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spidercookie18 · 6 months

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𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆

The Lost Boys 1987 AU set in modern time. None of the boys died, and all the Emersons/Star/Laddie/Frog brothers are vampires. This is explained later…

Tags: Halfing vampire, mentions of killing, swearing, scenting, biting, smut, dp, oral, creampies, choking, degradation, praise, spanking, smoking, use of y/n, afab, use of she/her. Warnings: This chapter is basically 97% porn 3% plot. MINORS DNI Summary: Y/N apologizes to Marko, David is behind her every step of the way ;) Word Count: 7k Previous chapter here: Next chapter here:

“No one should suffer what I suffered. I still dread those scenes when man killed man. I lost my parents, most of my family, by running away.” — Milkha Singh

Chapter Four

After some light arguing, and some teasing, David agreed not to rifle through your things again…for the time being.

You got dressed and packed your bag for what you were sure would be another overday stay. You remembered to burn the old vial necklace you had before you left, and then locked up. David took you to a burger joint and you both sat on the curb near the bike, eating burgers and fries.

“Thank you, these are really good,” you licked your lips and picked up another fry.

“Told ya, they’re solid, it’s no ‘Charlie’, but it’s good.”

You laughed and had a sip of your drink. You shifted to one side and pulled your shorts down a bit. David noted that that was the third time in a few minutes that you’d adjusted your clothes.

“Yeah, it’s that damn thong you wanted me to wear,” you snapped at him.

He laughed, “you don’t like it?”

“No, it’s cute, but it’s just annoying,” you shifted again in your seat.

“Well, I’ll just have to take it off ya then,” David said, slipping his fingers down the back of your shorts to pull at the thong.

You yelped, “David!” And arched away from him.

“Sorry, sweetness, couldn’t help myself.”

He chuckled and went back to eating his burger. He watched you from the corner of his eye; you looked happy sitting next to him, just doing something normal for a change.

“What David?” you asked, noticing him watch you.

“You got a lot of shit at your place,” he said bluntly.

“Okay, you’re one to talk, you’re actually a hoarder.”

“Am not,”

“Who’s Michael?” You asked, poking fun at him, “should I be worried?”

“Wait, did you go through my stuff?” David turned in his seat to question you.

You shrugged, continuing to eat.

“Don’t go through my things,” he hissed.

“Oh, but you can go through mine?” Your mouth full, you sipped on the coke.

“All you said was ‘not to break anything’, which I didn’t,” he reminded you.

“Fair enough,” you put the empty fry cup in the bag.

David turned back in his seat and got quiet, like he was thinking. “Eh, you’ll meet Mike n all of em soon enough.” He picked up his soda and took a sip, “I’ll take ya along on laundry day, how about that?”

“Oh, so you guys do do laundry,” you giggled.

“We don’t smell,” David rolled his eyes at you. “But my point was… where’d you get all that stuff?”

Without turning, you replied to him, “thirty-five years is a long time to be on the run, David,” you wiped your mouth with a napkin.

He shrugged, “you got sticky fingers,” he chuckled.

“I did not steal that stuff!” you shouted at him.

“Then how did you-”

“I bought it, stupid.” You put the empty burger wrapper in the bag, “also, plane tickets aren’t free.”

He looked at you confused, “what do you mean you ‘paid for it’?”

“I work, duh.”

He stared at you for a second, “what work can a halflin’ do?”

“Kinda what you guys do, but for money.”

“You eat people for money?”

“No,” you rolled your eyes at him. “I kill people…n’ sell their parts,” you said, plainly.

“You WHAT?”

You took a long sip from your drink, and began to explain, “when I left Monty, none of the people he dealt with would work with me- I can’t even be mad at them; hell, I wouldn’t have wanted to work with me either. But because I knew how to make those kinds of…connections, I was able to make some money. Whatever the pack wouldn’t eat they would sell to certain… buyers.”

“Buyers?”

