Newt Fic

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Once Bitten, Twice Shy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list...or if I was supposed to tag you and I forgot...

Word Count: 2.8k

The boys carried Alby to the Med-Jack Hut as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. At first, he twitched infrequently, muttering softly, but then he was writhing and screaming in agony, twisting this way and that, biting at Gladers like a feral animal.

Once inside the Hut, he only grew louder. You watched as Clint administered the serum that would save Alby’s life, and you heard as Alby’s roars turned guttural.

It hurt to watch them tie him to the bed. How could someone as strong as Alby, the leader of the whole Glade for as long as you’d been there, be reduced to that?

It was all too much. Too much pain, too much loss, too much grief. As Alby shrieked in one room with Newt by his side, Minho and Thomas were patched up in another, and you slipped out the door. You paced the length of the building, came back to the door, turned around again, reached the end of the building, turned around, again and again and again, trying to beat the thoughts out of your brain.

Fear and relief fought for dominance over your emotions. You wanted to grieve for Alby, to celebrate for Minho and Thomas. You wanted to cry big fat tears of sadness, and you wanted to smile so hard your eyes welled up.

How could you be at once terrified for Alby and immeasurably happy for Minho and Thomas? How could Alby get handed a death sentence, but Thomas kill a Griever? Who had designed this cruel twist of fate?

Your steps never slowed as you began shifting the blame onto the people who put you in the Glade.

It’s their fault. It’s all their fault. Every single life lost in here, every nightmare, every frown. The Creators did this.

The Hut door creaked open. You whirled around, expecting Minho or Thomas or Newt, expecting a sign of hope, and saw Margaret.

Her red hair was tied up in a ponytail, giving her an air of self-assurance. The way she held herself was so much stronger than that girl who’d cowered in the Box that you almost did a double-take.

Instead, with your thoughts bouncing from one worry to the next, a question from the back of your mind spilled out. “I thought you worked in the Gardens?”

If Margaret was surprised by your question, she didn’t show it. Right then, she seemed unshakeable. “I was helping for the day,” she replied. She wiped her hands on her jeans, leaving behind dark bloody streaks that made your insides grow cold, then looked back to you, raising her chin proudly. “I’ve been spending the rest of my time with Clint and Jeff.”

Except for when you were making out with Newt--you forced the thought away. That was over. Done. You’d made a kind of peace with Newt; you could do the same with Margaret, especially after she came to Alby’s aid.

You’d been kneeling next to Alby, only a few feet from the Maze doors, just staring at the sting. The grass had tickled your knees. The wind had whispered through your hair. You had only stared.

And then Margaret was there. She’d nudged you out of your dumbfounded stupor, moving you enough that she could start applying pressure to Alby’s sting. When she barked out orders, Gladers leapt to obey. She’d made you a glorified table, shoving supplies into your hands until she was ready for them, and you would’ve thanked her if you could get any words out because she was saving Alby’s life. You’d stuck to her side and held bandages the entire time they carried Alby to the Med-Jack Hut.

“Clint says the Grief Serum will save Alby, and Thomas and Minho are fine, except for a few cuts and bruises.” Margaret’s voice was soft, matching her smile. “And Minho says he’s starved, but he’s just being dramatic.”

An unintentional grin pulled at your lips, bringing a reprieve from the memory of Alby’s wound. “Good to know he’s still a diva. I was worried.”

“It was really brave of all of them to go in...there. I don’t know how you Runners do that.”

Your smile slipped away. Alby shouldn’t have been there, not with just Minho. Not without you. And if you had gone, maybe Thomas never would have needed to go, to witness the true horrors that roamed the Maze at night. You picked your words carefully. “I don’t know how you Med-Jacks do what you do.” There it was again, behind your eyes: the hole in Alby’s stomach. Remembering the look on Alby’s face brought a wave of nausea. “Don’t you feel guilty--” your words were cut off when a howl of agony rose from the Med-Jack Hut. You winced, but Margaret squared her shoulders and ducked back inside.

You lingered by the door. Your feet itched to run away, as far as you could, anywhere where you wouldn’t have to hear anymore. They refused to take a single step closer to the building. It took every ounce of your restraint to even stay rooted near the Hut.

I will not run. You repeated it like a mantra. I will not run I will not run I will not run-

Margaret appeared again. She nodded at you, a confident Everything is under control nod, and closed the door behind her, leaving the pair of you alone outside once more.

“If you’re stung and you don’t get the Serum, you die,” Margaret stated. “If you do get the Serum, you live.”

“But you have to go through that.” You pointed at the door. Behind it, you could strain your ears and hear the sound of Alby pulling at his restraints, bucking wildly on the bed, just like he had been when you left. “And after you go through that, you still might end up crazy.” You spat the words out, even though it wasn’t Margaret’s fault Ben tried to murder Thomas. It wasn’t Margaret’s fault Ben was dead or Alby was stung or everything was changing.

“But you have a chance.”

It was so simple you didn’t know how to respond.

Margaret continued. “We gave Alby a chance. That’s all we can do.” She let her words hang in the air for a few seconds, then took a small step forward. “And…well…I was hoping you could give me a chance too. Time is so precious here. I don’t want to waste any more of it.”

You caught a glimpse of determination in her green eyes before you looked away, back to the door, hoping for Minho or Thomas or Newt to walk out so you could leave. Your heartbeat picked up, your muscles readied themselves for a sprint. You didn’t want to hear her apologize -- if she apologized then who could you be mad at? Who should you be mad at? How was it okay to try being friends with Newt if you didn’t give Margaret another chance too?

“Y/N, I want you to know that I’m really sorry.”

You nearly bolted.

Margaret kept talking, her voice smooth and calm, like she was trying to coax a feral animal into a trap. “When I first came up in the Box, I was so scared.”

“We all were.”

Margaret nodded. There wasn’t a trace of anger on her face. You almost wanted there to be, because then you would have an excuse to get mad. You wouldn’t have to stand here and try to be an adult, try to have a rational conversation. You could blow up and run away and not have to feel guilty because she was mad too.

“I was terrified, like everyone is when they arrive,” Margaret said. And when I saw that there were only boys, I was even more scared. I know you probably felt that way too.”

You said nothing, but memories of the day you woke up in the Box still plagued your nightmares sometimes, especially recently, now that you slept alone. The fear of the unknown as the elevator rose. The panic upon seeing all boys. The deep, freezing, overwhelming horror when you saw the walls.

“Seeing another girl helped,” Margaret’s voice had your full attention, but you couldn’t look at her. You kept your gaze steady on the door. “And Newt helped too. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear that.”

“He helps everyone when they get here.” You were too defensive. He didn’t deserve you being so defensive. Were you acting like this to protect Newt or because you wanted to go against Margaret?

It’s for Newt, one part of your mind thought, while another part raged against her.

Margaret nodded again. “He really helped me adjust to being here. He’s a good leader. We...we spent a lot of time in the Gardens together the first few days.”

It was starting to get painful. You squeezed your eyes shut, but that only made you picture them together. He was smiling the way he only did for you, or the way he used to do for you, and it made your chest ache.

Margaret quickly said, “We weren’t doing anything, though! It was just friendly. We were just friends.”

“Friends don’t kiss,” you spat. In only three words, you’d channeled enough anger to make Margaret go pale. The confidence she had from being in her element was drifting away, her shoulders drawing in, her arms wrapping around herself. She was shrinking before your eyes.

You felt a stab of guilt.

“We only kissed once, I swear! And it didn’t mean anything! Not to either of us. He was comforting me and it just happened. I was upset because…” Margaret trailed off. She took a deep breath. “I was upset because I didn’t feel like I could contribute. I didn’t want everyone thinking I was just another mouth to feed. I didn’t want to be someone who couldn’t help out, who just took. I want to help. I need to help. I wanted to be,” Margaret crossed her arms across her chest as if daring you to argue, “I wanted to be as dependable as you, not some weak girl who could barely dig a hole.”

You thought you must have misheard her, but she was looking at you earnestly, her eyes bright and her mouth set into a firm line.

“And I did find something I can do. I’m a Med-Jack.” She wasn’t trying to squeeze herself into a tight ball anymore. Margaret stood there, a far cry from the scared girl who’d come up in the Box, and said, “I’m proud of where I am, but there are still a lot of things I wish I could take back. You know the main one, but I won’t go into it. I don’t think you want me to.”

You quickly shook your head. Staring at her, at the true version of Margaret, not the one who’d been warped by bitter, angry memories, made you let out a weak laugh. “I’d rather get stung by a Griever.”

A small, playful smile crept onto Margaret’s face. It was shy and timid and eager -- the kind of smile a teenager is supposed to have. “I could fix you up after.” Her tone edged the border between serious and light.

At some point, your eyes had locked onto hers. You let them drift now, glancing to the door. “I bet you could.” You took a deep breath. “Thank you. For saving Alby. And helping the others. You do contribute to the Glade.”

Margaret’s face opened to a sweet, satisfied grin. “Thank you.”

She looked like she was waiting for you to say more. The door started to open, so you rushed out, “And maybe we could try being friends.” Then you darted towards Minho, reaching him when he only had one foot in the grass, and threw your arms around him.

Minho’s laugh sounded like music. “Careful, I’m delicate!” he complained as Thomas slunk out behind him.

You scoffed and pulled away to jab Minho in the side. “No, you’re not.”

When you looked up at him, it was all you could do not to hug him again. Aside from a few scratches and a small bruise on his cheekbone, he looked exactly like the person you’d spent months running through the Maze with. He looked exactly like your partner.

Alby’s wailing shattered your peace. You and Minho moved away from the Med-Jack Hut. He nudged the door closed with his foot.

Minho’s demeanor had darkened at the sound of Alby. There was less joy in his voice when he said, “We’re having a Gathering today.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Because of him?” You jerked your chin at Thomas.

Thomas shrugged and muttered, “You mean this isn’t what Greenies usually do?”

Margaret giggled.

Turning back to Minho, you asked, hope lacing your words, “You’re going to make him a Runner, right?”

“I’m going to try.” Shaking his head, Minho added, “Some shanks are upset about what he did, though.”

The corners of your lips pulled down. You’d heard Gladers talking while they passed by the Med-Jack Hut when you’d been waiting. Most had been in awe of Thomas’s bravery, but a few, namely one loud-mouthed blond Builder, couldn’t get over the fact that Thomas had broken a rule. “What did Newt say?”

Minho heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “He’s on our side, but who knows how the Gathering will go. If Gally picks up steam…”

You shook your head, directing your attention to Thomas. “I’m with you. You should be considered a hero.” Thomas ducked his head, but you weren’t sure if he was embarrassed or reliving last night’s dark memories. You kept talking. “What you did took ten times more courage than Gally has ever shown. Newt knows that too.”

“Newt knows what?” Newt’s voice rose over the creak of the door opening. As he emerged from the Med-Jack Hut, he looked as though he’d aged 10 years. Already, you could see the stress settling on his shoulders, weighing him down.

There was a yearning inside of you to pull him close and take as much of the burden as you could, like you’d done for each other in the past.

But that was the past and this was your present, so you said, “You know Thomas should be a Runner. He killed a Griever. We need him.”

“I’m not the one you need to convince, love.” Newt glanced at the sky, where the afternoon sun hung heavy and golden. “But I guess it’s time to find out how everyone else feels.” With that, he started walking in the direction of the Homestead.

Nearly everyone looked as surprised as you felt by Newt’s abruptness.

Margaret was the exception. She still wore that confident, serene expression when she said, “Good luck, everyone. I’m on your side too, Thomas, if that counts for anything.”

“Thanks.” Thomas watched Margaret until she disappeared into the Hut and shut the door behind her. When she was gone, he shook his head, as if clearing his mind, then shifted his focus to Minho and you.

“I’m going to walk with Newt. I’ll see you guys in a bit?” You didn’t wait for a reply. After a few seconds of light jogging, you were next to Newt.

He was frowning. Everything about him was moving down; his eyebrows were drawn together, the bags under his eyes were heavy, the corners of his lips pointed south, and he walked like a man going to his execution.

“You can do this, Newt.” The words flowed freely. “You can be the leader. You can figure this out.”

Newt stared straight ahead. “I’ve never run a Gathering without Alby. I don’t know what to do with that empty seat next to me.” The accent over his words was thick.

You didn’t second guess yourself when you reached out and took his hand. Immediately, he squeezed, gripping you like you were a life preserver and he was drowning. “Alby will be okay.”

“He won’t be the same.”

“But he has a chance.” Those were Margaret’s words coming out of your mouth, but you found yourself believing them more as you said them. “He has a chance, and we have a chance. To escape.”

With every step you took, you grew closer to the Homestead and Newt’s posture straightened.

He looked down at you. His eyes were deep pools of brown, so soft and warm you wanted to drift asleep right there. “We have a chance,” he repeated.

The two of you stopped outside the Homestead door. Your hand slipped out of his. For a second, your pinkies stayed joined, like you were promising each other that you would take your chance.

Then you broke apart.

Tag List:

@anyasthoughts @mara-twins @anapocalypseinmymind @maddeleinegrace @xmberkxm @dreamerinthesun @hungermazes @harpersmariano

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jamaisjoons · 4 years

Text

dead leaves & wasted roses ⤑ pjm | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 by sheer luck, or as if destiny bound as he liked to think of it, jimin had met you. and then, in a blink of an eye, and in a cruel twist of fate, he'd instantly lost you. 〞unrequieted love au. college au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: jimin x reader ː seokjin x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: some pining, unrequited love obvs, nO HAPPY ENDING IM SORRY, this one hurts no doubt, unintentional voyeurism, lots of heartbreak - a lot of it because Jimin is/was oblivious, rough sex, unprotected sex, mentions of being handcuffed, dom!seokjin, mentions of seokjins big wang, sub!reader, dirty talk, creampie

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: will i ever stop hurting jimin like this? hopefully, one day. anywAY, you can all blame miss emma for this because she said no happy endings but that’s just how it be sometimes.

⏤ part of the ‘Outro: Tear’ angst collab hosted by the wonderful miss emma @personawife

⏤ beta read by my love @shadowsremedy

Coffee in hand and sling bag dangling over his shoulder, Jimin sprints across campus - trying his hardest not to spill the steaming hot beverage over himself. Of all days to wake up late, he just had to choose today. Usually, Jimin wouldn’t really care if he was running late - but today was his first dance class and he desperately didn’t want to be late. Especially since he wanted to make a good first impression on his dance instructor - Profess Son - the man was practically a legend in the dance industry. However, just as he nears the large dance building, Jimin finds himself halting.

Eyebrows furrowing, he watches as you look around in nervous confusion, a folded paper in one of your hands while the other clutches your bag tightly - as if it were your only lifeline. Your hair is thrown up into a messily neat bun - stray flyaway hairs framing your face - and you’re dressed in a large hoodie and leggings. Nose scrunching slightly, Jimin recognises the hoodie - a mirror to his - and a gift from the college to all the dancers.

You’re a dancer?

Despite himself, Jimin finds himself slowing his pace before coming to a stop in front of you. Feeling his presence behind you, you turn around, your eyes widening slightly. Gracing you with a friendly smile, “Do you need some help? You look a little lost,” Jimin asks.

Biting your lip, you nod before holding out your piece of paper. Letting go of the strap of your bag, you unfold the paper and Jimin’s eyebrow raises at the map of the campus.

“I’m trying to get to the dance building, but I can’t seem to find it. This entire campus is so large, it’s a little confusing,” you reply before stopping. Jimin chuckles at the slip-up, watching your cheeks heat up as you stare sheepishly at him. “Sorry, I barely had any sleep last night and I’m basically just running on caffeine,” you reply.

Jimin shakes his head, “It’s alright. We’ve all been there. I’m heading to the building right now, if you wanna follow me?” Jimin suggests. Your eyes lighting up, you grace him with a beaming smile as you nod eagerly. Imperceptibly, Jimin’s eyes widen as he takes in your carefree smile - his heart fluttering inside his chest. Squashing down the feeling, Jimin gestures for you to follow him.

“So, you’re a dance student?” Jimin asks - there’s a high chance you are a dance student - but just because you’re heading to the dance building, doesn’t mean you’re a student there: the building was frequented by other departments to use the spacious rooms for their lectures. The hoodie would have also been a giveaway - if it weren’t for the fact that he knew anyone could buy the hoodies from the university’s gift shop.

“My outfit isn’t a giveaway?” you ask, looking at him from the corner of your eyes with a teasing smile. Jimin shifts his gaze away, the apples of his cheeks flushing with heat. Laughing, “yeah, I am. I transferred in from New York. I should have been here a week ago, but there were issues with my enrollment and my flight was delayed which means I didn’t really get here until last night. Then, with the time difference and all I just couldn’t… sleep…” you begin only to slow down before looking at him sheepishly. “God, sorry. There I go, just rambling again with my life story. Just stop me - I have a tendency to overshare,” you apologise. Jimin’s eyes soften before he shakes his head.

“You’re alright! Don’t worry about it. But you transferred in from America? That’s pretty cool,” Jimin says as he leads you up the stairs and towards one of the dance studios.

“Yeah, I studied dance in New York until last year and then I decided to move back to Seoul,” you reply. Confusion colours Jimin’s face as he looks at you with incredulity.

“You moved here from New York to study dance? Are you sure that was the right decision?” Jimin asks. If he could, he’d move to America to pursue dance as a career the first chance he got.

“Stupid, right? A lot of my friends questioned whether I was making the right decision - but, I’ve been studying dance in America ever since I was young - and well, I just missed home. Not to mention, as much as I love it, I don’t think I want to pursue just dance as a career you know? At least here, I can still study dance while learning something else,” you reply, shrugging nonchalantly. Through the corner of his eyes, Jimin stares at you in wonder. He couldn’t help but feel some inclination of admiration towards you; it must have been a hard decision to make - to leave New York and return to Seoul.

“We’re here. Just a heads up, Professor Son may be a little mad we’re late,” Jimin replies, looking at you sheepishly. Really, he should have hurried you both along - but despite your tardiness, he wanted to spend more time talking to you. Grimacing internally, Jimin kicks himself. He’d only just met you, yet here he was acting like a schoolboy with a crush just because he was mildly attracted to you.

Shaking your head, further strands of hair fall out of your messy bun, Jimin’s heart fluttering again at the adorably unkempt state of your hair. “No, it’s alright. It really was my fault, I should have woken up earlier and also should have probably asked for directions beforehand,” you reply, an embarrassed smile painted on your lips as you tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Jimin’s eyes follow the movement of your hair, and watching as you duck your head slightly, he can’t help but find you even more endearing.

He stares at you for a couple more moments, before “Don’t you think we should go in?” you ask, looking at him expectantly. Jerking, Jimin sends you a sheepish smile before nodding. He takes in a deep breath before placing his hand on the door hand and twisting it.

As soon as the door opens, every single student turns towards you, looking at the two of you expectantly. Cheeks tinged pink, Jimin’s eyes turn downcast, trying to avoid the heavily peering gaze of the students. Small footsteps echo in the quiet, followed by the rustle of fabric as Jimin feels you shift behind him, using his frame to hide yourself. Feeling the shyness practically exuding off your body, Jimin steels his nerves before squaring his shoulders and walking in.

“You’re both late,” Professor Son’s voice carried across the eerily quiet studio. The rest of your peers turn to the professor, before turning back to the two of you, their gaze shifting as they wonder what’s going to happen.

Previous bravado forgotten, Jimin simply looks at Professor Son in embarrassment. However, before he can mumble out an apology, you’re stepping forward. “I’m sorry,” you apologise with a bow, your loose bun tilting and dropping further. Jimin looks at you in surprise, Professor Son directing his attention to you instead. Standing back up from your low bow, “It’s all my fault. I’m ____, I only got in yesterday and...,” you trail off.

Jimin perks up, before supplying, “Jimin.” How had he forgotten to introduce himself early? God, how embarrassing.

“Jimin helped me get here. It’s all my fault we’re late,” you continue, taking full responsibility. Puzzlement colours Jimin’s face, his features twisting as he looks at you curiously. He was already late before he’d even met you, so why were you lying- Oh.

Oh.

You were lying so that he didn’t get in trouble. Heart fluttering in his chest again, Jimin can’t help but bite his lips as he stares at the back of your head.

“Oh, I see. Yes, I’ve heard about your transfer from New York. You had a very impressive application,” Professor Son says before turning back towards Jimin, “Thank you for escorting her. You can both join the rest of the class. We’re just discussing different contemporary ballet techniques,” Professor Son continues as the two of you take seats on the outskirts of the group. Jimin watches as Professor Son turns back to his PowerPoint, the screen displaying dancers in different positions - but, before he can continue his lecture, he pauses once again before turning towards you.

“Actually- ____, you specialised in contemporary ballet back in New York. Would you mind demonstrating a piece for us?” Professor Son asks. The entire class turns towards you, your cheeks flushing with heat at the sudden attention. As you blink owlishly, Jimin can practically see the gears inside your head twisting before you nod, almost hesitantly.

