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yournameyn · 2 years

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Feeling Deeply: Ch 6

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Yet. Mention of domestic abuse - transgressor's perspective also included. I'm not justifying what Namjoon did in the last chapter and neither is his character in the story.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Current Chapter: Agonising over a grave mistake he made, Namjoon goes about town in a daze of having completely lost himself. He finds a friend (someone we love too) who reminds him of home and helps him look at himself through kinder eyes.

Dedication: To a great friend and the most loyal, loving reader a writer could ask for and triple bonus she's a brilliant writer herself! @moonchild0297 thank you for being so amaze!

Chapter Six

The next few days, Namjoon couldn’t really move. His head was throbbing with a reality so stark it was cutting into him. Three days passed in a blur. A constant dull thud in his head and in his heart. He didn’t stay awake nor did he sleep. He existed, barely, in the chasm that exists between alert and unconscious.

On the third night, Namjoon finally fell asleep.

As did Brishti.

She had been in a manic state ever since she had arrived at Sayuri-San’s home that night. The night she left the home she had made with the only man, the only person she had ever truly loved.

That first night, she tried to leave a couple hundred times, “I should go… He wouldn’t know what to do… This is the first time he’s been this way…”

Sayuri-san stopped her with a sentence, “You left for a reason.” The wise woman knew these words wouldn’t have the same power over her the next couple hundred times she would try to leave. So, on the second day of Brishti being away from home, she called in reinforcements - Min Yoongi.

Even Brishti was relieved to hear he was on his way. The two of them shared a special bond. It wasn’t about being asians, being foreigners in England, it wasn’t even about being librarians. The tie that Brishti and Yoongi shared was the feeling of abandon, of exclusion. Of never having been loved right. Of being rejected by a world whose love they wanted to rule over but also rebel against. And yet, when Yoongi arrived, Brishti couldn’t share everything with him. She sat with her head hung low. Sayuri-San left for work letting them both know she would cover for them.

She also said to Brishti,“You’ve said many times that everything you’ve ever done has led you to Namjoon. That is not so. This is - everything you have ever done… trying to protect your freedom, your solidarity from everyone who has tried to control you, this is who you truly are… free. And this… this has led to the moment of perfect clarity. Stepping out of that house... that is the Brishti you have built for yourself. And if you do nothing else today, just… be proud of that.”

Brishti raised her head to look at Sayuri-san. In her eyes she saw regret… She saw that Sayuri-san wasn’t able to do the right thing for herself. That so many of us are so shaped by violence, we can’t even recognise it. Brishti held Sayuri-san’s hands in her own and pressed in a warm touch that said thank you.

When she was gone, Min Yoongi asked, “How are you feeling?”

Brishti had retreated into her shell again. She answered nonetheless, “Crazy… I feel crazy…”

“Will you please look up?” he asked patiently.

“I don’t want you to judge him… I know… I know this is not okay. That’s why I left but… this is not who he is. I know every woman says the same thing but I-” Brishti broke off crying.

“Brishti… did you get any sleep? You’re going to hurt your eyes crying so much...”

“Yeah…” Brishti wiped her tears, still not looking up. Yoongi placed a hand on her arm, telling her silently - he’s here. He’s here for her. Brishti raised her head and brushed her hair back. Yoongi could see the light greyish greenish bruises on her cheek and the darker purple bruise on her neck. When she saw his gaze lingering on her neck, tears streamed down her face again and she began to explain, “He... he removed his hand as soon-”

Yoongi interrupted her, “I’m no one to judge him… not about his worst actions.” He rolled up the sleeves of his blue shirt. Brishti had seen the scars on Yoongi’s arms but she knew he was alot more than the jagged, lighter-than-skin lines, protruding just slightly. She understood… This is what he was telling her. Namjoon was not his worst actions, the physical wounds he had inflicted either. Brishti smiled. Yoongi rolled down his sleeve as Brishti placed her hands on his arms, just like he had done a moment ago. They hugged as Brishti wept on her friend’s shoulders. Partly because of the kindness that flowed out of the usually prickly young man. Yoongi said, while stroking Brishti’s hair, “You did the right thing… you did…” He patted her head before pulling away, “Now stop crying. You look like a banged-up Vietnamese boxer…”

Brishti let out a half-chuckle before settling back. “I… I don’t want to talk about how it all happened…”

Yoongi nodded, “We don’t have to… What… how can I help?”

