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yoongsisbae · 3 years

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Handshakes of a Lifetime - Chapter 5

You snag exclusive fan meet tickets, but as you shake hands with your favorite idols, something strange happens…

BTS soulmate AU. OT7 x Reader / Yoongi x Reader focused in this chapter, slight Jungkook x Reader

Here we gooooo. I have a special place in my heart for Yoongs, I think this might be my favorite handshake yet. Enjoy the craziness!

Warnings: death, blood, guns, stabbing, fighting, bondage, drunk sex, rough sex Yoongi and y/n are just two kinky idiots in love, ANGST so much angst why, let me know if I need to add more I know it’s dark.

Word Count: 10.6k

“So you think if I touched her, it would happen to me too? Is that why-” Taehyung turns to a defeated Jin.

“I don’t know.” He can’t stop thinking about you, his body hurts, his chest hurts.

“I want to try, this is so unfair.” Taehyung whines.

Namjoon sighs, “Well…”

You hear a knocking at the door. Your legs felt numb. How long have you been sitting here? You were too lost in your thoughts, reliving moments that weren’t yours.

“Hello? Unlock the door.”

You know that voice. No way.

You’ve listened to his solo songs on repeat so many times, his deep voice and sharp tongue playing in your ears for hours at times.

For lack of better judgment, you decide to stay silent. You slowly unlock the stall door trying not to make a sound as you tiptoe to the door. You rest your ear against the wood hoping to hear something. You consider maybe it was just another delusion. There is just no way.

“We know you’re in there.” You flinch from the door, the idol’s voice is as clear as day.

“I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t mean to do what you think I did..I-I don’t even know what I-I just want to go home. Please...” You put your palm on the door, a superficial gesture you know won’t make a difference, much like a nod to a person over the phone, and rest your head on the door waiting for his response. There is a long silence.

The weary idol stands in front of the bathroom door. He should have let Namjoon handle it, he thinks, why did he volunteer? When security came to tell them you had locked yourself in the bathroom, it brought up old memories he didn’t like thinking about, it made him want to help you. So before anyone else could, he volunteered to get you. But now he felt inadequately prepared, he should have just let Namjoon handle it.

He gestures to the security to give him some space. He rests his head on the door and sighs, instead of reaching for the door handle he rests his hand above it.

“Can I please come in? Open the door, it will just be me, I promise.” The idol switches to Korean, hoping you understand him. “I just want to talk to you. And then you can leave.” Actually, he doesn’t know if it will be that easy, but at this point he would tell you anything to get you to open the door.

He hears the slow scrape of metal as the lock turns. He gives security one last look to stay back before opening the door. You shuffle back quickly as the door opens and in walks Min Yoongi of BTS.

Yoongi shuts the door and locks it again. You try to give him space, but he advances towards you. So you keep giving him space and he puts his hand up in surrender, like someone would when approaching a scared animal.

“Hello.” He greets you in English. This was a bad idea.

“H-Hello.” You both face each other awkwardly.

This was the last thing you’d ever expect to happen, standing alone in a bathroom with BTS’s Suga. You feel like you’re burning up, you wonder how you haven’t managed to pass out as the rapper watches you in silence.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I freaked out. I’ll just go home, I promise I won’t ever talk about what happened. I-I mean, I don’t know what happened, nothing-“

“It will be okay. Breath.” He speaks in English to you again. “Take a deep breath. Count to ten.”

You’re shaking again. He’s being so nice to you, it makes you want to cry even more.

“C’mon, count.”

You start counting in shaky Korean, glancing over at the rapper who tries to hide a smile at the way you recite the words like a school child taking a test, you finish and feel like laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, your own lips curving upward as you begin to relax.

“Do you understand me when I speak Korean?” Yoongi says in Korean. You nod.

“Do you understand me when I speak in English?” The rapper nods back. “Most of it, yes,” he confesses.

You stand there awkwardly too scared to speak, gripping the sink counter to steady yourself, your reflections stare back at you in the bathroom mirror. The rapper looks perfect in his button down and styled hair, you on the other hand-

You laugh, “Oh god, I look horrible.” You turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face to get rid of your dried tears.

“No you don’t.” The rapper leans on the counter looking at you, grabbing a paper towel to hand to you. He is making it very hard for you to pretend he’s not there.

You watch him through the mirror’s reflection, “Thank you.” The words barely come out of your mouth. You turn around and lean on the counter beside him, making sure to keep your distance. ‘This is the weirdest night of my life,’ you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

The two of you stand there next to each other in silence for a painfully long time.

Finally, Yoongi lifts his hand palm side up and gives you a sideways glance. “I owe you, don’t I?”

You stare at his hand, study the silver rings around his fingers.

“...A handshake.”

“What?” You can only gawk at him.

“You paid all this money for handshakes from all members...”

That was not what you expected. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You grip the counter tighter, “I don’t want to, really, it’s okay.”

“I insist.” You can hear the frustration in his voice.

“No...It’s okay. I won't hold it against you.”

Yoongi frowns, slowly lowering his hand, feeling stupid. How is he supposed to get you to touch him?

He chews on his bottom lip and sneaks a glance at you again. Against all his instincts, when he realized he had another chance to see you, he took it with no question. You scared him and yet he felt himself gravitating to you. Everything that transpired had given him so many questions, and you were the only answer. “Please, I want to know-I want to know if it’s true.” Yoongi pauses, “I just want to understand why I feel the way I do being around you.”

You realize just how close the rapper stands next to you, your shoulders almost touching, had he moved closer and you didn’t even realize it? Did you?

You glance over at him, he looks so vulnerable and lost, nothing like the intimidating idol who stood in front of you at the fanmeet. He seemed so untouchable, now he’s asking you to do just that. You want to give in, you think it’s the least you can do for him, and then he’ll realize his mistake and let you go home.

You brace yourself and push away from the counter behind you, turning to face the rapper.

“Okay, but you’ll probably regret it,” you whisper, extending your hand.

Yoongi goes to grab your hand but you move yours just out of reach before he has a chance to, “Don’t say I didn't warn you...” Yoongi nods to you. He grabs your hand.

“Can you let go of me already.” You whisper as Yoongi holds you in a death grip.

“Yeah, let’s just blow our entire cover.” Yoongi hisses. This was not how the mission was supposed to go. Yoongi doesn’t do field missions, his talents are long range. Away from people, especially you.

“And can you stop looking at me like that, you’re supposed to be acting like my wife,” he warns lowly in your ear, you think he’s going to dislocate a finger the way he’s squeezing your hand. Yeah right, like you would ever marry a man like Min Yoongi.

You’re annoyed. Annoyed at the man next to you, annoyed they required you to have a male partner at all, like you needed a babysitter to do your job. On top of it all, it had to be him.

The gala you walk into is being held for top diplomats and politicians from all over the world. You let Yoongi pull you through the crowds as you scan the room for your target, a corrupt delegate who has a swath of information that could be useful to the state. You pull on Yoongi’s arm to get his attention, “Your left, 9 o’clock.”

He pulls you closer before you can advance on the target, grabbing your chin to face him instead, to anyone else it would look like a romantic gesture, for you it’s just another tactic Yoongi uses to keep you leashed to him. “We should make sure there aren’t any threats first.”

You’ve never been a woman to accept the cages men tried to confine you to, you have claws and you know how to use them. You lean into Yoongi, you can feel his body stiffen as you press your chest against his. You place a kiss on his cheek, bringing his arms around you until he gives in and grips your body instead, “That’s your job isn’t it, let me do mine,” you give him your best smile, but your eyes show him your true emotions as you glare at him with hatred. And with that, you were able to slip away from Yoongi’s grasp.

You drop your suitcase onto the only bed in your small hotel room. You know you needed the sharp shooter to complete the mission, but why did you have to share a room with him too? And why do they keep assigning Yoongi to you? You’re a top agent, you could easily complete this mission with an amateur, anyone but the smug sniper who is making his way toward you now.

“We need to be on site at 23:00, so go do something while I sleep.” The agent starts unbuttoning his cuff, paying you little attention.

“So I’m not supposed to get any rest?” You cross your arms and frown at the jaded man in front of you, “What the hell am I supposed to do while you’re getting your beauty sleep?”

“Not my problem.” Yoongi is sleep deprived and more irritable than usual. “You slept on the plane ride here, I know because your snoring kept me up the entire flight.”

You feel your face go hot with anger and embarrassment. “Well, I’m not leaving. This is my room too!”

“Do what you want! I don’t care.” the sniper yells. He needs to sleep so he can keep you safe, he thinks, ‘ungrateful brat.’

He moves past you shoving his shoulder into yours. In your anger, you shove him back. He turns around glaring at you, then decides to shove you again, this time with his hands. Yoongi is stubborn, but you’re more stubborn, you push him again, and now you’re in a shoving match with your own partner.

“Will you stop!” he yells, pushing you so hard your back hits the hotel wall.

“You first!” The next time you push your hand into his shoulder Yoongi grabs your wrist and pulls you hand forward, slamming his chest into you and crushing you between his body and the wall.

He glares down at you, his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Why did he do that? ‘Ugh idiot,’ and now you're thinking about his lips, the thoughts make you glance down. ‘Fuck, why did I do that?’ He catches the movement of your eyes.

You stand trapped against his strong frame, you think about elbowing him away, sweeping his feet and knocking him out for daring to test you like this, but you needed him at the top of his game for tonight. You squirm in his grasp while he stares down at you with an unreadable expression.

Eventually, when you feel like the pounding of your pulse might give you a heart attack Yoongi removes himself from you and goes to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. You hear the shower start. ‘Why does it have to be him,’ you wonder, rubbing your temples with your fingers. You decide to go grab some food. There’s a pit in your stomach, it must be hunger you think.

---

You walk the perimeter of the house, leaving the man you coaxed into bringing you into his home asleep in his bed. The sleep sedatives you laced in his drink made sure he wouldn’t bother you while you search his mansion. You had to work quickly and quietly.

“Two guards, headed your way.” Yoongi’s voice comes through in your earpiece, letting you slip into an empty room undetected.

“Clear?”

“Clear.” Yoongi’s deep voice crackles in your ear.

You make your way down the third floor hallway until you reach a large door.

Yoongi watches you through heat sensor binoculars. “There are five guards behind that door, do not engage.”

“I guess I’m getting warmer then.” You remove the knife around your thigh. “Do you have a clear shot on any of them?”

The sniper sees three windows, two blocked almost entirely by a curtain, the last only slightly covered, the situation was not ideal. “Negative. You’ll have to push them to the far open window so I can get a better shot.”

You look at the large windows of the hall you stand in. “Do you have a clear shot on me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

You smirk, “You ruin your perfect record? Doubt it.”

You knock on the door, ignoring Yoongi hissing in your ear, “So much for the element of surprise.”

“This is not the bathroom!” You stab the first guard in the neck. As he falls, clutching his throat and spluttering for air, you hug your body to the wall. When the next guard runs out you kick the pistol out of his hand. He fights against your advances, he’s strong and trained, but even then one can only take so many stabs to the body. The rest of the men advance on you, two drop, you see the bullet holes in their skulls.

“Thanks-” the last man lunges at you, putting you in a chokehold. He’s tall, he lifts you up and you lose your footing. You swing your knife, blade piercing his arms, but his hold on you stays. You kick in his grasp, your legs make contact with the wall and you both go down.

“I don’t have eyes on you. Get him in my sight!” You’d like to yell at Yoongi that that’s exactly what you were trying to do, but the guard’s hold on your windpipe makes it impossible. You aim your knife for his sides until his grip on you lessens. You roll off of him and start crawling, hoping he falls into your trap. He grabs your leg, you use the momentum to twist your body and kick him in the chest, before he falls on his back, he’s already dead. You can always count on Yoongi to never miss a headshot.

“Like I was saying, thanks.” Your voice is hoarse. Yoongi scoffs in your ear.

As you work to open the safe you’ve located, you hear Yoongi’s voice again, “Get out of there now! Twelve guards headed your way!”

“Just twelve?” You grab the dead mans’ guns and barricade yourself in the room. You pull every curtain you see down and fall to the floor just in time as gunfire fills the room.

Yoongi watches you take the men down one by one. You move in a chaotic dance around the room, there’s a preciseness to your movements, and also a wildness in your actions. You’re like a feral tiger, eating your targets alive. Yoongi’s impressed. The sniper lines up shot after shot, giving you as much cover as he can offer. He tries to keep your bloodshed to a minimum, you set up the pins, he knocks them down.

He is more than happy to deal the final blow. As he adds another tick to his total body count, he hopes you’ll be okay. Physically, he knows you’ll be fine, but mentally, he worries about you. Memories with you after similar missions still haunt him, the quiet anguish that fills you after every big bloodbath. It’s become a ritual to spend nights together after a mission, neither of you able to sleep soundly, you’d often wonder out loud to Yoongi if the dead men had wives or children, ask if it bothered him, ‘destroying families.’ It didn’t, if he’s being honest, they were horrible men and their families were probably better off without them in his eyes, but he knew it bothered you.

So, he doesn’t mind killing for you, it’s not because he cares about you, no, it’s just easier to get through missions that way. He would rather have everyone think you’re a tiger, Yoongi knows the truth.

Yoongi pulls you back, concealing your bodies from the advancing enemies. You look at him questionly. He places a finger to his mouth to keep you quiet. He signs with his hands, ‘two,’ ‘ahead,’ ‘you wait,’ ‘I’ll go around.’ You nod in agreement. You wait, straining your ears to hear signs of struggle. You hear footsteps running towards your direction. You grab the enemy and knock him out before he can make a sound. Yoongi is pulling you away, handing you a black bag you assume is full of data your agency so desperately wanted. You make a quiet getaway, grateful you can hide in the shadows and follow Yoongi to your escape: a boat that can get you to international waters. You stretch and watch the night sky as Yoongi starts the engine. “I didn’t die.” you hum.

“You say that like you’re disappointed.”

You snort, kicking the bag you and Yoongi risked your lives for. You turn to him, “Thank you, comrade, you saved my life.”

Yoongi shuffles uncomfortably, you’re being pleasant and it’s weird. “You’re welcome.”

“We make a good team, hmm?”

You sit on Yoongi’s workbench. In his space. The two of you work in silence as you put together the pieces of your handgun. He cleans the parts of his sniper rifle. He hands you the last piece of your weapon, it’s easier working here with him, his office is quiet. He doesn’t try to make small talk with you, you hate small talk. Your days are not “good.” You’re sick of using your body to lure in your targets, having to do things more than what you’re comfortable with on multiple occasions to complete the mission. But as a female agent, sometimes you think that’s all you're good for, and they would kill you if you tried to leave now. Escaping and living a quiet life without the man who sits next to you, not being able to protect him, you don’t want that either.

You hop off the table, Yoongi had also gotten up from his chair to grab more rags and you collide into each other. He grabs your waist to steady you. You bodies press against one another. You hold your breath. As his strong hands move you to the side, he mutters a sorry.

Yoongi is livid. He is slamming drawers and yanking open cabinet doors as you slowly make your way to sit onto the medical table. The safehouse is empty except for you and him.

“Are you insane or just stupid?” Your partner advances on you hastily, a medical kit in his hands.

You roll your eyes, “It’s just a scratch, I’m fine.” The blood seeping from your side and over your fingers betrays your words.

Yoongi yanks your hand away and grabs the tattered corners of your blood covered shirt and rips it. You try to stay stoic as you sit in front of him in only a bra while Yoongi works to clean and bandage your wound. His actions are so aggressive your body jerks back and forth from his movements. He pulls a bandage particularly tight and you yell, glaring at him. He glares back at you.

“You could have died.” Yoongi says softly. He keeps his eyes trained on your wound, adding the image to the list of reasons on why he doesn’t get close to people.

“And you would have died.”

His hands drop to the medical table as he cages you in. His dark eyes bore into yours, you hate how it makes you feel: vulnerable. “Don’t risk your life for me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

---

“Tell me how much you want me.” Your partner’s low voice whispers in your ears. You think you’d rather die.

His fingernails scratch your scalp as he grabs a hold of your hair and yanks back, pulling you against his front. Your hip digs painfully into the dresser in front of you, as he pushes his body closer to yours. Your face feels tight, the pain burns your scalp, a reminder that you still can feel something. Everything in your life makes you feel numb, but Yoongi makes you feel alive. You hate how addicted you’ve become to his touches.

“If you don’t say it, you won’t get anything,” he tuts, tightening his hold on your hair and a moan escapes you. He pulls your head back and places soft kisses on the column of your neck.

Yoongi waits, his lips attached to your neck as he grinds his hard erection into your ass until you lose yourself to pleasure, unable to take his teasing any longer.

“I want you.”

“I can’t hear you.”

You grind your teeth, “You’re pushing it.”

Yoongi grabs your breast, “Tell me, kitty.” His rough hands on your body is exactly what you want, makes you drip with arousal, but you’ll never tell him that. Instead, you move your hands behind you and grab at his hard erection.

“I can’t seem to remember what I was going to say, do you?” You run your hand down his length and squeeze, his hold on your hair loosens ever so slightly as his breathing turns shallow.

He’s used to your stubborn nature by now, but this kind of fight is something you’ll never win. Yoongi grabs your wrist and holds your arm in place, twisting your arm in a lock and bending you over the dresser. You struggle against him, as he opens your legs wider with his own. “You know kitty, you’re not invincible. Always ready to start a fight. If you’re not careful, someone might decide to teach you a lesson.”

You can see him out of the corner of your eye. He normally looks so composed, but the way he stares down at you so hungrily, he looks wild, eyes blown wide by lust.

“And is that you?” you laugh, grunting as he pushes down on you, grabbing your other arm and locking it behind your back. The weight of him against your back increases, stealing air from your lungs. His low voice whispers teasingly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “Do you want it to be me?”

Yoongi stands, watching you struggle against his hold. He knows it would be easy for you to get away from him if you really tried, and the knowledge that you’re submitting to him in your own stubborn way makes his body hot and dick throb. He squeezes your thigh, his thumb rubbing against your center. You’re so wet, your underwear drenched in arousal. He bites back a moan, pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing deep circles into you and forcing a whine to escape your lips. He lifts up your skirt, yanking the wet fabric of your underwear down to your thighs. Then his touch becomes slow and teasing. He runs his fingers along your slit, drenching his digits in your essence and bringing them to his mouth. You taste so good, fuck he can’t get enough of you, Yoongi is going to wreck you.