Gaze following your every movement, Jimin watches as you stand up and step towards the front of the class. Daintily, you slip off your shoes before sliding off your socks so you’re left barefoot. Then, shrugging off your hoodie, you fold it neatly before gently placing it next to your footwear. Turning to Professor Son, you nod at him to start the track.

A steady beat begins emanating from the speakers littered around the corners of the room. The class hushes to a dead silence as the song fills the silence, echoing through the studio. However, Jimin notices none of it - instead, completely fixated on you. You haven’t moved yet, your body completely still as you listen to the beat - almost as if you were soaking it into your bones. A somewhat heavy tension filters through the air, the entire class on the edge of their seats as they await your first movement. Jimin has no doubt that everyone is curious about the student who left New York for Seoul to study dance.

Suddenly, the beat changes, the song starting as the introduction of it dies out - and with that simple note change, comes your first movement. Few hushed gasps echo around the room as they watch you move - but Jimin doesn’t think you notice any of them. No - he doesn’t think you even pay attention to anyone around you. Your eyes are hazy, practically glazed over and yet, Jimin notes the way you move completely effortlessly to the rhythm of the song.

Body twisting in intricate movements, your muscles are completely relaxed. Each movement flows seamlessly into the next one and Jimin can’t help but hold his breath. You move gracefully, captivatingly, flawlessly. His unwavering attention on you, he simply can’t find it in himself to look away - your body elegantly moving around the front of the studio and enticing him further and further into you. With every passing moment, Jimin sees the way you sink further and further into the song, your movements somehow becoming sharper, more fluid as your concentration increases. But the further you sink into the song, the further Jimin drowns in you - the rest of the class fading away as he loses himself into you. He doesn’t think he’s seen anyone as bewitching as you.

Hell, there, just dancing, lost in your own world, Jimin doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more beautiful.

Limbs waving about balletically, it's as if you have no bones, every muscle moving with perfect control. Watching your performance, Jimin can’t help, but feel as if you are made of music yourself, as if the beat and rhythm of the song flows directly through your veins, aiding your gliding body. Jimin has no idea how long you dance for, time has all but faded away as he completely submerses himself into your movement, his eyes following your each and every movement. A small part of him wishes you would dance forever, just so he could watch you forever.

However, just as quickly as he loses himself into you, you stop, the music fading to a lull. The entire class is quiet, your heavy breathing echoing as you pant for air. Sweat stains your forehead, a light sheen of perspiration coating your muscles and hairline. Then, all of a sudden, the silence breaks as thunderous applause fills the air. The abrupt sound jerks Jimin out of his reverie, a heavy exhale leaving his mouth as he lets out the breath he’d been holding. Somehow, without him even realising, you’d taken his breath away.

Blushing under their appraisal, you bow gratefully to the class before quickly walking back to your place beside Jimin. Professor Son congratulates you, causing you to duck your head in shyness at his appraisal - but Jimin doesn’t care about any of it. Instead, he simply stares at you in awe, his gaze flitting all over you as he tries to take in as much of you as he can.

Then, you turn to him and grace him with the most beautiful smile he’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing - and suddenly, you’re stealing his breath again.

Two months later, you and Jimin find yourselves in his flat. Grabbing the bowl of popcorn, Jimin hums happily to himself. That day, after class had finished, you’d offered to buy him lunch for helping you - and simply hadn’t taken no for an answer - even when he’d shyly tried telling you he was only happy to help and didn’t need you to repay the favour. Still, you’d insisted on repaying his kindness and Jimin had always silently been grateful for your insistence - because ever since then, you’ve been friends - good friends.

The two of you would frequently spend a lot of your time together - whether it was just hanging out, or practising your choreography together. In fact, the second had been your suggestion. Jimin had been surprised when you’d asked him to practise with you - you were already so good - better than he could ever hope to be. Yet, once again, you’d still insisted: telling him that he himself was an incredibly talented dancer and that you could learn from each other. Hearing that had sent his heart lurching, his head spinning at the thought that you considered him an amazing dancer - a sentiment which you constantly reiterated to him. To you, it was completely mind-boggling that he didn’t consider himself insanely talented.

Thus, throughout those few months, the two of you had grown closer - which bring him to now: with you sprawled out on his couch as you wait for him to return with the popcorn. The high-pitched beeps of the microwave resound through the mostly quiet apartment, drawing Jimin out of his reverie. Hastily moving, he quickly grabs the paper bag of popcorn, wincing at the steaming heat as he grabs it via its corner. Opening it swiftly, he empties the entirety of the bag into the plastic bowl he’d prepared before joining you on the sofa once again.

“Finally! Could you take any longer? I need to know what happens next!” you lament, watching as he makes his way back to you. Jimin tuts, wrinkling his small nose before handing you the bowl of popcorn.

“None of this is new to you. We both know Killmonger wins and throws T’Challa off the waterfall. This is literally the seventh time we’re watching this film,” Jimin replies, a teasing inclination to his voice. Scowling at him playing, you dig into the popcorn before pulling out an unpopped kernel - only to throw it at him. “Hey! Don’t mess up my flat,” Jimin growls out playfully as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch. Immediately, the action coming naturally to you, you place your feet in his lap. In the darkened living room, Jimin blushes at the instinctive movement, his hand nervously falling to rest onto your shin.

“Yeah, but maybe this time that won’t happen,” you try to reason. You and Jimin simply stare at each other, the illogicality of your words not lost on the both of you. Jimin begins snickering at you, causing you to scowl and kick him playfully.

Just as he’s about to respond, however, the both of you hear the door to Jimin’s apartment being opened before someone walks in. From your seat on the couch, you have the perfect vantage to stare at the newcomer, your face twisting in confusion. Jimin sighs as he realises his roommate is back from his overseas year out. Really, he didn’t mind Seokjin, in fact, he loved his roommate a lot. It was just, he’d gotten so used to it just being him - and, of course, you.

The moment he walks in, large puffy coat slung casually over one of his arms while the second wheels in his luggage, you can’t help but fixate your stare upon him. Though you don’t think you can really help yourself as your dark stare rakes over Jimin’s roommate’s figure. He’s tall - and has an amazing build: with long legs, and impossible broad shoulders. Though, the most beguiling thing has to be his face: chiselled jaw, incredibly pillowy lips - that could rival Jimin’s - ample cheeks and dark, soft eyes.

Inclining his head to the side, Jimin doesn’t notice the way your eyes widen or the way your gaze sweeps over Seokjin. Instead, “Seokjin! You’re back,” Jimin calls out, waving at his roommate. Seokjin hums a yes; his gaze locked onto his phone while dragging both his feet and luggage further into the room. Once further in, he wheels his luggage to press against the wall before finally looking up to greet his roommate. But, the moment his eyes shift from his phone to upwards, he stops. His eyes swift over Jimin, before resting on you. The moment your eyes lock, you feel a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching imperceptibly.

As he notices Seokjin’s gaze falling onto you, “Oh! This is ____, she’s in my dance class” Jimin explains before continuing, “How was London?” he continues, causing your eyebrows to furrow. Turning away from you, and subsequently breaking your stare, Seokjin turns back to Jimin. Confusion colours your veins as you wonder why Jimin’s roommate has been in London this entire time, and why he was just now back, in the middle of the academic year.

“It was really good. The course was interesting - hard, but interesting. Oh, nice to meet you by the way. I’m Seokjin,” he greets, turning back to you. You watch as a teasing smile curls onto his face, his entire demeanour exuding confidence, “They call me the most handsome man on campus,” Seokjin continues, as he flicks his long, dark locks out of his eyes before flashing you a lopsided smile.

Jimin rolls his eyes at his roommate’s antics, “Just ignore him. His head is so big, I don’t even know how it fits in through the door,” Jimin whispers conspiratorially. Faintly, Jimin’s words register in your head, causing you to nod, but the damage has been done and you find yourself blushing intensely under Seokjin’s charming smile.

“Why were you in London?” you blurt out, not knowing what to say. The instant the words fall from your lips, you feel yourself blushing before looking away.

“Seokjin studies architecture here but he had an opportunity to do an international year at UCL in London last year, and since it has like the best architecture course in the world, he took it,” Jimin replies before Seokjin can, oblivious to the growing tension between the two of you. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you nod, before flashing a shy smile at Seokjin.

“Uh, yeah. Anyway, I’m gonna head to my room and leave you two alone. Enjoy,” Seokjin says before once again grabbing his luggage and heading towards the bedroom opposite Jimin.

Your eyes follow Seokjin’s every move, completely glued to him as you watch him walk towards his room. You had always known Jimin had a roommate, considering that you’d never seen anyone in the room - but you had always assumed you’d always missed him, or that he’d be out and about - and Jimin never really spoke of him in detail either, only referencing him casually. You’d never imagined that he’d been away for a year, nor could you have ever imagined just how handsome he was. Just before Seokjin disappears into his bedroom, however, you watch him briefly turn back, levelling you with one final look before shutting the door behind him.

“Sorry about that. He didn’t say he was coming back today. Wanna continue watching?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back towards him. Blinking owlishly, you nod before once again angling your head towards the TV. Jimin smiles at you before pressing play. Sinking back into the sofa, Jimin happily loses himself into the film once again - completely oblivious to the way your eyes keep shifting to Seokjin’s door.

It's almost two hours later when you find yourself leaving Jimin’s apartment. Bidding you goodbye, Jimin simply watches you walk away with a soft smile on his face. Once you’re out of his line of sight, he shuts the door before shuffling back into his living room. As soon as he picks up the bowl, Seokjin exits his room, the two of them walking towards the kitchen. They mainly move in silence, Seokjin pouring himself a glass of water while Jimin clears up the popcorn bowl and sweet wrappers.

Just as Jimin begins washing the dishes, “So… you and ____, what’s the deal between the two of you?” Seokjin asks - breaking the silence. Freezing, Jimin’s muscles lock before he turns his head, staring wide-eyed at his roommate. Seokjin is casually leaning against the kitchen counter, his easy gaze watching Jimin.

“N-Nothing. Why?” Jimin chokes out in surprise, internally kicking himself in the shin for stuttering. Seokjin raises his brow, levelling his intent gaze upon his roommate.

“Are you sure?” Seokjin asks sceptically. Hastily, Jimin turns his head back to the sink as he begins washing the dishes. Though, he does it more to hide his blush.

“Yeah, I’m sure. We’re just… friends,” Jimin replies. You’re just friends - even if he wishes you were more - not that he’d do anything about it, at least not you - and besides, he doesn’t really want to tell Seokjin about the crush he’s harboured on you since the day you’ve met. Nor how he’s pretty sure that somewhere along the way, between the movie nights and dance practises, he’d misplaced his heart onto you and had fallen deeply in love. No, he could never admit that to Seokjin, let alone you.

Seokjin’s eyes narrow, his scrutinising gaze sweeping over Jimin before his head cocks to the side. “You’re sure?” Seokjin repeats once again. Jimin lets out a heavy exhale before nodding, desperately wanting Seokjin to stop questioning it.

“Yes! I’m sure,” Jimin responds. Sensing his ire, Seokjin shrugs before turning and leaving the kitchen - leaving Jimin completely alone in the quiet of their apartment.

A deep sigh of relief falls from Jimin’s lips when he hears Seokjin’s door close for the night. Really, what was his problem? Jimin can’t help but wonder. Seokjin’s interest in whether he has a crush on you or not was odd - but Jimin simply chalks it down to Seokjin’s curiosity as he continues washing the dishes.

However, if he’d known better, he would have questioned Seokjin’s curiosity - and if he’d known what was to come months down the line, perhaps he would have admitted his feelings for you to Seokjin.

It’s months later, in the middle of March when Jimin finds himself entering a flower shop. The store clerk smiles at him as soon as he walks up to the counter. Jimin’s nose wrinkles at the almost overbearing display of white behind the man. White lace decorations hand around the ceiling, white roses, daisies and tulips on display in the green buckets on the floor while various different artisanal white chocolate litter the countertop.

“Looking for a gift for a special lady this White Day?” the man asks, causing Jimin to fluster, a shy smile creeping onto his face as he nods.

“Can I get a bouquet of white roses, some marshmallows and chocolate,” Jimin orders, his eyes sweeping around the room. He knows you absolutely adore marshmallows - roasting marshmallows over a campfire were some of your favourite memories from your time in America. The white chocolates he’s not so sure about - but he knows they’re a popular White Day gift - and the roses, well the reason he was buying those was pretty obvious. Today is the day he’s going to confess to you.

Jimin waits patiently at the man strings up his order, the beautiful bouquet of pure white roses and viridian green stalks making up the bulk of your gift. Of course, he hadn’t really decided to confess today completely out of the blue: you’d gifted him a small gift of his favourite chocolates on Valentine’s day, thanking him for being your friend - and well, White Day tradition dictates he repay the favour. The confession was just his added bonus, because really, what better day to do it than today of all days.

Grabbing the gifts from the clerk, Jimin makes his way towards your apartment block. For a brief moment, he considers calling you and telling you he’s on his way - but, then decides against it - wanting it to be a surprise instead. After all, what couldyou be doing today anyway - it’s not like you had a boyfriend that he knew of.

It takes Jimin a good twenty minutes to walk from the flower shop and the entire time, he clutches the bouquet of flowers tightly in his hands. Butterflies bloom in the pits of his abdomen, his stomach flipping with each step as he grows nearer and nearer towards your apartment. What feels like aeons later, Jimin finally arrives at the skyscraper that is your apartment building. Gingerly, he enters the lobby, his footsteps echoing across the marble flooring. The security guard pays him no attention, already used to his visits by now.

Jimin steps into the elevator, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair in an attempt to stay his nerves. With each moment that passes, Jimin’s palms grow clammy, the fuzziness in his stomach growing. When the elevator dings, alerting him to the fact that he’d arrived at your floor, Jimin takes in another breath before stepping into the corridor. Time moves excruciatingly slow, each step he takes thundering in his ears, his heart hammering so hard in his chest he feels as if it had leapt from his chest to the back of his throat.

Arriving at your door, Jimin abruptly stops.

The door to your apartment is slightly ajar, the sliver of space revealing the interior of your flat. Features twisting in confusion, Jimin wonders why you’d leave the door to your flat open - it wasn’t like you at all. Trepidation flooding him, he hesitantly places his hand on the door handle before pushing it over further - he needed to know you were alright. Stepping into your flat, Jimin looks for any signs of you - but when he finds none, the nervousness in his stomach is replaced with dread.

Just as he’s about to call out your name, however, he spots it. A piece of white lingerie. It’s callously draped over the couch, the lace material a stark contrast to the dark brown leather sofa. Another type of dread settles deep within his loin, his neck prickling with heat as he spots the skimpy underwear. Eyes sweeping over the room, he finally sees the trail of clothes that lead towards your bedroom. A large white shirt lays haphazardly on the floor, your sundress next to it. He knows it’s yours because he’s seen you wear it a few times - it was your favourite dress - and his.

He knows he should turn around and walk away, the weight of the bouquet of roses heavy in his hands - as if it held the dead weight of all his feelings for you. Just as he’s about to turn and walk away - he hears it. A shallow, breathy moan. Heart clenching in his chest, Jimin’s fingers around the bouquet tighten. This was a mistake.

Once again, he moves to turn around.

“Seokjin.”

And he’s stopping again.

Blood freezing, his heart stops as he hears his roommate’s name slip from your lips. The sound of your whiny, lust-filled voice is unmistakable but he has to be hearing things right? There’s no way you just called out his roommate’s name. Jimin stares at the door to your room, the door is still open, but from his angle, he can’t see your bed.

“Gods, Seokjin,” comes another moan, the sound a little deeper this time - needier. He hears it more clearly this time - and it’s unmistakable. You definitely just moaned out Seokjin’s name.

He knows he should turn away - right then and there - walk away and pretend he never witnessed this - pretend he never walked in on you. But a small, sick part of him needs more confirmation - because that very same part of him doesn’t believe that it’s Seokjin in there with you. And then, before he can stop himself, he finds himself slowly walking closer to the threshold of your bedroom. With each step, Jimin grows nearer towards your bedroom, the salacious sounds of your moans and groans of pleasure increasing in sound until they ring deafeningly in his ear.

The moment he spots you, his knees buckle. There you are, naked body exposed as clear as day for him as your limbs entangle with Seokjin. Almost unbearably, Jimin’s heart aches as he takes the scene in. You’re underneath Seokjin, your hands are handcuffed to the metal rails of your headboard, your thighs are wrapped around his roommate’s narrow hips as the older male thrusts - almost brutally - into you. His hips move in a stilted fashion, rutting deeper and deeper into you with each thrust. Every one of his plunges jerks you backwards, your head knocking into the metal grating.

“Jinnie- fucking- oh god, so- big-” you gasp out, trying to string a coherent sentence together - but with each plunge of his hips into yours, Seokjin forces the words out of your head, the sounds dying on your lips.

“Come on baby, that’s it,” Seokjin groans, his head dropping as he shifts the angle of his thrust. The utter euphoria painted on both your faces has despair flooding through Jimin’s blood. He watches as your eyes flutter shut, your head falling back and your back arching while your thighs erratically shake.

Hands curling into the sheets, fists tightening into tense balls as they clutch the fabric, “Gods, Seokjin… I’m cumming,” you keen out, the high pitch of the sound echoing through the air. Seokjin smirks down at you, his hair falling around him, the ends dripping with sweat as he plunges in deeper, causing you to let out a strained groan.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl. Fuck- your pussy feels so good. So- fucking- tight-” Seokjin grunts, a thrust punctuating each of his words. Despite himself, Jimin finds his cheeks heating, his stomach sinking further as you mewl at Seokjin’s words.

“C-Cum in me,” you gasp out, the words coming out strained as you gasp for breath. Groan of pleasure escaping Seokjin’s mouth, the older man shifts one hand between your bodies - and from the way your face twists with ecstasy, Jimin has no doubt that Seokjin’s fingers are playing with your clit.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to cum in you? Cum in this pretty little cunt and fill it till you’re dripping?” Seokjin asks, his words coloured with wanton desire.

“Gods yes. Please- please fill me up. Wanna feel your cum deep in me,” you practically plead. Seokjin snarls, pushing your thighs higher before, somehow, thrusting even harder into you. Jimin has no idea how he moves so hard - or so quick - but with each thrust, the two of you moan louder and louder - until suddenly, with a cry, while clutching your hands shoot out to clutch Seokjin’s shoulders. And then, you’re cumming.

A loud wail reverberates through the air, out of your mouth and directly towards Jimin: the sound ricocheting through his very being as you cum. Seokjin follows right behind you and two sloppy thrusts later, a deeper groan fills the air as Seokjin empties inside of you.

Jimin watches the two of you gasp for air, your breaths heavily laboured as you try to satiate the burn in your lungs. Dark, almost broken stare, fixated on the two of you, Jimin wonders if it’s just meaningless sex. He wonders if somehow, though he’s unsure how, you and Seokjin were just having a one night stand - because really when had this happened? When could it have happened? How did it happen? Surely, surely this has to be some kind of nightmare - or even just a simple one nightstand. God, Jimin hopes, prays,that this is a one night stand, because he has no idea how he’s supposed to cope seeing the woman he loves with his roommate.

But then, abruptly, the atmosphere shifts.

And if Jimin thought simply watching the two of you before was bad - nothing could have prepared him for the utterly devastating heartbreak he was about to experience.

Because, almost naturally, Seokjin’s head swoops down, pulling your lips into his. Your kiss is slow - and sensual - and even though he’s simply watching, Jimin can feel the love that’s poured into it - the passion. He watches as your hands flit over Seokjin’s shoulder before entangling in his hair, pulling the older man further into you. A soft sigh escapes your lips and anguish stains Jimin’s entire world as he watches the way you sink into Seokjin.

Unable to tear away, Jimin watches the two of you, his heart breaking with each second. Agonisingly slow, time passes, Jimin trapped in the momentous heat of your kiss, torturously spellbound by your kiss.

Slowly, the two of you break away, simply staring at each other as you bask in the afterglow of your post-orgasm bliss. Neither of you notice him - completely lost in each other, you simply stare into each other’s eyes, words of love and sweet nothing filling the air as Seokjin peppers kisses along your forehead. As he takes the two of you in, he knows, then and there, that this is more than a one nightstand - more than a simple fuck. Without a shadow of a doubt, the two of you are in love - and it doesn’t make sense to him.

But then it clicks.

All the times he’d thought Seokjin was playfully flirting with you, the times you would blush and shyly tuck your hair behind your ears as you spoke to Seokjin. When you would come over to his flat and bring fried chicken from Seokjin’s favourite restaurant. All of a sudden, memories flood into Jimin’s consciousness: the easy banter between the two of you, the side glances full of desire, the way your eyes wouldn’t leave the other’s figure when you were in the same vicinity.