“Mhm, if you have enough money, you can buy all kinds of crazy shit. I had this one guy the other day wanting Orc tusks. I’ll tell you, that job fucking sucked.” You laughed.

“Wait,” David was still confused by how casual you were being, “you can just buy parts? Like black market type stuff?”

“Um, kinda, that stuff is used more for surgeries and medicine, my stuff is more niche. I’ve had people ask for body parts of old lovers, or enemies. Sometimes they’ll want dragon eyes, or maybe a rich farie wants to eat some specific part of some specific person, or sometimes rich humans want to mount a werewolf head in their parlor.”

“Dragon eyes?”

“Not the kind you’re thinking of…”

David was taken aback at this new revelation, he didn’t really consider the lives of other night creatures often, and he especially never thought people hunted them for parts. “Do you ever hunt vampires?” He asked, sheepishly.

You shook your head, “nah, I try to steer clear of vamp nests, you just never know who knows who, ya know?”

“Huh.” David stared at the ground, pushing a pebble around with his shoe, pondering. He looked back at you.

“What David?”

He scooted a bit from you, “you’re kinda scary,” he said, and you busted out laughing.

“Shut up!” You laughed out and pushed his shoulder. “Relax, I’m not hunting you,”

“Sweetness, you couldn’t take me down,”

“David,” you patted the gun in your tote, “I already did.” You reminded him, and he scoffed.

“I let you,”

“uh-huh, whatever helps you sleep at day, sweetheart.”

David huffed at you, luckily, he thought your attitude was cute. He stood up and stretched. You loved watching him; there was something about David that just, enamored you. His arms went high over his head, and he grunted as he stretched; you watched as his shirt raised up just a little bit and exposed his tummy.

Such a cute treasure trail, you thought as his arms came back down to his side.

David raised an eyebrow as he watched your eyes fix on his belt. He smiled, “looks like I gotta get you home.”

You blushed when you realized he caught you staring at him. David extended his hand out to you, and you took it; he pulled you up off the ground, and close against his body. He growled low against your neck, nuzzling your skin; you could feel him inhaling you.

“David,” you said meekly, “people are watching,” you squirmed against his hold.

“Let them look,” he began to suck hickies into your neck.

You mewled, you weren’t going to get free from him, you knew that, but you could at least have some privacy. “David,” you whimpered, “please...”

You felt his teeth scrape against your neck again, and he swiftly picked you up, and placed you on the back of his bike. He pulled you by your jaw and kissed you, and you moaned against his lips. “Ohh, sweet thing, you’re gonna get it.” He swung a leg around the bike and revved the engine. He kicked the stand up and waited for you to put your arms around him, the second you did, he took off. The bike sped off down the street and within a few minutes you were rolling up to the cliff above the lighthouse.

David parked the bike behind the rocks where it normally was, and he noticed that Marko’s bike was back in its spot. His mood shifted, and he turned his head to look at you,” you’re still going to apologize to him.”

“I know, David.”

David offered you his hand as he got off the bike. You took it and swung your leg off. You watched as David pulled his cigarettes out of his jacket. He put two in his mouth and pulled out his lighter. He lit the cigarettes and took a few short puffs to ignite them. He put the lighter back in his pocket and pulled one of the cigarettes from his mouth and handed it to you. You smiled at his trick and took the cigarette from him. He took a long inhale and walked you down to the edge of the stairs.

When you got to the first step, David started floating above it, “you want me to carry you?”

You chuckled, when he wasn’t being a menace, he was actually quite sweet. “Thanks, but I can do it,” very lightly, and barely noticeable, you floated above the wood, and down the stairs.

David was grinning, ear to ear, “ha-ha! I didn’t know you could do that!” He floated in front of you and landed, waiting for you with open arms. Your heart glowed at how proud David looked, “sweet thing, what else can you do?”

You chuckled as he rubbed his thumb over your cheek; there was a loud noise that came from the cave further in, and the both of you looked towards the flickering lights, “I’ll show you another time, okay?”