You watch him licking his fingers, the erotic scene making you clench unsatisfyingly around nothing. “Please…” you whisper, the sight of him had broken down your walls.

Yoongi unzips his pants and pulls himself out. He takes no more time, plunging into your heat suddenly. You shudder, it feels so good to have him inside you. He finally lets go of you to grip the flesh of your hips, slamming into you over and over. The force of his thrusts takes your breath away, as your body shifts up and down against the hard surface of his dresser.

With every thrust you feel the tension in your body uncoil, you never want this to end, you’d rather drown in the pleasure he’s giving you then come up for air and deal with the pain of your life. “You feel so good-fuck me harder!” The words leave your lips without thought. You don’t want to feel anything else but his bruising touches, you don’t want to think of anything else but him.

Yoongi grips your shoulder with one hand, moving your body to meet his thrusts as his pace becomes brutal. Your entire body vibrates with pleasure as he manhandles you. You pulse around him as you let go. Yoongi goes faster, using your body to climax, you let yourself moan freely, losing yourself to the pain and pleasure of overstimulation. You can feel him filling you up as he shakes against you.

Your world comes back into focus as you gasp for breath, your body slumped against the desk. “Is that all you’ve got? Hardly a lesson.” Yoongi laughs, wrapping his arms around your middle. He lifts you up and throws you onto the bed. You land with a huff.

---

The silence is deafening as you lay across from your partner. The twin bed in the cheap motel room you share makes it impossible for either of you to have your own space. Neither of you can sleep, and you’re both too tired to complain about the situation, so you stare at each other in the darkness, the neon lights outside your window bathe your faces in soft hues of blue. The cheap sheets scratch your skin, you can feel the hard edges of your gun underneath the old thin hotel pillow, but the soft fabric of Yoongi’s long sleeve shirt feels nice against the back of your hand. You absentmindedly brush your hand against his arm, your fingers play with the baggy material, rolling the fabric between your fingers. Yoongi places his free hand over yours to stop your actions. You’re too tired to question him, nor do you want to break the silence. Yoongi’s features are calm, his hardness is all gone tonight, when he relaxes you think he looks quite soft. Tonight Yoongi doesn’t look like a trained killer at all, his messy hair frames his face and his usual cold eyes radiate warmth. You study each other through half open eyes. Eventually, Yoongi closes his eyes, but doesn’t remove his hand from atop yours. “Go to sleep,” he grunts.

You take a deep breath out. You focus on Yoongi’s steady breathing, trying to keep your heavy eyes open, scared of what you’ll see once you close them, faces of the dead petrified corpses that always reveal themselves against the darkness of your shut eyelids. You study the soft features of your partner instead, able to memorize the details of his face while you’re so close to him. You think of him until sleep takes over.

---

You groan in pain, not ready to open your eyes to the morning light. Your throat is sore and dry, and your entire body aches, especially a certain part of you, the realization snaps you awake. You realize you’re not alone in your bed, you open your blurry eyes to a head of jet black hair. A man sleeps on your naked chest, you can feel his lips against your breast as he quietly snores. You realize his messy locks, the slope of his nose and contours of his muscular arm are all familiar to you, because he’s not a stranger at all. Memories of last night come back to you slowly.

Images of your partner offering you his bourbon, and you gratefully accepting. The pleasant conversation you had together, no arguing or superfluous challenging, just meaningful stories and gentle banter. You remember your partner’s flushed face, the timid smile he tried to hide against his glass, his dark eyes pulling you in. The drunker you became the more you gravitated towards him, until you were pressed up against him, moaning against his lips as his tongue explored your mouth, and you begging him to fuck you. No no no no no.

A wave of mortification and humiliating arousal hits you. You shove your partner off you.

“What the fuck!” Yoongi’s head is pounding, and your punches are not weak. It’s too damn early to be fighting with you already, Yoongi thinks. He pins you down, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He yells, not understanding why you’re here or why you suddenly decided to attack him.

The way his hands pin your wrists brings on another wave of memories that invade your mind and makes your face burn hot with embarrassment. He looks down at you and notices the purple bruises littering your neck and chest, your chest that is absent of a shirt, and your very naked body, against his very naked body. He let’s go of you in his shock. You scoot away from him, pulling the bed sheets up to cover yourself. He stares at you, mouth wide open, trying to place the pieces of last night together. “Oh fuck.”

“This will never happen again.”

His eyes scan your body as his hazy mind replays the events of last night, his face goes red at thoughts of you writhing under him. Yoongi was so desperate to explore your body, make you moan his name. He prays you were too drunk to notice how badly he wanted you. “Never.”

---

You spot three guards in front of the door, ‘a little excessive,’ you think. You grin to yourself as you run through every possible take down you can use against them. They’re big men, and big men always underestimate women.

Yoongi sits patiently, the blindfold doesn’t permit him to see, but he smirks to himself as he hears the sounds of struggle outside.

He hears the door open and close, feet circling him. He struggles against his restraints. Suddenly he feels a weight in his lap. The blindfold is pulled off and he meets your self satisfied face smiling at him.

“Took you long enough.”

You pout. “I should leave you here.”

You press your lips against his. Pulling him close by the hair. He grunts into your mouth. You press yourself down on him, grinding into his hardening length.

Yoongi struggles against his restraints, wanting to pull you closer to him. “Untie me.”

There’s a glint in your eye as you pull away from him. You kiss his neck instead, sucking hard on the sensitive skin behind his ear.

“You’re going to regret not listening to me, kitty.” Yoongi growls.

You laugh against his skin, working to undo his belt. Yoongi groans as you grip his length.

“I thought you were supposed to be rescuing me.”

“I am,” you lick your lips, “but then you had to go and let yourself get tied up.” You hop off his lap and kneel between his legs, Yoongi flexes his arms against the ropes, watching you intently. You bring the head of his shaft to your lips and kiss. The chair shakes as he pulls against his restraints groaning, you give him mercy as you suck him into your mouth, enjoying the way he struggles to keep his composure.

“You’ve had your fun,” he tries to hold in his moans, “you’re going to get yourself captured too because you're such a needy slut for my cock.” He thrusts his hips up, making you choke. It doesn’t deter you, as you press yourself deeper, your nose against his stomach, he shudders and the ropes dig into his wrists as he pulls harder against his restraints.

You pull off of him and look at him with a smirk. “I took care of the guards.” As if you already know Yoongi's next words you say, “I took care of all the guards.” Bringing your mouth around his length again, you suck him hard. You suck him down until you gag, over and over again until you can feel him swell, close to release, and you pull away. If looks could kill, you would have been added to Yoongi’s headcount. You jump to your feet and start cutting away the ropes that bind him.

“I’m untying you only because we are running out of time, not because you asked me to.”

He grunts, thinking of all the ways he’s going to use your body. “Noted.”

When free, Yoongi brings you into a crushing kiss, wrapping his hand around your neck. “Dangerous girl, you deserve to be punished.”

---

You allow yourself to rest against the cold concrete floor, making yourself comfortable in the dirt and grime. Your muscles are sore, and you’re tired. You’re tiredness doesn’t just come from surviving the mission, you’re sick and tired of it all. You were the first to make it to the scheduled rendezvous point, maybe the only one left. You hear footsteps and turn to see your partner jogging towards you, his equipment bag slung over his shoulder, he’s winded, skin covered in dirt from his hasty escape. When he sees you, he runs over to you, his eyes scan over your body but he doesn’t touch you. Your clothes are drenched in blood, but it’s not your own. You look like the walking dead, and you think you deserve to die, you’re a monster.

Yoongi sprawls out next to you, massaging his sore muscles. “If you had let them live your identity would have been compromised.” He knows you had no choice but to kill them. “You did what you had to do to complete the mission.”

“Stop talking, please.” You stare at his dirt covered face, you’re glad he made it out alive, and you wished you hadn’t. Your target had brought his wife and daughter, the agency didn’t warn you, or maybe they knew and didn’t care. You think about the love they must have had, so great he couldn’t be apart from them, and you not only took their lives, but took that love and destroyed it. You knew you were a killer, but you never thought you’d be a villain. You reach for your partner’s hand. He grips you tightly, his fingers are black with dirt, yours are stained with blood. You feel the weight on your chest become even heavier. You wonder if he could ever love you like that, you wonder if you’d just end up destroying that as well.

You lay asleep in Yoongi’s bed. His fingers run along your arm that rests on his chest. During the twilight hours, while you drift off to another world in your slumber, Yoongi allows himself to fully love you. He intertwines his fingers with yours and kisses the soft skin of your wrist, wrapping his arms around your sleeping frame. He let’s himself pretend you’re not in each other's company only for convenience, but because you love him as much as he loves you. He shouldn’t love you, love is too dangerous for people like him, love is a risk too big to take. But until the sun comes up again he gives in to his weaknesses. When you wake, he’ll be strong for you again, he’ll be your shield and protect you from everyone including himself.

---

“So you don’t want to work with me anymore?” You barge into Yoongi’s workspace. He keeps his face emotionless, choosing to ignore you.

So you press on, “I’m with Petrov now, I didn’t request a new partner, so it had to have been you. Why? Answer me!”

Yoongi leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “You’re overreacting, he’s new, they probably want you to show him how it’s done-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!”

“There’s a good reason-”

“You’re lying, you’re doing that thing with your hands when you lie!” You yell.

Yoongi shoves his hands in his pockets, his anger getting the better of him, “Fine, maybe I don’t want to be your partner anymore!” You stay silent. “You’re reckless, you never listen to me, you almost died on our last mission. I’m...I’m tired of worrying about you.”

Your chest tightens in pain, his words sting more than any blade or bullet you’ve ever taken. You try to meet his eyes, but he refuses to look at you. ‘Coward,’ you think. You scoff, “Fine...Good...I don’t want to work with you either.” You turn on your heels to leave.

“Wait!” Yoongi stands from his desk and rushes after you. When you refuse to listen, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him. “Please, stop,” he whispers in your ear.

You place your arms over his, let his warmth envelope you. You don’t understand him, he’s holding you like you’re about to break in his arms, but he’d let you go off into a mission without him? How could he do this to you? You thought you were a team, you thought you were...friends. You used to feel safe in his arms, now you just feel betrayal. You bite your lip, your sadness turns into bitterness, your bitterness into anger.

You dig your nails in his arms until he hisses and lets you go. You give your partner one last look before exiting his office, you give him one more chance. If he takes it, you’ll find a way to forgive him, to fix whatever it is that made him angry enough to break the bonds between you. But he stays silent, his silence speaks volumes, “Like you said, you don’t have to worry about me any longer. I'm not your problem anymore.” You slam his door shut.

Yoongi’s body is shaking. He slams his fist against the door. He rests his forehead against the wooden surface and swallows down the growing pressure in his throat, processing everything that just occurred. He made the right choice, this was for your own protection, he wouldn’t allow you to care more about his life than your own, he knows he’s right, so why does he feel so sick?

Your reputation precedes you, the tigresse, a top agent. You pull off impossible missions. Maybe it’s because you just don’t care if you can finish the job or not, you’ll choose the riskiest plays, find yourself in the most dangerous scenarios; you’ll choose the more daring escape route, and because of that people are afraid of you, even in your own agency. No one wants to work with you for too long, and you don’t want them to either, so you finally get what you wanted, to work alone. You’re at the top, all alone, there’s no congratulations in your line of work, no happiness.

Yoongi doesn’t have to worry about anyone anymore, even himself. On missions he used to view his sniper rifle as an extension of himself, now he feels just as cold and hollow as the barrel of his rifle, he’s become an empty killing machine. He can’t sleep at night, he wakes up to nightmares of you dying over and over again. Eventually, when he can’t take it anymore, he convinces his superiors to let him act as your backup without your knowledge, they only allow it because you’ve become too valuable to lose. He still can’t sleep at night, slowly losing his mind in solitude, trapped in a cage of loneliness by his own doing. He becomes a shadow, a ghost, making sure the legacy of their best agent survives.

You search for cover, the bullet holes in your body make every movement slow and painful. The holes in your leg keeps you on the ground. You pull yourself through the sea of dead bodies as bullets fly through the air.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, you start to aim your pistol.

“What are you doing here?” The gunman ignores you as he pulls your bloody body into his arms and runs.

Yoongi watched you from his post get shot, one, two, three times until he couldn’t take it anymore. When he couldn’t protect you from a distance anymore, he left his post, his decision as instantaneous as a traveling bullet.

He hides you and him, holding you close, looking over your wounds. He tries to put pressure on the bullet holes, but there are just so many. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I was supposed to protect you.”

You touch his face, you can feel the warmth of his skin against your cold fingers, he’s real. “You’re here.”

Yoongi’s trained ears listen to the gunfire as it becomes louder, a sign he needs to move again. He reloads his assault rifle, heaving you up to your feet. You groan as more blood gushes from your wounds. Yoongi uses his assault rifle to make another path for you and him. Your ex partner drags your body along, hiding again to reload.

“You need to save yourself. I’m not going to make it.” You say as you cough up blood. Yoongi pulls you up again, ignoring your words, refusing to accept he can’t save you. As he runs a stray bullet hits his shoulder and you both go down. Yoongi shoots to where he thinks the bullets came from, but his shoulder makes it difficult for him to aim.

“Stop! You can’t die too!” You aim your pistol at the two men advancing upon you from Yoongi’s blind spot. You manage to shoot one, but your blood loss makes your vision hazy and your aim too wide. The second man’s bullets hit Yoongi’s side. Yoongi adjusts his rifle and takes quick revenge. He doubles over in pain.

You grab his hand, your breathing is too shallow to tell him all the things you want to say. “Save yourself...”

“And leave you again? Never.”

Yoongi holds you until you take your last labored breath, and holds you still, until his own blood loss becomes too much.

---

Yoongi doubles over, crashing into you. You try to hold the rapper up, but you are faring no better, your body shakes in phantom pain. His entire weight is on you, you move against the wall for support as both of you try to catch your breath, his head leans on your shoulder, and he groans in agony. You grip his arms. Should you push him away? But you don’t want to. You want to pull him closer. You grip his arms harder, frozen, your mind and body remembering, remembering everything, and it takes every last bit of your willpower not to react.

Finally, after your breaths have settled, he steadies himself on his feet, still pressed against your frame. He lifts his head, you can feel his breath on the side of your face. He laughs weakly against you, “I don’t regret it.”

“What-“ his eyes pierce through you. You realize he hasn’t moved away from you still, you stare back into the idol’s eyes, it all feels so familiar, too familiar...

His nose brushes against your cheek, you hold your breath at the sensation, it’s so familiar. His lips ghost over yours and when you don’t pull away Yoongi presses his lips firmer onto yours.

You feel electricity in every vein, to the tips of your fingers, to the ends of the hair. Emotions that felt like distant memories scorch through you. Your legs buckle.

Yoongi had only meant to give you a quick kiss, just to see how it would compare to his wild memories, but the feelings that came over him overtook every sense of reason left in him. He deepened the kiss. You pulled him closer to you, it was automatic.

He felt his sanity slipping away with every inhale of your scent, a sprouting desire burst through him, a need everlasting lifetimes, it made him desperate to devour you. He pushes his leg in between yours to hold you steady when he feels you falling against him. You yell against his lips, his touch is too overwhelming and you feel yourself slipping away, you try desperately to stay in the moment, remember who you are to him actually. You push him away to catch your breath. “I shouldn’t have done that. I-“

You both jump at the pounding from the door. “Both of you need to come out now.” His voice is muffled, but you’d recognize the distinctive cadence of the BTS leader anywhere. Yoongi mutters words you don’t understand. You yelp as he grabs your hand, leading you to the door.

Namjoon is greeted by the sight of his bandmate and you looking particularly guilty as you leave the bathroom. The way Yoongi holds your hand does not go unnoticed by the leader.

You walk in between the rappers, security following behind you. You can tell Namjoon is annoyed, the way he glances at the nonexistent space between you and Yoongi and clenches his jaw. What are you supposed to do, not hold Min Yoongi’s hand? The firm hold he has on you is the only thing that’s keeping you from falling apart into an anxious puddle on the floor. So instead you spend the walk mentally screaming at yourself.

Namjoon opens an unmarked door and walks in, Yoongi follows directly behind him, pulling you along. You realize where you are as five more pairs of eyes meet yours.

They are all staring at you. You want to run and hide. You move behind Yoongi instead. He hasn’t let go of your hand, and every man in the room notices it.

Namjoon goes first, “We all need to talk.”

---

“So now do you admit it!” Jimin looks between Yoongi and you with a frown.

“He promised he wouldn’t touch her.” Jungkook whines to Namjoon.

“I didn’t promise. I said I wouldn’t...I changed my mind.”

You listen to the group argue glancing over Yoongi’s shoulder, you make eye contact with Jin. His eyes are still red, like he hasn’t stopped crying. For the first time since he grabbed you, you wanted to let go of Yoongi’s hand. Jin is the first to break away, he turns around, overwhelmed. Your face is still perfectly clear in his mind. Your words replay like whispers in his ear, ‘find me.’

You break away from Yoongi and address everyone.

“Uhh, I don’t know...” you start, “I don’t know how any of this works, or why it’s happening in the first place. But it is happening right? It happened to you too?” You look around at their faces, you look into Jimin’s eyes, “You saw me too, I was with you, you looked different, but deep down, it was you.” Jimin shifts uncomfortably under your eyes, he feels his chest tighten at your words, “and you saw me in her too.” You turn to J-Hope. “Right? Please tell me I’m-” you whisper the last part, “I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.” Hoseok answers you immediately, looking at you with a guilty expression.

Jungkook is nodding up and down at you rapidly.

“I was with you..” Jin walks over to you, but stops before he gets too close, “It felt so real...I was there with you on the cliff…” his eyes are so sad it makes tears well up in your eyes.