He remembers how worried you’d been when he’d offhandedly mentioned Seokjin had hurt himself while playing football, the look of complete joy when Seokjin would come home, the way you smile at Seokjin - as if he’s the only person you see - and suddenly, everything makes sense. But he wishes it didn’t. Because all of a sudden, Jimin realises that he’d been so lost in his feelings for you - so lost in the idea of you, that he’d completely missed the signs. The signs that you weren’t his, and would never be his.

Finally tearing his eyes away, Jimin forcibly pulls himself away from the door. The heavy weight of the bouquet of roses burns in his hand - just the sheer feel of them cruelly taunting him of the love he’d never had, but had somehow lost. Swiftly, he exits your apartment, his chest aching as he drowns in his own sorrow. He moves on muscle memory alone, allowing his feet to guide him out of your flat and then your building. And then, when he’s finally out of the lobby, he takes in a shuddering breath before letting out a sob.

Through blurry eyes, he stares at the bouquet in his hands, the once pristinely furled petals slightly wilted. Mockingly, they stare back at him, the bruised florets an apt representation of his heart. Not wanting to look at them anymore, Jimin drops them onto the floor. They fall to the ground, a few petals scattering from the bud and littering the ground. But Jimin pays them no mind. Instead, he just walks away. Leaving the roses, and the love he has for you behind.

a/n: yah im so fucking sorry yeet

Kofi | Masterlist

#bts smut #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #btsguild #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #magicshopnet #95line.net #bangtanhq #jimin x reader #jimin angst #jimin smut #park jimin x reader #bts fic #jimin fic #jimin au

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longitud-de-onda · 4 years

Text

come back home

pairing; the mandalorian | din djarin x female reader summary; it’s been three years since you’ve seen din after leaving him on a distant planet. rating; m warnings; a panic attack, unintentional gaslighting, heavy angst, a bit of light sex (no smut or anything very nsfw), some gunshot wounds, alcohol. don’t worry it’s not all angst there’s some happy stuff. word count; 11.3k a/n; so this pops around a lot with timing, but it should be fairly clear. every big line break switches perspectives between din and the reader, and every section is a bit of present and then a flashback. the flashbacks are chronological. also, it’s long. it’s so long. taglist; @bonkybaaarnes

It was a busy day. People had been wandering in and out of your shop since you turned the sign in the window to ‘Open.’ There probably hasn’t been a span of more than 5 minutes where you didn’t hear the sound of the doorbell tinkling, signaling the entrance of one or more of the planet’s upper echelon, art students, or just interested visitors. Running an art gallery and dealership was possibly one of the most peaceful things you could do during this age of the New Republic. Especially when you lived on a Core World.

An old looking Neimoidian who had been wandering the space for the past hour or so approached your desk.

“That piece there, with the scene from the Clone Wars, how much is it?”

You looked over to where he was pointing. It was one of the larger pieces you had at the time, a beautiful war painting. Realism wasn’t as common anymore. Neither, you supposed, was painting. You got the piece directly from the artist a few months back, entranced by the historic materials and the mastery of the battle scene. It reminded you of your teenage years, back during the war. It was sad to see it go, but you knew you couldn’t keep the pieces and were happy it would have a home.

“Thirteen thousand credits,” You smiled at the man. For the Neimoidians who came and went, your reputation, and the size of the piece, it was a good price. He knew it too. His subtle nod indicated he was interested, and you put the order into your system. One of the gallery droids sprung to life behind you to retrieve the piece from its spot on the wall and bring it to the back room where it would be packaged for shipment. You pulled out a datapad, handing it over to the Neimoidian who began to fill out the credit transfer form.

“Your reputation precedes you,” He mused while typing, “You run a lovely shop here. It’s nice, with the Empire over. Peace, art, business. It’s all flourishing.”

“It is,” You smiled, “it’s great for business.”

“Indeed it is,” He looked up, handing back the datapad with the complete form, “I must thank you, it is a great honor to work with you.”

“The honor is all mine,” you say, reviewing the form. 13,000 New Republic credits. Not good for much outside the Core nowadays, not that you had any plans on leaving.

“I collect war art,” he began, an unusual admission for a Neimoidian, “Honoring those who fought. I just imagine... must be difficult, out there on the battlefield.”

-o-o-o-

“It must be difficult...” the Mandalorian said, startling you from your thoughts. In the 17 hours since you met him, he hadn’t said more than 20 words. “... living job to job, no help.”

You turned to face him, or rather, to look at the small gap in his helmet.

“What do you mean? Isn’t it the same for you?” You got the current job together from some guy in a bar in the backwater outer rim planet you were spending the day on. He said it would be too difficult, too risky to just have one man on the job. Two was insurance.

“I’m a guild member. Who do you have?” You knew he was just trying to make small talk, but it felt like a slap on the face. You had practically nothing. You’d been wandering the galaxy ever since the fall of the empire, nothing to do. Your only skills were fighting, flying, and formulating battle plans. Without a war, you had nothing.

Probably should have joined the guild at some point, you thought to yourself. But that never felt like the right option. You still had your loyalties. And bounty hunters, well, bounty hunters have no loyalties other than the guild. Imperial heads and Rebel ones had the same price if you had the right buyer.

“It’s been this way for a while now, I don’t mind it so much,” you responded. You had only just met the Mandalorian anyways, hadn’t known him long enough where he deserved to know really how you felt. It was still difficult, not spilling out your entire backstory to him, something about the way he cocked his head and the few words he said that let you know he was always intensely listening to you.

You had the feeling that after another 17 hours he would have only racked up another 40 words while you’d have revealed almost every detail of your life. He had that effect on you. Kind of scary if you were to admit it, but you knew in only an hour or so the Razor Crest would be landing and the fight would start and hopefully end in only a matter of minutes and you’d return to the money and go your separate ways. No need to fret over some guy. Even if that guy was a Mandalorian.

Din Djarin had landed the Razor Crest about a 50-minute walk from the city, enough to remember that it had been a year or so since he spent any time traversing tough terrain and began to regret not docking closer.

It was a force of habit. The ship wasn’t registered so it flew under the radar, but any attempt to land at a New Republic port would be dangerous, but he supposed that landing 20 minutes away wouldn’t have been so bad. It didn’t really matter now though, as he was coming up to the first signs of civilization.

He only had a faint idea of where he was headed, somewhere closer to the center, but not too close. With his luck, probably the side of the city furthest from his ship so he’d have to cross through the center if he wanted the quickest route.

The most efficient route used to not matter so much. He used to be able to afford to skirt around the edges. Now, nearing the heart of the city, he was tired enough to know he needed to stop. He’d been walking for over 3 hours.

It was unusual, being on such a populated planet. Everyone moved around him, not sparing him even a glance. He wasn’t used to that at all.

Din saw a small but interesting looking cantina a few doors down and slipped inside. It was filled with smoke and music and laughter. Nothing like the empty-feeling outer rim bars. The people here had all sorts of masks, just not the physical kinds: fake smiles plastered on to fool a lover, guises of aggression formulated purely to intimidate, the facades of disappointment dealt expertly to tug at heartstrings. There was something completely and utterly alive in this place, but that something was also a farce.

A barstool opened up about two-thirds of the way to the back wall, and Din pushed through the crowd to snatch it up. A sleek looking droid slid his way to take his order before gliding back down the bar to help a young couple pay for their drinks.

Another droid showed up in front of him, setting down the hot drink, with a yellow and red swirling appearance, steam rising off the top.

He raised the glass to his mouth, and took a sip, relishing in the feel the alcohol had, instantly spreading through his body, soothing while simultaneously lighting him on fire.

-x-x-x-

Fucking desert planets, Din thought to himself. Somewhere in the galaxy, someone was probably laughing at him: a Mandalorian in the desert. Thick black wool covered with beskar armor had to be the absolute worst combination for a planet made of sand and heat. He had been sitting behind a rock formation for the better part of the day, the local star’s hot light beating down on his body.

The camp was small but Din knew there were at least twelve stormtroopers and two Imperial high-ups. There could be more. He had been watching the four tents all day, and each one could probably hold around 15 people quite comfortably, but his infrared sensors weren’t working well, probably sand lodged in some panel, and he couldn’t figure out how many people he was up against.

The binoculars on his helmet zeroed in on a figure behind the furthest tent. Someone was out there, moving quickly between a couple of rocks. At the same time, one of the tent flaps opened, and a couple of stormtroopers popped out. Din had to break his gaze from the mysterious person and watched the two walk from one tent to the next. He was fairly sure they weren’t new, only the same guys who walked in 30 minutes ago.

Upon arrival at the next tent, one ducked in while the other stood guard. A few seconds passed and then the white helmet peaked out of the tent again, this time followed by another 3, and an Imperial officer. The five troopers flanked the man as he returned to the tent the troopers originally came from.

“What are you doing here?” a voice sounded from his left. Din whipped around while pulling his Amban rifle from his back, pointing at where the voice came from.

It was the fighter from the job back off of Comra. She had leaned back enough to keep her head from being lopped off by the rifle and her hands were up.

“Sorry, Mando, didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, her voice slow and vibrating in her throat.

Din lowered the Amban, and peaked back at the imp tents. There was no activity occurring anymore.

“But seriously, what are you doing here?” she sounded a bit frustrated. Her face was reddening, but he couldn’t tell if it was just the heat. She was slick with sweat, shining in the sunlight. He figured if he had any skin exposed it would look the same. He was sweltering, but couldn’t tell if wearing anything lighter would have helped. His skin hadn’t seen the light in a long time, and a smarter outfit for the heat might just be his downfall.

Din reached into his pocket, pulling out the puck he was working on. He turned it over a few times in his palm before turning it on and holding out the holo to show the woman. The blue bust spun around and her eyes widened.

“It’s him,” she breathed. After a long moment, she broke her gaze from Din’s assignment and looked right at him, “you’re going after him?”

“Yes, if you don’t ruin my chance. He’s in there,” Din gestured over to the tents.

“I know. He’s got a bounty of his own on my head,” the admission took Din by surprise, and he realized that the woman was bowing her head; in shame, frustration, or something entirely different, he couldn’t tell.

“Then why aren’t you running?” he knew it sounded too harsh, but sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, his emotions got ahead of him and he had to ask the burning questions.

“I was. That’s why I’m here,” she said, panting a bit. Where they stood was in direct sunlight, and it was only getting hotter. “I was running from him, planet-hopping, was here for about a week, and the fucker showed up this morning, set up camp less than a kilometer from where I was. I thought I was done for. I was trying to get a good last look at him before I either made it out or was killed, but then I saw you behind the rocks. Figured if I was destined to die, then, well, you were probably here to kill me anyway.”

Din cocked his head, “I’d never take a job from an imp.”

“Well, that’s good,” she said. She attempted to laugh, but the heat was too much and the topic too heavy that it came out more like a couple of shallow breaths before stopping entirely.

The two turned to look at the camp again. Nothing was happening. Din didn’t have too much of a plan until he knew how many stormtroopers he was up against.

“I, uh, I fought for the Rebel Alliance, way back when,” the woman said, still staring at the tents, “I wasn’t even 14 when I joined. When the New Republic formed there wasn’t much left for me. I knew war, and I wanted the imps all gone. I’ve sort of been on the run since, taking out stormtroopers and officers whenever I get the chance. I suppose it all caught up to me.”

“14 is pretty young for a fighter,” Din said, not sure what else to say. He wasn’t used to people being open with him.

“Not where I’m from, it’s not,” and when Din looked over to see her finish the sentence he saw something in her eyes that shook him to the core. Some sort of raw pain and loss and desperation. He was going to kill the commander, and take down anyone else in the damned tent.

An hour and ten minutes before closing you began pre-close procedures, as usual. The shop was mostly empty, save for a couple of Bothans who appeared to be making some final decisions on what pieces to purchase, and a few young faces you had learned belonged to the students who would pop in weekly to see the art, never buying anything. You didn’t mind. Art was meant to be appreciated.

You had made quite a few sales and were satisfied with the day’s profit. Someone bought out almost your entire collection of small prints by a Corellian artist, and you were pleased to have sold the rather violent series of holosculptures, and you already had the droids put a more calming piece in their spot.

A droid began going around sweeping the space, and another was sent to the supply room to start restocking packaging materials that had been used up during the day.

You kept your eyes firmly on the door, feeling like the current inhabitants were fairly safe, no need to worry about any of them harming the art. Or yourself.

This morning, you woke up and turned on the television just in time to see the news reporting on the threats: some unidentified group with a vendetta against anyone who fought for the rebellion. You supposed living on a Core planet, where the New Republic held plenty of power, you should be safe, but that didn’t stop you from wearing your most battle-ready outfit that could still appear formal enough for your store.

The Bothans’ discussion seemed to quiet down when the bell rang again and a tall looking man walked in, dressed in tactical pants and wearing a jacket that could hide any number of weapons. You reached down beneath your desk, hand grasping for the blaster you kept there. You didn’t like the look of the guy.

“I was told this was the place to go if I needed some advice,” the man walked directly towards you, and you inhaled quickly.

“What sort of advice?” you asked.

“My daughter, she likes art, I don’t know what to get for her. She’s getting married next month.”

You dropped your blaster and let your shoulders fall a bit.

“Well, I can certainly help you with that.”

-o-o-o-

Your blaster was pointed directly at the head of one of the guys, finger on the trigger, rage in your eyes. It took less than a quarter of a second to squeeze your hand and the target’s body went limp.

Thwump.

It felt a bit like you had been kicked in the stomach, and whatever it was had you flying through the air for a moment, and sometime during that instant, suspended midair, you felt a brief stinging sensation spread across your lower leg. Then you hit the ground.

Lying there, you watched the blaster fire zoom over you. You couldn’t really feel your leg anymore, so you supposed that was better than feeling whatever had happened.

Your stomach was sore, so was your back. Really, everything hurt. Your vision was a bit foggy around the edges, so you stared up at one of the moons, however faint it appeared in the daylight.

It was admittedly very dumb to accept this sort of job. You had to hand it to Mando, picking out the stupidest shit to get involved in to pay for gas money. The two of you were supposed to be on the run, caring for the Child, staying out of trouble. Not getting shot while being paid to fight for some local clan dispute. There were probably thirty or so fighting. And you two.

You weren’t really sure how much time had passed with you on the ground. All you knew was that wherever you were hit on the stomach hurt more than almost anything you’d ever experienced. The hand clenched over the wound felt slick with what could have been blood, but was maybe just sweat. At some point, the sound of the fighting died down, and the dust began to settle.

A shadow fell over your face as the sunlight was blocked, and you blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness. It was Mando, kneeling next to you.

“I’m fine,” you croak out, knowing fully that it was a lie. Mando probably knew that too, because he pulled your arm off of your stomach. It didn’t take much effort, you didn’t have the energy to protest.

His gloved hands grazed over the wound, gently, and you thought you heard a sound through his modulator that could have been him sucking in his breath. If it had been highly distorted.

“You need to protect yourself more,” he said, roughly.

“I was!” you protested. He was using the same tactic you had used on many others on the battlefield before: outrage the victim so they stay awake long enough to get help. You needed to remind yourself to thank him when you were back on the ship.

Mando’s helmet moved to indicating that he was surveying you for further damage. His gaze stopped at your leg. You know what he’d found. You had begun to suspect it. Blaster fire might not appear too deep, but if set to kill it had a nasty burn that singed off all nerve endings, so you couldn’t even feel the wound as the impact took root deep under the skin.

Suddenly, cool air flooded underneath you and you realized the Mandalorian had scooped you up, cradling you in his arms. He was clearly very strong, but you hadn’t realized how warm he’d feel, even with all the armor on.

Din set down the now empty glass and placed the money next to it. He signaled to the droid that he was done and stood up. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, moving through the growing crowd. Big bars and busy planets made him feel much more vulnerable than he was used to, and while the stop was necessary, it was definitely time to leave.

Why the hell did I come here, Din found himself wondering as he felt his panic rising. His step quickened and he became frantic to get out of the establishment.

There were too many people. Too many colors. The sounds were everywhere, people laughing, people talking, someone was singing. He heard the tapping of someone’s fingers on the bar table and the beeping of some sort of device. The live band seemed to be getting louder. Din spun around, no longer sure of where the exit was. His eyes widened and he looked around for some sign of fresh air. He felt like he was suffocating.

Someone walked right in front of him, breathing hot air onto his face. Din gasped, turning, desperate for escape. He was inhaling smoke and alcohol fumes and the stench of sweat and the collision of food from too many different planets. He pushed by whoever was in front of him, and then another, and another. A chorus of protests occurred as he parted the crowd but the division just closed behind him, their faces forgetting him the moment he disappeared.

The light from outside was finally in sight. Din thought he saw a way out but a second later it closed up again. He paused for a moment, trying to breathe as deeply as possible, and out of the corner of his eye he saw it. His reflection.

Din pivoted on his heels to face the mirror. And there he was, face ragged, hair unkempt, facial hair untamed, and above all, it was out there, for anyone to see.

And Din couldn’t help but realize how unappealing he looked. There was safety in keeping his face covered, safety that no longer existed. He didn’t want people to see how he looked. He wasn’t used to the way people judged. The way people look at his face and make assumptions, or worse, read him like a book.

Din’s reflection blinked back at him in unfiltered vulnerability, but his stare was broken as someone else pushed into him, and another walked in front of the mirror.

-x-x-x-

Somewhere in the lower deck the sound of clattering metal rang out along with a stream of expletives, followed by a very prompt, “It’s all good, I’m fine! Everything’s fine!”

Din chuckled to himself, staring off into the emptiness of the Unknown Regions. Thousands of millions of stars without habitable planets. Or with habitable ones, if only the New Republic could touch them.

After visiting every planet in the known galaxy, they hadn’t found a single other creature like the Child. Din looked over at the kid, and it looked back at him, cooing happily. Needing to find its home planet was the only priority, thus the entrance into the Unknown Regions, the lesser explored half of the galaxy.

Din realized he might be the first person looking at some of these stars from this angle, from this distance. The Razor Crest was likely the first ship to pass anywhere near where it was right now.

It was incredibly beautiful.

“Mando!” she called from below, “Food’s ready! You better come down here and eat or I’m gonna rip your helmet off and force feed you.”

“Don’t worry,” Din called back. She had the right to be worried. A few months back she discovered that he wasn’t eating to save rations. They didn’t know how long they’d be out here, didn’t know how long they’d need to make the food last. As soon as she found out, though, running out of food was the least of his worries. She took over all food prep and made sure every day all three of them were eating.

A couple weeks ago they ran across a small habited planet, one of the few ones littering this part of the galaxy, and were able to restock. Even with enough food to last another 6 months in space, Din knew she still worried.

It was nice to have someone who worried about him, not that he would admit that to anyone.

Her head popped into the cockpit, two plates balanced on one hand as she finished scaling the ladder with her other.

“Your plate’s below,” she smiled at him. She said the same thing every day. And she smiled every day, like nothing was wrong or weird about their situation.

Din watched as she set down one plate on the dashboard and knelt with the other in front of the Child and began feeding it. He could tell she had really grown to love the kid. It was sweet to see the two; the kid adored seeing her face, and she was so good at getting it to listen to her.

Din took one last look before jumping down into the lower deck. This was the usual ritual. He would listen to the soft words and sounds exchanged above as he took off his helmet below and began to eat. She knew not to come down until he said so. Din trusted her.

He raised his hands to the sides of his helmet, gently pulled it off, and relished in the feel of the recycled air against his face.

Din loved the feeling without the helmet, but the moments when he got to remove it were rare. Beyond showers, there wasn’t really any time to do it. They slept in too close of quarters to risk taking it off while asleep. The only constant was mealtime.

With a heavy clink the helmet was sitting on the bench next to him, and Din grabbed the plate of food. He ate in silence, as always, listening to the chatter and giggles coming from the cockpit.

Usually this was a pause to eat something, not think too much, and just rest, before getting back to business. What business was when they were floating around aimlessly through unexplored space with no idea where their destination was in the galaxy, Din couldn’t say. But there always seemed to be business.

However, today, when he set down his helmet, it was turned to face him as he ate, and it felt like it was staring right back at him. It was rather menacing. Emotionless. Din felt a chill down his spine as he realized that that was all that anyone knew him by. That was all she saw. Perhaps there was some life in it when a head was inside, but still, that was the face she spent all day staring at.

Din missed being around the other Mandalorians. Seeing all the other masks made it feel like he was a bit more human. Knowing there were other humans doing the same thing. He supposed, though, that the need for a status quo was what made him human.

And, for the first time in years, Din had the urge to climb up to the ladder, helmet left behind, and look at her face to face, take off his gloves, and hold her hand, hold the Child, just touch things with his own skin.

He shook his head as if to try to clear the thought. It scared him, how easily he could break his Creed when left in isolation. He spooned the last bite of the meal into his mouth, and, as quickly as possible, placed the helmet back on his head.

Usually around this time, about 30 minutes before the store closes, the last customer is wandering the rooms, about ready to buy something or leave. Sometimes there’s a final straggler to the end. Maybe, on a holiday, there’s a steady stream and you have to kick people out at closing, but a day like today? A normal day, the middle of the week, nothing special happening? The constant flow of customers was certainly unusual.