Brishti shook her head, out of her wits, “Can we talk about… something normal?... I’m not trying to overlook-”

Yoongi stopped her again, “Hey…You don’t have to justify anything… trying to overlook would have meant you staying with him… pretending like nothing happened. You didn’t do that, did you?” He waited for Brishti to look at him and answer. She could only manage to shake her head no while more tears streamed down her face. Yoongi went on - “You did the right thing. You left. And I’m not saying this as- as an end to your relationship… It's more like... a problem. A big problem. You did your part… by leaving, you said NO, this will not do. The rest of the solution… it needs to come from him.”

She seemed genuinely surprised, “You don’t think… you don’t think this is the end?”

He was emphatic, “Haah! Nooo… this is the Namjoon you’ve been biting my head off about... how adorable he is, how brilliant he is, how sweet he is… I believe you. It’s the same guy… he’s just… in a bit of hot water. How he holds up… we have to see.”

Brishti smiled. Yoongi smiled too, not just in reciprocation. He was truly happy to see her smile. She’d always known his grumpy disposition was just a facade, but beneath it lay such a large reservoir of soft love, Brishti was just finding out.

He was back in a flash though, when he said,“Come on now you need to sleep... you look like a fisherman who has an allergy to fish.”

Brishti laughed and once again tears streamed down her face. Yoongi gave her an assuring smile and wiped off her tears with his sleeve. He got her to go to sleep. And Brishti did sleep, for the first time in days… without her husband beside her.

Back at what was their home, Namjoon woke up dazed. It hurt him to see her reflected in every little thing here… the distance between the coffee table and the sofa, adjusted to her height, so she could rest with her legs stretched; The bookshelf that she was always, endlessly arranging; The little Bengali and Korean alphabets she had painted along the doorway of their bedroom; The way, in place of photoframes, she had proudly displayed what few poems he had shown her on the mantle. He couldn’t breathe here, knowing he had driven the soul of this home away. When he finally got out of the flat, he saw that it wasn’t dawn as he was assuming, it was another evening.

He’d lost count of days for the first time in his life and he found himself more and more disoriented. He had to try to walk straight, for some reason. His head felt like it almost wasn’t there, sight felt unreliable. And then it hit him - a fragrance. Nothing he’d call delicious when he was a child. But right now, this was the most exquisite aroma in the world - someone around this strange place is making seaweed soup… more specifically, Miyeok Guk. For reasons beyond his understanding at that moment, his feet led him towards the aroma.

When he finally reached the source of the fragrance, Namjoon could recognise that he wasn’t in a proper place… one with walls made of material that is not cloth or tarp or whatever this weird mesh of materials was. That’s the last thing he thought before collapsing in the not-proper place.The fact that Namjoon could think, that he could still process thought, was a marvel in itself because he had been hungry for three days now. It was almost like his body had brought him to a place of food. Unfortunately, that place was a hippie camp by the side of a road.

When Namjoon came to, he saw a beautiful young woman with porcelain skin and flame-coloured hair and deep set green eyes leaning over him. When she saw him opening his eyes, she greeted him, “Annyeonghasseo.” Namjoon was horrified - and only a little bit at her pronunciation of Korean. His mind was telling him he was either dead or hallucinating because the white girl seemed to be speaking Korean to him. That’s when he heard the person who was teaching her. Someone with a sweeter, deep voice laughed a mousy laugh and spoke in perfect Korean, “She’s still beginning but she’ll learn fast… how are you feeling?”

Namjoon sat up and the girl with the orange hair gave him some room. He wasn’t in the hippie camp anymore. This was a place with proper walls but judging from the abundance of incense sticks and dreamcatchers and windchimes, he was still in hippie company. The aroma was a bit different now but he instantly caught the familiar kimchi smells of home here too. There was also daylight.

Namjoon forgot about his troubles just for a second as he stared at the face of the man approaching him. This man was the most attractive person he had ever seen in real life. He was miles and miles more beautiful than the green-eyed girl. Who now had her arms around the demi god with the broadest shoulders and gave a brief peck to the most gorgeous lips known to mankind.

He realised, for the first time, what Brishti meant when she spoke about sexuality as being a spectrum. The thought about Brishti brought back all the memories and the most recent incident. He felt the weight of his actions on his heart again. The gorgeous man finally introduced himself, “I’m Jin… well, Kim Seokjin to you. Are you feeling better?”

“I’m confused… but yes, I feel better. Did you-”

“You collapsed… but we woke you up with an onion. Then you ate. Why did you let yourself go that hungry… you don’t seem poor.” Seokjin smiled.