“How is this even possible…” Jimin speaks up, “I just don’t understand.” Jimin looks upset. He doesn’t want to believe any of this, none of it makes sense to him.

You can see the pain in their faces clearly. You feel like you’ve done something horrible. All you wanted to do was meet your idols and thank them for making your life better, but you ended up making their lives worse, and you don’t know how or why.

You rub your eyes before you start crying again, “I’m sorry. I should go home, it’s-" you check your phone screen. “One thirty in the morning?! I should leave!”

You jump as the room fills with protests from the men. They all quickly stop as soon as they start. You all stare at each other.

Namjoon takes charge. “How did you get here? We can have a driver take you home! We have to go to the hotel now, before you go home, we can finish talking there.” There is a finality to his words.

You stand there wide eyed, ‘hotel’?

---

So now you sit alone in the back of a large car with four managers. They have given you forms to fill out. A stack of papers full of NDAs. You felt like you were signing your life away. You wanted to tell them to take you home, but you stayed silent, you didn’t want to cause anymore trouble.

You follow the managers through the hotel into an elevator, to the top floor. They lead you into a massive penthouse and shut the door behind you. Jungkook is already inside waiting for you. He’s still in his fanmeet clothes, the other men were still showering and changing, he couldn’t wait any longer to see you again, for a chance to be with you alone.

You stand in the center of the room, unsure of what to do. Alone with the idol, your nerves skyrocket again.

Jungkook slowly makes his way closer to you. He stands in front of you, mirroring much like the way he stood in front of you at the fanmeet, his arms rock nervously by his sides. He bends down a little bit closer to you, and offers you a lopsided smile. “Hey beautiful.”

You shut your eyes, you can’t bear to look at him, you can’t accept that he just said that to you. His words make you ache inside.

The idol waits and gives you space, feeling shy. You can’t take it, his words throw your thoughts into a whirlwind, you want him back, you want what you had together again. You and the idol are worlds apart, but the Jungkook you had felt when your hands touched, he was your entire world.

“Please.” You beg him, offering your hand to him. You don’t know what you’re asking for, you don’t know what touching him will accomplish. You feel just so alone, exhausted from fighting against everything you’re feeling, Jungkook all but gave you permission to give in.

He smiles at you, places his palm against yours. It feels so good, so warm. He clasps his fingers around yours, reaches for your waist with his other hand and pulls you against him with one fell swoop. You already know why, you wrap your free arm around his neck and hold him to you. You can feel his heart beating wildly against you, you know he must feel yours as well. He rests his forehead on yours. It’s there again, that spark that explodes inside you, threatening to detonate all your sense of reason. Neither of you move, frozen in dance. He begins to hum a tune, a tune that pulls a smile from you-

The door opens and you jump to sit on the edge of the couch, much to Jungkook’s displeasure.

The rest of the group files into the large hotel room, they are all changed into more comfortable clothes. They look clean and refreshed, you realize just how tired and achy your body feels, you want to take a shower too.

Namjoon gives the youngest a hard look, “You didn’t change. You were in here the whole time? After we said we’d speak to her all together. How long were you alone with her? I told you-“

“I arrived only a couple minutes ago, nothing happened.” You interject, feeling the need to defend the youngest member.

Namjoon looks at you surprised. “Your Korean is good.”

You start to feel shy again, “Not really,” you speak in English instead.

“Okay, so let’s figure this out.” Namjoon starts, “Jungkook, do you want to go first?”

“Wait!” Taehyung interjects, “I thought-Joon don’t you want to hold her hand?”

You stiffen. Namjoon goes red, “I-first let’s gather information.”

Taehyung goes to stand. You recoil in your seat. You turn to Namjoon, pleading, “I can’t-I can’t do it again.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Tae-”

“Says you, you already got to touch her-”

“And that’s why I’m telling you not to do it-”

“No one is touching her-”

“Joon, can you please talk some sense into them-”

“Can we please focus-”

“If you get anywhere near her I’m punching you in the face-”

“Can we all just calm down-”

“I’ll punch you in the face-”

“No one is punching anyone!”

“I thought we were supposed to be talking this out, not starting fights-“

“I knew this was a bad idea-”

“How am I supposed to talk it out when I don’t even know what it is-”

They all talk so fast and over each other you can barely understand anything they are saying, but you know it’s not anything good. This is getting nowhere. “I-I’m so tired, I should really go home. I need to shower. Today has been...a long day.”

“You can stay in one of the rooms! We have the whole floor-Ow!” Jimin hits Jungkook in the shoulder.

“I-I need to go to the bathroom.” You feel trapped again. You go to stand and you feel a hand tug on yours, it’s Yoongi. “Take a deep breath. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. You should at least rest before we take you home.”

You bite your lip, looking around at the men. Jungkook looks at you with hopeful eyes.

“....Okay.”

“I’ll take her!” Jin, Yoongi, and Jungkook speak in unison. They look between one another. Jin, stands up, “I’ll take her.”

You silently follow him out, hearing the boys start conversing again behind you. You stay behind him as he walks down the hall. Your face heats up again as you stare at the idol’s back. Is this really happening to you? You should leave.

Jin takes a keycard out of his pocket and opens the door, holding it open for you. You walk in, it’s smaller than the other room, still larger than any hotel room you’ve ever been in. Jin picks up the suitcase from the middle of the room.

“I’ll find another room to stay in.” You feel your chest tightening again at his words. “Rest now, y/n, and then we can get to the bottom of this in the morning,” he smiles down at you. His eyes linger on you, about to speak again but he decides it’s better to wait.

You tug at his hoodie as he goes to leave. “I…” you want to tell him not to leave you alone, “I don’t have any clothes to change into.”

“Oh, I can give you some of my clothes!” You bite your lip as you watch Jin set his suitcase on the bed and rummage through his clothes. He pulls out a collection of hoodies, shirts and pants, way too many clothes for one sleeping outfit.

“Thank you…” you walk with him to the door. He lingers there with you.

“This...this is a good thing.” You cock your head to the side, Jin pats your head, “I found you after all.” And with that he leaves you to your thoughts.

---

After showering you feel so much better. You stand in your towel, looking around at the room. 'This must be a dream,' you think. Your hands run over the stack of Jin’s clothes. This stack probably costs more than all the clothes you’ve ever bought in your entire life, you think. You sigh and pull on a shirt and sweatpants, and decide to throw on a hoodie too for good measure. You start to laugh as you look at yourself in the hotel room’s mirror. You’re sure you're going to wake up tomorrow and this will all be a wild dream. You’re about to settle into bed when you hear a knock.

Jungkook stands in the hallway. He stares at you with wide eyes before looking at his feet. “I brought you clothes to wear.”

“Oh,” you look at him shocked.

“I see someone already gave you theirs,” he looks crestfallen.

“Yeah, Jin took care of that.” You pull on the strings of the hoodie in embarrassment.

“Oh well for tomorrow morning, you can wear this.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him Jin gave you enough clothes to cover an entire week. “Thank you. I’ll wear it tomorrow.”

“Okay...good.”

You hold your breath. You want to keep talking to him. “Your English is good, you sound like an American now.”

Jungkook smiles, too shy to meet your eyes. “Thank you.”

“You can speak in Korean too, I understand. I am not that good at speaking it, but I guess now is the best time to practice.” You laugh. Jungkook nods at you, his smile growing wider.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” He winks at you. You feel your heart tighten at his words.

“Jungkook!” He turns back around. “Um, sweet dreams.”

Jungkook looks you over. “Can I?”

“Huh?” He steps closer to you, you stay still. He reaches his arms out and wraps them around you in a hug. His head rests on the top of your head as he holds you close to him. It feels like you remember, his embrace feels the same. You grip onto the material of his long sleeve shirt. He holds you closer. All you can smell and feel is Jungkook.

Jungkook holds you close to him. He doesn’t know how to feel. His heart aches in anguish over the thought of losing you again. He doesn’t want to let you go.

In his arms you feel so safe, you relax against him. A wave of sleepiness crashes over you. Jungkook helps you into bed.

“I’ll come get you in the morning.” He runs his hands over your forehead. The intimate gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you're too tired to react. Your heart is full. Is this what true love feels like?

---

You stretch in your bed. Your muscles ache, you feel good after a night's rest. You snuggle into your pillow, it’s so fluffy and soft, softer than you’re used to, you pull your covers closer to you. You notice the large sleeves of your hoodie, and your sleepiness drains away. It’s not your bed, and that’s not your hoodie. You sit up, looking around the unfamiliar room, you feel like you’ve been doused with cold water. Everything from the night before comes back to you. You pull the covers over your head, so much for a good morning.

You grab your phone. You have a text message: ‘call me when you get home <3’ and two missed calls. You bury your head into the pillows. You're about to call back when there is a knock at the door.

“One minute!” You change into Jungkook’s clothes, a black long sleeve shirt and black sweatpants. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you decide to change your pants for one of Jin’s joggers.

“Hey!” You expected Jungkook to greet you, this was not who you expected.

"Hello." The deep voiced singer stands in front of you. You stare back at him. He walks into your room and takes a seat on the bed. You close the door behind you and walk over to Taehyung.

“I’m so sorry about last night! I would have never touched you without your permission. I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable, I’m so sorry. I just-I just needed to find out. I have to. I know you’re scared, I’m scared too...Jungkook and I talked last night and he told me what happened, he said it was more than just memories, it’s like...an awakening. I mean, that’s so cool. If we had another life together, wouldn’t you want to know? Please y/n, I feel like I’m going crazy not knowing-“

“Speak slower please, I’m still a beginner!” You laugh.

“Sorry! Please y/n, please. Before the others wake up.”

You sigh, sitting next to him. “I think Jungkook is leaving out very important information...”

You continue, “We not only lived, we died.” You shut your eyes and wrap your arms around you, “I’ve lived and I’ve died 5 times now. It’s horrible, it’s heartbreaking, it’s not something you can just forget.”

Taehyung sits quietly. “Do you regret it?”

You bite your lip. Do you regret it? You feel it still, the warmth of their love for you. The way they loved you, the way you loved them. Would you give that memory up? Even the lingering feelings in your body are stronger than anything you’ve ever felt in your lifetime. Could you let it go now that you know what you’re missing?

Taehyung presses, “Jungkook says he's happy it happened.”

You inhale sharply. You have to make him see. “Jungkook died in my arms. He died after we tried so hard to run away together.” Taehyung eyes widen. “He was murdered...” You shudder, Taehyung stays silent. “Is that the kind of ‘awakening’ you want?”

He raises a hand to his mouth, stroking his chin. “He didn’t tell me about that...” And then he says something that makes your heart stop. “And he still said he's happy it happened, that he doesn't want to forget about you y/n.”

“Please, I want to try, I think it would be worth it, you’ll be worth it.”

‘Why did he have to say that,’ you wince, looking over at the idol. He is beautiful, way out of your league, above you in every way, and he’s looking back at you like his whole world hangs in the balance. How could you reject him now. You groan.

You stand up. You place your palm in front of his face, your fingers splayed out, you can see his wide excited eyes in the gaps between them. You look at him expectantly. Taehyung nods, places his palm to yours, interlocking your fingers together.

---

Uh-oh the boys don’t want to let you go now! I hope you liked this chapter as much as I liked writing it! It’s kind of cool, all the different worlds. I neverrrr thought I’d write an actiony spy enemies to lovers AU ever, trust. I had to get a lot of help with all the specific terminology, like me - guns - what - totally clueless, I just hope I did the story justice.

Hopefully this tides you over for awhile because we have a problem...I don’t remember anything about Tae’s handshake! Cries. I know what’s supposed to happen, but I also have no idea what happens lol. I know movie, but not movie name, if you get what I’m saying. Please bestow some patience on me for the next chapter. Asks are always open, maybe you can give me some inspiration! <3

#bts soulmate au #bts fantasy au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts angst #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #reader x ot7 #bts enemies to lovers #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi angst

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sentinelpri · 3 years

Text

For You (NSFW)

Optimus Prime wasn’t good at confrontation; physical, verbal, emotional- none of it. So, as he stood with his digit hovering over your doorbell, he could feel his spark beating in his throat. His anxiety was killing him, and the part of him that was so anxious was tempted to just turn around and walk away.

He could save it for another night, couldn’t he? ...No, he couldn’t. He’d been telling himself another night, just one more night, next week, later for months now. It was time.

Now or never.

Three, two, one-

With a sharp inhale, Optimus rung your doorbell and wrung his servos together in front of him. He could feel his faceplates burning red with a heavy blush as he waited for you to open the door, but thankfully, he didn’t have to wait for too long.

The door slowly came open, revealing you behind it. You wore a (f/c) robe that was loosely tied, revealing part of the white teddy you wore underneath. It took everything in Optimus to tear his optics away from the beginnings of the chest that he so desperately wanted to bury his faceplates in, but when said optics landed on your face, graced with a sultry smirk and lustful (e/c) eyes, it didn’t help.

You grabbed his servo with one hand and pulled him far enough inside to shut the door behind him before pushing his back against it- and, of course, he let you. The second you went to lean up and kiss him, though, Optimus shook his head and pulled away.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“You say that every time,” You rebutted and rested your hands on his hips, gently massaging circles into the metal plating with your thumbs.

It was true, and he knew that. Every time after the first time you two had met up like this, he’d argued against it, but you always pulled him right back in with your charm.

“No, I mean it this time,” Optimus stopped you, a bit awkward as he placed a servo on your shoulder and backed himself further up against your door to put some distance between the two of you. He wasn’t ready to do this. He wanted to keep you forever, but it wasn’t fair to you. You deserved better and he needed to tell you the truth. “We need to talk.”

You seemed to know what was coming, so you pulled away and crossed your arms with a huff. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Honestly? The situation was uncomfortable. Optimus could see the candles lit in your house, smell the perfume of yours flooding into his olfactory sensors, and the lingerie under your robe... You’d assumed he was coming over to interface with you like usual, and as much as he wanted to, he used all of his willpower to resist the urge in favor of watching you storm over to the living room couch. You plopped down onto the corner seat in a dramatic fashion with your arms still crossed.

“At least come in and sit down here if you’re going to do this to me tonight, Optimus. I’d rather you not do it in my doorway.”

You knew, and he knew. Shaky in his movements, the Autobot locked your front door and walked over to your couch so he could sit next to you.

Your relationship had always been complicated, to say the least.

It started when him and his team had started battling the Decepticons on earth. With all of the news coverage they received, they were well-known amongst politicians, media outlets, law enforcement, and citizens in Detroit, and the Autobots had not only captured their interests, but yours as well. You were a scientist interested in doing studies on Cybertronian creatures to figure out what they were and how you could apply them and their technology to life on earth. There were plenty in the scientific community who were interested in them, of course, but you were the only one who had written a heartfelt letter about the matter, promising not to do anything too inhumane- the occasional metal sample, recharge studies, strength tests, and so on.

Then again... You’d included a picture of yourself in your first letter to the base, and that may or may not have been what captured Optimus’s attention initially. But then he met you and allowed you to conduct your experiments with Ratchet as your assistant on base, and not only were you gorgeous, but you were smart, creative, kind, easygoing, loving... You were everything Optimus Prime wished he was. So, even when the experiments stopped and you moved onto your next project, you still came around the base and Optimus still came around your house behind his teammates’ backs.

‘Why is she still here, Prime? Her study’s over.’

‘Yes, I know, Ratchet. She’s just... Helping me with some things.’

Ratchet commented on it the most, skeptical as always. Bumblebee always asked where he disappeared to in the middle of the night. Prowl was starting to get concerned by how tired Optimus seemed, and Bulkhead was the one who constantly snapped him out of his lovestruck dazes when he got caught up thinking about you.

The first time Optimus Prime made love to you was still a blur. He had developed feelings rather quickly, but it wasn’t until months of building up the courage to make a move that he’d finally done something; shown up to your house in the middle of the night and taken you into his arms the second you opened the door. It had escalated from there with you wrapping your arms back around him and pushing your lips against his, slamming the door shut behind the two of you and tumbling in a pile of warmth and metal onto your living room floor without any regard to how sore you’d be the next morning.

It had turned into a regular occurrence after that. Optimus showed up to your house, showered you in kisses and praise, and the two of you would interface, no matter how hard he tried to resist. And trust me, he tried to resist because he knew in his spark that it wasn’t right.

You’d shared your hopes and dreams and body with him, and he didn’t want to let all of that go, but how could he love what he didn’t deserve in the first place?

He was putting you in danger by being with you, anyway. Being with you was selfish, especially considering that neither of you had dared to say the ‘L’ word or put any sort of label on it. It was just the two of you spending an increasing amount of time together, talking, making love, falling in love when there was a good chance of it failing in the end. And both of you knew.

“It’s hard for me to come out and say this,” Optimus started. “But I love you, and I know you feel the same way.”

Your reaction was surprisingly restrained. No denying, no deflecting, nothing except for a small nod. You allowed your (e/c) eyes to fall shut and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I do.”

“It’s remained unspoken for far too long, but part of the reason I haven’t addressed it is because you deserve better,” Optimus reached over and set a servo on your thigh, offering a comforting squeeze, though that seemed to do nothing. You flinched, not even able to look at him for a moment. “I know it hurts, but you’re worth more than this... (y/n), darling-”

“No, you don’t get to tell me that after everything we’ve been through, Optimus,” You hissed, finally gathering the courage to look right at him, (e/c) burning into aquamarine. “Why do we do this to ourselves?”

“I don’t know,” He confessed with a half-hearted shrug. The simple answer was because the two of you loved each other and didn’t want to let go, but the complicated answer was... Well, complicated. “But what I do know is that I don’t want this for you.”

“Then what do you want?” You snapped.

Optimus understood. He had no right to dictate your life, your romantic interest, or anything else about you; you were a strong, intelligent woman with your own hopes and dreams, and unfortunately, he somehow fit into all of that for you. Still, he answered your question honestly.

“I want you to go live a normal life; meet a human, start a family or get married, stay single if you want, even. I don’t want you to get too attached to me and regret it when you start thinking about the little things later down the line... If you stay with me, you’ll always be in danger, we won’t be able to have sparklings of our own, and I could leave you here on earth or die any day now. Is that what you want, (y/n)? You can still leave me-”

“Are you stupid?” You asked, which made him blink.