It was good for business, and it was nice to talk to the many scholars who had stopped through today, but you were ready to take down the ‘Open’ sign and replace it with the lovely ‘Closed’ one that meant you got to go home.

You desperately wanted to be alone for a bit. You had once gotten completely stir crazy and that want for people led you to this planet. Sometimes you wished you had chosen some Mid Rim planet, but usually that thought was stamped out as you remembered how your stability of life decreased as you furthered from the Core Worlds.

Further out generally meant less New Republic protection, and more potential Imperial influence. As a former fighter who just wanted some peace and quiet, sometimes you had to choose someplace a bit loud.

A young couple burst through the door in a fit of laughter and you looked up to see the two getting rather handsy with each other. It was sweet, and nothing inappropriate enough to deem needing to be broken up. You had paintings more explicit hanging on the walls.

You smiled to yourself at the looks of the other patrons, a mix of disgust, annoyance, and sadness. But there were a few others looking at them with the appreciation of innocent kids in love. Either way, the couple seemed to be there for the art. One pointed at an illustration and the other got incredibly excited, going off chattering about it. The pointer just gazed at the speaker with love in their eyes. No one could be mad at something like that.

-o-o-o-

You lay in one of the small beds, the sheets underneath you disgustingly scratchy and sweaty. You had spent almost a year now on the Razor Crest, drifting through space, and laundry for the sheets was not really a priority for water usage.

You could pretty easily forgive the sheets though, as you were pressed up next to Din, completely naked, sweaty and still slightly shaking in the haze of afterglow. The sex was unforgettable. It was so warm in the ship all the blankets were pooled at the bottom of the mattress. Din’s feet were playing with the fabric lazily.

His condition for this arrangement, starting all those weeks ago, was that you had to be blindfolded, which you couldn’t really complain about. It would have been amazing to take away all restraints and look at Din in the face, but you knew that would never happen, so you figured you’d take what you could get. And the one night turned into two, which turned into so many nights and days you couldn’t even count.

Din’s breath was hot on your neck. His arm curled around your waist, and your back was pressed against his chest. It was something out of a dream. You never once thought you would feel safe and at home enough with anyone to be this vulnerable, but here you were. Din was wrapped around you and you could still feel the ache of him between your legs.

You realized he hadn’t said anything in a while. Ever since you started sleeping together, Din liked to talk. He knew how much you liked hearing his voice without the helmet on. It was a sexy voice, or maybe you just thought anything about him without the armor was sexy because it was so forbidden.

You wriggled a bit and flipped over to face him. Your legs intertwined between his, and you were practically face to face. If you weren’t wearing the strip of black fabric wrapped around your head, his eyes would be right there, staring back at you.

You were a bit jealous of Din. He got to look at you. All of you.

You every day, working around the ship, picking up the Child, singing to yourself or reading on your bed. And these past few weeks, all of you, spread out on his bed, wrapped around him, leaning into him.

All you got were little glimpses of skin when he was careless with his armor or back before the Unknown Regions, when you were both getting injured almost daily, having to patch each other up.

You leaned your forehead against his.

“Din,” you whispered. It still felt like an incredible privilege to get to use that name.

You hand reached up to touch his cheek. He leaned into your touch, and you caressed his face. Your hands felt the curve of his jawbone, the rough brush of a mustache, his soft lips. You trailed over his nose and his brow bones. If you couldn’t see him, you were going to memorize every line and curve of his face. You didn’t know the colors, but you had a pretty good idea of what he looked like.

Your hands joined forces as they moved down his body, first across his neck, then his chest, and his waist, then, teasingly, right back up to his face again. You had him moving slowly in tandem with you.

You rolled your hips into him softly. There was no intention of a round two, you were both too exhausted for that, just the need for him to be closer. To feel him.

“Din, talk to me,” you said, in between soft kisses to his face, “you’re being quiet.”

His hands shot down to your hips, pushing you back. He rolled off the bed. You weren’t sure what to do. You weren’t sure what you did.

There was a thump on the ground that sounded a lot like his shoes. Din was putting his clothes on. You could hear the rustling. Then the hiss the helmet made when he put it on his head. The door opened, but the closing sound never happened. The methodical sound of feet and hands on the ladder came next. He had gone up to the cockpit, leaving you on the bed.

You rolled onto your back, unsure of what to do next.

Usually, Din would tell you when it was good to look. Usually, he would reach around your head with his gloved hands, gently pushing back your hair. Usually, he would carefully untie the fabric, making sure none of your hair got caught. Usually, you would open your eyes to see him with the helmet, and you could always imagine the smile that lay underneath.

You knew he was gone. He had just up and left you in bed. You reached up to remove the blindfold. You blinked a few times to adjust to the light. The cold air drifting around the room reminded you that Din hadn’t even thought to close the door behind him. You looked around for your clothes, finally seeing where he had likely threw them in the heat of things. Slowly, you got dressed.

The fabric of the blindfold was draped over your hands, and you folded it over itself a few times before setting it down in the center of the bed.

Din wasn’t used to planets with this many paved roads. The years on Nevarro and running around the Outer Rim had gotten him used to dirt alleyways and uneven ground. He found himself enjoying the luxury of not having to worry he would twist an ankle. It was helping distract him.

Even outside the bar, it still felt like there were too many people. He was sweating, his legs were shaking, and he was feeling a bit dizzy. After about 5 minutes of walking he wasn’t sure if it was the remnants of the panic attack that were causing the feelings, or the nerves of where he was going.

A friend had told him where he would need to go, right down to the turns to make on every street. He never imagined that when he was this close he would be regretting even coming.

Din shook his head. He took a deep breath in, he only hoped he had the right place.

-x-x-x-

It had been 10 long weeks. Din could count the number of words she had said on his two hands.

Every day he would wake up, and she would be either holed up in her bed, reading or writing, or up in the cockpit, sitting in the pilot’s seat, staring into the galaxy. As soon as she realized he was there, she’d get up, and leave the room. Probably go to the bathroom. She’d spend an hour playing with the Child. Then go through the whole ship, checking for damage. Not that they’d ever sustain anything. They never encountered anyone. Every time they found a planet within the habitable zone, scanners would show it as too dangerous for even the Child to survive.

After scanning the ship, she’d go back to the kid. Then make food. If Din was lucky she’d leave a plate for him. The two times they found a planet to stop, refuel, and stock up, everything was done in silence. Sometimes she’d disappear for an hour, probably just to run and stretch her legs.

He’d often catch her staring at a spot on the wall, tapping her fingers or bouncing her leg. She’d sit like that for impossibly long periods of time. He knew the isolation was getting to her.

Every so often, she’d walk into his room, or up to the cockpit where he was flying, and look like she was about to say something, but stayed silent.

The first week of this, Din blamed himself: if only he hadn’t allowed them to get so close, then he wouldn’t have had to call it off. But in the end, he figured this was inevitable.

Calling their arrangement off was truly for the best. The guilt had increased to an unhealthy level, and Din knew it would eventually kill him.

In just a few weeks, he had broken the Creed so many times. Once or twice, sometimes even three times a day. He swore, years ago, to never take off the helmet in the presence of a living being. Even if she was blindfolded, it didn’t really matter.

Din wrote his own behavior off as just a reaction to the months of loneliness, the lack of other people. He never really considered she would be struggling with the same thing.

The sound of her steps alerted Din to the presence of someone else in his quarters. She stood in the doorway, leaning as if to take another step, but unsure if she could. The Child had followed her down, and was standing at her feet, looking up at her face.

“Refueling. 20 minutes,” she said. Her voice was quiet but hoarse. He supposed that after so much lack of use, that was to be expected. She disappeared back up to the cockpit.

Din got up to see this planet she spoke of. Standing upstairs, the whole universe taking up most of his vision, Din felt it was almost normal. The three of them were there, watching their destination come closer, the Child standing on the dashboard, Din standing silently, and she was sitting, flying the ship with a gentleness rarely experienced.

Down on the surface, the planet was stuck in time. It appeared to be a Galactic Republic station, stuck almost 50 years in the past. Aside from the feeling they were walking around a scene from a documentary, it was practically the same as an Inner Rim planet.

Din wandered around with the Child as she went off to restock on food. He visited shop after shop, asking around if anyone had seen a species like the kid. No luck.

After a few hours, Din walked into a cantina, hoping to find some fresh food for the kid, but upon realizing she was already there, turned around to leave. There was no use trying to talk to someone who had chosen to isolate herself from him for almost 3 months. Before he walked out the door, he couldn’t help but notice the way she was talking, happily and smoothly, smiling at some girl she was sitting next to. She looked almost completely normal again. Din smiled to himself. That was good.

Their other refueling stops had allowed them to stretch their legs, and maybe see about 10 other sentient creatures. They hadn’t gotten proper socialization in over 6 months.

Din returned to the Razor Crest, letting the kid play around in the dirt with some scrap metal lying around at the docking station. He sat on the edge of the open cargo door.

She showed up after a while, boxes in tow, and began loading them back onto the ship. No words were spoken. Din stood up to help, but she just brushed by him.

“Hey,” Din said, desperate for answers as this point, “what’s wrong?”

She froze. She slowly set down the boxes where she was, standing on the deck of the Razor Crest, looking down at Din.

“What.” she said, it wasn’t a question. It was empty.

“What’s wrong with you?” Din shook his head, “You were all excited and normal in the cantina back there. And here, with me, you’re silent.”

It was like a fire had been started, and Din could see it in her eyes.

“Why did you walk away?” she said. It was calm. Too calm, almost deadly.

“What?” it seemed like Din was always the one confused.

“Why did you walk away? We were fine, happy even, and you stood up in the middle of it, and left,” her voice steadily rose as she spoke, by the end she was yelling.

So it was about me, Din realized. “Did you really think we could keep doing that? Being like that?”

“Did I think we could keep doing that? Of course I did! I… I thought we had something, and you just pushed me away!” She had walked down the cargo door, and was now standing in front of Din.

“I had to push you away!” Din yelled, “I couldn’t keep doing that, what we did, I can’t do. I’m not allowed to!”

“You’re not allowed to? What kind of utter bullshit is that?” She spat at him, “We were alone in the fucking galaxy, on your fucking tiny ship, with nothing to do, and you weren’t allowed to? Says who?”

“Says the Creed,” Din was glad he wore a helmet at times like this, so people couldn’t see the tears threatening to spill out. He knew he was losing her, but he wasn’t going to just let her go so easily.

“Your damn Creed isn’t an excuse to just fucking disappear without any explanation, and if it is, than it’s shit... You’re shit,” she was only getting started, Din could feel that. But she insulted the Creed, and she couldn’t get away with that.

“The Creed isn’t just what I follow. It’s who I am. And if you can’t deal with that, then you shouldn’t have even gotten involved with me in the first place,” he didn’t realize what he had said until it was out of his mouth.

“Well maybe I regret getting involved with you,” her words were like alcohol on an open wound, “I regret every single touch, moment, and word. I lie awake at night wishing I could scrub my body clean from the memory of you.”

“Oh, you’re telling me,” Din was incredulous, and increasingly mad, “I want nothing more than for that time together to have never happened. To have never met you. To have never had to help you deal with the fact you can’t even handle a few months alone in space. I wish I didn’t have to help you by doing things I never wanted to do. By doing you.”

At that, she took a step back. Something switched off and her body seemed to deflate.

“So that’s why,” she whispered under her breath, just barely loud enough for Din to hear, and his heart broke.

He hadn’t meant it. Din wanted to take it back, to pull her into his arms and never let go, but he knew he had just lost the right to ever touch her again.

“I can’t do this anymore, Mando,” she said, and his breath hitched at the sound of that name. It was only used by strangers and acquaintances who didn’t realize there was a person underneath the beskar.

“I can’t do this,” she continued, “not when it’s killing me.”

She turned around and walked with as much strength as she could, walked straight back into town, leaving Din standing, back against his ship, staring until she had faded from his view, only sliding down to sit when he realized he’d never see the more important person in his life again.

10 minutes until closing. You were sitting at your desk, across the room from the front door, tapping your fingers rhythmically on the table. You wanted to go home. It had been a long day. But, true to the sign on the door, you would be open for another 10 minutes. Minutes that seemed to be passing as slowly as imaginable.

People seemed to keep coming in and no one was leaving. It was your worst nightmare. The bell rang. Some woman walked in. It rang again. Three students entered as a guy left. It rang again. Some sort of wookie-like creature walked in. You almost groaned out loud. Standing up, you turned around to check the back room. The droids in the gallery would be fine for a few seconds.

The back room was clean. The droids were talking to one another, and had no more work to do. You could only spend so much time in the back room.

Back out in the main space, you sat down, checking the time. 8 minutes and 30 seconds. This was actually the worst. You stared at the datapad you used to get customer information. After about two minutes of staring intently at the ‘Given Name’ box, and the doorbell ringing about 4 more times, hopefully for some customers to leave, you felt a presence in front of the desk.

You looked up. It was some guy, tall, sort of bulky, but strong looking. His hair was a mess, and his facial hair was worse, the only well-groomed thing was the mustache. He wasn’t familiar, definitely not a regular, probably not even from the planet. You couldn’t even begin to describe the look on his face. It was one you had never seen on someone in an art gallery who wasn’t looking at a piece. It was rich with emotion, pain probably, and he looked incredibly distraught.

Why would a guy, looking like that, be entering your shop and coming straight to the desk?

“Can I help you?” you asked, looking into his face.

-o-o-o-

You spent a solid 3 hours crying in an alleyway after storming off. You had watched the Razor Crest take off in the distance after the first hour, and watching everything you knew and loved soar into the sky and out of the atmosphere only brought on more tears.

The sun had set and the light was growing dim when you finally found yourself shakily standing up to find someplace to sleep. The cantina you were at that morning had a few rooms, and you spent half of all the money you had on you for food and a bed for the night.

The room was huge, as was the bed. After over a year of knowing nothing but narrow, hard bunks, it should have been an undeserved luxury, but as you lay in the center of the mattress, you knew you would give anything for the small room you called home.

Your heart ached for Din, and the Kid. You were already regretting leaving, but the regret tears quickly turned back into those of hurt when you replayed Din’s last words in your mind.

Had you really made him feel like you had forced him to have sex with you? Was your relationship founded upon any actual emotions on his part? Clearly everything you thought was true was a lie. All those nights, him holding you so tenderly in his arms was nothing more than him feeling like he owed you a service.

The pit growing in your stomach hardened. You felt sick. You felt dirty. You had hurt Din in ways you didn’t even realize, and when it all was too much for him, he left you in your solitude for weeks. Looking back, you supposed you deserved it for what you had done to him.

You had loved him. You knew that. The fact you were realizing this in the midst of what you could only describe as a breakup only caused you to shake with the sobs that overcame you once again.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but at some point the tears turned to heavy breathing as your eyelids grew heavy and you slipped away into the night.

You didn’t sleep well, but the rest was needed, and in the morning you took a long shower, wiping yourself clean of the dried up salty feeling that covered your face and neck from the tears. As you ran a cloth over your body, you remembered your words from the day before. I lie awake at night wishing I could scrub my body clean from the memory of you.

If only you could snatch those words from the air where you spoke them. Maybe if you took them back, Din wouldn’t have said what he had. You could have just gotten back on the ship in silence. It would have killed you to keep going, but it couldn’t have been worse than this. It couldn’t have been worse than knowing how Din really felt.

You trudged down to return your key and grab something to eat. Sitting at the bar, you decided that, at least for the day, you would forget about Din. The day was about figuring out how to get back to civilization. However you could, you would return to the half of the galaxy you knew. Mourning and moping could wait.

With some bounce to your step, you headed right to the port, straight into the offices of the stationmaster.

“What can I do for you?” an ambiguous voice said as soon as you entered. You looked around to see where it was coming from. A head popped up from under the desk, followed by the rest of the body, “Sorry, fixing something.”

You smiled. The stationmaster looked incredibly friendly, and you figured an appeal to her sense of humanity would probably work best.

“I um, I was travelling with a guy,” you started, putting on a slightly sad face, making sure your words dripped with loss and longing, “and he abandoned me here. I, uh, I need to get back home. I can do anything. I’m—I’m good at fighting, and I can pilot a ship, and fix things, whatever. I don’t have much money, but I can work. I just want to go home.”

The woman frowned, extending an arm out to your shoulder, “Darling, I’m so sorry. That’s an incredibly rough thing for a lady like you to go through. I’ve got some captains docked here that might need some help. But may I ask, where is home for you?”

You paused. Home. Home was the Razor Crest. Home was travelling. You hadn’t been back to where you were born for over 15 years. You didn’t know if you had family left, but you figured it was better than nothing. Higher education there was good, you could move somewhere else if things didn’t work out, or if you found a job elsewhere.

You nodded at the woman, “Naboo. My home is Naboo.”

From the moment he reached the door, the only thought in Din’s brain was to turn around, to go back. He had hurt her, he knew that. It was his fault she left. He drove her away. The guilt of that was worse than anything else he had suffered.

Opening the door, he briefly hoped that it wouldn’t be her, that he was on the wrong planet, and had gotten some bad info. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

But then he looked into the shop and she was right there, staring down at the desk. She looked exactly like she did when she walked away, 3 years ago.

He took a deep breath, and walked up to her. Sensing his presence, she looked up, giving him a quick once over. No recognition lit up in her eyes, and Din didn’t even realize that was what he had expected until it didn’t happen. She asked him if he needed any help.

“To think you’d recognize me,” he mumbled under his breath. This was definitely a mistake. He’d kept her in the dark for so long, she didn’t even know what he looked like.

-x-x-x-

It had been 13 months before Din found the rest of the galaxy. 13 months without her. After the first three, the navigation system in the Razor Crest broke, and Din had no idea how to fix it. She probably would have known how.

A month of completely blind wandering led him to a planet where he found a small village of the little green creatures that the Kid belonged to. Seemed like they had been missing the little thing.

He knew he should have been happy. Happy that he finally found the planet. Happy for the Kid. Happy for its family. But lifting off from there, after hugging both the Child and its relatives farewell, he felt empty. He had no idea where in the galaxy he was, if he was still even in the galaxy, and without current coordinates he couldn’t plot a route home. And he was completely alone.

Now, after 9 months with no human contact, Din could officially say he had lost it. Wandering the Razor Crest, no armor on, for hours, course set to keep going in one direction until a barrier appeared on the sensors.

He would pace for hours, talking to himself. Replaying the conversations he had with her in his head. Sometimes, he would look up at the door to what used to be her room, and he would think he saw a glimpse of the yellow sleeves of her favorite shirt, and he would dash into her space, apologizing, before collapsing on the floor upon realizing she was gone. Din lost count of the number of hours he wasted crying next to her bed.

Sometimes the ship would stop, having detected an asteroid belt or an uninhabited planet. Sometimes Din would land the ship, and upon confirmation of breathable air, he would walk out and wander the barren surface.

He would wonder why no one had explored this part of space. Why no one came out here to terraform. It couldn’t be that hard, could it? So many of the planets were already halfway there.

A couple times he was lucky to find some edible plants. But now Din was running out of food. He hadn’t planned on so much time without contact, without the nav system, without people. Rationing began after two months, back when he thought he’d find the civilization he knew within another month or so. He was so wrong.

He was sitting in the corner of the ship, almost directly underneath the ladder to the cockpit, where he had been for the past 2 hours. He was scratching patterns into the walls, mumbling to himself. There was not much left within him that could be called human. That had been left behind a long while back.

The ship lurched to a halt, and Din startled out of his semi-unconscious state, jumping to his feet. Scrambling, he climbed the ladder, revealing what had stopped the Razor Crest. It was right in the center of view, through the windows of the cockpit.

A planet.

And not just any planet. This was one he knew. One that lay on the Outer Rim, considered the Last Stop Until Nowhere. He cranked the speed up, and set course to land at the largest city.

As soon as the cargo bay door swung open, Din was running out, wearing nothing but a pair of black pants and a grey shirt.

First stop was a cantina. He practically flew in, startling the bartender and the clientele, but when they realized it was just another guy, the stares turned back towards drinks and food and conversational partners.

Din asked for a drink, any drink, and a lot of food, which he wolfed down, much to the horrified look of the staff.

Two drinks in, Din was finally smiling, happy to be looking at the faces of real, live, sentient beings.

Three drinks in, Din was talking loudly with some guy who had lots of good stories of some dramatic happenings from the marketplace that morning.

Four drinks in, Din was sidling up to a nice looking girl.

Five drinks in, Din had his arm around her, whispering into her ear.

Six drinks in, the two were stumbling out of the establishment, the girl giggling, hands all over him.

He hardly remembered that first night back, just an orgasmic haze full of hot touches and passionate kisses. The next morning he was back in the cantina until he got kicked out, and moved to the next.

A week passed in a blur of alcohol, sex, and food.