“I’m- thank you so much, Seokjin-ssi” Namjoon bowed low as he thanked Seokjin in Korean.

“Ahhh no need to be so formal. Call me Jin.” Seokjin said, trying to put Namjoon at ease. He could see his compatriot was troubled. “Come on, I’ve made kimchijeon… Tell me what happened.”

Over food that wasn’t his favourite and yet distinctly belonged to his home tastes, Namjoon spoke to Jin, about his troubles. Some people have a presence that is disarming, that seems to sound a homing beacon. They break down guards that were built up for years. Jin was that person for Namjoon. When he began speaking, he didn’t start with Park Jimin & the discrimination case. He didn’t even begin with Brishti. He began to talk about how excited he was to come home to show his mother the poem he wrote… that was going to be read aloud to the whole school. Even he was surprised by his own story.

The two men walked along the Thames, reminiscing about their own river, Han. This is where Namjoon recalled another river… the Ganga. He told Jin how Brishti spoke about it. “She… She said the Ganga floods and destroys during the rains, that she is furious and still, the people whose homes she has destroyed, they call Ganga their mother… They still worship her. That’s where she comes from… a place that worships the forest and the river. That’s what she did for me too… She saw me beyond the word ‘husband’... beyond the word, ‘man’... even though she is so afraid of men. I saw her fear when she spoke about the men in her life and then… instead of loving her… I--” Namjoon’s voice cracked. Jin’s silence soothed him. Namjoon wondered aloud if breaking a mirror could break his Self. Because that’s what he wanted to do.

Jin listened and repeated Namjoon’s speech to himself, with only one addition - Kindness. In Jin’s retelling, Namjoon was a poet who was being poisoned from not writing, a soft heart stuck in a thorny system. Jin knew how that felt.

The two men spoke about the burden of responsibility and making family proud. Jin had felt a deep stab in his heart when his mother had been quiet around her friends bragging about their sons. Both men spoke about the different paths they took from that feeling of being a disappointment - Namjoon did everything he could to please them while Jin did everything he could to please himself. They were reflections of each other in their experience of the abyss that the compulsion of “Being a Good ManTM ” had thrown them in; Seemingly, stuck in a bad advertisement of what it means to be masculine - either stable, responsible or rough, careless - and never, ever, feeling. They laughed about their own performances of masculinity until tears streamed down their eyes;

Eyes swollen from sleeping so much, hair unwashed & frizzy, Namjoon laughed heartily until he stopped. Until he said, in his native tongue, “I never told anyone this… I left my country because I was angry… I would have snapped in half, if I had to bow any more. It wasn’t a sign of respect anymore for me… bowing was breaking my spine…”

Jin understood what Namjoon meant. He saw a man who tried to escape but got trapped in a wider, more punishing trap. Namjoon went on, his words thick with rage poured out like lava, “And now, the one thing, the only person who saw me with loving eyes… I had the audacity to lay a hand on her… I’m so… angry… I want to cut off my hands and… and I can’t even do that…”

Jin felt Namjoon’s blistering tears fall from his own eyes. Neither of their tears were tears of laughter anymore. He took a deep breath, wiped his tears off and said, “Namjoon-ah,

They spoke about how their paths could have criss-crossed a thousand times before they finally did - Namjoon was the lost wanderer and Jin the young man that had finally found his own path - using his golden face and voice to protest the injustice being wrought over the Vietnam War. That’s what Jin was doing in the hippie tent in South Kensington, by the Embassy of South Korea. From their own personal struggles, the two men spoke about the collective struggles that the youth of South Korea was facing, how it was such a gross miscarriage of justice that Korean men were sent over to either murder or be murdered by their asian brothers in Vietnam.

What had begun as Korean Spiced Pancakes, went on to chips and ale in a local pub and ended back at Jin & Emma’s free-loving abode. At the end of the night, Namjoon was smiling again. As they said their goodnights, Namjoon made Jin smile wide when he said, “Thank you, Jin-Hyung.”

And so it happened, that within the span of a day, a stranger who belonged to his home land, became a brother.

#bts fanfiction #bts kim namjoon #kim namjoon #forever rain #fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon arranged marriage #namjoon x oc #arranged marriage #slow burn #slow burn fic #fluff fic #bts fanfic #bts #indian oc #red thread fics

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ri-afan · 10 days

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Bout to leave for work but this hit the brain after reading a twin fic on here:

Danny is Damien’s twin, but it’s fraternal. Damien only knows his sister and has mourned quietly for her.