The two of you walked inside, and your mind raced with what you would say to Marko to get him to forgive you. David helped you down the rocks into the main cavern and you saw Marko, laid up against the couch blowing up puffs of grey-white clouds. He was blasting rock music and as you got closer, you noticed he was smoking a joint.

“Marko,” David called to him over the noise, “we’re home!”

Marko half turned his head to see who it was, then rolled his eyes and turned back around. He huffed and pressed himself further into the arm of the couch. David puffed on his cigarette and walked over to the old boom box, to turn it down.

“Hey!” Marko protested.

David motioned for you to step forward, and you took one last drag from the cigarette before you tossed the butt in an old tin can. You walked in front of where Marko was sitting, and he looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“Marko…” you fiddled with your hands, “I’m really sorry for being a brat to you earlier.”

He took a long drag from his joint as he eyed you, then turned and blew the smoke in your face, “fuck you.”

“MARKO,” David shouted at him.

“That’s not a fuckin apology, she’s not sorry!” Marko hissed at David.

David started to move towards the couch to continue yelling at his brother, Marko kicked his legs off the couch and sat up to defend himself. The boys were yelling all kinds of nonsense at each other, none of which you paid any mind to.

All you did, was kneel at Marko’s feet; he wanted an apology, so, you’d give him one that’d shut him the hell up. The boys quieted as they watched you, you knelt in between Markos legs and held your closed hands in a prayer to your forehead. You looked down at his feet and gave him what he wanted.

“Marko, I’m so sorry for my behavior earlier. Thank you for taking care of me… I’ll never disobey you, or lie to you again,” you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes and pouty lips. “Please…forgive me.”

The boys stilled, watching you in silence. David had no idea you would take it that far, and Marko… well, he really enjoyed that.

He gulped and shifted in his seat. He didn’t know if it was the weed, or that desperate look on your face, but he loved the way you looked groveling below him. He leaned down, and inhaled the joint, his hazel eyes looked over all your features, and he slowly blew the smoke out on your face. You winced, coughing lightly. Marko chuckled and sat back up in his seat. He spread his legs in front of you, and you noticed the tent growing in his jeans.

“Marko?” David called to him, standing behind you, “is there something you want?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

Marko smirked, his eyes locked on your, “you really want me to forgive you?”

You were ordered on the bed and positioned yourself on all fours. David sat behind your ass, and Marko stood in front of you by the bed, still smoking his joint. He slowly crept on the mattress in front of you, his knees on either side of your hands and softly angled his hips up into your face.

You knew he would enjoy taking out his frustrations on you, especially since you would be ‘apologizing to him’ the way he wanted. You felt David kiss up your thighs and pulled your shorts up by the belt loop, the seam of the denim rubbing against you. You moaned and wiggled, you could hear him chuckling now. He rubbed his fingers along the seam against your clothed pussy and felt you get wetter with anticipation.

Marko looked down at you from where he was on the bed, he was clearly still very upset with you; you swallowed hard in your throat and felt your cunt clench around nothing. You felt David’s nose press up against your pussy, and you whined. Your mind was fuzzy from the smoke, and you felt Marko place his hand on the back of your head. You’d noticed him shifting around on his knees and the denim creaked from the push of his erection. He rubbed his hand over his jean covered cock, and slowly undid his buttons and belt. You gulped at the worry of your punishment.

Marko was smiling that devious grin down at you, as he slowly freed his cock from his jeans. He wasn’t as big as David, he was a bit shorter, but still very thick, his veiny cock curved up, and had a bulbous, red head, that looked heavy as it bobbed up and down.

He pressed it up against your nose and held you against his shaft.

He wanted to degrade you; he was going to embarrass you in every way he could. He was furious at you for stepping in between him and David. He was his second in command, he was the one you should have been submitting to. Instead, he had to baby your ass, while you got him in trouble. Marko gritted his teeth. He licked the tips of his fingers and tossed the dead joint from his mouth. He was going to make you regret pissing him off, he would burn that lesson into your body.