Until one day he woke up, completely sober, completely naked, in a bed full of prostitutes he didn’t remember meeting, and remembered everything.

He slipped out as quickly as possible, leaving his entire bag of credits for the women. Upon return to the ship, he closed the door and let go of the body-wracking sobs he was holding in.

She was gone, he was alone. She was gone, and he had just had sex with an unidentifiable number of people, and none of them smiled at him like she did. How could he have forgotten that smile?

He spotted the pile of his armor, a pile tossed aside months ago, hardly touched. The mask sitting on top, staring at him with it’s empty, black, linear excuse for eyes. The feeling in Dins chest felt like it was pounding at his ribcage, wanting out before it exploded.

He stood up and walked to the heap of beskar. He couldn’t destroy it. Beskar couldn’t be destroyed by any normal means, so he powered up the ship and took off.

The Razor Crest groaned. He knew it was on its last legs and if it didn’t get repairs soon, it would be gone from his life too, just like everything else.

Up in high orbit, Din jumped back down to the cargo bay. Ships had mostly lost the need for airlocks, but he did have one for disposal purposes.

In his rage, he put his armor into the small space, pushing it as hard as possible to get it to all fit in, and closed the interior door. His finger hovered above the green button for a fraction of a second before pushing it as hard as he could. There was little sound beyond the creak of the outer door opening and closing.

Din wanted to yell. He wanted to scream in anger at everything that had led him here. All he could do was fall to the ground and sit in silence for a while.

When he stood up, he knew he had just opened a door that closed him off from everything he knew.

“Excuse me, sir, but we’re closing,” you said, as the guy just blinked back at you and mumbled something. You were planning on closing right on time, but this guy sort of freaked you out, the way he stared at you. You were closing a few minutes early if it meant he would leave and you could go home.

“Sorry,” he said, with a voice that tugged at something deep in your memory, something you couldn’t place, “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Were you looking for anything?” This was definitely the weirdest interaction of the day. While the guy wasn’t exactly unusual, he just didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t here for the art, it seemed.

A slight breeze brushed against your back as one of the droids slid behind you, the air cold on your bare skin. Your top was hardly covering your stomach and back, which while leaving you exposed, did help you fit in a bit more with the locals. Unfortunately, you weren’t outside where it was warm, and you couldn’t help the jerky shiver that overcame you.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, frowning. His eyes had trailed down your body, and were now very obviously lingering at your midriff, probably noticing the scars from all your fights and blaster wounds. You felt exposed. His gaze wasn’t violating, but it felt like it should have been.

“What?” you asked. Sorry was a weird way to start a conversation with a stranger. Unless he was apologizing for coming in a few moments before closing.

“For coming here,” he said, sounding incredibly hopeless. He made to turn around, but you felt the need to reach out.

“Wait, who are you?” you asked. As weird as the guy was, you wanted to know why he had shown up. What he needed.

He took a deep breath before speaking again, “I found the kid’s home planet.”

Holy shit.

Your eyes widened. It couldn’t be. Could it?

“Din?” you asked, your voice coming out as barely more than a whisper.

He nodded.

At that confirmation, you were overcome with the anger you felt last time you looked at him in the eyes. Before you knew it, you were stood up, leaning over the desk. All you could think of was him telling you how he didn’t want to have been in the relationship you had. You raised your hand, and swiped it across his face. Hard.

He didn’t even try to stop you. Even with the obvious wind up. And that’s what broke your heart. You ran around the desk separating the two of you, so you were standing right in front of him.

There was still pain in his eyes, but there was a whole lot of innocence. You had never looked at his face, but it felt a lot like you had seen it, hundreds of times before. You raised your hand to meet his cheek, where the red from the slap was blossoming.

Holding his cheek, you stared into him, and all he did was stare back, too afraid to say something. Too afraid of what you might say.

His face felt the same as you remembered. His eyes were darker than you expected, and his nose wider than it felt, but it wasn’t as shocking as it should have been. It took those few moments standing there to really understand: the man standing in front of you really was the man you walked away from.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, and only then, when your face was hidden from his, did you let out a few tears. You buried your face into his shoulder. He still smelled the same, the mix of sweat and a faint bit of alcohol and spices from a distant planet. He was the same man you left, and you felt some violent crying threatening to erupt if you didn’t say anything.

“I missed you,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back.

You pulled back, blinking a few times to clear your eyes, “Where the hell have you been? 3 years is a long time.”

He looked down at the floor, then back up at you.

“Enough for you to start a business.” He said, with a weak smile.

You scoffed, “Enough for you to break your Creed, what happened?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted, “Wait, stay right there. Let me just close up the shop.”

You paused a moment, holding his shoulders down, as if to try to glue him to the spot. Then you walked around the shop, making sure no stragglers were left wandering the room. The droids did a good job of kicking everyone out, but you could never be sure. You walked over to the door, pulling a key out from your pocket to lock it, and flipped the sign to show ‘closed.’

You rushed back to Din, who was still staring right where you left him, looking lost and small. You took pity on the guy. No matter what he had done, he was here, in your shop, looking absolutely ragged, and you couldn’t help feeling like you were looking at him naked, his face felt like forbidden material. You reached out to his hand, holding it in your own.

“Come on, let’s sit down, I want to hear all about it,” you said, leading Din to the backroom. All your droids were gone already, as they usually were just after closing, so you were left finally alone. You pulled out a couple chairs from the edge of the room, dragging them to a table. He sat down slowly, and you noticed the slight shine in the corners of his eyes that only meant tears.

“So, what happened to you, Din?” you asked.

“Well, after you left…” and Din started talking. He told his story, and you sat across from him, watching the pain and longing. You found yourself crying with him, and you reached out and set a hand on his thigh, soft and comforting. He was beautiful, you noticed, haunted and cautious with every action, but when you looked past the beaten down outer shell, Din was nothing but gentle and caring.

Your quick check of the time revealed you had been talking for over an hour. You had shared your story, or as much of it as you wanted to share, and you were realizing the conversation was ending, and you didn’t know what was next.

You hoped, for everything it was worth, that he would stay, but you didn’t know why he had even come, or what he might ask of you. You had set up a life here, one you never expected, but that you loved. It would break you if he asked you to come with him again. And the worst part was that you knew you would drop everything to fly away with him in a heartbeat.

You had fallen silent, and Din had seemed to notice it.

“Hey,” he whispered, “I know you probably h—I messed up. I didn’t mean a thing I said to you.”

You felt your heart stop. All the anxiety, the doubts, the concerns you have about your past relationship—how much you had given to Din, how much you felt you had stolen from him—they were all gone. Somewhere in the past hour, you had begun to understand that that was true, but his words confirmed it.

“I’m sorry. I was mad, and scared,” Din started again. This was a rare display of pure personal openness from him, and you were frozen, staring at him, clinging to his every word. “I left the bed that day because I knew I had broken the Creed, and my guilt had overcome me. I know I should have told you, but I was scared as hell.”

“Scared of what?” you breathed.

“Scared of how I felt. About you,” he glanced down, “I felt like if I told you why I’d left, I’d have to share everything else too, just to explain it. And if you felt the same way, what that would mean… we’d never have gotten to be with each other the same way again.”

He stared at you, and looking into his eyes you knew what he meant. What he had just said, just not with the same words. I love you.

You reached out to hold his cheeks again, this time your thumb grazing across his facial hair, and traced over his lips. You felt his hot breath, slowly passing over your fingers.

You wrapped your other arm around his waist, and with a surge of confidence, you pulled yourself into his lap, straddling him in the chair. Your chests were touching and you leaned your head in. He matched your motion, and your lips met.

You shuddered as he pulled you in, his tongue teasing you open. He held you around the waist with one arm, the other tangling in your hair, his hand warm against your head. You melted into him, sinking into the ease of it. His lips were warm but chapped, the roughness matching the mustache you felt on your upper lip.

It was like finally drinking water in the desert where you met the second time, soothing and easy and perfect. His hand on the small of your back slipped down lower, pulling you closer and you moaned into his lips. It was everything you never let yourself dream of.

You pulled away, slowly, staring into the warmth of his eye, both of you wanting so much more. Your breath was ragged and uneven when you opened your mouth.

“I would have done anything for you, Din,” you said, “I just wanted a life with you.”

I love you too.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #camila writes #angst #10k+#pedro pascal #reader #pedro fics #the mandalorian fics #rated m

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soybeantree · 3 years

Text

pairing: johnny x reader

genre/warning: fluff, magic!au

word count: 3k

description: you hated him. his stupid face smiling. his stupid charisma that would always woo the customers - of which you had no doubt was aided by the use of magic. his stupid cousin - that you actually adored and would kill to have him even notice you, but who continuously chose johnny over you for assistance. and most of all you hated how your lungs forgot their one job whenever he was within 5 feet of you.

a/n: from the essem: rosemary by moonlight universe. not necessary to read that first, but some things may not make complete sense.

"I'd like an iced caramel Frappuccino with low fat milk and a pump of pep. To go." The customer rattles off her order as she approaches the counter, never sparing you a greeting or even a glance. From her clean-cut bob to her khaki shorts and salmon button down, you know exactly how this conversation is going to go.

Contorting your cheeks into your best customer service smile and using your most pleasant tone, you inform her, "I'm sorry ma'am, but any drinks with magical add-ins must be consumed within the cafe."

Now, she glances at you, her wallet poised in her hand as her face falls into what you refer to as the entitled scowl. "Excuse me?"

“Any drinks with magical add-ins must be consumed within the café.” You repeat, despite the fact that you enunciated clearly the first time. To help with any possible confusion, you gesture to the bright golden script at the bottom of the menu which states the same.

The woman scoffs, and you inhale a deep, imperceptible breath. “Why?” Indignation laces the word and colors her cheeks red.

Many reasons. Most of which revolve around negligence and exploitation, but that explanation drags. Reminding yourself that you want this job and have jumped through hoops to get it, you dredge up every ounce of patience in your body. With a smile still in place, you say. “We strive to abide by the standards set forth within the Council’s Magical Charter. I would be more than happy to complete your order, but any drink with magical add-ins must be consumed on property.”

“I-“ You brace yourself for the entitled tirade, but the woman’s face melts into a bewildered smile. A glance over your shoulder reveals the reason. Johnny, your fellow barista, stands behind you, his cheeks pulled back by a swoon worthy grin.

With a sigh, you step away from the counter and let Johnny work his magic. Quite literally. Johnny, like you, has the skill of enchantment. As a member of the Essem Family, he has had access to training and knowledge all his life. You on the other hand come from a no name family who has one grimoire passed down from generation to generation, and the two-page section on enchantment only works for curing melancholy.

In moments, Johnny has the woman pacified with an iced caramel Frappuccino with low fat milk and no pump of pep, to go. She sends him another smile before she nearly collides with the door on her way out. After a giggle which Johnny echoes, she is gone, and you’re ready to vomit.

"Did you add a shot of charm to your coffee this morning?" You ask as you resume your position.

Johnny flashes you a grin while raising a single smug eyebrow. "No, I'm just naturally this charming." You gag as you turn away which elicits a chuckle from him. “What, you don’t think I’m charming?”

“I think you are a talented witch.” You say as you reorganize your station. While leaning over the counter to schmooze the woman, Johnny managed to throw the entire place into disarray. You return the business cards to their holder and the pencils to their cup.

“You really think I’m using magic when I calm irritated customers?”

A twang in his voice draws your attention back to him. Glancing over your shoulder, your stomach twists. For such a tall man, he can make himself appear so small. His shoulders hunch in as he fiddles with the ties on his apron. The posture throws his long bangs into his eyes, obscuring them from your scrutiny.

The answer to his question is “yes”, but the answer brews from a petty spite which you stoke every time Minseok, the café’s owner and the foremost expert on enchantment magic, chooses him as an assistant over you. The whole reason you strived for a position at the café was to become Minseok’s apprentice, but every day he chooses Johnny to help with his brews. While you enjoy blaming Johnny, you know the favoritism is due to the inclusiveness of the covens. After all, Johnny is Minseok’s cousin.

“Since when do you care what I think? I thought I was just the hired help.”

His head snaps up, the ties of his apron forgotten as he gazes into your eyes. The contact cools your spite, and it sours. Your stomach rolls at the discomfort, and you clear your throat and return to your reorganization.

“Minseok doesn’t hire just anyone to help in the café.”

You know this. You badgered him for a job ever since Johnny told you about his cousin and his café. Minseok had been the sole employee for years after the café’s inception, hiring Johnny only when the café’s popularity grew. Eventually, the work became too much for the two of them, and rather than hire a qualified enchantment witch, Minseok had hired the girl with little-to-no skill who practically lived at the shop.

“Whatever.” You grumble as you throw another pencil into the holder. The force sends the jar spinning. It falls on its side spilling its contents across the counter. With a growl, you reach for the scattered pencils, but Johnny’s long arms reach around you. The pencils disappear into one hand as his other rights the holder before returning the contents.

You duck out from under Johnny’s unintentional embrace, your cheeks burning. He has to be using his magic. You hold tight to this belief as you breathe to calm your racing heart.

“Minseok likes having you here. You’re as detail oriented as he is.” Johnny nods to the front and back counters both of which have everything in their place and a place for everything. “I’m pretty certain you’re the only person in the world who understands his organizational method.”

“It’s not that hard. Ingredients are organized first by purchase date and then alphabetical. Supplies are..." You trail off as you catch sight of Johnny’s smirk out of the corner of your eye. “You really expect me not to think you’re using magic when you always seem to know exactly what to say to distract me?”

He shrugs, but his smirk only grows. “There are other reasons, I might know that.” Before you can question him further, the bell above the front door jingles. “Duty calls.” He tips his head to you before disappearing back into the brewing room.

With a deep breath, you shove the conversation from your mind and rattle off the customary greeting as you turn to face the new customer.

“Good morning, Y/N. How goes the grind?” You blink a moment as your brain registers that your cousin is here. She misses your confusion as she is too busy chuckling at her pun.

"It’s great. How goes your fruitless endeavor to start a school of magic?"

She scowls which brings a genuine smile to your face. "It's not fruitless. It's slow moving because covens are full of stuck up assholes who refuse to share their knowledge because of what? They're afraid it will diminish their power and their prestige. They need to get their heads out of their asses and think about how much better the world would be if we all worked together and shared our knowledge."

This tirade is as familiar as the Entitled tirade. "And yet, you always get coffee at an Essem café?" You comment as you punch her order into the register.

"Minseok has the best coffee.” She hands you her card. “Everyone in the city knows that. Everyone in the world probably knows it too."

"But you're supporting the coven with the most stuck up assholes." You return the card to her.

"You're working at the coffee shop."

"But I don't have the same issues with them that you do." Not mostly at least. You would appreciate it if Minseok occasionally asked you back into the brewing room.

She shrugs. “Did you place that order for here or to go?”

“To go?” You raise a brow.

“I need it for here.”

“Why?” You stretch the word into two syllables.

“Because I’m staying here.” Rolling your eyes, you adjust the order. "I'm supposed to be meeting up with Yuri." She explains as she checks her watch. "But, she's late as usual."

Your finger pauses above the register as you gawk at your cousin. "Yuri? As in the hedge-witch of the Stahn Family?"

"Yuri is much more than a hedge witch."

"Okay, whatever,” You hold up your hands, stopping whatever tirade she will surely start. “But she’s a Stahn and this is an Essem cafe?"

"Yes,” she crosses her arm, and there is no stopping this coming tirade. “Why is it so hard to understand what me and the Fantagios are trying to do? We want to create a world where people can see beyond their family covens and share knowledge for the benefit of the world."

Leaning forward, you shorten the distance between you and your cousin. The more heated she becomes the louder she gets. The customers have already started to side eye her, and the last thing you need is for Johnny and, especially, Minseok to hear her. "That's great and all. But your dream is not reality and you agreed to meet up with a Stahn on Essem territory. They're basically mortal enemies. This could end in bloodshed, and I could lose my job because I'm related to you."

"Calm down. Yuri wouldn't have agreed to meet here if she was worried for her safety."

You swallow your rebuttal as you hear the hinges of the brewing room door squeak. Your cousin’s eyes grow to the size of saucers, and you wonder why Minseok is delivering her coffee. He rarely leaves the brewing room, leaving all the deliveries to Johnny.

Minseok extends a mug to your cousin who whimpers a “thank you” as she takes it. She sips. Her cheeks flush, but whether that is due to Minseok or the heat of the coffee only your cousin knows.

“Is it good?” Minseok’s question raises one of your brows. In the year and a half that you’ve been working for Minseok, you have never heard him ask a customer’s opinion of his work. Pink tinges the tips of his ears, and you have to refrain from pinching yourself. Maybe, this whole day has been a dream.

“It’s delicious.” Your cousin, the queen of social justice tirades, simpers.

The nausea from earlier returns as you suffer through the ensuing conversation. Despite your effort to tune it out, you hear Minseok comment on your cousin’s frequent visits to the café. She explains that you’re her cousin, which you wish she would have left out given what is about to happen, and that he makes the best coffee in the city. His whole ears brighten at the compliment, the red creeping into his cheeks. Surely, a customer is bound to come in soon and end this disgusting display of emotions.

“Y/N can keep you company while you wait.”

Your name snaps your attention back to the conversation. You blink as you search your brain for the lead into the statement but find nothing. “What?”

“I was telling Uko,” Your cousin must have introduced herself while you attempted disassociation, “that you can take your break early to wait with her.”

“Oh, I mean sure if you’re okay with that.” The look on Minseok’s face screams that he would be okay with anything that your cousin wanted.

“Go ahead.” He motions for you to be on your way, and with a slight nod, you head into the brewing room which offers the exit into the main area.

Johnny, busy at a cauldron, eyes you as you walk past him and remove your apron. “Where are you going?”

“I’m taking my break.” You say with a shake of your head as you hang your apron on its hook.

A glance at the clock scrunches up Johnny’s face and puffs out his already large lips. “But, your break’s in an hour?”

“Listen,” you say, turning to face him completely. “I don’t know what I just witnessed out there.” You gesture to the door behind which you are certain the uncomfortable situation is continuing. “But, Minseok said go to break, so I am going to break.”

“What did you witness?” Johnny grabs a mortar and pestle from the counter and adds three pinches to his cauldron. A faint smell of strawberries wafts through the room bringing with it the image of sunlight fields and a gentle breeze. He’s brewing happiness. The ingredient he added was green. Was it an herb? A stone? A mixture of different things? “Y/N?”

“What?” Your mind snaps back to the moment as you remember that Johnny did ask a question. “Is your cousin dating anyone?” You ask rather than answer.

Johnny pauses mid-stir and stares at you. “No.” He draws out the word as he slowly starts to stir the cauldron counter clockwise. “Are you asking for a friend?”

Your eyes narrow at his tone. “No, I’m asking because he’s currently flirting with my cousin, and it’s gross.”

“What?!” His whole face lights up, and he nearly spills the cauldron in his haste to reach the door to the order counter. Sprinting across the room, you reach the door before he does and block it with your body.

“What are you doing?” You pant as your lungs struggle to refill.

“Our family, at least the cool people in our family, have a bet going that Minseok has a wife and two kids in hiding or that he is a celibate monk. I bet that he hasn’t found the right one. Now move, so I can prove I was right and win the bet.” He tries to shove you to the side, but you dig your heels in and refuse to budge. “Come on.” He whines, pulling his bottom lip up into a pout.

“If you want me to move, then you had better use your magic because this is already ridiculous enough.” Fortifying yourself for the oncoming attack, you blink in surprise when Johnny steps back with a shrug.

“I don’t need to. I can ask Minseok about it when he comes back here.” He returns to the cauldron. The potion has turned a putrid shade of green, and Johnny hisses as he tries to fix the problem.

Staying would provide you valuable knowledge, but Minseok has yet to approve your assistance with the brewing. Staying also means you would witness the next installment of this non-thrilling saga.

Minseok and your cousin are still talking when you exit the brewing room into the main area. They probably haven’t even realized how long you’ve been gone or that their conversation was almost interrupted by an overly inquisitive mind.

“There’s a free table over there.” You bust into the middle of a conversation about magical vs. non-magical cleaning products.

“Right.” Your cousin looks to you, then back to Minseok. “It was very nice talking with you.” Her smile stretches across her face. “Maybe we could talk more later.”

Minseok’s smile is more subdued than your cousin’s, but it’s more than what you witness on a typical Tuesday. “Yes, I would like that.”

“Minseok.” Johnny’s head pops out of the brewing room. “I need your help with something.” The stench of rotten fruit leaks through the open door. Minseok mutters a quick apology before disappearing into the brewing room.

You take a seat at the free table, a smug smile on your face. Your cousin is slower to take her seat, her smile still in place. “Is this really the first time you’ve met Minseok?” You ask when she finally settles in her seat.

“Yes,” she answers though her eyes remain on the brewing room door. “He had already graduated when I started high school. I heard about him from the upperclassmen, but they did not do him justice. He is one fine man.”