Danny, trans, does his life and death in Illinois as per usual. There’s some ghost-meeting with Phantom for whatever but Danny’s just got eyes for his brother and Damien is like — but I don’t have a brother, I have a sister named ______. Danny’s like, yeah, no, I’m a guy, but good news, you gained a(couple)nother sister(s)!

Why didn’t Danny try find him? Idk, that could go many ways like memory issues/self-suppression due to ✨trauma✨ and by the time he gets it and goes to get research done he finds Damien died (Talia and the Clone) and was waiting/searching for his ghost while he’s scrambling with his halfa-status and it’s a whole wreck until finally —

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #fics #idea #feel free but tag me because I’m Interested™️#me irl #op #damien wayne #damian wayne #how is his name spelled again??#I’m new #lol #jason todd #bc I like red hood and it feels like if you went with the theme of the link then he should be tagged #tagged fic/thread

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pebblerosegamer · 2 months

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he couldn't help but wonder how she got all the way up here, in his office... or why she wanted up here.

he fixed the blanket she had, she snatched it from somewhere he just knew it, it was far too familiar... but nonetheless, he brought her a little closer, worried she may fall.

she had a key, it now on his desk and he glancing to it- no doubt her ticket in to the upper floors, and of course his office, he wondered how she got it... and if ogrim was searching for it now...

...she shifted slightly, bringing her hand back to her chest and turning her head away from the light- he should turn that off... -she did an exhausted 'hmph' before settling..

he had to admit, even though she was a bit of a hassle, and of course a key thieving-troublemaker... she was adorable, very adorable.

#hollow knight #my pile of rocks #my rosy doodles #hollow knight art #hollow knight pale king #hk pale king #hk hornet #hollow knight hornet #hollow knight fic #once again i have written be amazed ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#i like the drawing :) pretty lights #what a troublemaker #wrote it on the spot ngl #a red thread au

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darc-la-farse · 7 months

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“....Are you okay?”

“If I weren’t, you’d be able to tell right?”

“Sometimes...Would you still tell me if you weren’t?”

#candela obscura #sean finnerty #marion collodi #the circle of needle and thread #critical role #cr fan art #the fact the GM is ready to turn the lighting to ominous reds when the characters have meaningful conversations means so much to me #anyways I have brain rot for these two don’t mind me #collerty #thank u fan fic writers for keeping me sane while I wait for the next episode

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honeyhotteoks · 7 days

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i genuinely can't stop thinking about yunho as a fallen angel... like...

yunho’s catholic confirmation name is stefano, which is i believe a reference to saint stephen. saint stephen is the patron saint of several different things, but the one that caught my eye was the patron saint of coffin makers. ive had that knowledge churning around in my brain for a long time, especially after watching the kdrama doom at your service, but after seeing these pictures my mind is absolutely spinning with fallen angel soulmate yunho brain rot……… so come along with me

•

fallen angel yunho. he's been wandering the earth for years, passing through life and people and history and he's never known the reason that he was cast out until he meets her, you. he hears you first, a distant voice in the back of his mind, a prayer to his saintly name, a name he hasn't heard in what feels like a millennia. a whisper to saint stephen, the man he used to be, many years and many bodies ago.

no one prays to him anymore, not really. certainly not a voice like yours, ringing clearly and angrily in his ear, a bitter request for a coffin to be ready in early spring. he thinks about the way it's almost winter now, the air turning crisp, and he wonders what in your life has you so angry and yet so practical about death.

he thinks of you for days, weeks, idlily waiting to hear the voice again. he dreams of it, sometimes wakes from a stone sleep to your bitter tenor, the clear catch of tears in your throat, but it's always a memory. he finds himself wandering the city for you, searching through churches, reverent houses of worship that you might be hiding away in. he doesn't expect to find your voice ringing out clear as day across the crowded room of a museum, full of life and joy and the picture of health.

he finds a way to speak to you, he's practiced in the art of conversation, of seduction even when the end goal isn't sex. he just wants to know you, to hear your pretty prayer in person, to understand your voice just a little and why in the world you were praying to him and not god himself like everyone else. in the midst of many, he makes a space for you both alone, the connection and the pull immediate and essential.

for a while, you make him smile, laugh, relax, he feels more at ease and more like a person than he ever would have expected. he doesn't understand you or your prayer though, not until you cough painfully, fitfully into your sleeve and he sees the bright kiss of blood at the corner of your lips. he never imagined you sick, but he supposes it makes sense. in all the versions of meeting you he imagined, this outcome wasn’t one he ever entertained.