Marko pulled your hair and you winced, he pushed his tip up against your lips and rubbed his precum along your smile. “Put your tongue out,” he ordered, and you stuck your tongue out for him. You flinched when he tapped his cock on your lips and tongue. “Oh, don’t you like that?” Marko mocked you, “how about this?” He pulled hard on your hair, and when you opened your mouth to protest, he shoved his cock deep into your mouth.

“Mrmph,” you moaned around him; David was having fun slowly stripping the clothes off of your body. You could feel his hands wandering around your cunt and ass, but your attention was somewhere else.

Marko made shallow thrusts against your mouth and held your jaw so you would look up at him. He wasn’t as big as what you were forced to take last night, but he was damn near as mean about it, and he was mocking your every sound.

“Ohh does the princess not like that?” And he would shove his cock in deeper, and harder than before. He pushed you down on his length and held you there, you felt your lips hit against his base and his pubes tickled your nose. You struggled against his hold, and when your eyes began to roll back from lack of oxygen, he took you off in one quick movement.

“Aaaah,” you gasped, and Marko laughed at the saliva that connected you to him.

He watched as the string of drool got thinner and thinner and finally dripped down your chin, “you look good like that,” he was wearing that shit eating grin of his, and he rubbed his tip across your mouth and cheeks to spread the saliva.

You grimaced and tried to pull away from him, so he gripped your chin, pried open your jaw, and shoved his cock back into your mouth. He held you by either side of your face and fucked his cock down your throat. He was going to make you pay, and he laughed at the tears that prickled the sides of your eyes.

“You’re going to be good from now on, you hear me?” The words he growled out accentuated by each thrust, and you moaned in agreement against his length.

David was having the time of his unlife watching the two of you have fun with each other, if he had thought for even a second, that you didn’t want this, he would have stopped. But he could tell how much you were enjoying apologizing to Marko by how wet your pussy was getting. David had pulled your panties off and watched your love drip down your cunt. “Fuck darlin,” he sucked in through his teeth, and started licking slow stripes along your slit.

You moaned on Markos cock, “fuck, David, you really got her going there,” Marko bobbed your head along his length.

“Do you like all the attention you’re getting, Y/N?” David chuckled as he shoved a finger inside you.

“Mrmph! Mhm-mhhh,” you moaned eagerly.

Marko loved how soft and warm your tongue felt on the underside of his cock. He pulled you off of him with a pop and he moved your sweet dirty little mouth to lick his balls while he jerked off on your face.

You licked, and sucked, and swirled your tongue on his balls, trying your best to be apologetic for your behavior earlier. “Ohh, fuck, David I think she’s really sorry man,” Marko laughed out. He loved the way your eyes rolled back as you licked at him from below.

“Good,” David shoved another finger inside your cunt and scissored you open, “now she’ll know not to be a little shit.” He said sternly as you clenched around him. “Oh, sweet thing, are you gonna come already?”

Marko looked down at you as your eyes began to cross.

“Mmhm,” you moaned with his balls in your mouth.

“Fuck, David, I think I’m close too,” Marko moved you from his balls back to his cock, you gasped as you were repositioned. Marko was deep in your mouth, against the back of your throat making quick shallow thrusts.

David chuckled, “are the both of you going to come? Already?” You and Marko whimpered unanimously, and David chuckled, delighted by the way the both of you squirmed. “Tisk, tisk”, David shook his head in amusement. “Well sweetness, if you wanna come you know you gotta beg,” he shoved his fingers deep into you, curling them and pushing you further on Markos cock. You came off of Marko’s length with a pop as you turned to look at David.

“Please,” you begged out, a breathy pant.

David smiled into your skin as he pressed kisses on your thighs, “not me, darlin,” he pushed you forward on the other vamp’s cock as he curled his fingers in you.

Marko rubbed the back of your hair, he chuckled when you looked back up at him, puppy dog eyes trying to win his favor. “Get back to it, principessa.” He slipped your mouth back on himself, and you wrapped your tongue around his tip.