“Gross. Can you take your thirsty ass and get out of my place of work?”

“You work in a coffee shop, a place where thirsty people are literally supposed to come.” She quips back, finally glancing at you.

“Please, people don’t come to cafes because they’re thirsty. They come to work, socialize, or take aesthetic photos, and maybe sometimes for caffeine.”

Before she can formulate a rebuttal, the bell above the front door jingles, and in walks the reason for your cousin’s visit. In your disgust, you had forgotten the threat to your job. Panic races through your veins as your attention shifts to the counter. You wish for all the luck in the world, but luck abandons you. Instead of Johnny coming to greet the new customer, Minseok emerges once again. Habit controls him as he smiles and gives the customary greeting. Only after the last word leaves his mouth does recognition register in his eyes.

"Yuri." The name is a question and a greeting.

The hedge-witch tilts her head a fraction of a degree in the semblance of a nod. "Minseok." She returns the greeting. You wait - breath held, heart racing - for the coming altercation.

"Kyungsoo's been looking for you. He seems to be worried about something. Is everything okay?"

"You can mind your own damn business." She huffs, her arms crossing over her chest.

You flinch, but Minseok chuckles. "I'm merely a messenger."

"Well messenger, you can tell Kyungsoo - and please make this verbatim - 'I'm fine. Thank you. You can suck my dick'."

Minseok jots the message down on his guest check book, glancing up at Yuri when he finishes. "Anything else?"

"No, that's all."

"Would you like to order anything?"

"Hell, no. I'm here to meet with someone." She glances around the shop.

You shrink down in your chair, hoping to avoid detection, but your cousin shreds that hope. She waves her hand, drawing both of their attention to you two. Minseok’s eyes rest on you for a moment before shifting to your cousin.

Yuri returns the wave as she walks to your table. "Hey Uko, sorry I'm late. The potion needed to brew a little longer this morning than I anticipated. I blame this muggy weather. It's messing with everything I make. Is this your cousin?" She nods to you as she plunks into the last of the three chairs at your table. Uko nods her head. "Nice to meet you."

"You might not think it's so nice. She works here."

A hiss slips out as Yuri shakes her head. "Why must the young always be corrupted?"

"Don't worry. I might not have a job for much longer." You sigh as you push yourself out of your chair. "Breaks over. I’ll find out soon enough if I do or not."

"Minseok might be an Essem, but he's not going to fire you because you have a connection to me.” Yuri assures you. “If he does though, let me know and I'll kick his ass." Yuri grins, showing all of her teeth, and you chuckle despite the anxieties waging war in your stomach.

Walking back into the brewing room, you grab your apron and slip it on while keeping your back to Minseok and Johnny. With a deep breath, you turn to face them. Johnny stands over the cauldron which is a deep forest green and simmering pleasantly. You breathe in the smell of strawberries and hope the happiness has rubbed off on Minseok who is standing beside Johnny and whispering instructions.

With a glance up, Minseok pats Johnny on the shoulder and walks towards you. Lifting leaden feet, you meet him by the door to the ordering counter.

A volley of words waits on your tongue, but they retreat when Minseok asks, “Can you give this to your cousin?” The “this” he is referring to is a folded scrap of paper.

You take the paper, nodding as you slip it into the back pocket of your jeans. “Sure. What is it?”

A small smile lifts his cheeks, and his voice is soft when he says, “My number.”

You choke on your response, and you can hear Johnny chuckling as you attempt to regain your breath. Minseok offers to get you a drink, but you wave off his concern. “What?” You finally manage to get out.

“I forgot to ask for your cousin’s number when we were talking.” He pouts. “I was hoping you would give her mine and tell her she can text me whenever.”

“Sure.” You pause before asking, “Should I go back to work now?”

“Of course.” His response is instantaneous and a flood of relief washes through you. “And thank you.” He adds, the corners of his mouth quirking up. With a nod, he returns to Johnny’s side.

Exiting the brewing room, you shake your head. On the plus side, you still have your job. On the negative side, your cousin might start dating your boss which may not be a complete negative but it definitely isn’t a positive.

#hmw #johnny #essem: rosemary by moonight #nct #johnny suh #johnny drabble #johnny drabbles #nct drabble #nct drabbles #g: fluff #johnny fanfiction #nct fanfiction #nct 127

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daydreams-and-shortattentionspan · 4 years

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Broken Clocks Part 2

A/N: I had to make this into two parts otherwise this was finna be STOOPID long. Anywho, I’m kinda proud of how I wrote this one, dialogue is usually my kryptonite but this time it was weirdly easy lol. Again, thank you @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for your unintentional motivation. And I hope y’all enjoy it! Also happy birthday to the white man in this story sksksksks

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Black!Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2.1k

Part 1

_________________________________

‘Oh Lord, it is Him,’ you thought to yourself, mental voice dripping with dread and disgust, your sense of calm dissipating into the quiet atmosphere of the subway car. You quickly turned around and hoped he hadn’t noticed you, but cruel fate decided to take the opportunity to ruin your plan; instead, you had bumped into a man who had been walking towards the door as the train was approaching his stop; this caused your purse to fall and letting your wallet to come out and makeup bag to slide across the train floor and in turn hit the foot of the one person you were trying to avoid, Jermaine, your lousy ex-boyfriend of four years.

“Wait a minute, I know this bag,” you had heard him mumble from the other side of the vicinity. You had seen that he had picked it up from your peripheral vision and began looking for the owner.

‘Oh fuck me,’ you winced as you went to pick up your wallet that luckily had landed a mere few inches away from you, but you knew fate wasn’t feeling exactly kind at this particular point in time.

Now came the moment you had wished never been a slight possibility, talking to this no-good ass hat. You turned in his direction and mentally began to hype yourself up for an inevitably awkward situation.

‘Girl you got this, he ain’t shit and you KNOW he ain’t shit, your stop is coming up, just grab your shit and get thee fuck outta there ASAP,’ you prepped yourself, a constant loop of ‘You got this’ playing in your head.

“(Y/N),” Jermery started,“you look good,” a firm grip still on your belongings, as if trying to hold you hostage.

“Thanks…” you replied, awkwardness coating every letter of the word, you grabbed one of your arms to try to gain a sense of ease and comfort as you swayed looking everywhere except in his general direction. You knew you would have to face him at some point but you truly wish now wasn’t the time. There was no point in beating around the bush, you truly had to get this over with, so you grasped every last bit of confidence and assertiveness and did what needed to be done; you didn’t have to worry about his feelings anymore, you didn’t have to fear him anymore, you had to remember you were That Bitch and He was missing out on being with You and you would never get that twisted. You had Captain fucking America’s phone number in you phone at this very moment for Christ’s Sake!

You looked him directly in the eye, and stated simply, “I’d like my makeup bag please,” while reaching out your hand for your things. This sense of fire behind your being that let off a blaze of confidence and self-worth that left him blown away. This wasn’t the (Y/N) he knew and left in the dust, but he sure did want to waste her time once again.

He tried to turn his sex appeal and swagger on, he was confident this would work on you; and to be completely and utterly honest, any other time it most definitely would have. But today he would be sorely mistaken.

“So,” he started, biting his lip and looking you up and down; light skin antics on one thousand,“ how ya been?” Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me? You know this man does not care about me.

“Fine,” you stated dryly.

“That’s cool, that’s cool… How ya momma and them?”

“Fine,” still dry.

“You know ma dukes still asks about you after all this time?” This man wants to bring up his mother? Really?

“Well, did you tell Miss Shirlene why I haven’t come around in three years? Or did you manage to skip past that detail like you used to skip over telling other women you were in a relationship?” you retorted, you obviously knew the answer. Your stop was so close you could almost touch it, no time to lose; you snatched your make-up bag from his grasp and shoved it back into your purse.

“Nah, c’mon don’t be like that mamas, you know you still miss me,” he said while using his now empty hand to grab yours and used his thumb to trace little circles on the back of it. You had snatched your hand back from his grasp.

“Ohhh yeeaaahhh, because I missed the 1-minute fuck sessions, and the skid mark boxers always lying in the middle of the living room!” With every word, your ex partner grew smaller and smaller, confidence chipping away with every syllable, “And always having your rowdy ass home boys who didn’t have respect for my apartment ever,” The patrons of the subway car now all ears and reacting with the hissing sound of second-hand embarrassment or a ‘damn’ under their breath.

“Or all those girls coming to me as a woman talking about they deal with your sorry ass. And ALWAYS paying the bill when we went out to eat because you conveniently left your wallet -which NEVER had money it- at the house, and let’s not forget how I missed your loud ass snoring that kept me up all hours of the night.” By the time you were done dragging this man’s name through the mud with all the sadly true testimonies of your relationship, the train had stopped at your destination and the doors opened. You made your way to the exit of the train, you just needed one last step and you were home free, but you stopped before turning around telling him one last thing.

“So, no Jermaine, I absolutely do NOT miss your ain’t shit ass. Now leave me the hell alone before I go to Raven as a women and tell her that you up to your ain’t shit ways again. Bet you didn’t know I know about her, huh?” And with that, the doors hissed closed but you could clearly hear the sound of the entire car screech from your victory as it rolled away.

Walking with a fresh sense of worth, you realized in your moment of triumph, where you needed to be in a matter of minutes.

“Oh shit!” You scream before making a mad dash for your final destination.

Luckily the station was only a block away from the club, you just needed to walk fast and pray all the crosswalks were ready for you before you even approached them and you’d make it in time. A skill you had managed to acquire over the years was ducking and dodging through crowds with absolute ease.

You had managed to make it when a huge crowd began to enter the club allowing you to slip into the club with absolute stealth. You made your way to the back, similar to before you greeted coworkers over the loud music but this time you avoided your boss at all costs by hiding behind customers. You had made it to your locker and began to throw in your belongings into it and undress into your new outfit and heels. You plugged your phone into the community charger, knowing it would be safe back there, seeing as you were on good terms with everyone and they always looked out for you.

You sat in a chair in front of the vanity and took a good look at yourself, exhaustion written all over your face as you added on to the makeup you were already wearing. The other girls squealing in excitement about the big celebrity that would be in The Champagne Room tonight and how they were trying to weasel their way into performing in there; you had slowly began to zone out before hearing who it was that was causing the big fuss this evening, you didn’t want anymore excitement tonight, you just wanted to dance to a couple songs, get as much money as possible and get your ass back into your bed.

“Drink this, you look terrible,” Maria, the house mother, jokingly said with a smile; snapping you back to reality handing you a cup of coffee just the way you like it.

“Thanks Mari,” you took it graciously, blowing it before taking a sip.

“Of course, mi querida,” she replied before kissing the top of your head. This was exactly what you needed to get through the night.

“Also, Johnny wanted me to tell you: you, Diamond and Star are working The Champagne Room tonight,” she whispered as to not start another round of chaos in the dressing. You simply shook your head grateful that the two you were closest to would be right by your side the entire time.

‘Please have a lot of money,’ you silently prayed to yourself before taking another swig of your coffee and getting up to make this money.

You had entered The Room, mind on another planet to not realize who the group that was causing all the buzz backstage. Once again, it was Steve, Sam, and Bucky. You always seemed to run on autopilot when it came to dancing, doing flips and tricks but not really being there mentally. This was your way of getting through your shift without hating every minute of it.

Steve was in awe at how flawlessly you could move up and around that pole. You were so graceful but also so sensual. He didn’t recognize you at first, due to the change in makeup and different clothes (or lack thereof) and he had the strong urge to look away from your lack of clothing but he just couldn’t because he knew who this amazingly talented woman was; it was You: the waitress from the diner. Sure the other two girls were just as talented -Sam and Bucky seemed to think so, with the way they cheered at everything they did- ,but they could not compare when it came to your beauty. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

You had just finished your third song and you were grabbing your tips from the three men, not making eye contact with Sam or Bucky; but once you had made contact with Steve, you had felt the familiar sense of electricity from earlier coursed through your body. This feeling zapped you from your daydream, you looked at the hand that was handing money to you and then you realized who it was: Your Captain.

“Oh it’s You” you said with a sincere smile that lit up your entire face, the shyness had taken, over given the surroundings in which you had bumped into each other and he tried to find the right words to say.

“Well what are the odds,” he said, a timid smile in place. You giggled at his response.

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You really shouldn’t be working in a place like this,” Steve said softly.

Before you could respond, you could hear Sam let out an exasperated sigh while throwing his head back. He could just sense Steve’s ‘You shouldn’t have to do this’ speech coming at any moment because he did this the last time he had gone out with America’s beloved Super Soldier.

“Now don’t you start with this again. Just because you Captain America don’t make you Captain Save-a-Hoe,” he had said in a somewhat joking manner.

“Now who in the hell you callin a hoe, bird brain?” you snapped back, hands on your hips; ready to pop off if need be. Bucky quietly chuckled to himself saying, “I like this girl,” before taking a swig of his beer and sitting back to watch the argument that was bound to unfold in front of him; Diamond and Star equally entertained and taking seats next to the metal-armed man.

“Well if the platform heel fits,” he had clapped back as he stood to get closer to you.

“I work here, so I GOTTA be here, you came here by CHOICE Mister Parakeet. So what’s that say about you?,” you returned as you had a finger in his face to emphasize your point.

This caused a back and forth repetition of ‘Girl get your finger outta my face’ from him and ‘Or what?’ from you.

“Enough!” Steve shouted over the commotion. That was what rendered the Falcon speechless along with yourself and everyone else in the room. Bucky still giggling to himself about the ‘parakeet’ insult, he’d have to remember that one.

‘Now both of you, apologize.” The Captain had ordered. You and Sam both mumbling half-assed ‘sorry’s to one another, arms crossed and pouting like school children.

After the argument was over, you and the girls decided to talk with the men instead of dancing seeing as the crazy events that ensued made you all comfortable with one another. Sam was actually cool and you two ended up being the cause of most of the laughs in the group. Steve and you had grown closer as the evening went on.

“Would you wanna go out tomorrow?” he had asked suddenly, you raised your eyebrows at the question. Diamond and Star were behind Steve trying to convince you to say yes in their own silly ways. Without any hesitation, you looked him right in the eyes and said, “I’d love to.”

“How about dinner at 8?”

“Sounds perfect,” your smile growing.

“I’ll make sure to call you before, to make sure you’re ready on time. For some reason you can’t avoid a broken clock.”

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Taglist: @oceanscorazon @snazzyjazzy6 @illbethethundertoyourlightning @petlaufeyson

#steve rogers fic #steverogers #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x black reader #MCU fic #mcu imagine #mcu #y/n #reader imagine #black!reader imagine

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ramblings-of-a-foolish-mortal · 4 years

Text

Wolfstar Fanfic - Constellations in Your Soul.

///I started writing a Wolfstar fanfic, it’s my first fanfic that I’ve actually written with the intent to post. If you like it, let me know and I’ll post more on it. Also, plot suggestions are welcome. I’m not actually all that creative, most of the stuff I make is inspired by existing things. It would actually be really helpful if you’d leave comments and maybe be my beta readers? I’m not super great with editing. :) ///

Remus strolled through the wall that led to Platform Nine and Three Quarters after he’d replayed it over and over in his mind, both of his canvas suitcases in tow behind him. As he paced towards the train awaiting him and other students he tried to keep his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, hoping that he wouldn’t run into anyone on his way to the doors. The stairs to the train were shorter than he remembered them being, but that could be drawn up to his growth spurt this summer. The small smile that snuck onto his face once the cool air from the inside of the train hit him was unintentional, but when you smell home, there’s not much you can do but smile. The train had a tendency to carry many smells at once and it would often overwhelm Remus’ senses to the point that he would have to cover his nose until he got to whatever booth his friends were in, but this year he’d come early for the specific reason of being able to pick an ideal booth where everyone would comfortably fit rather than one barely big enough to fit the four of them, as had happened in all previous years of riding the train.

He shifted so his things were single file with him and slipped into an empty booth in the back corner that was slightly larger than the other aisle booths. Once his luggage was in the overhead, he sat close to the glass doors of the booth, in clear sight of the aisle so he could catch James or Sirius before they went into a different compartment and made him move. Peter was always late, last year he’d almost missed the train entirely. Remus smiled slightly at the memory of his friend falling over in the middle of the walkway as the train started to move, barely pulling his bag through closing doors.

I wonder whether James or Sirius will arrive first this year. If James managed to beat Sirius to the train, Sirius would be stuck with the middle seat, which was unfortunate as he enjoyed watching the scenery pass by. Remus could easily recall most of Sirius’ facial expressions, and he always seemed peaceful when watching the scenery pass by, even if it was moving too fast to distinctly make out. However, if Sirius got here first, James would spend the whole time getting up to go get snacks or to flirt with Lily Evans. Poor Lily, she has to put up with James being even more obnoxious than he is around me. He smiled slightly, becoming lost in thought about his friends, and about how the upcoming year would turn out. Surely they could have one year where no one almost died in a Quidditch match or deciding to explore the Forbidden Forest. Then again, he was friends with James Potter and Sirius Black. If anything did happen, he was sure he would be in the middle of it with them. Maybe I can try to reason them out of doing something lethally idiotic-

His thoughts were interrupted by Sirius knocking on the glass of the compartment door before sliding in, flashing Remus one of those confident smiles he threw around. Remus stood, hugging him with a light clap on the back.

“Hey Remus! Did you do anything fun this summer?” Sirius pulled out of the hug after a moment, though he seemed a little stiff, and heaved his things into the overhead before sitting down. Remus sat back down by the glass door, offering a shrug with his response. “If by fun you mean idiotic and likely resulting in injury, no.” Sirius made a small offended noise, as if he didn’t know exactly what Remus was jabbing at. “However, I did acquire something you might want to use.”

Sirius noted the glint in Remus’ eye and grinned. Most people probably would have thought he was the innocent caretaker of the group, but the fact was, he was most often the main perpetrator in planning each prank and assault. Sirius made a hand motion that could be easily interpreted as, Hand it over. Remus handed Sirius a bottle of muggle hair dye. They both gave somewhat villainous smiles before quickly returning back to normal behavior as Remus barely caught sight of James before he burst into the compartment. Sirius shoved the bottle into his robes inner pocket.

“Helloooooo Beauties! How are you guys! I hope you’re ready because I’ve been planning pranks and ‘creative activities’ all summer.” Sirius stood to give James a bone-crushing hug, back and shoulders stiffening when James squeezed back, before sitting back down. Remus frowned slightly at that, though started smiling again once in Sirius’ line of sight. James tossed his things carelessly into the overhead on Sirius’ side, all but falling into his seat as he launched into his plans for this year. Is he uncomfortable, maybe his muscles are stiff if he did something strenuous recently. Remus grimaced slightly at the not-so-faint scent of fabric softener, covering his nose while his thoughts were interrupted with a wave of nausea. James went on about letting loose a number of nifflers in the Great Hall, setting off fireworks over Gryffindor Tower, hiding tiny rubber ducks (a muggle toy) all over the prefects bathroom, and a number of other pranks that would likely require much revision by Remus to be feasible. It took him a couple minutes to realise Remus was looking nauseous.

“Remus, you look pale. What’s up?” James frowned slightly, worried about his friend. Remus couldn’t do much about it and simply summarized,

“Just the smell, James. Did your family begin using a new fabric softener in the wash?” He crossed his legs so his stomach didn’t feel so uneasy. “Sirius, would you open the window, please.” his voice came out a mutter through the sleeve of his robes. Sirius immediately pulled open the window, looking mildly concerned. Remus felt a surge of appreciation as fresh air flooded the compartment.

“Actually, yeah. I think my mum switched which one she uses. Is it bothering you?” James took off his Robe. “She washed my robe this morning, sorry. I didn’t think about the smell.” James stuffed the robe into this bag, hoping that would limit the scent for Remus.

Remus shrugged. “It’s not your fault James, you don’t have to apologize. Thank you for putting it away.” He kept his sleeve up to cover his mouth and nose for a while before he felt his nose was safe enough to lower it. James continued on about where he thought they could get the nifflers, and about where to acquire the fireworks for Gryffindor Tower, though Remus didn’t miss the occasional glance to check on him. Peter didn’t get to their compartment until the train was starting to pull out of station, huffing for air while looking somewhat exhausted.

“H-hi guys, I’m sorry I’m late… Again. I really didn’t- didn’t mean to, there was bad traffic and then I saw this cat at Kingscross Station and it was so cute, I couldn’t-” Sirius gave him a huge hug, similar to the ones he’d given Remus and James. Chamomile and mint seemed to be faintly emanating off of Peter.

“No problem, Pete! At least you’re on the train. I almost thought you weren’t going to make it.” Sirius spoke as he sat down while Peter climbed on the seat to push his bags into the overhead on Remus’ side. Remus smiled slightly at Peter, still a little sick to his stomach, but feeling much better than earlier.

“Nice to see you after summer break, Peter. Is your garden doing well?” Remus smiled slightly at the light that overtook Peter's expression.