The Prime hadn’t expected for you to be happy about this, but he hadn’t expected for you to outright insult him either, let alone call him stupid.

“What?”

“Do you think I would’ve done all of this with you without considering the consequences!?” You raised your voice and jerked away from him, holding a hand to cover your chest, offended. Optimus took the hint and pulled his servo away from your thigh to avoid angering you further.

He crossed his arms in frustration.

“You know what? Yeah, I do,” He answered. “Because you care about me too much to realize how big of a mistake this is going to be if we go through with it. Let’s say you’ve fully thought this through and don’t care about anything I’ve brought up- even if that’s the case, I’m not good enough for you, (y/n). I’m so large compared to you that I’m afraid I’ll hurt you one of these days, I’m selfish, I’m inconsiderate, I mess everything up at every turn, and Primus, I’m so unattractive-”

“Is that where all of this is coming from?” You asked, suddenly a lot more quiet, and Optimus winced at your tone. “I knew something was up, too; you’ve been keeping the lights off when we have sex and most of the time it feels like you can’t look at me anymore, but I... I thought I’d done something wrong, why couldn’t you have told me earlier that you were feeling like this?”

You were giving him the look; (e/c) eyes peering up at him, full of love and passion and so much more that was burning into his processor to make sure he wouldn’t ever forget it.

“Because I knew you were going to react like this- I knew you were going to look at me like that and tell me I’m wrong about myself, and it’s making it ten times harder to break it off with you, but what I said is final. Being with me is dangerous, you deserve to live a normal life, and I’m not good enough for you-”

Optimus’s self-deprecating rambling was cut off by you throwing yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding on as tight as you possibly could. He uncrossed his own, unsure of what to do with them- he didn’t want to hug you back and give you the wrong idea, but he so desperately wanted to feel your warmth on his digits and palms.

“Shut up! Have you ever thought that facing our problems head on would be better than giving up everything we have?” You argued, pleaded, voice cracking as your tears fell onto his shoulders. “You think that being with me is selfish, but what’s really selfish is you not giving me a chance to make this work! You’re wrong, Optimus-”

“Leave me, (y/n),” Optimus reached forward and caressed your cheek with a servo. The amount of tears he found himself wiping away with his thumb made him frown- was this really for the best? Was he in the wrong here? No, this was exactly why he had to go through with it; whatever hurt came from this point on would be much, much worse if he allowed your relationship to continue. “I know you’re hurting right now, but you’ll thank me later. Cut your losses and leave. Go live a happy life, fall in love again- with a human- and focus on your work.”

“I can’t do it, I’m sorry,” You apologized, only making things worse. The fiery anger that you had expressed initially was fading into something much more melancholy as you hung onto him tighter and buried your face into his neck. “I love you too much. If you really mean everything you said, and you don’t want to be with me, push me away; I’ll leave, and we’ll never talk about it again... If that’s what you really want. Push me away, Optimus.”

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, (y/n), I...” He stopped when he heard you sob into his shoulder, the sound muffled by his metal plating. Part of him knew that if he had to leave earth in the near future, the impact would be more severe on you than this, but he couldn’t see and hear you cry and push you away like you had asked him to. He couldn’t leave you, couldn’t let you go, no matter how much he hated himself for it. “Oh, to hell with it, I can’t do this anymore- So what if it’s selfish?” Before Optimus could stop himself, he found himself moving his servo from your tear-stained cheek to the back of your head, wounding his digits in your (h/l) (h/c) hair and dragging you into him for a heated kiss. You hummed and leaned into it without hesitation. Optimus sighed through his nose when he felt the tension leave both of your bodies, your hands resting on the side of his neck, his spare servo resting on the small of your back to support you and hold you close to him. Your much smaller lips molded into his the best they could, tasting of sugar and a human spice called cinnamon as you swiped your tongue across his bottom lip plate. His servo in your hair ran through the locks and wrapped them around his digits to yank at them- heat consumed his body to the point that his cooling fans were already turning on with the feeling of his spike pushing against the constraints of his interface plating. After what felt like forever yet not nearly long enough, you pulled away from Optimus and looked up at him, lips swollen from the intensity of your kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” You responded, a little rushed.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” You choked out, sniffling and clearing up the remainder of your tears before shedding your robe and kissing his neck, cautious and soft yet needy and desperate. The white teddy contoured your body perfectly, hugging your plump ass and highlighting the shape of your breasts as your nipples perked up against the lacy fabric. Your sides were exposed by the slits cut into the outfit. Optimus found himself drawn to the exposed (s/c) skin instantly, so he rested his servos on your hips and took a deep breath in. You were so small compared to him, too; both of his servos covered the entirety of your waist, back, and stomach when he had them like that, and oh Primus, he could already imagine how you’d look splayed out underneath him with his spike buried in your core. He was sure that if he didn’t open his interface panel in the next few minutes, he was going to burst. “I need this, need you... Optimus.”

The next few minutes were wordless, with Optimus picking you up and carrying you to your bedroom. There were candles lit there, too, and while he was sure that was a fire hazard, he appreciated your attempt to set the atmosphere- even if it had been temporarily squandered by his earlier spiel. So, he shut and locked the door behind him and followed that with gently setting you on the edge of the bed.

When he kneeled on the floor in front of you, you blinked your (e/c) eyes, (s/c) cheeks lit aflame when he took your hand in one of his and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. And, as he looked up at you, he realized something; maybe he didn’t think he deserved you, but you deserved him if that’s what he wanted, and instead of shoving his own self-deprecating sentiments down your throat, he wanted to try to be more thankful that he had you, wanted to stop worrying about what was ahead and enjoy what he had in the moment.

“(y/n), I want to tell you everything tonight, I...” Optimus cleared his throat and continued to hold your hand as he leaned up and nuzzled your neck. “I’ve never loved anybot or anyone like I’ve loved you. I don’t think I could live without you; without the mornings I wake up with you and bury my face in your hair, without the feeling of your skin on mine, without seeing how the sunlight pours through the windows and onto your skin when the sun rises and how your lashes flutter against your cheekbones when you wake up-”

“Make love to me,” You cut him off, looking up at him, and oh, how he could see the utter love and adoration in your eyes. He wondered how such a small being was capable of holding so much love for him, but he didn’t dare question it, doing as you’d told him and reaching up to unlace the front of your teddy, the ribbon that kept the two halves of the front together coming untied underneath his nimble fingers within seconds. It fell off of the upper half of your body, revealing rounded shoulders and supple breasts, a soft tummy and feminine hips. You didn’t hesitate to lift yourself off of the bed just enough to pull the rest of the lingerie down your body and kick it across the room. Now, all of you was exposed from head to toe. This was the point at which Optimus would usually get on the bed and pick you up by your waist, pull you over so you could sit on his faceplates, but he was so emotional and pent up at this point that he knew he couldn’t wait that long to be inside you. “Hurry up, please? I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

The Autobot gave you a nod and stood up, so you laid down with your back on the bed and watched him open his interface panels. He couldn’t help but watch your face as he released his spike, already fully pressurized- because no matter how many times the two of you had done this, you always seemed to be taken aback by the sheer size of it, your cheeks glowing red and eyes blown wide with lust in a manner that flattered him.

You didn’t speak, only gulping and squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. Optimus Prime crawled over you on top of your mattress with his knees on either side of your hips to cage you underneath him. The slit of his spike was already wet with prefluid and lubricant, and he wanted to fuck you so bad, but he knew he had to wait until you were ready.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, before you’d probably even thought of him in such a way, he’d done his own research on human mating rituals to prepare himself for you; enough research to know that human women needed thorough foreplay and preparation to take a human’s spike, let alone a Cybertronian’s, which was usually larger. Due to that, he was always very careful with you, giving you plenty of time and prep before you ever had sex.

So, as he balanced himself on his knees and pinned your wrists above your head with one servo, he circled two of the digits on his free servo with his glossa to lubricate them and get them ready for you. You spread your shaky legs and moved your hips up, almost as if to tell him to get on with it. Your impatience was evident in the way your body moved, your breaths heavy and a pout of frustration taking over your face.

Unable to help himself, Optimus chuckled at the feeling of you trying to move your hands out of his grip to no avail. It was nice to know that despite what had happened earlier, nothing bad had happened to your usual dynamic- and the sound of you bashfully giggling in return made his spark swell with the love he had for you.

Having had enough with making you wait, the Prime prodded his pointer digit at your entrance and slowly pushed it in. He followed with his middle digit and waited for you to adjust, the both of you letting out a sigh. You were so different than any Cybertronian he’d ever done anything with; piping hot, wet, velvety, and sensitive, he couldn’t help how his spike throbbed at the feeling of you moving your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers as you hummed. With him holding your wrists, you couldn’t move your arms down, but you managed to grip one of the digits that was assisting in holding you down.

You’d adjusted quickly enough to his fingers, so Optimus began a steady rhythm of pulling them most of the way out before pushing them back in, over and over and over again, getting progressively faster with each push. You rewarded him with your sweet moans in return and tilted your head back with your mouth agape in the depths of your pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” Prime praised you without hesitation and dipped in until he was knuckle deep. That made you say his name especially loud, so he continued doing it, wanting to hear that sound again. “So gorgeous with your face red and eyes half-lidded. I love how you always squeeze one of my fingers during it because your hands are too tiny to fully hold mine; you’re so small I fear breaking you sometimes, but the fact that you still trust me when I’m big enough to crush you like this makes me feel so good.”

“I think your eyes are beautiful,” Surprisingly enough, you praised him back, looking him straight in the optics. “I love it when you look at me when we do it; the face you make is what sends me over the edge, and the noises you make in my ear drive me wild. The way you have so much physical power over me just makes it even more exciting than it already is. It’s like you could do whatever you want to me, any time you want, and I’d let you.”

Your words were rushed but confident, though as soon as you finished, you hid your face in the pillow your head was currently on to stifle a moan at a particularly rough crook of his fingers.

“Ah, you’re embarrassing me now,” The Autobot murmured, able to feel his normally cool-colored faceplates drowning in a heavy pink blush. You seemed ready enough and he was growing just as impatient as you had been earlier, so Optimus slowly withdrew and positioned himself between your legs with the head of his spike at your entrance. He bit his lower lip and rubbed his tip against your slick folds before teasing your clit, which made you emit a cracked moan. “You’re ready, yes?” You gave a hurried nod and moved to rest your cheek on the cold pillow. “I need to hear it, baby. Use your words.”

“I’m ready, please-” Optimus didn’t wait any longer after that, wanton and revved up, the Autobot sheathed his spike in you in one deep stroke and reveled in the debauched cry of yours that followed. Your pussy enveloped him completely, taut and scorching and slick, so much so that his hips stuttered with the willpower it took him to let you adjust instead of fucking you raw like an animal the way he wanted to.

“(y/n), my dearest love,” Optimus groaned and pulled back about half away, then pushed back in, only for your heat to pulse and twitch around him. You moved your hips up to meet his and grinded them in a circular motion in what must’ve been an attempt to urge him to get on with it. “Oh, Primus, if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to stop that. Tonight is not the night to test my patience, because you feel absolutely delectable right now and it’s taking everything in me not to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk or sit down without feeling my spike in you for weeks.”

“Yeah?” You taunted, voice breathy as you dared to test him by wiggling your hips even more and purposefully clenching down around him. The thread that was the last of his patience snapped at that, so he gripped your wrists even tighter in his servo and used the other to balance himself over you so he wouldn’t crush your body. You only continued your teasing.

“Yeah,” Optimus finally responded to you, his lips pulling into a tight smile to keep himself from making any noises that were too embarrassing. When he regained his composure, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “This is going to get a bit rougher than usual, so don’t say I didn’t try to warn you earlier. You earned this.”

With that, the red and blue bot withdrew until it was just his tip inside you, and then thrusted all the way back in- so hard and deep that he could feel the back of your inner walls. You cried out to him again, your legs trembling as you clenched them together around his hips. Optimus could only smirk- for as teasing and impatient as you’d been earlier, your cocky demeanor was certainly washing away with every rough thrust of his spike, replaced with desperation and heat.

“Optimus,” Your back arched off the bed as you were split open by his spike, but as much as you tried to move, all you could do was lay there and take it with your arms pinned by Optimus’s servo and your lower body trapped in place by his legs between yours and his spike deep inside of you. “Optimus!”

You looked at him, (e/c) eyes clouded over and rosy lips parted in heavy moans and pants that drove him wild. Just to see how you would look, Optimus pushed his hips into yours particularly hard, feeling his spike twitch at the sight of your eyes rolling back and your lips trembling at the sensation of your upcoming orgasm.

“Say my name, darling,” Optimus leaned forward and nipped at your shoulder as he adjusted his angle so he could slam the head of his blunt, thick spike into your sweet spot and pick up his pace. Your eyes went wide before you squeezed them shut again and yelled out at the sudden change, a sliver of drool falling from in between your lips. “I want to be all you remember for the rest of the night, so say all of it...!”

“Optimus,” You practically sobbed as the Autobot made love to you like there was no tomorrow in store. The sounds of his metal hips slamming against you and your broken moans echoed in the room and drove him closer and closer to the edge. He was already inside you, but he found that he still wanted to be closer, so he found himself making out with you yet again. “Optimus Prime,” His name fell from your tongue and onto his lips in between your passionate kisses with every thrust of his spike into your wet heat in a way that made him shudder. The arm that was holding him over you shook with the strength of his upcoming overload, the hand that was holding your wrists above your head on your pillows squeezing just tight enough to leave red marks on your skin in the shape of his large digits.

“That’s it, sweetspark, overload for me, won’t you? I can hear you’re getting close, so why don’t you be a good girl and finish for me? You look so beautiful like this, can’t wait to see you cum around my spike, princess,” Optimus egged you on as he felt your pussy flutter around his spike, quickly bringing him closer and closer to his own climax. Thrusting into your soft, small body was so addicting that he didn’t want it to end, but when you gave a broken moan of his name and tensed so hard that he was sure your fingers digging into his fingers left dents in the metal, he couldn’t help it. You came hard around him, squeezing down to keep his spike deep inside of you in a way that triggered his overload. Optimus Prime gave a soft groan when he finally finished, the electricity in his abdomen and spike exploding and making his entire body go numb as he spilled into you. “Fuck, (y/n)-” Optimus slammed his lips into yours one more time, filling you up with his transfluid and giving you a few more weak thrusts. You kissed back, albeit sloppily due to your current blissed out state. Your tongue lazily intermingled with his. The grip on his shoulders loosened, and you pulled away when you felt him depressurize so he could pull out, close his interace panel, and sit next to where you laid on the side of the bed.

When the afterglow faded and you laid down with your back facing him, Optimus usually laid next to you the best he could considering his size and wrapped an arm around you. However, as he remained sitting up, staring at your back and the (h/c) locks that were splayed out upon your pillow, he found tears of lubricant welling up in his eyes- it had never happened to him before, and though he knew Cybertronians were fully capable of it, crying was primarily an organic behavior. The warm light of the candles in your room bringing out the hues of your (s/c) skin and the scent of your shampoo and soap flooding into his olfactory sensors seemed to bring out all of the emotions at once; fear, relief, love, regret, guilt, and everything else that came with loving you. And, as much as he tried to conceal it, the way his voice cracked when he tried to clear his throat gave it away.

“Optimus? What’s wrong?” You asked, clearly panicked as you turned to face him.

“Nothing, I just-” Optimus stopped and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to cry in front of you, but he figured it was part of learning to be vulnerable, and he was done hiding himself from you. “I love you a lot.”

“I love you, too.”

“Don’t leave me,” Optimus pleaded, letting his guard down for the first time in a long time as he moved to sit on his knees on the floor. You sat on the edge of the bed with your feet planted on the floor, just close enough for him to be able to move between your legs and rest his head on one of your thighs. “Don’t ever leave me, (y/n). I’m so scared I’ll mess this up somehow. What if I hurt you? What if there comes a day that you can’t stand to look at me anymore?”

“You just have to trust yourself,” You murmured.

“I don’t yet,” The Prime admitted as he sat up again and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the middle of your chest. “But I’ll try to learn how to... For you, (y/n).”

“Do it for you, too, Optimus. You deserve to have a good relationship with yourself.”

You looked down at him, the smile on your face laced with your concern and exhaustion. You softly ran a hand over the top of his head in a clear attempt at comforting him. Though Optimus was hopeful for what was to come despite his earlier worries, he felt guilty that you had to deal with him like this; anxious and soft and unsure of himself.

The Autobot let out a gentle sigh and pressed a kiss against your collarbone. You smelled like vanilla, jasmine, and something uniquely you; all mixed with his own scent, evidence of the entanglement of your two bodies that would remain until you showered in the morning. Your arms still lingered around his neck as you stared down at him.

It was peaceful, and the second you leaned down to peck his forehead with your kiss-bruised lips, Optimus decided that he’d try his hardest to make it work; for you.