“Pwease,” you mumbled, still lapping at his tip. Your eyes were shut now, brows scrunched up in want; you focused on giving him pleasure, so you could get some.

You both moaned and whimpered, your lips pressed to his base, begging for your release. Marko whined, his face contorted with pleasure, “come for me, bella,” your walls spasmed around David’s fingers and Marko’s fingers intertwined with your hair as he shoved himself deep into your mouth to spray down your throat.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Marko moaned as his hips stuttered against your lips. You felt your whole body shake from your own orgasm, and you tried not to choke on Marko’s cock, it was so much come, you couldn’t swallow it fast enough. Marko pulled out from you and jerked the last few sprays in your face. You flinched as it hit your nose, and cheek, and the boys laughed.

Marko sat back down on his knees, clearly spent, while David turned you over to your back. He moved from his place between your legs, walked over to the side of the bed, and sat down next to where your head was. He wiped off Markos cum from your face, with his fingers and pushed them into your mouth.

You swirled your tongue against David’s gloved digits, “good girl,” he said darkly. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and moved his hand to your throat. “Now,” he let his other hand travel down to your cunt and rubbed your clit gently. “Are you going to be good from now on?”

You whimpered and nodded, “mhm”.

David squeezed harder on your throat, “is there something you want to tell Marko?” David pressed harder on your clit, and your hips started squirming on reaction. “Sweetness?” David called to you.

“Yessir, m’sorry Marko,” you choked against David’s hand. “I’ll be good…I promise,” Marko smiled, and David leaned over to kiss him.

You watched from your place below the boys as they licked each other’s tongues. You whimpered; watching the boys make out, while David choked you and played with your pussy, felt too good. Your hips bucked against David’s hands, and he pulled away from Marko.

“So fucking needy,” Marko said as he kissed down David’s cheek and jaw; the boys were looking down at you now.

Tears ran down the corner of your eyes and David finally pulled his hand from your throat. You gasped, and David moved to kneel above you at the top of the bed. His legs on either side of your head and pinned your wrists down. Marko walked to the other end, between your legs and started to lazily stroke his cock in his fist. You picked your head up and looked down at Marko, he threw his jacket to the wheelchair that was still by the bed and pushed his jeans further down. You looked up at David as Marko began to take off his shirt, your eyebrows knitted with nervousness.

“If you want to stop darlin, say so now,” David pressed a kiss against your forehead. Marko leaned down and ran his tongue over your wet slit.

“F-fuck!” You looked back down at Marko; his tongue was thin and forked and he slowly flicked it across your clit.

Now, he could smell you. The scent of your arousal, and the scent of your skin, he felt a heat grow in his chest and cheeks.

Was this what David had been smelling? He thought as he let his tongue lap up your love, no wonder he was going crazy.

He looked up at you, his beautiful hazel eyes turning gold and red, his nostrils flared as he savored your scent.

More!

He swirled his tongue in and out of you, it felt so odd and so fucking good. You pulled against David’s hold as you mewled and bucked your hips against the curly haired blonds face.

“Maarkoooo…” David called to the other vampire. He could hear his brother beginning to slip away, and called him back before it was too late.

Marko looked up at David from between your legs. He reluctantly pulled his tongue from you. He sat up, crawled onto the bed, and held his cock in his hand, he rubbed his thumb over his tip. He bit his lip; silently begging for your permission. You nodded softly to Marko, and he eagerly pushed himself inside you.

You moaned so sweetly for him, you felt so warm and nice against him. Marko pushed into you to the hilt. He pushed your shirt up over your breasts and pulled your hips down to him. He was a tits man, and he was going to love every second watching your beautiful pair bounce up and down for him.

“Aaah, Marko,” you whimpered as he bottomed out in you.

“Fuck,” he sucked in air through his teeth.

You could feel David shifting around atop you; you were surprised at how patient he had been this entire time, maybe this was his way of making it up to Marko for how he snapped at him earlier.