he's never watched someone he's loved die before, at least not since his first life, and shamefully he barely remembers the names of his family from then. but somehow he knows he'll remember yours, the way he aches is altogether new and even though he knows it would be better to watch over you from afar, he just can't. and it doesn't help that you keeps finding your way to him around every corner of the city, coincidence after coincidence. so easy to joke about how it must be fate when it is in fact fate, pulling you tightly together and tying the knot tight.

he allows himself to love you then, and you allow yourself one last, good thing. he never lies about who and what he is, and you never really believe him, for all you know he's just a figment of your imagination. a hallucination from one of your tumors like the doctor warned you about. you think if cancer can give you one gift before dying, at least it's him.

for a little while yunho thinks his purpose in falling from grace was to love you, after all you prayed to him, no matter how bitterly. but he understands the truth the moment he meets your daughter, the moment he realizes his purpose for you is much more than momentary, final happiness.

and so he carries you forward through those final months, easing your pain and your giving you one last chance at real, lasting love. and he helps ease you into the other side, his promises whispered tearfully into your hair, that he'll see you again but only after he stays by her side. your child's own guardian angel, happy to watch over her and guide her until it's her time to come home too.

and of course, that means he has to wait. you both do, but he's already waited, even when he didn't know what he was waiting for.

#this is straight rambling #but i know i can commit to writing this fic #so please have a wildly fleshed out idea #honeyhotteoks updates #yunho brain rot #cw cancer #cw death #but like i’m so sorry yunho is prime soulmates fic fodder #like red thread of fate!!!!!!

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pastafossa · 9 months

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Reminder to my followers since a dangerous US censorship bill (KOSA) is looking more and more likely to pass and they've explicitly mentioned targeting fanfic in addition to everything else:

You can download fics off AO3 for your own personal reading. Most fic authors I know are fine with it, and I know I'm down for it, whether it's because you want to bind it or make it more accessible with a different reader or just if you're gonna be internetless for a bit (if you're not sure about another author, feel free to ask). Now, at this point, I actively encourage it. Fic needs to be preserved as a part of fandom culture, and on top of that, between the recent DDOS attack on AO3 and the coming bill, it's not entirely clear where our fics will be a year from now.

AO3 has the option right at the top of each fic. Click it on mobile and there should be a little pop up. I generally go for PDF.

(Above: download button highlighted at the top of an AO3 fic)

(Above: download button has been clicked, revealing a popup of various formats to download. PDF is highlighted)

This is useful for fic authors, too. If for whatever reason you've lost your draft, or you've made some edits over the years (I'm constantly going through and neatening sentences, fixing the occasional error, or making lines more clear), you can redownload your fic to ensure YOU don't lose it if something happens.

#fanfic #fic #ao3 #archive of our own #the red thread #speaking as a fic author i'm fine if you download for your personal use #maybe things will be ok but maybe not so juuuust in case

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pastaxandria · 6 months

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The Red Thread: Chapter 157

The Library of Pastaxandria has recorded for its shelves: Chapter 157 of The Red Thread.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

“Can I make a suggestion?” Foggy’s voice came out strangled and choked. “Like, just a-a little one?” “No. You can shut the fuck up and let her talk.” Your eyes darted right and then left, your gaze leaping from the trash can to the fridge and then up to the dividing wall it sat against. Karen narrowed her eyes, pointedly taking one step further into the kitchen. “Stop trying to figure out if you can escape by climbing the furniture.” “I wasn’t,” you said defensively. Lie.

Wordcount: 7.4k

Warnings for this chapter: some sexual innuendo but other than that, you're good!

Read me on AO3 because that’s where penguins hang out

#the red thread #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #daredevil x f!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #fanfic #fic #reader #reader insert #x reader #i had fun with this one #everyone get in karen's going to interrogate jane #and jane's going to throw every tactic including the kitchen sink in karen's path like karen's a bulldozer she's trying to stop #crunch crunch crunch oh no karen ran it over

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nettlestingsoup · 2 months

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normal ways to start a fanfic that will upset absolutely no one

#YES I'M STARTING ANOTHER PROJECT #i'm itchy #i've been editing for too long #i need to be writing nineteen new things at once just to deal with the editing boredom #we're making excellent progress on the red thread but it isn't tickling the creative bones #so now we have this #of which i currently have about 2k #ao3 author #stray kids fic #minchanjin #hyunjin gets resurrected don't you worry

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ariadnes-red-thread · 1 year