#tfa #transformers #transformers animated #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #tfa optimus prime x reader #they didnt really cover too much of anything like this in tfa but #i feel like op has an inferiority complex #not necessarily ab his appearance but more his abilities #specifically his ability to keep those close to him safe #and he has a habit of trying to give up his own happiness and sacrificing himself instead of working through his problems #because he hates self reflection/evaluation #the end #fem reader #optimus x reader

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gffa · 3 years

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Light of the Jedi | by Charles Soule Even after I’d turned the page from this moment, my mind kept drifting back to it, because the context of the story is that there’s so much belief and faith placed in the Jedi in this book, how there’s this sense of the galaxy around them being rather awe-struck by them. As well as moments like this from the Jedi themselves:

And it reminded me so strongly of a conversation between Obi-Wan and Bail in Wild Space by Karen Miller: "All I meant," [Bail] said at last, his voice tight, "is that it's a shame the other people hurt in the terrorist attacks can't experience the same benefits of Jedi healing that you did." He looked up, then, and his eyes were haunted. "I saw some of them, you know. After. And even with intensive bacta treatment there are now children who'll have to go through life hideously maimed and disfigured. It's…sad. It's cruel. That's all I meant." The man's compassion was laudable, but his inferences were insulting. "I think what you meant, Senator, is that it's somehow unfair that I'm not sharing their fate," Obi-Wan snapped. And then he caught hold of his temper. Crushed it before he said something truly unfortunate. "It's not because we don't care," he continued, far more moderately. "We do, I assure you. However, healing is one of our rarest gifts. We help as many as we can, wherever we can, and keenly regret that we cannot help more. But are you saying that because we can't help everyone, we shouldn't help anyone?" "No. I'm sorry," said Organa, shaking his head. "This isn't coming out right. I really am on your side, you know. I admire the Jedi enormously. I am in awe of what you do. But in case you hadn't noticed it, this war has thrust you onto center stage. You're in the news every day. Everything you do is being examined. Magnified. And when the novelty's worn off, it's going to be second-guessed, and maybe even held up for censure. Especially if the war drags on, or doesn't go our way. Because you have been placed on a pedestal as tall as any Coruscant skyscraper." "That was never our intention, Senator, I assure you." "I know," said Organa. "But you're up there regardless. You're the Jedi, Master Kenobi. Larger than life and twice as hard to kill. Still, the more systems the Separatists entice or strong-arm to their side, the more suffering and fear the Republic experiences, the closer the Separatists creep to the Core, and the longer it takes the Jedi to end this conflict—the harder your pedestal is going to rock. Especially if it's perceived that you're not suffering like everyone else." "Not suffering, Senator?" he said, incredulous. "After Geonosis? After the engagements we've fought already? And losing the Falleen battle group? Must the Jedi Temple itself fall before it can be agreed that the Jedi are also paying a price for this war we did not start?" "Of course not," said Organa. "I'm talking about perception, not reality. The bedrock of politics. I think you'll grant it's one of my areas of expertise." The least honorable of them all. Obi-Wan nodded. "I concede your point." "And I wish you didn’t have to," Organa replied. "Master Kenobi, the Jedi have been the Republic's peacekeepers for generations. Citizens are used to you solving their local problems. Their community disputes. But we both know that what we're facing is far more complicated. And I promise you, I promise—when things get really bad you will be blamed." Curd-and-vegetable stew forgotten, Obi-Wan stared in silence at the Senator from Alderaan. "I'm sorry," said Organa, turning away. "'You don't have to say it. I'm just a politician. It's none of my business." Just a politician? No. Far from it. Now it was clear why Padmé liked and trusted this princeling from Alderaan. He was…unexpected. "The Jedi aren't blind, Senator," he said at last. "We're perfectly aware that our elevation in the public eye is problematic. We opposed it vigorously. We continue to oppose it. We are, as you say, peacekeepers. Not celebrities. The Supreme Chancellor should reconsider his tactics. We feel very strongly there is a chance they could end up doing us more harm than good." That this is a big part of the problem and what went wrong--the galaxy got so used to the Jedi bringing miracles to them, that no matter how hard the Jedi tried to oppose it, the public still demanded that they keep performing those miracles, keep solving all their problems, keep fighting their wars for them. And you see it here, in the High Republic. The public thinks, “Miracles are for the Jedi.” The Jedi are expected to bring these incredible feats of nobility and space magic and heroicism, which is great and saves the day! But you do that for a hundred years and then suddenly, when you can’t save everyone, when you have an almost literal unwinnable war that’s being laid at your feet, and a bad faith government who holds power over you and your own power is basically trapped in this incredibly narrowly defined window and you can’t possibly turn your back on the people who still need your help, all while you never wanted and even vigorously opposed being put on this pedestal in the first place? It just really hit me like a brick how something so good can be turned on the people who just wanted to do their best to help others.

#jedi order #obi wan kenobi #bail organa #meta #novels #light of the jedi #light of the jedi spoilers

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Long Lost Prince Part 2;

Merlin leads his people home and Arthur grapples with whether he should keep his feelings to himself or not.

Part 1

Just like Arthur promised, a portion of Camelot's army mixed with around fifty of Merlin's knights are marching towards the Dragonlands within a month.

Merlin and Arthur lead the way, Sir Thornway, Sir Leon, and Sir Mordred following closely behind. It was decided fairly quickly that Hunith and Gaius would stay in Camelot; they were desperate to get home, but they weren't fighters, and whilst the chance of attack was fairly low considering the army behind them and the two dragons circling ahead, Arthur and Merlin were unwilling to risk it.

At a quick pace, Arthur reckons they could've made the journey in a week, but the army is slow-moving, and it takes them almost three to reach the border. They don't hear a peep out of anyone as they move through the countryside, though Arthur does raise an amused eyebrow at Merlin every once in a while, as and when the Warlock chuckles at Kilgharrah whispering in his head about all the various pathetic mercenaries and bandits running away screaming at the sight of his silhouette against the clouds.

The Dragonland, in comparison to Camelot, was a very small kingdom, but it’s capital city was near the far border, backed by miles and miles of towering mountains. In one of the many sessions of reminiscing that Merlin, Thornway, and Kilgharrah have in the evenings, they discuss the mountains at length. They were mostly uninhabited by people, even before the purge, they were far too treacherous for those without a guide and strong magic, and even then the paths were still dangerous.

The great mountains were where the Dragon’s resided; in a network of twisting tunnels and great caverns carved with fire and magic. Merlin vaguely remembers being taken there a few weeks before... before they left. Thornway told him that retreating into the mountains was one of the back up plans, if Uther’s army was too big and there was no hope of escape through the countryside.

(Arthur frowned at that. He was frowning at a lot nowadays, but Merlin just squeezed his leg under the blanket they were sharing (Leon did NOT smirk and Arthur did NOT blush) and whispered, yet again, that he was not his father.)

The escape through the mountains was planned to be a last ditch effort though, even with the dragons leading them and their strongest sorcerers protecting them, the perilous paths, with their knife edge drops and loose rocks and harsh snow, would have taken too many casualties to count. Though, in the end, escaping through the countryside had been just as deadly.

Arthur also used the journey to think about what Leon had said. Though Merlin and The King stuck close by for the whole trek, conversation was sparse (though the silences were comfortable); Arthur was unsure how to bring up the inevitable change in their relationship, though he knows that, for his own peace of mind if nothing else, he should.

They were deep into the Kingdom, having passed all the now doubly abandoned outer villages (Arthur was right in thinking that two dragons and a marching army scared away all the various mercenary groups and bandits) and now only a day’s ride from the capital, that Arthur asked Merlin the question that had been plaguing his mind for weeks. The two of them were sat against a fallen log, the night flourishing around them. The silence over the rest of the camp was tense, the knowledge that they were close hanging in the air, but the silence between Merlin and Arthur was comfortable, peaceful:

“What are you planning on doing?”

Merlin took a noticeably deep breath and Arthur turned to him, trying desperately to keep the worried frown off his face:

“I don’t know. I didn’t really discuss it with ma, we just... wanted to get home, and work from there, see what happens I guess.”

Arthur nodded, gulping slightly before he responds:

“Do you think she wants the throne? Your mother? Or will you become King?”

Merlin chuckles, but Arthur clenches his hands and looks away at the humourless lilt the noise has:

“I’d love to see her back in her crown, on her throne, but it’s been a long time. She did everything with my father by her side, I don’t know if... if she would want to do it on her own. I don’t know that she would cope.-”

The Warlock turns to face Arthur, and it strikes The King how close they are when he can feel Merlin’s breath on his cheek. He turns to meet his gaze once more:

“-What would you do, Arthur? In my place?”

Arthur can only hold his stare for a few moments before he looks to his lap, shaking his head slightly:

“I don’t know, Merlin. Tell me what’s on your mind, I... I can’t promise that I’ll have the answers, but maybe saying things out-loud will help.”

Merlin nods as he shuffles in his spot slightly, and Arthur likes to think that he was moving closer:

“I... I’m desperate to get home. But at the same time, I waited. I waited for twenty years, I’ve built myself a life in Camelot, I’d... given up on ever returning home, and I was just about coming to terms with the fact that Camelot was my home now. And then... this. I have to lead my people back, I know that, I owe it to them, it’s my job to protect them and give them back their heritage-”

Arthur interrupts quietly:

“Your heritage.”

Merlin sighs:

“-yeah, my heritage. My mother, and Gaius, and my people, and... and I, we deserve to go home. But I was only six when we left, I never got all the lessons on how to be a Politician, a King. Yes, I’m the heir, yes, I remember home and the crown and being a little Prince, but I am not built to be a King, Arthur, I don’t want to- I can’t fail my people, but I fear I will. I... I’ve been putting up a brave front for my mum, for Thornway, but I’m terrified. I have no idea what I’m doing, Arthur. What if I mess up?”

Arthur allows a small smile to slip onto his face as he takes Merlin’s fidgeting hands in his own. He shakes his head as he huffs out a short laugh and Merlin looks at him incredulously:

“You couldn’t possibly, Merlin. I know you well, do I not?-”

Merlin nods his head vigorously:

“Better than anyone.”

Arthur fights the blush:

“-And I’m telling you, that you have nothing to worry about. You may not have had official lessons, but you have the mind for politics.-”

Arthur glances to his lap briefly as he takes a fortifying breath, stroking his thumbs over the back of Merlin’s hands, still clutched in his, and looking up to him again:

“-I had all those lessons. All that training, and practicing, and tutoring. But I was still so... lost when I became King. I don’t think I ever told you, Merlin, but the only thing that got me through was you, always by my side. Because I knew that you would never let me fail, because I trusted you to see my shortcomings and make up for them without fuss, without fault. And you did, without asking for any thanks, or recognition, like you do with everything. To this day, you think I’m a good King because of destiny, but that’s utter bollocks and I’ve always known it. I’m a good King, Merlin, because you made me a good man first. And on days when I doubt my own rule, I remind myself of how much faith you have in me, and it gives me strength, because I know you would never allow me to fail, and on the off chance I fall, I know you would catch me. Every good King who cares about his people has doubts, Merlin, but however much faith you have in me? I have the same amount, if not more, in you. You’ll do just fine.”

Merlin looks at him with wide, teary eyes, and Arthur flushes under the scrutiny. The King goes to say something, maybe a flippant joke to de-charge the atmosphere, but before he can utter even a word, Merlin throws himself at him, wrapping tight arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck. Arthur almost falls back, but he holds steady, chuckling slightly as he returns Merlin’s hug with equal intensity. Merlin’s muffled voice from his shoulder has Arthur tightening his grip:

“Will you catch me? If I fall?”

Arthur moves a hand up to cradle the back of Merlin’s head:

“You won’t fall. But I’d spend the rest of my life stood below you with my arms out ready, Merlin, if that gave you just a fraction of the belief in yourself that you should have.”

Neither pulled away for what felt like hours, and by the time Thornway wondered over to check on them, they had fallen asleep against the log, arms still firmly wrapped around each other.

He smiles mournfully as he drapes a blanket over them. You would have to be blind to miss the odd moroseness that had overtaken them both, and the old knight knew that his Prince was dreading having to leave Arthur, and that Arthur was dreading the same. They shuffle in their sleep, and Thornway freezes, worried that he had woken them, but when Arthur just mutters Merlin’s name and moves impossibly closer to the other man Thornway sighs. This is going to be... painful for the two of them, and he’s not quite sure how he can help.

After another day of travel, they find themselves moving through the capital city, towards the castle sitting at the foot of the mountains.

The army was left with orders to methodically clear the city whilst Arthur, Leon, Thornway, and Mordred headed straight for the citadel gates. Though the city had fallen into disrepair, the castle looked like it had barely been touched, even by the elements, and Thornway explained that powerful enchantments laid over the ancient building, preventing it from being invaded or damaged by even the strongest of armies:

“It was meant to be a stronghold, somewhere we could hide and keep our people safe in emergencies, but we knew if we did that we would have backed ourselves into a corner. Uther was taking over more and more of the city every day, if we locked ourselves in... we would have just starved. Trying to escape through the city and out into the wilderness was our only hope.”

Merlin nods absent-mindedly as he stares up at the main door:

“Can we even get in?”

His voice is quiet and shaky, and Mordred steps forward to put a hand on his shoulder as Thornway replies with a small smile:

“You’re the heir, the doors will always open for you, Little Falcon.”

Merlin replies with a weak smirk and flushed cheeks:

“You know, I’m not all that little anymore.”

Thornway barks out a laugh as he shakes his head slightly, ruffling Merlin’s hair as the younger man pouts:

“Well, you’ll always be littler than me.-”

Merlin goes to retort, but before he can, his knight steps back and gestures to the great doors in front of them:

“-Go on, it’s time for us to finally come home, I think.”

Merlin gulps and nods, and Mordred lets his hand fall back to his side as the older Warlock takes the steps two at a time, hesitating only slightly before he wraps his hand around one of the doors’ metal rings. It twists easily in his grip, and the door swings open. Merlin has to take a step back and cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs, the billowing clouds of dust being disturbed for the first time in two decades making it almost impossible to see into the dark hall.

It settles after a few moments and Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him wordlessly and relaxing only when he feels Arthur take his hand. The blonde King gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and Merlin takes his first shaking steps across the threshold.

He walks through the dark corridors slowly, one hand tightly clenched in Arthur’s, the other trailing along the wall next to him. The rest of the group is silent as they follow him, and nothing can be heard bar their muffled steps over the dusty rugs, and the deep breathing of Merlin and Thornway.

Merlin seems to know where he’s going, so no one questions the corners he turns and the rooms he passes without second thought. The deeper into the castle they get, the darker it becomes, until finally Merlin stops, a long hall stretched out in front of him. His eyes flash gold and the torches lining the walls flare up, illuminating the corridor in golden light. Arthur turns to look at the Warlock beside him, empathetic tears gathering in his eyes as he sees tracks on Merlin’s cheeks.

Merlin turns to glance at Thornway, whose in a similar state, before closing his eyes and flattening his free hand against the wall, digging his fingertips into the cracks as his voice comes out quiet and raspy:

“I know these halls, this stone.-”

Thornway takes a deep stuttering breath, muttering Merlin’s name. Merlin steps away from the wall, looking back to his knight with a weak, teary smile:

“-Do you remember? Chambers filled with golden light, vast halls bustling with people and dragons and magic?”

Thornway gulps and nods, slowly moving towards Merlin and putting a hand on his shoulder:

“I remember.-”

He nods down the corridor, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat before asking:

“-You remember what’s down there?”

Merlin smiles and nods, squeezing Arthur’s hand and leading the group down the hall, obviously impatient to get to wherever their destination is, but unwilling to walk any quicker.

Leon and Arthur share a confused and slightly concerned look but don’t say anything, allowing Merlin and Thornway to lead the way. Once again, Merlin hesitates only slightly before pushing the door at the end of the corridor open. and the six of them gather inside the immense chamber. Like the rest of the castle, it was dusty, but untouched; unlike the rest of the castle, it was bathed in colourful light. The walls were high, the ceiling obviously stretching far above the surrounding rooms, and the afternoon sun shone brightly through giant stained glass windows.

Reds and blues and greens and every other colour imaginable were splashed across the stone floor, painting pictures of dragons and flowers and family, but everyone’s eyes skip over the colourful artwork, instead being drawn to the two golden thrones sat on a dais at the other end of the hall. Merlin lets go of Arthur’s hand, walking towards the thrones with wide eyes as the others stay back, watching with a mix of pride and grief. Thornway follows after a few moments and Leon has to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly when the King looks at him. Arthur clenches his hands and looks away, but stays by the door, wanting more than anything to be with Merlin through this but also understanding that it wasn’t his place.

Merlin finally reaches the thrones.

He wipes the thick dust from the armrests with shaking, but reverent hands before sitting down on the steps, slightly to the side of the golden seats. He runs his fingertips over the stone, remembering every bump and crack and texture, and Thornway stands behind him, in line with the thrones, putting a hand on his shoulder and muttering:

“Now this brings back memories.”

Merlin nods, looking up at him, tears no longer flowing, but still gathering in his eyes:

“I... I don’t remember much, but I still... know. I know this is where I sat, with you behind me, ma and dad next to me on their thrones. I remember dad promising that when I was older, they’d have a throne made for me, so I could sit with them.”

Thornway nods, slowly moving to sit beside him, ignoring the creaking in his bones as he lets his weight fall onto the stone steps:

“Hmm. foreign royalty and dignitaries thought it odd that the King and Queen let you sit in on meetings, even as a young child, but they were always adamant; they didn’t want to hide you away. You were always safe, of course, but they wanted you exposed to the people and the people exposed to you. I suppose they wanted to nurture a natural love and protectiveness of your people in you; how could they expect you to serve the Kingdom well if you were only doing so out of duty, and not genuine love?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully before smiling briefly up at Arthur, still stood on the other side of the room. When Arthur tentatively returns the smile, despite not hearing the hushed conversation, Merlin looks to Thornway next to him, bumping shoulders with a short giggle:

“Probably why I’ve always been so disrespectful to Arthur, everyone in here was equal, no matter what. I guess that’s why the treatment of servants and commoners was such a shock when I moved to Camelot, I don’t really remember much of home, but it definitely felt��different.”

Thornway nods as Merlin stands, holding out a hand to the knight and pulling him to his feet. Merlin’s gaze moves around the room, though he stays rooted to the spot, and Thornway asks his question quietly:

“What do you want to do? Do you want to finish clearing the castle and the city first, or fetch your mother and uncle first?”

Merlin gulps before taking a deep breath, staring at the floor and saying in a small voice:

“I don’t know... what do you think I should do?”

Thornway chuckles and shakes his head:

“This is your decision, Little Falcon. You are the Crown Prince, this is your Kingdom, your city, your people, trust your instincts. What should be done?”

Merlin looks to Arthur once again, reminding himself of the King’s promise to catch him should he fall, before looking back at Thornway with a determined expression:

“Send Kilgharrah to fetch ma and Gaius. We no longer need him as a deterrent, and we’ll still have Aithusa. He can make the journey to Camelot and back in a week at most, knights, even on horseback, will take at least twice that. It’s been a while since either of them went flying, but they’ll remember soon enough, and I trust Kilgharrah to keep them safe. We can keep clearing the city and start rough plans for rebuilding whilst we wait.”