“Oh, yes! My Lavender and Chamomile are maturing beautifully. I even brought some homemade tea-bags, I designed the mixture myself. I think you’ll like it. There’s mint in it too, and some other things, the odor shouldn’t be too strong, so you’ll be able to drink it even around full-moon.” Peter rushed the words out quickly, digging around in his pockets before pulling out a small cloth bag with the mixture inside. Remus smiled wider, letting Peter place it in his palm before his hands returned to his pockets and pulled out a small strip of woven embroidery thread, running his fingers over it and twisting it into different shapes.

“Thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.” Remus put the cloth bag in his robes inner pocket.

The ride to Hogwarts seemed shorter than the actual 9 hour ride, but that was likely because they spent the whole time either talking or sleeping. Remus spent only the last 20 minutes dozing in his corner, abruptly woken by the train’s whistle, alerting everyone of their soon arrival. James was continually talking, frequently interrupted by Sirius interjecting another thought that was usually more stupid or more dangerous. They hustled out of the compartment and off of the train. Remus and Peter were mostly quiet while navigating through hundreds of students and dozens of teachers helping to guide the tide of children and adolescents.

Remus kept a careful eye on Sirius and James so he didn’t lose them, while Peter was barely avoiding running into Remus with all the people trying to shove past and into them. I hate crowds. So many people. Too many smells. Remus grimaced at the clashing sounds and sights of the hoard around them. Relatively soon everyone halted, waiting for transportation up to the school grounds.

The school kept transportation orderly, sending each group of 4 to 5 students up to the school grounds 5 or 6 groups at a time. It wasn’t much of a wait to be able to sit down in the Great Hall. Everyone was very loud, voices garbling and rumbling over each other before they got to Remus’ ears. He glanced over at James, then felt his eyes roll while James was unabashedly staring at a red-headed Lily Evans only six or seven seats down. Sirius frowned when he saw Remus’ reaction before seeing the cause and grinning evilly.

Sirius threw a roll at James’ head to snap him out of it. “Careful, James. Or you face might get stuck in a stupid look. Oh, sorry, I forgot it was already stuck like that.”

James scoffed at that, throwing the roll back at Sirius. “Whatever, Drama Queen.” Remus smiled a bit, sighing. This is going to be a very long year, isn’t it? He glanced at Sirius, then felt his face flush a little. God damn he’s beautiful though.

Sirius shifted how he was sitting throughout the meal, leaning forward, or slouching a bit, or propping a leg up on his knee. It wasn’t uncomfortable shifts, but they made him look more ordinary than the rest of his family. His sibling, cousins, his whole family sat with stiff backs and airy postures. No doubt that’s his intent though. Remus noted how much more down to earth and grounded Sirius had always been. Stomach laughs and crooked smiles and mischief. None of his family’s superiority bullshit. Remus risked a glance at Sirius, trying to pinpoint why his movements were off. He seemed fine moving around, but every so often he’d start moving one way and abruptly stop, like something was blocking him. What on earth?

Remus kept a careful eye on Sirius the rest of dinner, even while the first years were being sorted into their houses. Sirius wasn’t entirely oblivious to Remus’ attention and looks of concern, but he didn’t seem to mind or care. Near the end of dinner, Remus mouthed, ‘Are you okay?’ Sirius only gave a stupid smile and nodded, like ‘Duh, why wouldn’t I be.’ Remus frowned as Sirius turned away from their brief interaction to talk to James and Peter. He’s definitely not okay…

As dinner came to a close, everyone started trickling out of the Great Hall, tired and full of food. Peter was the first to turn in.

“I’ll see you guys in the dorm room, I’m kind of tired though, so I might be asleep. See you tomorrow.” He gave a wave before quickly walking off to the dorm rooms. Peter tended to walk quickly, avoiding attention where he could.

“He had a good idea there.” James shrugged, standing only a few minutes after Peter left. “I’ve got to get my beauty sleep if I want Evans to fall for me, and most of the people should already be in bed. I’ll see you boys later in the dormitories.” He gave a quick smile and walked off slowly, winking at Lily on his way out. She only rolled her eyes at him and continued on with her current conversation.

Remus was quiet for a few minutes before looking Sirius in the eyes, a controlled expression on his face. “Sirius, what’s wrong.” Sirius’ face was blank for a moment before smiling widely, though his eyes looked caught.

“What do you mean? You shouldn’t be all cryptic Remus, someone might mistake your sock-folding arse for a mysterious type.” he pointed at Remus. “You do know girls go for the mysterious quiet type, don’t you?”

“Stop deflecting. I know something is wrong. You don’t have a full range of movement and you keep flinching when you try to move your shoulder back. I can’t figure out if you got injured or if you’re just feeling weird today. I mean it’s not like-” Remus paused, eyes widening. -like somebody beat you. He was about to say. Poor choice of words Remus. You know how his family treats him. “Oh. This morning?” Remus frowned, studying Sirius’ face. Sirius frowned, nodding in small motions. “You haven’t had somebody look at it yet, have you.” Sirius shook his head, lips pulled tight. Oh I am going to murder them. Just as soon as I get the chance their heads are going t-

“Remus, you’re getting angry again.” Sirius spoke quietly, calmly, gently taking Remus’ attention.

“I thought you said they were going to control themselves over the summer. They said they’d minimize damage.” Remus couldn’t help the slight growl that crept into his voice. He’s my friend. It should be me instead. He doesn’t deserve this, I do. Why does he have the shitty family? Remus knew his thought process was illogical. Neither of them had control over their families or who was in them, but he still felt that Sirius deserved none of the lot given to him.

“They did. This was the first time in two weeks, Remus. Calm down a bit. I was going to ask you to help me out a bit once the others were in bed.” Sirius gave a small comforting smile. Sirius is in pain and he’s comforting me?

“Yeah...okay. Abandoned bathroom?” Remus looked to Sirius for his response, wanting to help. Sirius gave a quick nod and they both stood up, walking out of the Great Hall. At least he’ll be safe here at school. I’m glad we get to go to Hogwarts.

#wolfstar #sirius x remus #fanfic #sirius needs a hug #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #james potter #angsty sirius #slightly angsty #angst #comfort #harry-potter #harry potter marauders #first fanfic #constellations-in-you-soul

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bloodpacks-archive · 5 years

Text

cornelia street

word count: a very humble 1.5k

summary: she’s renting a place on cornelia street, he falls in love. It’s all unintentional

warnings: none! this is pure softness and fluff

note: I just had to write something based off of this song. It was so so so sweet and I just knew it would be perfect for something :) I hope you guys enjoy it!

Tom met her in the autumn, when the burning colors of the London leaves perfectly complimented her bright eyes and her laugh accompanied the soft sounds of rain against the pavement. When he saw her, he was reminded of something new, of something exciting, of adventures waiting to happen.

He’d been introduced to her through a friend from work, and she had this smile that seemed to pull him in right away. They were quick to fall into conversation, and he soon learned that she was just here to scout out the area for a bit.

“I’m renting a place over on Cornelia Street,” She said, her voice light and lips upturned in a smile. “Just looking for a reason to stay.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find one,” Tom replied before being ushered away to another interview. He took a glance back at her, watching as she broke into another smile as his eyes caught her gaze.

Tom turned forward again, hoping she didn’t catch the similar smile that had made its way onto his face.

—————

It’s only a few weeks later when Tom finds himself on Cornelia Street. Or rather, sitting across from her in her apartment, throwing blueberries at him to see if he can catch them in his mouth.

She has soft music playing in the background, that and both of their laughter fill the quiet space of the apartment.

“So how much longer do you have here?” Tom asks as she grabs another blueberry from the bowl in front of them.

“Just a few more weeks. I have to finish up some work still,” She says.

“And?”

“And what?” Laughter riddles her voice, one eyebrow raised as she looks up at him.

“Did you find a reason to stay?” Tom can hear the way hope comes through his voice, can feel the way his heart beats a bit faster.

“I’ve found reasons to come back,” She replies.

“But I’m asking about staying.” Tom leans forward, putting his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his hands. Her eyes flicker over Tom’s face. She pauses for a moment.

“Maybe. We’ll just have to see.” Tom rolls his eyes and playfully groans, leaning back in his chair. He feels a blueberry hit his cheek and looks up to see her laughing at him.

“What? You gonna miss me or something?” She asks, her voice teasing and laughter still finding a way to grace the room.

“I would never,” Tom replies. She rolls her eyes in response, and throws another blueberry at him. It’s later when she offers to walk him out, when the sun has begun to dip below the London skyline and the golden light finds ways to perfectly reflect off of her skin.

She’s leaning against the side of the building, her hair falling in her face from how she’s tilting her head. Tom’s standing in front of her, trying not let his eyes wander across her face for too long, trying to look out at the city every so often.

“You know,” She begins. Tom turns towards her, hanging on to even the simplest words, as long as they come from her. “I am thinking about staying.”

And Tom can’t help the way he perks up a bit, the way he leans in to hear more. She notices, and she shakes her head at him, laughter escaping her.

“There's a few long-term job opportunities here, but,” She pauses, looking up at Tom, “I’d have to get a visa and you know that’s not easy.”

“I mean we could always get married and you wouldn’t even have to worry.” Tom feels the blush creep up his neck before he even realizes what he’s said. She laughs, bright and loud, ducking her head before she tucks another piece of hair behind her ear.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Tom leaves with her laughter still ringing in his ears.

—————

It’s a week before her flight home. They’re out today, quietly walking in nearby parks and taking in the crisp autumn air before it turns to a much colder winter.

“Are you sure you have to go?” Tom asks, turning to her as they walk under a few trees, their leaves resting on the ground beneath them. She looks up at him, sympathy warm in her eyes.

“I’m sure,” She replies. She sighs, sitting on a nearby bench. Tom is quick to join her, looking out at the pond in front of them. She leans towards him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. Tom hopes she can’t hear how quick his heart is beating.

“I mean, you could stay with me?” Tom says. She glances up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “You know, just until you find out if those jobs pan out and stuff.”

“I can find out if they pan out from home.” She lightly bumps her shoulder into his, letting a barely-there smile grace her face. “I promise you I’ll be back,” She whispers.

A piece of hair falls in front of her face, and without even thinking, Tom reaches a hand up and tucks it behind her ear. And he isn’t entirely sure what happens, but he’s leaning in, and then he’s kissing her. It’s just for a moment, soft and sweet and barely there, but he still feels it lingering on his lips when he moves away.

He still has his eyes closed, his hand resting on his cheek and their foreheads pressed together.

“You have to promise,” He whispers. He feels her hand come up to hold his, the one that’s resting on her cheek, and he opens his eyes. She’s still got that gorgeous smile on her face, her eyes still bright.

“I promise.”

She gets sponsored for a visa three months later.

—————

It’s autumn again, and she’s got his coat wrapped around her shoulders. They’re walking home from a shopping trip, just a few bags in their hands, and she’s teasing him, bumping their shoulders together and making faces at him the entire way home.

They pass an intersection, and she stops for a moment, looking down a street. Tom turns, furrowing his eyebrows at her.

“Cornelia Street,” She says, almost whispering to herself. Tom takes a few steps forward and glances up at the street sign. She motions with a tilt of her head down the street. “Mind if we take a walk?”

“A literal trip down memory lane, huh?” Tom replies. She rolls her eyes at him, but starts to make her way down the street.

“You’re cheesy,” She says to him when he catches up. He laughs, full and bright and gorgeous.

“Yeah, but you love it.” Tom bumps his shoulder into hers again, and she rolls her eyes, a light smile still gracing her lips.

They continue walking, and then Tom starts to feel droplets of rain land on his cheeks. It’s light at first, until it picks up to just a bit more than drizzling. He feels her hand on his arm, and then she’s pulling him underneath an awning.

“Hey! Maybe I was enjoying the rain,” He says, although he checks the bag in his hands to make sure nothing inside got too wet.

“If your hair gets wet you won’t stop complaining until we get home,” She replies. She brings up one of her hands to move a piece of his hair off of his forehead. She moves her hand down, until it’s lightly cupping his cheek, her thumb lightly rubbing back and forth on his cheekbone.

“You’re not allowed to break up with me, you know that?” She whispers. Tom laughs, ducking his head down.

“Didn’t know you were the one to make that decision,” He replies. She shrugs, a smirk on her face as she feigns confusion.

“Don’t I make all the decisions?” Tom lets a sharp laugh pass his lips, lightly shoving her shoulder with his free hand. She takes a step back, putting her hands up in surrender.

“My bad, didn’t know you had plans,” She says, trying to bite back the smile on her face. Tom takes a step forward with her, closing the space between them as he places his hands on her waist.

“You know I don’t.”

“Good,” She whispers, and she touches her nose to his, letting her eyes fall shut. “Don’t think I’d be able to ever come to London again if you did.”

“And why’s that?” Tom asks.

“It’s your city.”

“It’s a big city.” She backs away, looking up at him. There’s something in her eyes, something that Tom can’t quite identify, but he loves that look.

“And yet it screams your name.”

“Well I’d never be able to come here again,” Tom says. She smirks up at him.

“And why’s that?”

“It’s where I fell in love with you.”

And then she breaks out into a smile, ducking her head for a moment and shifting her weight before she leans up, pressing her lips to his in the sweetest of ways. And her laughter is accompanied by the sound of the rain hitting the awning above them, and her bright eyes are complimented by the burning colors of the leaves, and Tom wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s come to love Cornelia Street, and she’s come to love the city and everything that comes with it.

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shesawriter39049 · 5 years

Text

|THE PLUG| M| JIMIN |4

SMUT/ANGST

**For this first time, Jimin’s “lifestyle” clashes with yours...what happens when work makes him miss one of the most monumental moments in your career!? **

-JIMIN’S YOUR PLUG…AND HE’S KIDNA BECOMING YOUR MANS!

1.2 K sneak peek-

Jimin’s whipped and in his feels and so is the OC

Jimin’s still fucking perfect though...and a freak..but we all know this!

Things are starting to get just as much angsty as sexy…and the OC’s lowkey freaking out a little....

SLIGHT daddy kink, mentioned twice

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Jimin couldn't hide the smile on his face if he wanted too, grinning from ear to ear as he watched you sway in his direction. Suddenly the nervousness he felt flooding through his body the entire drive over here disappeared, all that mattered in this moment was you. “Fuck..” Swept past his lips almost breathless as he pulled his blacked out aviators off hanging them in the neckline of his black V-neck. The sun and the slight breeze was damn sure working in your favor, giving Jimin his own little runway show so it seemed. In his eyes you always looked good…”cute and fuckable” in his words, but due to your work schedules and obviously your previous arrangement which was essentially a booty call! It was rare he got to see you all dolled up like this, in your heels, hair and makeup done, skin tight midi dress that clung to every curve that Jimin’s committed to memory. Sitting on the hood of his challenger in the parking lot, distressed dark wash jeans that gave you no choice but to stare at those sinfully thick thighs of his! The minute you were in arms length he grabbed you, pulling your body into his which you fit like a glove, spreading his legs just enough to trap you in between them. Nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck, a sigh of contentment leaving both of your lips at the contact. Giving yourself a moment to take in the scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma which you loved a little too much, even for your own liking! Hands slowly soothing up his back only to get tangled in his thick mane of hair, raking your nails down the nape.

“Hi baby…” Rolled off his tongue and into you hair, physically able to hear the smile in his voice, palms soothing up your ass, gently kenading his fingers into your skin through the fabric of your dress “God, I love how you feel…so soft and just...mine...mmm” A low moan fell from your lips at that, instantly feeling almost lightheaded. The things this man could do to you, hands coming up to find their home on your waist, not trusting himself where they currently sat! Leaving a couple kisses up the side of his neck, pulling back to admire the faint outline from your lipgloss, the sun accentuating the gold reflexes from the glitter. Bringing your forhead up to rest against his, lashes touching in the procces, you look too damn tempting right now, espeically considring the two of you were outside of your work, but fuck. The idea of bending you over the hood of his car sounds painfully appealing, leaning down to let his lips capture yours nothing subtle about it Jimin kissed you with force. His tongue clashing clashing against yours, volleying it against his teasingly as if you’d really fight him for dominance, A growl leaving his lips once he realises too, pulling back to sink his teeth into your bottom lip, hand coming up to make firm contact with our ass until you knead out into his mouth. Soothing his palm over your cheek, which made you ultimately give in,Jimin moaned once given free reign of your mouth. Suddenly switching up the pace, his actions becoming more delicate as he tangled his fingers in your hair.

“Soooo...there's a reason I asked you to meet me for lunch…”

Smiling against his lips before pulling away, a slight hum leaving his lips as he cocked his head to the side, brow quirked in curiously. Rubbing slow soothing circles up your sides “ I found out it was confirmed almost 2 weeks ago….but things between us were still so new, and up in the air,so I didnt wanna make things weird by brining it up right away...” Palming your hands up his shoulders nervously,unintentionally fluttering your eyes away from him until you felt his index finger flick your chin. Silently demanding your undivided attention, and clearly you weren’t one to deny Jimin of any of his desires!

God your face was so damn hot, why were you so nervous for this!? It’s a GOOD thing Y/N breathe ..”Babbyy…” Slipplied from his lips catiously “Are youuuu like...preg-” Jimin didint even let the word fully slip past his tonuge before you were almost ready to fight!

“NO! GOD NO! That’s the last thing I need right now” Just the thought of it alone had your blood presure rising, eyes almost bucking out of there sockets which only had Jimin cackling. At least he found this humerous....heart damn near thumping out of your chest!

“Well shit, if it’s not that it can’t be that deep, your a big girl...I know you prefer to swallow but spit it out…” Gazing back at you with the cheekiest grin on his lips, reaching up to playfully pinch his nipple, alright maybe it wasn’t so playful. And neather was the hiss that left his throat, so damn sinful! A second away from saying fuck lunch and just dropping to your knees! Since that wasn’t an option you despertly tried to pretend as if you didnt hear the whine that just rolled off his tonuge!

“Oh fuck you! Okay, Okay, well... I have my first official show ...as in it’s booked, sponsered, the full nine” Nose scrunching in tentatively, not quite sure how he’ll react or if he’ll even care but you should no better, this is Jimin were talking about here!

This man's face lit up immediately, those big puppy dog eyes of his gazing down at you with nothing but fondness “Oh my god baby!!!” Squeezing you into his arms, kissing you hard enough to knock the wind out of you before picking you up. Twirling you around in his arms ”I’m so damn proud of you…” Something about hearing Jimin say that you a second away from tears...you didn't have family around to say it so he was the closest thing you’d had in years. The first person in lords knows when to mean enough to you to make that phrase hold weight!

“Thank you..” Exhaled from your body shakingly, the grip you help around his waist tightened. As if he could read your mind Jimin switched gears, wanting to pull you out of that headspace. Ducking down to kiss up the side of your neck in between words.

“Soo you know this means I’m coming over tonight , and were having realy ,really kinky sex right? All night...high,nasty,sex! I’m talking like, on top of your dining room table next to the carry out..spread wide open on your fucking stairs. However and wherever I want you , I’m having you, daddy’s in full control, I know how much my baby can reallyyy take” Jimin was litterally moaning in your ear, and ya what know, dick sounds more appealing than food right now! “Fuck,and your gonna take it, over and over again until you know how proud I am... god I’m gonna fuck you soo damn good!” Sinking his teeth into the patch of skin behind your ear since he knew your hair would cover the mark he was currently leaving behind “..bescause you deserve it...”

“Mmm,that a promise?” Brow quirked slightly purposely challenging him, as you nibbled on the side of his ear, words coming out breathier than intended..

“Damn right it is, you already know how long I last when I’m high, I just can’t wait to see how long baby last before she's begging daddy to tap out...” A low whine leaving your throat, reclining your neck to give his tongue more access.

“But wait...”Pulling back suddenly, clearly perplexed, and considering the current conversation so where you “Whyyyy... were you nervous to tell me about that??Baby it’s what you’ve been waiting for” Mhhmm, It’s what you've been working towards since you got your promotion 8 months ago!

“Umm..well…” There the nerves go again “I also wanted to invite you, as my date....I-I’m not trying to rush things and introduce you as my man but. I just, I don’t know, I really want you there, and not just hiding in the damn corner somewhere…I wanted you by my side...if your comfortable with that” fidgeting with the rings on your fingers slightly, feeling like complete puddy in his grasp, suddenly questioning if you were 17 again!

Jimin’s damn near melted at that, eyes beaming, the smile that spread across his face instantly eliminated any uncertainty you had prior! He’s been the one up with you as of late, at all hours of the night, just chillin on the couch. Smoking while your creating,editing, destroying, having mental breakdowns..the full nine!

Pulling your forward lightly by the chain around your neck, leaning in for one more lingering kiss before responding. “That’s why you were nervous?! Are you fucking serious Y/n of course, I’d go!” Tone indicating he was actually somewhat offended that you thought otherwise. “I’d be more pissed if I wasn’t at least invited...when is it?”