Marko wrapped your legs around his waist and started slow thrusts, you moaned, and he gripped his fingers into your flesh. It was a nice change of pace from last night, they both felt so good. From where he was hitting you, Markos tip dragged slowly against your sweet spot.

“Marko,” you whined, and pulled against David’s hold on your wrists.

“Easy, sweet thing,” David said gently, “just enjoy it.”

Marko picked up his pace and you could feel his balls slapping against your ass. The noise coming from you all was so lewd, you and Marko were moaning and gasping with the feel of each other’s bodies, and David was humming contently at the sight before him. Marko pulled your legs from around his waist and sat up with your legs parallel to him. He dug his nails into your thighs and started fucking you harder.

“Ahh fuck!” He’d stopped being gentle and was fucking you akin to how David was the night before. “Marko!”

You could hear your own mewling in your ears and David had moved to hold both of your wrists with one hand to cover your mouth with his other. “Noisy little thing, you don’t want to wake the neighbors, do you?” David chuckled.

“I want to hear her,” Marko panted out.

David looked up at him,” yeah?”

“Yeah,” Marko nodded, and David took his hand from your lips.

You moaned a symphony of the boy’s names as you came undone for them.

“Fuck, she’s squeezing me so tight,” Marko winced as he held your legs close to his chest.

“Yeah, but it feels fucking good, don’t it?” David looked down at you.

Marko started licking and nipping at your legs.

“Aah!” You cried out as he began to sink his fangs in.

“MARKO,” David shouted. Marko looked over at David, confused by his anger. “No blood,” he shook his head slowly and you could feel his low growling rumble through your upper half.

Marko reluctantly retracted his teeth and continued to suck marks along your legs.

“Marko,” you whimpered under him, you felt so good squeezing his cock, so warm, and soft, and wet.

“Fuuuuck,” he growled, moving your thighs off his chest, and your legs draped across his elbows. You could feel yourself bouncing in the bed when his hips came down against your ass. It was so hard, and deep into your heat. The plat, plat, plat, that came from Marko’s thrust against you was barely louder than your moaning.

“Harder!” you screamed as you raised your hips off the bed.

“Oh, is that not enough for you?” He lifted his arms and pulled your hips up to his level and railed into you. You moaned and whimpered as the boys enjoyed your reactions. David freed his cock from his jeans and started slowly jerking himself off with his free hand, while Marko fucked you dumb. He thrusted hard against your cervix, and you begged for his cum.

“Please, I want it,” you called out to Marko, and began begging for kisses.

David leaned down, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he tasted Marko off yours. Marko pushed hard into your warm cunt and painted your insides white; he bent over you to suck on your breasts as he came.

Marko pressed his hips against your ass, and moaned as he filled you past your brim. You whimpered and David kept shoving his tongue down your throat.

Poor Marko slumped against your form, it had been so long since he’d shared someone with David, he loved sharing with him. He pushed up from where he was on the bed and brought David in for a kiss, you’d have felt left out if Marko wasn’t still throbbing inside of you. You wiggled against David’s hold and the boys chuckled as they pulled off of you.

You were more than satisfied with how the night was ending. The two vampire boys enamored with you, kissing, and licking all over your body, their sweet moans captured on yours and their skin. The warmth of the friction, the bruises and marks, the beautiful noises that echoed through the cave…

But David had to greedily end your happiness, “oh sweet thing, you’re not tired yet are you?”

With that, Marko pulled out of you, and pulled you over him. He laid back on the bed, and his come started dripping down your cunt onto his cock. You were back on all fours, and he was on his back on the bed. David pushed your ass down, your knees slid out and Marko’s cock was stuffed back in your pussy. You whined as David quickly moved behind you. He pushed down on your back and angled your hips up. He climbed over you and Marko, then lined up with your entrance. You were still hazy, coming down from your high when you realized what was happening.

“David, wait,” you tried to turn your head.