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HELLO!!!!

is me again hehe <3

lately, i've been thinking about how Jesse and how his strong devotion and loyalty translates into a relationship. so i was thinkingggggg, a scenario where Jesse needs to be walked of the edge of a heated situation and needs reassurance that he's it for reader. that he's the man reader wants to be with and will stand be his side.

can be either SFW or NSFW (with agender reader with female parts??? that would make me so happy) what ever is sparking your lovely imagination.

so appreciate and love and am grateful i found your beautiful writing and met such an amazing person <3

Mythos, my dear! Thank you so much for the ask!! I saw your second ask too and I hope I’ve done your beautiful request justice. Jesse is so passionate but that’s exactly what we love about him and the idea of being able to show him that when he was feeling insecure is exactly what he deserves! I completely got carried away with this and ended up writing over 2.5k words (although it’s never enough for Jesse!). I hope you like it! Thank you for celebrating with me, love!

Pairing: Jesse x GN!/Anatomically Female Reader

Warnings: General Creepiness, Threats of Violence, Canon-Typical content, Self-Doubt, Explicit Sexual Content *MINORS DNI*

You finally made it to the bar on a particularly busy night at 79’s. It was way more work than it should have been for a glass of water, but the dance floor that Jesse had kept you glued to all night was hot, and you were parched.

You could still see him through the crowd. His cog tattoo and shaved head helped him stand out among his identical brothers. That and you’d be able to spot his grin anywhere. He was in his civies tonight, a black t-shirt and his lone pair of jeans. Jesse always looked good, but you enjoyed your current vantage point and took a moment to check out the handsome man. You had only been on dating for a few months. Your friend had been hot and heavy with Fives since the moment she met the goateed clone. It had taken her a few tries to convince you to join them on a double date with one of his brothers who Fives insisted you’d like. You hadn’t been expecting much, not because you didn’t like Fives, but simply because you didn’t imagine someone like him could be your type. Jesse had swept you off your feet, though. You hadn’t admitted it to him yet, but you were falling fast. His endearing charm, constant sarcasm, lighthearted take on life, the passion that burned bright through him, and the kindness and understanding he always showed you made it easy to fall. You watched him move under the neon lights, and you felt a wide smile creep across your face. Jesse always seemed to put that smile there.

So it was Jesse and the lights and the music’s fault that you didn’t notice a crowd of people behind you until one of them stumbled into your back. You spun around, ready to apologize for taking up precious bar space before you realized it was a group of nat-borns. Instantly, your defense went up.

It wasn’t often that other civilians wandered into 79’s, and the ones that did were usually there to cause problems. So as you eyed up the stumbling rough and rowdy group, you didn’t have to go looking to know that they were likely trouble. Unfortunately, as Jesse often liked to remind you, with a deep laugh and elbow to your ribs, trouble usually came looking for you.

“Hey,“ The tallest one slurred as he looked you up and down. “Come here often?”

“Yup.” Your reply was curt, and you hoped they would take the hint when you turned back to face the bar.

Instead, a hand came to your shoulder.

“Hey, I was talking to you.” He was suddenly close, his breath rank and hot on your face as he yanked you towards. “You think you’re too good for us.”

“Don’t touch me.” You took a full step away as you warned him.

“Slummin’ it here with all these test tube freaks.” He closed in on you again. “Let me show you what a real man can do.”

You raised your hands, about to shove him backward, when a familiar arm slid over your shoulder. Despite your guard being up, you instantly knew who was next to you.

“Problem here?”

Your eyes didn’t move from the creep, but you could hear the eternal grin on Jesse’s face. You didn’t mistake the grin for carelessness. Instead, you knew it was just Jesse. He was always calm until he wasn’t.

“Ahh, I see. No problem.” The man stumbled back into his friends before muttering under his breath. “Freak fucker.”

“What did you call them?”

Your head snapped up at the sudden change in tone in Jesse’s voice. He wasn’t grinning anymore. His hand left your shoulder as he began to stiffen at your side. The man didn’t realize his mistake as he kept hurling insults your way.

“They’re just another slut for you meat droids. The Republic needs to end the war so they can take you all out with the trash.”

In split seconds, Jesse lept past you. He swung, his fist connecting with the creep’s jaw, sending him reeling backwards. He threw another jab, catching the man with a blow to the nose before he stumbled out of Jesse’s reach.

Your stomach dropped as one of the friends lunged for Jesse, whose gaze was still on the instigator. But never one to be caught off guard, Jesse side-stepped the second man in the same moment he spun, landing a uppercut into the man’s stomach.