Thornway grins and nods proudly:

“Exactly what I would have suggested. See? You’ll be just fine.-”

Merlin returns his grin shyly, blushing slightly as he rubs the back of his neck. Thornway rolls his eyes good-naturedly before gesturing to the others:

“-Come, My Lord, we should let the others know and head out to send Kilgharrah off as soon as possible.”

Merlin pushes the older knight’s shoulder playfully at the use of a title, but Thornway just smirks and waves Merlin ahead of him.

Arthur, Leon, and Mordred were told of the plan as the group made their way out of the castle again, having to cover their eyes when they step into the bright sunlight. They all smiled fondly as they saw Merlin’s growing confidence, though Arthur had to stamp down the growing anxiety swirling in his stomach; he refused to be sad for himself.

Kilgharrah was flying back towards Camelot within the hour, and Merlin was separating the army into groups and assigning tasks with a strong voice and straight back, taking every question and suggestion in his stride and organising hundreds of people without issue.

Arthur knew that there was still a conversation to be had between himself and Merlin, though with every day that passed he questioned whether it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t oblivious enough not to notice the way Merlin always asked for his council, even when he didn’t need it, always searched for his eyes in the crowd when he addressed his people, but that didn’t mean that his... affections, were returned.

Everyone, even Thornway now, kept shooting him pitying looks, and he figured out fairly quickly that he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to believe. Leon was the only one he could rely on to convincingly pretend nothing was wrong, and Arthur used that to back up his deliberate ignoring of his stupid emotions.

Six days had passed and the clearing of debris from the lower town was well on its way when Kilgharrah landed in the castle courtyard, his two passengers tense and teary. Only Hunith, Gaius, Merlin, and Thornway took the journey through the castle this time; the others continued to help with the work in the town, not quite feeling that they would be welcome on the emotional tour.

Hunith decided fairly quickly that she would move on to become Queen Mother. Merlin would be crowned King (though he put his foot down and insisted that it wouldn’t happen until everything was properly sorted, and the people were settled back in the city), and though Hunith would still be the most senior of the royals, Merlin would technically have the most power.

Arthur had mixed feelings about that.

As King, Merlin would be a lot busier, would have a lot more responsibilities, but equally, he would have much more control over the use of his time; somehow making it both harder and easier to organise visits between the two of them. Though Arthur, of course, didn’t mention such feelings, just pulled Merlin into another tight hug and congratulated him with a grin.

With the help of Merlin and Mordred’s magic, and the few sorcerers scattered throughout the army they had brought, clearing the town of debris and rebuilding what they could with whatever was left went fairly quickly. Soon enough, the blacksmith’s and an infirmary were up and running, and the farms were ready for work to commence, just as soon as the resources from Camelot arrived.

The castle, whilst it had been fully explored by Merlin, Hunith, Thornway, and Gaius, had yet to be opened up to others or cleaned properly, but no one mentioned it. The gang slept happily in homes rebuilt in the upper town, and accepted Merlin’s excuse of wanting to focus on the people’s infrastructure first.

It was a week or so after Hunith and Gaius had arrived, Kilgharrah and Aithusa had disappeared into the mountains with Merlin’s approval, and Arthur once again found Merlin stood in the otherwise empty, still dusty throne room, staring at the golden seats with his hands in his pockets and his face tense.

Years ago, Arthur would’ve been wrong in his assumption that Merlin hadn’t heard him approach, but just this once he knows that he’s right. Arthur had slowly become an expert on picking up Merlin’s ticks, and even in the low light of the evening the blonde could tell that Merlin had no clue he was there.

Arthur didn’t want to feel like he was intruding, so cleared his throat quietly, only walking closer to the other man when his head whipped around, smiling slightly when he saw it was just Arthur.

Arthur stepped up next to him, and they both stared at the thrones in silence, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. Everything had been so busy in recent weeks that, other than the conversation two weeks earlier, Arthur and Merlin had spent barely any time together, just the two of them; every other time Arthur had found Merlin alone in the throne room he had shut the door quietly behind him and left, too afraid to intrude, not quite ready to start a conversation. The conversation.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat again and speaks in a quiet voice, not looking to the Warlock next to him:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin responds almost immediately, but like Arthur, he speaks quietly and doesn’t move his gaze from the thrones:

“Nothing, everything. I’m... doing ok, I think.-”

Arthur nods with a small smile, but Merlin continues before he can say anything:

“-But I’m scared that I’m only doing well because you’re here. You have to go back to Camelot eventually and... it sounds stupid, but I... I don’t want you to go. I need you, Arthur.”

Arthur gulps, finally looking to Merlin’s sorrowful face, though the other man refuses to meet his gaze. He takes his hands out of his pockets, fiddling with them roughly, rubbing his knuckles together and scratching his palms harshly. Arthur clenches his jaw, taking one of Merlin’s hands in his own gently and running soothing fingers over the younger man’s callouses:

“I know what you mean.-”

Merlin looks to him in surprise, his eyes widening, and Arthur continues with a small smile:

“-I told you, Merlin, I’m only a good King because of you. I’ve never had to rule on my own before and I’m dreading going back to Camelot without you.-”

Merlin shakes his head roughly, but Arthur continues once again, before he can disagree:

“-No, Merlin, don’t argue, it’s true. I... I need you as well, I don’t want to be without you, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to cope with a week’s ride between us. Leon tried talking some sense into me back in Camelot, and I know he was right, that all relationships take effort and we’ll have to work incredibly hard to stay in each other’s lives in any significant capacity, and I’m absolutely willing to do anything to keep you close, if not physically then... otherwise, but I’m still...-”

Arthur sighs and looks away, his cheeks just a little bit pink as he continues quietly:

“-I’m still scared to be without you.”

Merlin gulps and squeezes Arthur’s hand in his own, waiting for the blonde to finally look up at him again. The Warlock smiles at the eye contact and Arthur returns it weakly as Merlin finally replies:

“The last ten years of my life have revolved around you, completely and utterly, and I know it’s selfish of me to... not want that to change. I know I’m staying here, with my people, as their King. I would never consider abandoning them, not really, but I desperately want to, just so I can stay with you. We... we’ll figure something out, find some way to communicate quickly. I’m magic incarnate, there has to be a way, I... I’ll make a way, if I have to.”

The tears in Arthur’s eyes finally overflow at Merlin’s determined tone, but before the other man can say anything about it, Arthur pulls him into a tight hug, clutching his cloak in shaking fingers and burying his face in his shoulder, for once feeling grateful for the extra inch in height that Merlin has on him. Merlin returns the hug without hesitation, closing his eyes against the tears, though not managing to stop them from falling as he quietly speaks, his voice thick:

“I promised that I would stay with you until the day I died, but I... I have to leave, I... I can’t-”

Arthur tightens the hug as he interrupts him:

“No, Merlin, you owe me nothing, you don’t have to explain. You’ve already given me my kingdom, now it’s my chance to return the favour. I would never ever ask you to leave this behind just for me.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s body shaking with silent sobs, and he runs a hand through his hair softly, breathing deeply in an effort to hold in his own bawling.

They stand wrapped in each other for a while, neither willing to let go even when their tears dry up and their breathing evens out. Eventually Merlin rasps out a whispered:

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Arthur pulls back at long last, but doesn’t go far, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and closing his eyes before replying:

“You won’t. We’ll take turns hosting Yule celebrations, and I can visit on your birthday, and there’ll be tournaments of course, and trade routes, and shared patrols near the border. I refuse to let you slip from my grasp, Merlin, you’ll never be without me, not for long anyway.”

Merlin huffs out a gentle laugh, and Arthur thinks the flutter of his breath over his cheeks and through his eyelashes is the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt. Both of them open their eyes, but they don’t move away from each other, even as they stare, becoming increasingly aware of the very little amount of space between them. Arthur’s brows crease slightly but he ignores the concerned question in Merlin’s eyes, instead lifting a hand to gently cup his jaw, gulping as Merlin’s expression falls into a soft smile.

The King takes a deep breath as he summons his courage, eyes filling with tears again as he clears his throat, whispering so quietly that it’s a miracle Merlin hears him, even with only inches between them:

“Merlin, I... you mean a great deal to... I mean I... -”

He cuts himself off with a quiet huff, and Merlin smirks at the slight blush dusting his cheeks, patiently waiting for him to continue. Arthur shuts his eyes tightly, taking another deep breath before opening them with a newfound determination. He meant it, he’d come this far, he was not going to let Merlin slip away:

“I love you, you are the single most important person in my life, and I would go to the ends of this world just to see you smile. I owe you my life, and so much more than that; you’ve been making promises and swearing oaths to my crown for years-”

Merlin interrupts him quietly:

“To you, to Arthur, not the crown, to you.”

Arthur huffs slightly and rolls his eyes:

“I’m trying to confess my undying love here Merlin, and I’m not very good with this whole... expressing shit, so shut up and let me finish.-”

Merlin snorts but stays otherwise silent, raising an eyebrow to prompt Arthur to continue:

“-Like I was saying. You’ve been swearing things for years, and now it’s my turn.-”

Arthur steps back, taking Merlin’s hands tightly in his own as he lowers himself to one knee, pressing his forehead to the Warlock’s knuckles:

“-I swear on my crown and in the name of Camelot, that I will always love you, that I will always be ready catch you, and that I will never stop putting the work in to make sure I don’t lose you, that you don’t lose me.”

The blonde can hear Merlin’s stuttered breathe and barely has time to process Merlin’s whispered-

“I accept your oath.”

-before he’s being pulled to his feet and urgently kissed.

One of Merlin’s hands settles on the side of Arthur’s neck and the other grips his hip. Arthur’s arms flail for only a moment in his shock before he moves to clutch Merlin’s collar tightly, closing his eyes and kissing back, pushing as much of his devotion into the action as possible and wanting nothing more than to sooth the stress-induced bite marks on Merlin’s lips.

They pull back far too soon, as far as both of them are concerned, once again resting their foreheads against each other as they catch their breath. Arthur’s face slowly morphs into a grin as he says:

“And to think I was stressing over whether I should tell you for weeks.”

Merlin rolls his eyes in response, snorting in amusement as he admits, much to Arthur’s chagrin:

“Believe me, I already knew, you weren’t very subtle. You’ve been sulking.”

Arthur lets out an incredulous huff and pulls back, still holding Merlin’s collar but staring at Merlin’s amused raised eyebrow with wide eyes:

“I am a King, Merlin, I do not sulk.”

Merlin chuckles:

“Well so am I, and yes you do.”

Arthur narrows his eyes slightly:

“Not yet you’re not. That’s besides the point, if you knew... why didn’t you say anything?”

Merlin’ face falls slightly, and if Arthur had to guess, he’d say that Merlin looked a little guilty. The blonde furrowed his brows but pulls his Warlock close again, stroking his jaw softly with his thumb as he waits for an answer:

“I... I love you, Arthur, more than anything, but... I wanted see if you would do anything about it. I knew I would do anything for you, but I needed... I needed to know if you thought I was worth the distance, the effort. If I said something first, I never would have known... I would always be second guessing if you were about to... to break it off, because you didn’t want to put in the frankly ridiculous amount of effort it’s going to take to keep things... good.”

Arthur smiles and shakes his head disbelievingly, landing a quick kiss to the tip of Merlin’s nose and smirking at the way his face scrunches in response:

“Well, now you do know. I will do anything, everything, to keep you happy and safe and loved. You will always be in my heart, if not by my side.”

Merlin smiles, and the two of them resolutely ignore the tears gathering in their eyes as he whispers his reply:

“As will I. I’ll talk to the Druids, Kilgharrah, Thornway, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out some magical way to communicate.”

Arthur just smiles and nods, taking Merlin’s hands in his own once more:

“Ready to head to sleep? It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, glancing to the thrones before walking towards the door, keeping Arthur’s hand securely in his:

“Yeah. Though unless we sneak past the others I doubt we’ll get to sleep for a while. Morgana’s been speaking to me in my head and teasing me for weeks and my mum keeps hinting at how politically beneficial a marriage between the kingdoms would be.”

Arthur doesn’t even try to hide his snort, but nods in agreement and squeezes Merlin’s hand, following him out into the star-lit evening with a newfound enthusiasm to see what the future will bring.

THE END OF PART 2!!!

I think I’ll write one more reeeaally short part, a ten years later sort of thing, just because I have a few more ideas about this, but no real huge plot points, just cute little things I want to add in but haven’t found space for yet.

This took a little longer than I expected to come out, but I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

(and yes, I may have taken a little inspiration from The Hobbit movies, sue me (pls don’t, I’m kidding))

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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neonlights92 · 3 years

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RUN: Chapter V

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for. He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants. So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly. And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook. So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos. How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and smut

A/N: ENJOOOOY!

You hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in almost two days.

The moment you’d seen him with Violetta any illusion you had of possibly making your marriage work, had been shattered.

Jungkook had tried to speak to you. After he’d followed you back to your room he’d pleaded with you to open the door, to let him explain, but you just couldn’t do it.

Perhaps it was because you were so hurt.

Or perhaps it was because you didn’t want to hear it.

Or perhaps it was because deep down inside, you’d always known this was bound to happen.

He had promised you a loveless marriage. But he had also promised to stay faithful to you.

The image of them kissing was imprinted into your retina - it was all you could think about whenever there was a moment of peace. .

So what had you done? You’d run away. Snuck out in the middle of the night, whilst Jungkook slept in the guest room.

You knew it made you a coward.

But you couldn’t help it. He’d hurt you. You were broken.

You couldn’t handle the thought of facing him. Not right now, anyway.

Nayeon had allowed you to move into hers temporarily - sick to death with worry when you showed up on her doorstep crying your eyes out. You still hadn’t been able to explain what had happened, but you knew eventually, you would have to.

You stared at the phone sat on the bedside table of the guest room Nayeon had put you in. You’d texted Jungkook briefly the moment you arrived, to let him know where you were - but since then it had sat, switched off, staring at you.

Mocking you, almost.

In your heart of hearts you knew that perhaps you were acting childishly.

That you needed to face your husband head on - confront everything that had happened that day.

But you couldn’t. You were too afraid.

You felt the tears jump to your throat again and you sighed shakily, fighting against them.

“Y/N?” The door to the bedroom creaked open and Nayeon was stood on the other side, holding a tray with what looked like tea and toast.

“You’ve barely eaten,” She said, coming towards you carefully, “You need to eat something. Please.”

You nodded, dazed, and let her set the tray down between your legs. She sat on the edge of the bed, dark eyes roving your face.

After a long moment of silence, she sighed heavily.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

The words fell on you like concrete. You felt tears burn your eyes again.

“I don’t - I can’t…”

Your heart was beating in your throat.

“Eat, Y/N.” She pushed the food towards you and ran a hand through her hair, “Jungkook’s been calling me like crazy since you arrived. He hasn’t stormed in here because I told him it would just make things worse.”

The thought of your husband terrified you. What were you going to do?

How could you ever face him again?

Would you leave him? Could you?

The tears fell now, unbidden, and you bit into the dry toast. You didn’t even bother pushing the tears away.

“He sent… He sent Namjoon.” Your best friend’s eyes were sympathetic, “I can kick him out, if you want. But Jungkook thought maybe Namjoon could help.”

You looked beyond her and noticed, for the first time, a tall figure stood in the doorway. It was Namjoon.

How long had he been stood there?

“I can go, if that’s what you want.” He frowned gently, “But he’s desperate, Y/N. He really wants to speak to you.”

You felt your chest clench. You shouldn’t have cared what Jungkook was feeling.

He’d caused all of this in the first place. But as always, your feelings for him took priority.

You scoffed at yourself. How pathetic.

Nayeon grabbed your hand and squeezed softly, forcing you to look at her.

“Y/N…. Please.” She looked desperate, “Talk to me.”

You took a long, deep breath, and tried to calm yourself. She was right. You had to talk to her. This was getting you nowhere.

You cleared your throat.

“We - we … We slept together.”

Naeyon’s eyes widened, “What?”

“A few days ago. I …. I don’t know. The last few weeks things changed between us. I thought - I thought maybe Jungkook had feelings for me,” The thought tore your heart open all over again, “But… The morning after. The morning after we slept together - I found him in his study with another woman. She kissed him.” Nayeon’s eyes darkened.

“What?” She seethed, “Who?” You felt your throat go dry. Your mind hadn’t stopped replaying what you’d seen in Jungkook’s study.

Again and again and again.

It was all you could think about.

“Violetta,” You whispered, tears falling again, “Her name is Violetta. But I’ve never seen her before.”

Namjoon cleared his throat. You looked at him and watched as he shuffled towards you, dark brows pulled into a low frown.

“Did you say Violetta?” You nodded gently, swiping at the tears that had escaped. He shook his head.

“Y/N….”

You waited for it.

For Namjoon to tell you that Violetta was the love of Jungkook’s life. That you would never even hold a candle to what your husband felt for her.

Don’t you love me? She’d asked him.

Your stomach twisted again and you felt sick.

“Violetta is the daughter of a very important politician,” Namjoon seemed to be choosing his words carefully. He came to sit on the edge of the bed, “A few years ago… Jungkook was messing around with her, to try and obtain information.”

You felt your heart thundering against your ribcage.

“It was a shitty move, probably, but he only did it to try and move things around in our favour.” He clicked his tongue and ran a hand across his brow, “When her father found out, he sent her away to America. We haven’t seen her in almost four years.”

You froze. What did all of this mean?

“I know Jungkook hasn’t been the best husband,” Namjoon continued, eyes searching your own carefully, “But he cares about you, alot. He loves you.”

The words felt like they were tearing you apart and putting you back together again, all at the same time.

“He kissed her.”

But the words held no venom. The truth was… She had kissed him. And he’d pulled away so quickly.

In your mind, it was the only thing you saw again and again and again…

You knew. You knew she’d been the one to make the first move.

“He made a mistake,” Namjoon seemed to be approaching the situation like you were a caged animal - like he wasn’t sure what your reaction would be, “He made a mistake by letting her inside your house. But I know Jungkook. And I know how he feels about you, Y/N. Even if he doesn’t quite know it himself yet. Violetta is a dangerous girl. He needs to be careful.”