“Monnnn-day???” Tone hopefully, maybe too hopeful especially once you took in the look on Jimin’s face looking like someone just stole his damn bike! “What-what's..wrong?” You are very tentative at this point...almost scared to know the answer.

A deep exhale left his body at that, recling his neck slightly, raking his fingers though his hair “I-fuck...I was going to tell you at lunch, that I gotta leave tomorrow morning...” Pausing to read your body language , your mouth forming an unintentional “O” not sure what else to say! “I’m, not set to be back until... Tuesday….” Slowly dropping his gaze away from ours, Jimin literally felt naesous right now. Your body tensing under his hold and what made it even worse is he could feel it “Baby I’m so-”

“No, no it’s cool, it was supid anyway, were not even official yet so I can't be offended that you can’t go..you have a job too...I understand” Bullshit, nothing but bullshit, not even sounding remotely convincing as your voice wavered in your throat, like a leaf in the wind. “I-umm..I should probably get inside and prep-” Attempting to pull away but Jimin was always one step ahead of you.

“You still haven’t even eaten lu-”

“It’s fine, I’ll like grab grub hub or something..” Still trying to pull away, is it maybe because your eyes were bruning and even though you weren’t “Official” you felt like you’d just been knocked in the gut and wanted to cry?

“Okay...can I atleast pay for it?” Tone a second away from almost begging, of all the times for Jay to come around..it just fucking HAD to be now!!?

“No, no, Jimin it’s fine you don’t need to do that...I’ll ummm, call you when I get off okay??” Pulling away without a hug or a kiss, and more importantly you didn't make eye contact with him and that hurt more than anything else.

“Y/n!?”- Silence

“Baby!!?” - You could hear the slight plea within his voice but if you turned around he’d see you cry and you weren’t doing that! You told him you could handle this..you told yourself you could handle this!

“Fuck!” Growled from his chest as he raked his fingers through his scalp almost painfully hard.

Jimin knew he warned you, warned you that this wouldn’t alway’s fun, and you’d have to take the good with the bad! But fuck, did he warn himself!!!? Because he literally felt as though he was a second away from throwing up right now! The look on your face once he told you he wouldn't be here was burning through his mind on instant replay, as you walked away from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE FOR NOW, IF YOUR EXCITED SHOW ME SOME LOVE AND COME LEMME KNOW…

ALSO ….21Q’S PART 2 WILL COME BEFORE THIS..BUT I WROTE THIS RIGHT AFTER PART 3...SOOOO...I WANTED TO GET THIS SNEAK PEEK UP FOR NOW....IT WILL BE A COUPLE WEEKS BEFORE PART 4!

LOVE YOU GUYS AS ALWAYS,

ROCKI

MASTERLIST

#Jimin #jimin smut #park jimin #park jimin smut #jimin angst #bts #bts smut #bts au #bts angst #jimin au #park jimin au #kpop #kpop smut #kpop au

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helplessly-nonstop · 5 years

Text

A Thief of Hearts(And Jewels) (S.Rollins smut)

Well, my discord chat and I was up to some of our usual antics and somehow we ended up on the idea of the Shield as criminals. So I took the idea and ran with it. So here we are! This is a jewel thief/FBI AU!

Warnings: use of handcuffs, smut, lil bit of angst, sprinkle of fluff, sort of humorous sex..., taking a shower together, mentions of not pulling out, I think that’s it

WC: 3889 words

I’m a robbery agent for the Cincinnati field office for the FBI and one team of criminals that I haven't been able to catch is the Ruby Robbers. It was the team of Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns and no matter how close I got to catching those handsome bastards, they managed to slip from my grasp every fucking time.

I huffed and slammed my hands on my desk, growling in annoyance. Seth Rollins, my partner, glanced up and raised an eyebrow, questioning, “You okay there, beautiful?” I let out a soft cry then whined,”I don’t get it. How the hell are they so far ahead of me? As soon as I get to the robbery, it’s like someone already tipped them off.”

“They’re criminals, Y/L/N. What do you expect?” I huffed, annoyed at his rationality, then I muttered, “I dunno. Maybe I was hoping for an easier criminal team to catch? Couldn’t they be a little less.. I don’t know, smart? I mean, who’s actually heard of a smart jewel thief? Most of them just gets caught on their first heist. These guys have hit almost every museum from Boston, all the way over to San Diego, down to New Orleans, but they always seem to come back here. Why? They’ve robbed one bank for a ruby. I just don’t get it.”

“Maybe you should think more like a criminal, get inside their heads.” I stared at Rollins for a moment then he raised an eyebrow at me, asking, “What? You don’t like my idea?” I blinked slowly at him then answered slowly, “Actually… I think you’re onto something, Seth. But the question is how do I think like a criminal?”

“Study the crimes scenes. Analyze how they made off with the rubies and how they got away. Break down the banks and museums then put yourself in their places, get inside their heads.”he suggested, passing me an entire stack of maps. I stared at all of the papers then replied,”Well, it was your idea, so you’re helping me think like a criminal.”

“What? Me? Why me? Why couldn’t you pick Becky? She’s more likely to be a criminal!” Seth protested then the Irish woman appeared, slapping her friend on the back of the head.

“Dat’s whatcha get fer dat!”she informed him before disappearing from sight once again. Seth and I exchanged confused glances then shrugged, settling down on the floor as we analyzed the crime scene photos, all of the museum and bank floor plans.

Hours had passed then I squinted down at the first heist that they completed. It was just a small bank here in Cinci and I couldn’t help but wonder why they chose this particular bank to rob. The ruby that they had stolen wasn’t very expensive so I couldn’t help but wonder what their motive was.

“Alright kid, spill it. You’ve been staring at that one bank for the last thirty minutes. What’s got you so focused on it?” I bit my lip then flickered in between two of the crime scene photos that I had been stuck on and replied,”I’m… I’m not sure, really. These two pictures, they’ve got me stumped. It’s like something is inside screaming at me to find it, but I can’t manage to think of what it was.’’

He took them from my hands and held them up to the light, the two of us studying the scenario in the different view then I snapped my fingers, snatching the left one from my partner’s hand. He glanced over my shoulder as I explained,”The ruby never left the bank! That’s why the surveillance cameras were cut! Reigns and Ambrose doesn’t give a damn if people know what they look like! They thrive on taunting people knowing that they’ve gotten away with their crimes! That’s Ambrose right there, putting the ruby in that vent.”

Rollins squinted down at the picture and he rubbed his thumb against where I pointed at then he murmured,”Well I’ll be a son of a bitch. How’d we not noticed that sooner?” I quickly stood then exclaimed,”I don’t know, but at this moment, I really don’t give two shits! I’ve gotta go check out this bank, right now!”

“What, like right now?! You do realize what time it is, right? It’s like one in the morning, you lunatic!” Seth protested, standing up as well. I snatched the picture from his hand then slid my jacket as I answered,”Yeah, I know! But I have a copy key to the door and I need to go see if the ruby is still there.” He sighed, shaking his head as he put on his own coat then he muttered,”Alright, if you say so.”

We exited the office and realized that it was pouring down rain but at this point, I couldn’t care less. I had finally gotten a break in this stupid case. We rushed to the car, Seth thankfully popping the umbrella that he always carries with him, then off to the bank we went, determined to get our big break. I slammed the car into park and we entered the bank as I unlocked the front door, the alarms thankfully disarming when I did so.

I hurried over to where Ambrose was caught on camera sliding the ruby into the vent then I turned on my phone light, scanning the somewhat large vent. Not but three feet into the vents, I spotted the shiny, blood colored jewel and I slipped on a pair of latex gloves to prevent tainting evidence.

“Seth, I found it!” I shouted, turning to face my partner, only for a frying pan to smack me in the face.

The pain was the first thing to greet me when I came to. My head throbbed with the after effects of being (essentially) kissed really fucking hard with a pan. I groaned then realized that I had a second problem to compliment my first one: I was tied up and duct tape had been slapped across my mouth. I let out a whine then realized that people were talking outside of where I was being held.

“Did you really have to hit her that hard though? She would’ve went with us much easier if you would’ve just pointed a gun in her face and ordered her to drop the ruby and walk.” I recognized that voice. It was impossible not to know that voice, considered I had been partners with that person for the last four years. My head snapped up and I glowered at the door across from me, knowing that the three men was about to enter the room.

“Oh look, she’s awake!” Dean Ambrose chirped, sliding into the room like the smooth criminal he was. Roman Reigns gave a sly smile and replied, “Well, that tosses our wake up plan.” And finally, Seth fucking Rollins ended their little train of jewel thieves. The three sat down beside me then I began screeching through my gag, kicking my feet the best that I could in this position.

“Damn, she’s a feisty one. How’d you manage to deal with her all these years, Seth?” Reigns asked, allowing his chin to rest lazily on his fist, propped up by his knee. Rollins grinned at his criminal buddies and replied,”We were well paired. Weren’t we, sweetheart?” My eyes narrowed and in my mind, I imagined hurting him very badly, but then remembered that even though I was pissed, I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to hurt him.

“Now. If you promise to act somewhat civilized, I’ll take off the duct tape. But if you misbehave even once, I’m putting in a ball gag and you won’t get a safe word. Do you understand me?” Ambrose threatened, leaning forward. I gave a small nod, annoyed with the duct tape, and he yanked it off, a small help escaping me as I got a free wax from the glue on the tape.

“W-Why? Why are you working with them? You worked so hard to help me catch them.” I murmured, eyes lowering to avoid his gaze.

He sighed and cupped my cheek as he answered,”I’ve known Dean and Ro since I was a kid. When I found out that they had became jewel thieves, I realized that my true allegiance with them had never died out. So I contacted them and told them that I would help them escape capture.”

“Granted when you were gifted the case, it made it a little more difficult because I wanted to stay loyal to you, but I couldn’t turn my back on Roman and Dean again. I left them when I went to college and the academy. So I decided to play both sides of the fence.” I stared at him for a solid three minutes (or mores I’m not sure) then shrieked,”I can’t fucking believe you! You backstabbing little hoe bag! I trusted you!”

Rollins leaned backwards and looked over at Roman as he stated,”I told you she was gonna be pissed.”

“Man, I knew she was going to be pissed. And with good reason too.”the longer haired man replied, giving a shrug. My entire body trembled with the force of my anger, frustration, and defeat then I hung my head, letting out a soft sob.

“I never meant to hurt you, I promise.” Seth murmured, cupping my cheek to brush away my tears away.

“I-I trusted you. You played me.” I whimpered. He sighed and pressed his lips to my forehead, saying softly, “I didn’t want to. I just needed to earn their trust back. You have to know that, sweetheart.” Dean glanced up towards the door and stated, ”Hate to break up this little love fest but uh, we need to get going.” Seth glanced up at his friend’s words then pulled me into his arms bridal style and we exited the bank, hopping into a car with Roman in the driver’s seat and Dean in the passenger.

Seth buckled me in then asked,”If I cut you free, do you promise to be good for me?” His unintentional innuendo made me blush then I ducked my head and muttered,”Yeah. It’s not like I can do anything. You took my gun.”

“And the knife you keep in your shoe.”he informed me, cutting my legs and arms free, only for him to snap one of the cuffs around my wrist and the other to his own.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I shouted, tugging against him. He gave a grin then answered,”I know how your mind works, beautiful. I’m not giving you any chances of escaping. So sit back and enjoy the ride.” I groaned and smacked my head against the head rest for the seat, glaring out my window as Dean began humming CCR’s Bad Moon Rising. Seth twisted his hand upwards and I glanced down briefly at it, ignoring the allure it had. I wanted to hold his hand like I used to during car rides but he betrayed me. I couldn’t exactly ignore that… could I?

I turned back to the window then I felt his fingertips skim my own and he leaned closer, murmuring, ”You might as well get comfy, sweetheart. This is going to be a long ride.” I huffed and side eyed him before returning to my glaring out the window.

We passed through Ohio into Indiana very briefly, and when I woke up, I realized that we had drove all the way through Kentucky, Tennessee, and Alabama before finally realizing our destination: Florida. I rubbed at my eyes then glanced up to see that Seth was leaning against me, his eyes closed and I sighed at how relaxed he was.

Half of my mind wanted to hate him, to punish him for all of the bullshit that he had put me through during this case. But another part of me, the idiotic side, was desperate to forgive him. I stared down at our entangled fingers then snapped my gaze up to Dean as he said,”He really does care for you. A lot more than he likes to admit. And it crushes him every day to lie to you.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that he still lied to me.” I muttered, leaning against Seth’s chest. Roman sighed and said,”Yes, you do have a point. But put yourself in his position. He just wanted to keep his best friends and his lover to himself. Is that so wrong?”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I stuttered,”I-I am not his lover.” I watched Dean and Roman share a unconvinced glance then I snapped,”I have never slept with Rollins, even if the thought has crossed my mind.” The two shared a laugh then Seth murmured,”Well, good to know that the feeling is mutual.” I jerked away from him, only for him to yank back on his cuff, dragging me back in.

“What, you’re allowed to cuddle with me for the majority of the ride down here but the moment that I lay my head on yours, you freak out and admit that you want to sleep with me?”he asked, his nose brushing mine. I stared at him for a while, unsure of what to say then he turned away, glancing towards our driver as he asked,”So, where we at?”

“Just crosses the Alabama/Florida border. We just switched drivers so I’m ready to finish this trip.” Roman answered, his dark eyes glued to the road ahead of us. Seth nodded but didn’t replying. We settled into a silence then we pulled into a large house, three cars in the driveway. I guess being jewel thieves paid off nicely. We entered the house and Dean set his duffel bag down, ordering,”Take your shoes off, this is white carpet and if you stain it, you will clean it. Got it? Good. Rollins, she’s your lover, you share a room with her.”

Roman and Dean, now holding hands, disappeared into a bedroom, locking the door behind them as I shouted,”We’re not lovers!” I glanced up at Seth who stared down at me then tugged me up the stairs without a word.

“Look, can we just maybe unlock these cuffs so I can get a shower, please? You made me sit in the car for over eleven hours and I really want to shower.” Seth tossed his own bag onto the bed then turned to look at me before he replied, ”Maybe. Would you rather eat first?” My stomach grumbled in response and I rolled my eyes at my body’s betrayal then we walked back downstairs to find something to eat.

He opened the freezer and pulled out mozzarella sticks, stating,”It’s my cheat weekend, so you’ll have to sue me.” I nodded in understanding and he started the deep fryer then we settled across from one another, waiting for the oil to heat up. We stared at each other then a small chime alerted us that the oil had reached its boiling point. Standing up, we dropped the sticks into the fryer, waiting for them to begin flooding.

Once we finished eating, we walked back upstairs and laid down on the bed, beginning to watch Castle Rock, the new Stephen King show on Hulu. We ended up finishing the entire first season and by the time we finished it, it was one in the morning. I glanced down at the cuffs and murmured,”Now can I get a shower? Please? It’s not like your bathroom has windows and even if you did, I’m not one for jumping out three story buildings.”

Seth’s lips twitched to the side and he looked down at the chain connecting us then uncuffed my wrist, leading me into the bathroom. He held up the key and set it down on the dresser beside the restroom door before warning,”You even think about running, I won’t hesitate to tackle your ass and handcuff you to the bed frame. Do you understand me?” I nodded in agreement then he pushed me into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I stared into my reflection then pulled off my shirt, unhooking my bra, and let out a scream as the door opened, Seth stepping into the room.

“What the hell are you doing? I thought you were going to trust me to be alone long enough to take a shower?” I snapped, covering my breasts with my shirt. My partner tilted his head to the side, as if considering his words, then he stated,”Mm, I changed my mind. Consider the deal null and void.”

“What?!” I shouted as he snapped the handcuff back around my wrist. I stared down at the chain and I realized that he didn’t have a shirt on then it dawned on me.

“Are you going to take a shower with me?” He looked at me with a blank expression then said simply,”Y/N, I’ve seen you naked. You’ll be fine.” I have an anxious glance to the shower and he rolled his eyes, asking,”What, you want me to lose my pants first? Fine.” Using his free hand, he unbuttoned and slid his zipper down, pushing it down as far as he could manage then wiggles out of the material the rest of the way. And to no surprise, he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

I dipped my head downwards to avoid his gaze - and his dick- then he started the water, waiting for me to strip. He glanced at me expectantly then he said,”Sweetheart, you lose the pants, or I’ll help you out of them.” With my entire face up in flames, I pushed my jeans to my knees and kicked them away, stepping into the shower.

In silence we traded places back and forth underneath the steady stream of hot water then when I couldn’t get all of the conditioner out of my hair, Seth reached up and worked the soap out, kissing the crown of my head before he murmured, “C'mon, let’s go to bed, sweetheart.”

Whether it was the kindness of that he gave and my previous crush on him, I held his hand as he helped wrap me into a towel then I returned the favor, staring up at him as he watched me, his tongue flicking out to trace his lips. I watched with intrigue when he did so and we walked into the bedroom, Seth grabbing the key to release our hands long enough to get dressed. He walked into the closet then tossed a shirt at me, along with a pair of boxers, stating,”Go ahead and get dressed.”

As soon as I was dressed, he exited the closet and clasped the cuffs down once again, the two of us laying down with my back to his bare chest. His free arm snaked underneath my head then he wrapped our connected arms around my waist.

“Seth.” I murmured as he pressed against me halfway through the night. He groaned, nestling his face in the crook of my neck as he groaned,”Shh, sweetheart. Jus’ go back to sleep, kay?”

“Can’t, you’re distracting me.” I admitted, eyes glued to where his fingers were half slipped into the boxers that I wore. He turned, taking a deep breath in, then kissed the skin of my neck, murmuring,”Is that so? Can’t think with my fingers so close to your pussy, sweetheart?” I stuttered at his statement then he uncuffed us, turning me over.

“Seth…” I drawled out, cupping his cheek. He pulled me closer then murmured,”Lovely, if we do this, there won’t be any turning back. We’ll make this official. Do you got me?” I nodded then pulled him closer before he met me the rest of the way, kissing me. I gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling into his hair before I asked,”Are you going to give me back to the Bureau?” He hummed into my mouth and replied,”Not sure yet. That all depends.”

“On?” I murmured, tangling my legs with his then he pressed his thigh upwards, the material of the boxers brushing against my clit. I gasped at the pressure then grinded downwards as he moved away then I whined, Seth kissing me again.

“On whether you’re willing to transfer down south with me.”

“As long as you fuck me and make me come, I’ll literally do anything you ask.” I gasped out as he tugged my clothes off, doing the same to himself. He flipped me onto my back and began kissing my neck, sucking hickeys into place as he purred, ”Anything?” He was the Devil, he was so perfect in my eyes, so trustworthy.

“Yes anything, you moron, now make me come dammit!” I cried out, kicking my legs out in frustration. Seth laughed at my annoyance then spread my legs, kissing from my knees up to my inner thighs then blew softly on my folds as he slid closer. I trembled under the anticipation running through my veins then murmured,”Seth please.”

His dark eyes softened at my plea then he crawled up to me, pressing kisses to my hips, much stomach, breasts, and neck before he asked, “What, you don’t want me to eat you out?”

“I-I don’t know. Maybe?” He kissed me again, soothing my nerves, and he assured me,”It’s okay, I’ll do it in the morning, sweetheart. Just lean back and hang on for the ride.” I nodded in agreement then Seth pulled my legs around his hips, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, leading it to my slit. He coated his member with my slick then glanced up at me, asking,”You okay with this? You don’t wanna turn back?”

“Shut up and fuck me.” I growled out, guiding him inside. He groaned and finally rocked up into me, moans escaping the two of us. I tangled my hand through his hair then pulled him closer as we kissed, my thighs squeezing on his hips.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you’re so right. Fuck me.” I raised my head and asked,”Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?” He gave a breathless laugh and changed his speed from slow and sensual to slamming up into me, asking,”Is this better?”

“So much.” I moaned in response then he slid my thighs further apart, maybe to grant him better access or to prevent bruising but I really didn’t give a shit as he slammed into my G-spot as his thumb brushed my clit, a cry of delight filling the room.

“Yeah that’s right, sweetheart, you’re just about to come on this dick, aren’t you? I know you are and that’s why I’m going to keep rubbing your pretty little clit til you can’t breathe and then I’m going to fuck my come into you.”

“You better pull out or I’ll kill you.” I snapped, flicking his nipple to catch his attention.

“Sorry, got lost in the moment. Don’t worry, I’m gonna pull out.” We shared a small laugh then I arched onto him as he pushed me into my orgasm spiraling.

“Seth!” I screamed, as he continued fucking me in search of his own orgasm then I tightened around his cock, causing him to curse and pull out as he began to come over my breasts and stomach. He rolled off the bed and walked into the bathroom for a washcloth then wiped me down, handing me back my shirt.

“Seth?” I asked quietly, cuddling into him as he wrapped an arm around my waist. He hummed and glanced down at me as I questioned,”Did you mean that? That you want me to move down here?”

“Hell yeah I want you to move down here, sweetheart. I really do love you and I think you’d like Florida.”

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