You balled your fists, ready to follow Jesse when another hand came to your shoulder. You cocked a fist back but Kix’s voice found you before you could swing.

“You jump in, you just make it worse for him.”

You huffed in response. Kix wasn’t wrong. You knew Jesse could handle a few nat-borns by himself and he would only be distracted if you started to fight. Still, your fist stayed balled by your side.

In the next moment, a flash of red by the door caught your eye. The Courscant Guard was here. They were always close by on busy nights, keeping the peace however they had to. The three clones positioned themselves by the door. You recognized Thorn by his helmet. He posted himself in the corner, a shiny on either on side of him. You knew he wouldn’t intervene unless he had to, but if Jesse kept at it, Thorn wouldn’t have a choice.

Kix saw Thorn too. He set his jaw and dove into the fray. He emerged with an arm wrapped around Jesse’s waist, tugging the scowling man out of the scuffle. Kix turned, tossing his brother away from the seething nat-borns before he spun around to face them again.

“Get out.” Kix pointed to the door. “Or you’re going to have a lot more meat droids to deal with.”

The instigator snarled through a bloody nose and spit at Kix’s feet. Jesse yelled out and charged for the man again. You turned to face him, stepping into his path and putting your hands on his chest. Jesse looked down at you, his face instantly softening just a bit.

“Jesse - we’re leaving now.” The words were an order but your tone was gentle, hoping you could reach the part of him that had just relaxed under your palms.

He frowned, his eyes quickly back on his target. The men were rapidly retreating out the door, with side-glances thrown at the Guards in red. You felt Jesse twitch, like he wanted to chase after them.

“It’s okay, Jess.” Kix’s voice came from behind you now, calm and quiet. “Just let go it.”

“They’re not worth it.” You lifted one palm to Jesse’s face, laying it on his cheek with just enough pressure to coax him into looking at you. “Please, Jesse.”

His hand came up to your forearm, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Okay,” The words were breathy as they left his mouth. “Okay, okay. You’re right.”

You lifted to meet his lips, capturing him in a quick, grateful kiss.

He exhaled as you pulled away, breaking the brief kiss. You ran your thumb along his cheekbone, tracing the lower rim of his tattoo. Then your hand fell to find his hand at his side.

“Let’s go home.”

You tugged him towards the exit. As you pulled Jesse out of the club, you threw on glance back to search over his shoulder, quickly finding the familiar eyes of Kix. He tilted his head in question, and you nodded in reassurance. He smiled back and raised his glass in a grateful salute before he turned back to the dancefloor. Jesse followed you to the door in a daze. The adrenaline of the fight had worn off, and he hung almost limp as he drifted behind you.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Jesse was almost catatonic. His lids hung heavy over his eyes as he sank onto the edge of your bed. He hadn’t said a word since you left 79’s. You were starting to get worried. Rather than press him to talk, you went to the kitchen and got a wet washcloth. Returning to find him unmoved in the bedroom, you knelt before him. Coaxing him to take off his shoes, you placed them next to yours at the end of the bed. Then you turned your attention to his bruised knuckles. Taking his calloused hand in yours, you started to dab at the scrapped skin.

“You… you don’t have to do that.” Jesse stuttered as he finally spoke.

“I’m happy to, Jesse.” You tried to smile up at him but his sleepy gaze had turned into a wide eyed stare and it caught you off guard.

“No, I mean you shouldn’t have to do that.” He yanked his hand out of yours.

You barely had time to wonder at his sudden movement before he was up on his feet, pacing across your small bedroom.

“Jesse, talk to me.” You kept your voice gentle, not out of fear but out of caring. You wanted him to know you were there for him.

“You deserve better, you know.”

You frowned but before you could protest, Jesse spoke again, never breaking his relentless stride.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a hothead. All I know is how to fight.” Jesse ran his fingers over his broken knuckles. “You deserve more than that.”

He finally stopped his pacing as he caught his form in the full length mirror that hung on your wall. His frown grew as he studied himself.

“Look at me.” His shoulders slumped and his eyes fell to the floor. “I was bred for this. Bred to be a soldier and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

You quickly clambered to your feet. He didn’t move from his position in front of the mirror. You stood behind him, savoring his closeness for a moment. You wrapped your arms around him at his waist and pulled him in tight to you.

“I love your fire, Jesse. I love that you’re a fighter.”

He let out a single dry laugh. It was so soulless, so unlike Jesse. You held him a little closer.