Nayeon cleared her throat, seeming to mull over the situation herself.

“Why wouldn’t he tell you about it?” She asked, voice careful, “If Violetta is so dangerous - why wouldn’t he tell you about it?” She was directing her question at Namjoon, who swiped his tongue across his bottom lip slowly and sighed.

“Jungkook likes to deal with things like this on his own.” He grunted, “Doesn’t like bringing the rest of us into it. And knowing Violetta - she probably came back without a warning.”

Everything was too much.

Too much and too little.

You’d known about Jungkook’s past before you married him - had known how many women he’d slept with even as you fell deeper in love with him.

And yet, something like this scared you.

How many disgruntled former lovers had your husband left behind?

Still. Your heart had somehow sped up at Namjoon’s explanation - at the revelation that maybe your husband hadn’t betrayed you.

You cleared your throat after a moment of silence. Nayeon and Namjoon were observing you with gentle eyes - probably afraid of what theatrics you might pull next.

You took a moment to collect yourself.

“He should have told me about her.” You decided, “He should have told me if she was a threat.”

Namjoon’s eyes were kind, “He’s still a dickhead, Y/N.” His smile was almost painful, “He’s just a dickhead who loves you.”

The words lit up your chest.

“I don’t - I’m not. I don’t know if that’s true.” You wanted to believe Namjoon. More than anything.

But you couldn’t allow yourself that vulnerability.

Not yet.

Not after how completely the thought of him with someone else had broken you.

“You should speak to him,” Nayeon said decidedly, squeezing your hand again, “Make him explain himself, for once.”

The thought scared you, but you knew she was right.

Part of you was terrified he would actually rebuke everything Namjoon had told you. That he would say he really was in love with Violetta - and planning to run away with her. Or take her as a mistress.

Those thoughts clenched your chest.

And part of you hoped - maybe foolishly - that your husband would quell your fears. That he would tell you, just as Namjoon had, that he loved you. That he wanted to be with you now - for real, not for duty or anything like that - but because he cared for you.

“You’re right,” You nodded, reaching for your phone, “I’m going to call him.”

Nayeon stood at the same time as Namjoon.

“We’ll both be just outside, okay? If you need us.” Your best friend’s smile was gentle, but warm, “I know you can do this, Y/N.”

She pressed a kiss to your temple, and then led the way outside, Namjoon trailing after her quietly. He turned back just before shutting the door, and smiled at you too.

“You’ve got this, kid.”

You smiled back, shakily, “Thanks, Joon.”

The door clicked shut and you were alone with your thoughts once again.

The image of Violetta and Jungkook had blurred now - maybe from Namjoon’s words - and it didn’t burn so brightly.

You felt like you could breathe, like the idea of talking to your husband didn’t frighten the shit out of you.

You could do this.

With shaking fingers you switched your phone off and watched as notification after notification lit up your screen.

They were all from Jungkook.

Thirteen missed calls.

Twenty seven texts.

You opened the texts.

I need to talk to you, Y/N.

Please. Pick up the phone. I know you’re mad, but we need to talk.

Where are you? Why did you leave like that?

Y/N please. I’m worried about you.

They went on like that for the next twenty or so, until eventually you landed on the last one. The one that made your heart skip.

I fucked up, okay? I fucked up and I need to make this right. You mean so much to me.

Your heart felt like it was beating out of your mouth. You mean so much to me.

Your fingers hovered over the call button and for a moment it felt like all the air had left the room.

This was what you had always wanted.

Jeon Jungkook for your own.

You considered how you’d felt about him before your marriage. You couldn’t deny you’d loved him but now… Now there was something deeper, wasn’t there?

He’d marked you.

Not just your skin but your heart - your soul.

You took a deep breath and made the call, bringing the phone up to your ear.

It rang once, twice.

And then Jungkook was there.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

You felt your chest tighten at the relief in his voice.

“Yes.” Your own voice was small, in comparison.

“Are you okay?” He sounded desperate, “God. Nayeon said you were okay but I didn’t - shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You cleared your throat, tears rushing to your eyes again.

“I spoke to Namjoon.”

There was a long pause. Your husband waited, and you thanked him for not interrupting. You pushed past the tears.

“He told me the truth about…” Your voice trailed off, but you forced yourself to finish, “Violetta.”

“She doesn’t mean anything to me, Y/N. I don’t - I don’t love her. I never did.”

You took another deep breath in.

“Are you sure?”

The question was the last show of vulnerability you were willing to freely give. If Jungkook changed his mind - if he hurt you, after this - that would be it.

You couldn’t forgive him.

“One thousand percent,” He was firm, “She’s just a spoilt princess who always gets what she wants. I don’t - I’ve never felt for her what she claims to feel for me.”

You wanted him to finish that sentence with - what I feel for you. You were dying for it.

You deserved that much, at least, didn’t you?

You sighed heavily - like the weight of the world was on your shoulders. And maybe it really was.

“What about me?” The question was quiet, unassuming.

Your husband made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

“God Y/N.” He answered, his voice raw, “I don’t want to lose you. Not ever. I - God - I don’t deserve you. I’ve been an asshole. Shit. This isn’t how it was meant to go.”

The words caused a small laugh to bubble out of you.

Your husband - your Jungkook - usually so confident and self-assured seemed… Unsure.

It was enough to send your head spinning.

“I haven’t treated you like I should,” He sounded almost like he was in pain, “I should have never promised you a loveless marriage. But I - I suppose I was trying to keep us both safe. You’ve always… You’ve always looked at me with stars in your eyes. And I hated that… I hated that I liked it. I hated that… I liked you.”

The words encompassed you - like cotton wool. You blinked.

“What?”

He sighed gently, “I was never sure of my feelings for you, Y/N. I wanted to protect you - and keep you safe. And now… Now it’s something else, isn’t it? I just. Don’t totally understand it. It scared me. So I pushed you away.”

You felt tears crawl up your throat, “Jungkook…”

“I’m sorry for that.” He sounded close to tears himself, “You’ve always - you’ve always treated me so well, Y/N. So well. I didn’t deserve it - I still don’t.”

His words patched up all the ugly, sharp tears in your heart. It was like he was soothing them, healing them - and you felt yourself unravelling.

You made your decision.

It was simple. Barely needed to think about it twice.

“I’ll come home.” You said softly, “Tonight. Okay?”

He exhaled something long and hard - like he’d been holding the breath in for ages, “Thank God. Okay Angel. I’ll tell Namjoon to take you home, okay? I hated that you were alone. God. Felt so useless.”

His words sent a fire bubbling in your veins.

He cared so much - seemed so desperate for you to be safe. It was scary and new, but you welcome it with open arms.

This was what you’d always wanted.

“Alright.” There was another beat of silence and then, “I love you, Jungkook.”

The word fell between the two of you - heavy and weighted.

He breathed in sharply.

Then, “Hurry home Angel.”

You smiled to yourself.

“I will.”

The ride back home was silent, save for the murmuring of the radio. Namjoon didn’t say much after you’d asked him to take you back, and Nayeon had all but cried when you explained that things seemed to have worked themselves out.

You stared out of the car window, eyes following the skyline outside.

Seoul could be so beautiful in the Spring.

The trees turned from bare and snow-laden to full of lush, green life. The dark blue sky glittering with tiny little stars - all of them blinking at you, like they were waving.

It filled your heart with something warm and happy - and despite the pain you’d endured recently - you found yourself content, finally.

You knew it had to do with Jungkook - didn’t everything? - but you couldn’t bring yourself to care too much.

Wasn’t it only natural that you wanted him to love you back?

After so many years of unreciprocated feelings… It only made sense.

Namjoon made a self-satisfied sound and you turned to look at him, brow raised.

“Did you have something to say?” You asked, half jokingly.

He spared you a look.

“You two are going to drive me to an early grave I swear.”

You laughed at that, and though he rolled his eyes, Namjoon smiled.

“What are you talking about?” You giggled at the look on his face.

He opened his mouth to answer you - just as something loud and angry and abrasive cracked across the air. Before you could even blink, the car screeched to an angry stop, and your head whacked back against the seat, blood suddenly gushing from your nose.

When had you hit your nose?

The airbags had diffused and you felt stifled - like you couldn’t breath.

“Namjoon.” You croaked, turning your head to the side to find your friend’s eyes closed, “Oh shit. Namjoon.”

He was breathing - you could tell - but he had a nasty gash across his forehead, and his cheek was pressed up against the surface of the airbag.

Your body ached as you tried to shift - tried to help Namjoon out of his current position.

What had happened?

Had a tyre blown? Surely something like that couldn’t cause all this….

And then, suddenly, your car door was wrenched open.

You felt yourself being pulled out painfully - almost brutally - and when your eyes blinked sluggishly up at who was holding you, you didn’t recognise the dark blue eyes staring back at you.

“Who is this?” The voice was gruff, angry.

He was talking to someone on the other side of the car - someone holding Namjoon.

Oh god. What was happening? Your chest clenched - fear turning your blood to ice.

“That’s Jungkook’s wife,” The man holding Namjoon answered, “Shit. C’mon. Let’s go before someone sees us.”

The man holding onto you was squeezing your forearm tightly, and you felt like the world was spinning off its axis.

“Should we take her too?” He asked, pulling you to your feet when your legs started to wobble.

You kept opening your mouth - trying to ask him who he was, what they wanted - but nothing came out. Instead all you could do was groan.

“Yeah. Come on. Let’s go.”

Take you where? Your heart was racing as you were dragged to a dark, black van. Namjoon was still unconscious, his body sweeping across the floor as the second assailant moved him to the van, as well.

Your eyes blinked, and you felt like your mouth was full of cotton - did you have a concussion? Were you going to die? Why was everything suddenly moving in slow motion?

You looked down at the pinch in your arm, and realised you’d been drugged.

The man holding you sneered, his eyes dark and cold and cruel.

“Sweet dreams princess.” He growled, and you tried to claw at his chest, to no avail.

And then, it all went black.

#jungkook #mafia #au #jungkook fanfiction #fanfic #arranged marriage #bts arranged marriage #smut #fluff #angst #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook scenario #mob au #gang au

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lesbobiwan · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 100! 🥳 I was wondering if I could request #100 and Wolffe 💕

thank u so much for the request!!!

#100: "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you." + Wolffe

warnings: kinda public sex. you dont fuck in front of anyone but its kinda close, jealous sex, clothed sex, creampies

You could think of a million different things you'd rather be doing right now.

You'd rather clean the barrack bathrooms after the boys don't have the heart to turn down Plo's well-meaning attempt at cooking. You'd rather be dropped off on an abandoned planet and be told to find a way off. You'd rather be getting shot at by fucking Seppies.

But, no. You're here in this ridiculous dress for some party thrown in the name of the GAR's brave and selfless troopers.

What a load of shit.

As if any of those senators give a shit about any of these men aside from how a picture of them shaking hands will boost their approval ratings.

You know you were invited as a deliberate political move. As the only volunteer nat-born medic for the 104th, you make the war easier to look at.

Look, Senators will say while they point to you, we don't rely solely on the creation of clones who are made to fight and die for a war they have no choice in! We have regular people involved in the war too!

Again. What a load of shit.

It's sickening the way that these politicians will pretend to care about the well-being of the soldiers who fight and die for them when it will make them look good. These people, if you can even call them that, don't know what it's like on the front lines.

You can barely understand what it's like on the frontlines, but you see the aftermath. You see the shell-shocked shinies and the trembling hands of even the most veteran trooper after a battle gone wrong.

Politicians are a disease, you think to yourself, and the sooner you can get out of this ridiculous dress the better.

The only benefit to this is the free champagne and the way Wolffe acts as a deterrent to any smart Senator or politician that comes your way.

Dressed to impress in a sharp gray suit, Wolffe cuts an imposing figure next to you. The tight suit jacket makes his already broad shoulders look impossibly broader and the buttons of his dress shirt strain against the muscles of his chest.

Your dress seems to compliment Wolffe in every way. Your dress is mainly white, but the gray accents serve as a subtle call to Wolffe's suit. Claiming you as his, you like to think. The same designs etched into the cuffs and collar of Wolffe's suit jacket are present at the bottom of your dress, circling the hem before fading as you look higher up the dress.

You think you'd enjoy the night if it wasn't for the Senate's... everything. You may be in a war, but you enjoy looking and feeling pretty. You think you'd feel very pretty if the meaning of the night didn't make you feel sick to your stomach.

With the commander acting as your shadow for the night, you've had little trouble keeping pesky Senators looking for a quick fuck away from you.

At least... the smart ones.

"As I was saying, my father is one of the main beneficiaries of the GAR," the boy — and truly he isn't enough to call a man — prattles on in front of you, totally oblivious to your uninterested expression and the clone commander hovering over your shoulder. You think he might be a senatorial aide and his father might be the Senator?

You wonder if you should adjust the plunging neckline of the dress so that the hickey Wolffe left behind last night peeks into eyesight.

"And I tell him that he shouldn't waste our family money on this war. Honestly, there's no need for clones," he continues, eyes flickering to Wolffe before he turns back to you, "I mean, what could clones possibly provide that a real man can't?"

He leans towards you, and with his last few words he drags his knuckles lightly up your arm. A smile that he must think is charming slithers onto his face as he continues to caress your crawling skin.

"Better company, for one," you mumble into your champagne glass before you can cause a scene. You drain the rest of the drink before you say something stupid.

You don't think you muffle it well enough because Wolffe's shoulders shake in muffled laughter behind you.

"Would you like to dance?" The aide blurts out, and once caressing fingers turn into a greedy grabbing hand closing around your wrist.

Wolffe stiffens behind you, jolting against your back before stopping himself.

Your face morphs into one of distain before you can stop it, "Actually," you begin, yanking your wrist from a sweaty palm, "I promised Commander Wolffe my first dance," your smile is so obviously fake it's painful, but the aide doesn't seem to notice.

"Well, maybe after you're done with the trooper, we can —"

"It's Commander," Wolffe finally speaks up, and his gravely voice has goosebumps spreading across your skin.

"Excuse me?"

Wolffe's hand splays across the small of your back as he steps beside you, "I said, it's commander," he repeats, voice cold like stone. Fuck, it makes your thighs rub together beneath your dress.

The aide's nose scrunches up, "Yes, well, when you're done with the commander, maybe you'll come my way?"

What is it with men not taking a hint?

"No, I don't think so," Wolffe answers for you before the hand on your back shifts from just a grounding touch to a guiding one, and he's leading you away.

Your skin is alight with excitement. You look up at the commander, whose jaw in clenched in obvious irritation. It makes you feel guilty, but Wolffe looks extremely attractive when he's pissed.

"Wolffe, we just passed the dance floor," you whisper as he rushes you past the chunk of the room marked out for couples to hold each other close and sway to the music.

"I know," Wolffe says shortly, leading you to the nearest exit so fast that you nearly fall out of your impractical shoes.

He practically drags you out the door and into one of the hallways you know you aren't allowed to be in.

"Wolffe, where are we — Oh!"

The commander cages you against the wall, hands on either side of your head as his hips press flush to yours through your dress. You can feel the bulge of his cock even through the layers of your clothes.

He breathes in deep through his nose before he speaks, "You're mine, you know that, right?" he rocks his hips against you as he speaks, and you don't get the best friction through the poofiness of your dress, but it's his words that make your thighs clench.

"Yes," you whisper into the space between you, "only yours, Wolffe,"

And it's true. You are Wolffe's no matter the setting — battlefield or ballroom — and no matter the outfits — hard plastoid armor or dashing suits and dresses.

Wolffe stares down at you, breathing hard through his mouth, searching for something in your face before he leans down to crush your lips together.

He kisses you like he's fighting. It's vicious and he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth until you whine, and it's only then that he lets it go. "Call me selfish," he whispers in your ear before he flips you around so that your face is pressed flush with the wall, "but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."

Wolffe's hands are desperate as he begins to wrench the layers of your dress up and up until it's all bunched up above your hips, leaving your lower half exposed to him.

He inhales sharply at the sight of the lingerie the women who helped you into the dress had given you.

You never know whose going to unwrap you by the end of the night, one of the women had whispered like a secret to you.

But that wasn't true. You knew exactly who was going to unwrap you.

"Fuck," Wolffe hisses, dragging one of his hands across the delicate lace that covers your ass. "You wear this just for me?"

You pant against the wall, hands scrambling for purchase as Wolffe leans down to bite the meat of your ass. "Shit!" you gasp, just a bit too loud for comfort.

Wolffe drags his teeth down the curve of your ass, nosing at the wet patch of your panties. "How long have you been this wet, pretty girl?" he demands, pressing the tips of his fingers against the wet lace over your clit.

Your hips jerk against him. It's exhilarating to thing that only one door and a left turn separates a room full of Senators and Very Important People from the two of you.

It's filthy what you're doing. You're sure if anyone were to see you — pressed face first into a wall with little regard for the makeup that was applied to you with more caution than one treats a bomb and your expensive dress hiked up around your waist to expose your soaking cunt, you'd single-handedly ruin all efforts to draw support for the GAR.

"Answer me," Wolffe spits out as he drags your panties down your ass to let them fall around your ankles. One broad hand swats at your ass, right over the pulsing bite mark he left behind.

"All night!" you sob into the wall, biting your hand to muffle the groans you want to let out. "As soon as I saw you in that suit!"

A part of you wishes Wolffe would turn you back around. You want to see him in that suit — want to watch his muscles bunch and flex beneath the delicate fabric.

Wolffe's huff of laughter blows a puff of hot air against your cunt, making you clench around nothing. "You like me in this suit, sweet thing?" He raises to his feet and you can hear his hands fumbling with his belt and zipper. "Well, I'm about to fuck you in it,"

You whimper into the back of your hand. Your own slick starts to drip down your leg. "Please."

The blunt head of Wolffe's cock presses against your entrance. Usually he would make you cum at least once before he fucks you just to get you ready for his girth, but in this moment you couldn't care less.

You want Wolffe to fuck you, and you want to feel the stretch. You want him to fuck the feeling of that grimy aide touching you out of your head.

"S'that what you want?" Wolffe breathes as he starts to slide in, "you want to forget that boy? Huh? You want to be fucked by a man?"