“Look at you, Jesse.” You settled your head on his shoulder, stretching to peer at your combined reflections. “You want to know what I see?”

He finally raised his head, hesitantly meeting your eyes.

“I see how passionately you care, how you love so strongly that you would go to war for those you care about. Your brothers know that. They love and respect you for that. But that fire isn’t all you are.”

“You can make me smile on the hardest of days. You keep calm in far more situations than you give yourself credit for. You like to pretend you don’t care but I can see how deeply you do.” You dug your fingers into his shirt, gripping his ribs, trying to convey how much you wanted him. “Don’t ever say you’re just a soldier. You’re so much more than that, Jesse.”

Jesse’s eyes were shining as his reflection stared back at you. He took your arm from his waist and tugged you in front of him, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders folding you into his warmth. You reached up and held onto his arms like he was the only liferaft in the sea. He started to grin again. You leaned your head back into him with a sigh and a smile.

“I’m so lucky to have met you.” Jesse murmured as he kissed the top of your head.

“We’re both lucky.”

You turned your head to lay a gentle kiss on his bicep. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the smirk on his face widen just a little. He pressed a kiss to your neck. And then another. You tilted your head, giving him more access to your sensitive flesh. One of hands that laid across your chest searched out your pert nipple and began to tease it gently through the rough fabric of your shirt. You leaned back into him with a soft moan, grinding your hips against him, feeling him harden behind you. Jesse’s lips found your ear.

“Oh, cyare,” Jesse’s words were dark and husky. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

His other hand snaked its way down your front, finding the waistline of your pants. Jesse pushed the fabric aside, sinking one knuckle into your already wet center.

“See what you do to me.” You breathlessly muttered. “Jesse, I need you.”

His hands jumped to your waist to find the hem of your shirt. Gentle fingers traced a line up your side, gathering your shirt as he went. Jesse paused at your mid-waist and looked at you. You nodded, giving him permission to proceed. He whipped the top off of you in the next moment. You spun to face him, needy for the feeling of his skin on yours. You tugged at the ends of his shirt, and he quickly obliged. You ran your hands over his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin and the sturdy build of his muscles.

Jesse bent to meet you and quickly captured your lips in his, kissing you deeply. He still tasted like a hint of whiskey. His tongue swirled with yours in a bruising fury and you felt yourself craving more of him. You broke apart for a moment, both turning your attention to your pants. The last bits of clothing was quickly removed and kicked aside.

Jesse spun you around to face the mirror and then pressed his wide palm on the small of your back, coaxing you into bending over. You gave into his directions, bringing a hand to the wall on either side of the mirror. You felt him run his length along your aching slit. You let out a breathy moan as he brushed along your clitoris, your head falling and eyes closing at the glorious friction.

“Oh no, cyare,” Jesse’s back was suddenly pressed against you, and his hand was on your jaw. He guided your head back up so you were staring into his deep brown eyes.

“That’s it,” he nipped at your neck as he stood again, lining himself up. “Let me see those eyes.”

You stared up at him, meeting his dark look in the mirror. His pupils were blown. Jesse stood again, towering over you. You bit your lip as you studied the breathtaking man for the briefest moment.

Then he entered you. His member filled you, reaching your furthest depths at this angle. The ache of being so full was quickly replaced by a overwhelming pleasure as Jesse’s hand snaked its way around you, deftly finding your already sensitive nub again. He teased small circles as he slowly began to move, dragging his cock from you before swiftly entering you again. Soon, his hips pistoned into you and you pushed back off of the wall, meeting him with every stroke. His other hand held your hip on a strong grip. You cried out his name as a wave of orgasm overtook you. Jesse followed behind, filling you as he finished.

You stood up and swayed on weak legs. Jesse quickly gathered you into his chest, showering your shoulders with kisses.

“Thank you.” He whispered against your skin.

“Always.” You sighed, leaning back into him. The next words left your mouth before you even considered them. “I love you, Jesse.”

Your stomach dropped for a moment. You knew you meant it but maybe it was too soon, too early. Before you could take it back, you looked to him in the mirror. His dark brown eyes found your suddenly wide ones and they were bright, all lust replaced with a vast joy. He quickly spun you to face him. Cupping your face in his hands, he tilted you up towards him.

“I love you too.”

His lips captured yours and his hands fell to wrap around your waist. Your heart soared as he squeezed you tighter to him.

“Now come on,” Jesse smirked before he stepped backwards, tuggiing you towards the bed. “I’m not done with you yet.”

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