A keen catches in your throat as he sinks in halfway. Fuck, you feel like you're being split in half. His cock just keeps going and going in this position, and all you can do is take it.

You bite down hard into the back of your hand as Wolffe finally bottoms out, but Wolffe grabs your hair, fancy curls and accessories be damned, and pulls your mouth away from your hand.

"Don't you dare," he hisses as his hips set a deafening pace. "Don't you dare hide your noises from me. I want to hear you — I want them to hear you."

Your moan echoes through the hallway.

There's something feral in the way that Wolffe fucks you. With his suit still on, totally presentable besides the cock that's been pulled out of the fly, he's beautiful.

You, on the other hand, look filthy. Your eye makeup is smudged with the tears that Wolffe forces out of you, and you know your hair will be a lost cause by the end of this. Your dress is already wrinkling and your delicate stockings are ruined with the slick that drips down your legs from your cunt.

"Wolffe!" you cry out as pressure in your core tightens.

"'m gonna cum," Wolffe grunts, hips pistoning even faster.

He's ruining you, you think through the haze of pleasure. He's ruining you and you love it.

"Please," you sob, one of your hands leaving the wall to grab at his hips. You almost can't hold on due to the force and speed of his thrusts, but your fingers claw into the fabric of his jacket and you hold on for dear life as he brings you closer and closer to release.

"I think I'll come in this tight little cunt, what do you think?" Wolffe drags the blunt edge of his teeth along your neck and up your jawline, ending just under your ear, "Stuff you full of me, and send you back into that ballroom,"

You clench at the thought. Fuck, you want that so bad.

You're nearly incoherent with pleasure. You're just babbling in agreement to the filth that drips from Wolffe's mouth like the slick that drips from your cunt.

"You like that?" Wolffe asks even though he knows the answer, "You want me to send you in there smelling like sex and dripping my cum?"

One of his hands snake around to circle mercilessly around your clit. The pressure nearly has your knees give out.

"I think I'll keep your panties with me," Wolffe whispers in your ear, "so I'll drip out of that pretty cunt and down your thighs for the rest of the night."

The pressure in your core snaps and you cum around him with a wail.

Wolffe clamps a hand over your mouth as his thrusts turn more into grinds. His teeth sink into your neck as he finally spills inside you.

The feeling of his cum flooding your cunt has you clenching around him even more.

"Fuck," Wolffe hisses, fucking his cum into your spent cunt with an obscene squelch. "Fuck, you're so tight, pretty girl,"

You moan faintly, thighs trembling as he finally pulls out. A gush of his cum starts to drip out. You clench weakly, trying your best to keep it in.

Wolffe presses a kiss to the back of your neck, "Step out of your panties, sweet thing," he whispers into your skin, hands on your hips to steady you as you do what he asked.

You stand on coltish legs, wobbling in your heels with the aftermath of your orgasm, as Wolffe bends down to grab your ruined panties and stuff them in his pockets.

They ruin the line of his suit, and anyone who looks at him for more than half a second will know he's got something in his pocket that shouldn't be there, but you think no one will be looking at him when you're there.

Not with your hair a mess and mascara smeared just so around your eyes. Not when you reek of sex and sweat and there are bite marks littered across your skin. Not when your dress is so obviously wrinkled due to less-than-appropriate events.

Still, you walk back into the ballroom with your arm linked with Wolffe's and his cum sliding down your thigh and soaking into your stockings.

The senatorial aide doesn't bother you for the rest of the night, but that might have something to do with the clone commander flashing him a bit of lace from his jacket pocket.

When you get back to the barracks, Wolffe fucks you with those same ruined panties in your mouth to make sure none of the boys hear you two.

#ok. this one is my favorite #i love this so muc #if this doesn't happen to me once than what is the point #100 follower celebration #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

Text

Kinktober Day 4: Bimbofication + Cockwarming

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,164

Warnings: Bimbofication/intelligence play, hypnosis/trance state, cockwarming

A/N: This fic is very much set in my Future Management universe though I think you could get away with not having read the others. I’ve missed writing these two tbh and then I saw that one of the prompts for day 4 was bimbofication and decided it was a good enough excuse to get back to them. But I also really loved the second prompt for day 4, cockwarming, so decided to mix the two together!

After the long week you’d both been dealing with, you and Roger were glad to have a weekend to yourselves to relax. You’d spent too many nights out at various political functions, lobbying politicians and trying to convince the wealthy elite to donate to your cause. It was frustrating though and despite the numerous late nights and all your best efforts, it didn’t feel like you’d got particularly far. Roger had returned to the studio that week to begin recording Queen’s next album, so he was having a better time than you had been, though by all accounts everyone had been a little on edge as the week drew to a close. He’d come home complaining about how snippy everyone had been and how little progress they’d made that day. It was nice just to curl up on the couch together and zone out in front of the telly, not least because recently you’d barely found time to just be together without interruptions. It wasn’t a problem exactly, and you’d known you’d have patches like that when you first started seeing each other, but the lack of intimacy and physical affection created by your busy schedules did take its toll. So, on Friday night, Roger took great joy in turning off the alarm clock, deciding you could both use a lie in. You were too exhausted to even suggest anything more than talking before you went to sleep, but Roger made sure he was spooning you as you settled down, holding you tight. 

Roger was still asleep as you woke, carefully detangling yourself so you could tiptoe to the bathroom, but he offered you a sleepy grin when you came back.  “Sorry, did I wake you?” “Maybe a little. Thought we were going to lie in.” He pouted at you as if you’d betrayed him.  “I had to pee!” you laughed, “But I’m all for lying in now.”  Roger chuckled along with you as he beckoned you over, encouraging you to lay your head on his chest as you snuggled back up. His hand found yours, softly tracing the length of your fingers as he sighed happily.  “I missed this,” he half whispered, pulling your hand up so he could kiss your knuckles.  You hummed in agreement. For someone who’d not been in the habit of sharing your bed or encouraging physical contact, you’d certainly gotten used to Roger’s touch. He’d thoroughly converted you as the relationship became more serious, made you see how nice it was to be held, how comforting his hand in yours could be. And you had missed it over the last week when there’d not seemed to be enough time for those soft, quiet moments with him. You’d sat next to uninterested politicians who nodded politely at what you said but never offered anything useful, and thought about how nice it’d be to feel Roger kiss your temple or squeeze your thigh. And then your mind had taken it further, reminding you how warm you got when his weight was over you, how it felt to fill your lungs with his breath and to taste him on your lips. You shifted at the idea and realised you weren’t the only one who wanted more than just to relax. Scooting away from Roger so you could better face him, you began to suggest you could maybe slip down under the covers and help him get properly excited, but before you got more than a few syllables out he was talking about a different idea. “So, I’ve been thinking about something I thought might be fun to try with my bimbo doll.” “Oh?” You weren’t entirely sure how you felt about that. On one hand you loved when Roger turned you brainless and cock-crazed, how fun it was and how freeing. But this was the first time you’d really been able to be together in a little while. What did it say about the state of your relationship or his opinion of you, if he’d prefer your bimbo alter ego over the real you, “You want her?” “Not necessarily right now,” he said, rubbing his knuckles softly against your cheek, “Not if you don’t want to. I’m happy staying like this with you all day.” “Don’t pretend you don’t want to fuck. I want to fuck.” Roger laughed, “Oh I definitely want to fuck. I’m just saying I’d be perfectly happy fucking beautiful, brainy, you, instead of the slutty idiot.” You couldn’t help but smile at that. “But it’s something I’ve thought about quite a lot. And I think it’d be kind of perfect for such a lazy morning.” “Okay.” you said, thinking about it more, “I’m not entirely opposed to the whole bimbo thing. It might actually be nice to be a bit brainless, maybe even make it a bit easier to relax. Y’know, sort of keep me focused on enjoying the moment and really feeling everything. So why don’t you just tell me what the idea is and then I’ll know how up for it I am right now.” “Hmmm. I thought maybe it could be a surprise. But don’t worry, it’s something we’ve done before. I’m just curious how she’d react to being made to do it.” “Being made to?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in disbelief, “Is this something I like?” “Oh yeah, definitely. Believe me, we’ve done this a few times before. Usually, it’s less part of sex and more to do with the aftercare or the foreplay.” You tried to think of what he meant but nothing came to mind that fit the description. It was intriguing though. And you trusted Roger, you knew he wouldn’t take advantage or force you to do something you wouldn't normally do. If he said you enjoyed it then you must enjoy it usually. Roger waited to see how you’d react. “Nothing to lose?” “Nothing to lose.” He said with a smile, “I promise it’ll be fun, love.” “Okay, let’s do it. I’m insanely curious. But also, sometime later today or tonight, we’re going to have regular, non-bimbo, sex.” “Anything you want. You ready?”

You nodded and instantly felt Roger draw you back down so you were within easier reach. His fingers trailed lightly over your arms as he began to talk you down. You relaxed into the moment, letting his voice wash over you as his touch created goosebumps over your skin. As you closed your eyes your breathing began to soften and you felt the familiar drowsiness settle into your mind. Roger did his usual improvisation, making sure you knew how dumb you were, how easily confused and hopelessly idiodic you were. He made you understand that you couldn’t understand half of what he said, that you were just a giggly dummy who needed his help. And then, when he was sure you had gone brainless, he told you how horny you were. How all you could think about was his cock in every one of your holes, how desperately you ached for him, how being filled by him was your one goal in life. The only thing you needed or wanted. And how the longer you waited the hornier you got. He told you about being desperate and wet and you felt yourself grow desperate and wet as he said it though you couldn’t remember the word desperate. You tried you but just came up blank. The only world you could think of was cock. It flashed in your mind like a neon sign and just the thought of that word alone made your mouth water and you cunt ache. You shifted, trying to rub your legs together, able to feel the slick forming between them as your stomach tightened with need. And then he told you one word, a simple word. No. He explained that every time he told you no, it was guaranteed to compound the horny desperation you felt. “What’s co-com- ummm, com-pound?” You asked, confusedly. “It means the feeling will get stronger. When I say no, you’ll get even hornier. Understand?” “Yes,” you sighed, content now that he’d explained the hard word.

By the time you blinked your eyes open, all you knew was that you wanted his cock. It was your very first thought and the first thing you said. Roger looked at you, smiling, and greeted you. A pleasant, “Hi,” that made you feel warm and happy. You’d smiled back, “Can I please have your cock Sir?” That made Roger laugh, “No baby. That’s now what I want to do right now.” Hearing him say that just made you want it more though. “Please Sir? I could suck it for you. I really really really want to suck your cock.” “No, I don’t think I want that either.” You whined softly, “I promise I’m reallllllly good at it and I love sucking cock so much.” “No. What else could you do instead?” “Ummm,” it was hard to think, hard to remember anything beyond how horny you were, “Maybe I could ride you?” “Hmmm, no.” You groaned and clenched your hands into fists for a second as a bolt of energy ran through you, “Can I wank you?” “No, baby, not that either.” “Please Sir?” “No.” The bolt of energy ran through you again and you stomped your foot against the mattress to relieve some of the pressure. “Keep suggesting things,” Roger grinned, “Maybe one of them might interest me.” You scrunched your face up in concentration, trying to think of something Roger might like, “What about if you fucked me? I’d be so good and I’d stay so still and you could use my pussy and cum in me and-” “No. No I don’t want that either.” “But Siiiiiiir,” you whined, “You always tell me to take your cock!” “Do I?” “Yes!” you giggled, wondering how he could have forgotten, “You always say how good it feels in me.” “I s’pose that’s true.” “So can I have your cock now?” “No.” You whined and pouted but Roger didn’t budge. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s start with taking your clothes off.” “Okay Sir.” you nodded, giggling again at the idea, hoping it would lead to having one of your holes filled. “Well go on then. Shirt off first, good girl.” You rolled yourself off the bed and quickly began tearing off the pyjamas you were wearing, feeling hot as Roger’s gaze dragged over the newly exposed skin. “Now undress me.” You couldn't help but laugh as you crawled across the bed to reach him. He’d slept without a shirt so all you had to worry about were his flannel PJ pants and underwear pulling them down his legs one at a time. As his underwear came down your eyes fell to his cock, revealed inch by inch. You felt saliva pool in your mouth and had to resist the urge to lean forward and taste him. “Can I touch you Sir?” you asked quietly, almost holding your breath as you waited for his answer. “No.” “Please?” you asked again, frustrated. Roger didn’t understand how bad you wanted it, how much you needed him. “I’ll do anything Sir, whatever you want.” “No.” With an impatient groan you threw yourself onto your stomach, beating your fists and feet against the mattress. It was the only way to relieve the energy and pressure building inside you. But Roger just laughed, “Awww, is Dummy gonna have a tantrum? That’s not going to change my mind. My answer is still no.” You whined and kicked your legs again, your pussy throbbing with how empty it was. “You’re such a desperate slut, aren’t you Dummy.” Roger laughed again, “So maybe....” You looked up excited and hopeful. “I might decide to fuck you. Pin you down, fill you hard and deep and cum in you as many times as I can manage. Just to shut your whining up.” You scrambled back to your knees and nodded happily, reaching to wrap your hand around Roger’s cock. He slapped you away, “I said might, Dummy. That’s still a no. You’ll have to show me you deserve it. You’ll have to be a good bimbo doll and do everything I say. Can you do that?” You whined but agreed you could. He didn’t need to make you promise to follow his orders. You’d have done that anyway. You’d have done anything he asked, anything to make him feel happy and pleased.

“Sit up, hands behind your back. Show me your cunt.” You scrambled to do as he asked, smiling proudly when he hummed at the sight of your spread legs and wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. “You’re so wet Dummy. How’d that happen?” You giggled again, “I told you I want you Sir.” “Guess I didn’t realise how much,” Your gaze fell to his hand and your breath caught as you watched him slowly stroke his length, stiffening more the longer your eyes were fixed on him. It just made everything worse. You couldn’t seem to drag your eyes away, nearly panting with desire. Wanting to touch yourself almost as much as you wanted to touch him. “Oh you are desperate. I can see your cunt clenching around thin air and you’ve got drool on your chin. You don’t even care which hole I use.” You shook your head. Whatever he wanted would make you happy because it’d make him happy. “I could keep telling you no.” A whimper slipped from your lips and you felt your pussy pulse with need. “But maybe I’ll be generous. Lie down here, next to me. Good girl, now turn onto your side. No, other side, facing away from me. That’s right.” “What are you doing Sir?” you asked over the creaking of the bed frame as Roger shifted around behind you. He didn’t answer though, just pressed himself against your back. You could feel his hard length being directed to your slit and you changed the position of your legs to make it easier for him. “Good girl,” he said softly, his breath warm against your bare skin. You moaned at the feeling of him moving between your legs, waiting for the sweet stretch of him filling you. Only it didn’t come. You could feel him between your lips, sliding easily through your soaked folds, every ridge and vein making you shudder. You tried to press back, to direct him into you, but his hand landed on your hip, forcing you to still. “No.” The word pulled another whine from you, louder than any before, exacerbated by how close he was to what you really wanted. But that just made Roger chuckle as he kept teasing you. It was pure torment, though worse was still to come.

It took you completely by surprise when Roger stopped his teasing rubbing, readjusting his angle so he could sink into you slowly. The unexpectedness of it stole your breath but you managed to gasp out a small moan of thanks, finally getting what you’d been so desperate for. The position you lay in kept your bodies close as he sheathed himself fully, rocking his hips gently so as to withdraw a little and thrust back into you. You could have cried with joy at knowing you’d pleased your Sir, that you’d been so good and patient, and he’d finally decided to take what you’d offered him. And then he stopped. You tried to take over his rhythm, tried to fuck yourself on his cock the way you knew he liked. Last time you’d done that he’d praised you for being brainless and needy, called you a good bimbo whore and you’d kept going until he’d cum, laughing about how good it felt. But this time he stopped you. He pressed his hips flush against you and wrapped his arm tightly over the top of you. “No, Dummy. No moving now.” “But Sir,” “No. Be good and lie still or I will make you,” He tapped the middle of your forehead with a finger, “Remember I have all the power.” You didn’t know what he meant by that or why he’d tapped you but you knew how to be good. You knew how to please. And so you relaxed again and lay quiet and still, the way he wanted you. “It’s still a little early for me to use you. I think I want to sleep a bit longer, so why don’t you stay here and warm my cock for me. It’ll keep me comfortable so I can sleep longer. And then when I’m better rested I’ll think about fucking you.” You whined again, wanting to thrash your arms and legs again but unable to, wanting to be pinned down by your Sir and used, wanting to feel him move within you or to taste his cum or anything. But if that was what he wanted that was what you’d do, so you nodded and agreed softly. Roger hummed happily which was all you needed to hear to feel happy too. He let out a tired exhale and seemed to still. You listened as his breath evened out into a shallow rhythm, and struggled to keep relaxed in his embrace. As far as you could tell he was asleep, though his hand seemed to come to life. His fingertips trailed over your skin, coming to rest on your chest. You tried to remain quiet but struggled not to moan as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed it. In response he moved slightly, though still slept on, his cock changing angle within you by a hair's breadth. In your state of heightened arousal it was enough to have you clenching again, trying not to wake Roger in case he got mad.

There was a soft laugh from behind you and Roger mumbled, “C’mon Dummy, you should sleep too.” And then he kept talking, telling you how you’d still be horny when you woke but you’d have control of your brain again, you’d be back to his beautiful, intelligent partner. It sounded like nonsense (what did intelligent even mean?) but something about the way he spoke made your eyes droop and close. There was a small tap on your forehead and you awoke, disorientated by being brought back to the real world so soon. “How do you feel, love?” Roger asked and you twisted in his arms to try and see him better. You were pleased when you heard him groan at the change in your position. “You’re a fucking tease Roger Taylor.” you half laughed, trying to sound less amused than you were. He laughed too, clearly pleased with his little game, as he released you and withdrew his cock from your heat, “I told you you’d like it.” You pushed yourself up to be more comfortable, “I don’t know that like is the word I’d use. All I feel is horny. Insanely so.” “Do you want that fuck now?” He was still laughing when you tackled him.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine

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