“It’s okay sweetness,” David said as he teased his tip against your skin.

“We’re gonna make you feel real good,” Marko said, pulling you down to him for a kiss. He tasted like weed; he was so greedy with how he kissed. His lips crashing against yours, his tongue eagerly pressing into your mouth, biting, and sucking your lips, you finally pulled away from him with a loud gasp when David pressed into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, David!” You screamed and moaned and wiggled against the boys as David’s cock bullied its way into your pussy.

“Hold her Marko!” David ordered him.

“Comere bella,” Marko pulled you back to a kiss and you whimpered against him. Your eyes were all the way back in your head, and your arms and legs shook as you tried to stay up right. The sensation of both the boys stuffed into your cunt was overwhelming. It was painful, and it stung at how stretched you were, you felt the tears come to your eyes and you sobbed into Marko’s mouth.

David finally stopped when his cock wouldn’t go in any further, nestled against Marko’s, the boys stilled to let you adjust. You were still sobbing and whimpering into Marko’s mouth when they finally checked on you.

“How’s she doing?” David asked Marko.

Marko pulled away from you and watched as the drool dripped out of your mouth and your eyes crossed. He chuckled, “I think she likes it,” Marko called to him. The boys slowly started to move in and out of you.

“F-f-fuuuuuuck,” you moaned, and tears started streaming from your eyes.

It was more pleasure than you’d ever felt, you tried to keep yourself from coming, because you knew your cunt would clench around them and squeezed even tighter. You didn’t want them losing control right now, so you just focused on breathing.

You panted, hard, and your fingers gripped into the sheets. When David pulled out, Marko pushed in, when Marko pulled out, David pushed in. They worked together to make you cry out with pleasure, they knew just how to make you come undone for them.

With a scream, you tore at the sheets in your hands, and you felt your knees buckle below you. You slumped against Marko’s chest, and he looked down at you from where he laid.

“You’re tuckering her out David.”

“She’s a big girl, she can take it.”

David slipped his fingers down your shoulders and around your arms. He grabbed around your elbows and pulled your arms up and behind you. You huffed and David sat back with your wrists in his hands and your arms pulled straight back. From where he was leaned back, he had you sat up, it was almost a sadistic form of cowgirl, except you were double stuffed with two big vampire cocks.

“D-D-David” you whined. Your head falling up, and felt the tears roll down towards your ears.

You could hear him laughing behind you, there was little you could do but pant and come. Marko gripped his nails into your hips and thrusted up into you. He loved watching your breasts bounce up and down, he was starting to be glad that David brought you home.

Marko sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, he was sucking marks into your breasts now and you could feel his teeth on your flesh.

“Marko!” You sobbed.

David was too wrapped up in the feeling of your wet cunt around him to notice what was going on in front of him. Your scent in the air made the boys start to slip away from you, they fucked roughly into your cunt, and their movements became more erratic.

Poor you, you didn’t know that your scent was a damn vampire aphrodisiac.

Marko bit down, it was taking everything in him to keep from breaking the skin, but he was going to get as close to that as he possibly could. You looked down at the curly haired blond, you could barely see his golden eyes from how they were fluttering shut. He growled into your soft mounds, you could feel the rumbling rip through your chest, and he pulled tighter around your waist.

David could only hear three things at this very moment, the sound of his grunting, the sound of your heartbeat, and the sound of his hips slapping against your ass. Nothing else mattered to him. He was sharing his mate with his favorite brother, Marko, and David could tell he was starting to love you too. You felt so good around him, and he loved how Marko’s cock felt rubbing against his as well. He was going to abuse your body every day for the rest of your life if he would have it his way. He felt you spasming around their cocks again, and he laughed deep from his chest; he loved how easily you fell apart for him. He let your arms drop, and you slumped against Marko’s chest.

He leaned forward against you and licked the shell of your ear, “you comin again sweetness?” You just panted and whimpered for them, David chuckled, “you’re already getting used to us playing with ya, huh? Your sloppy little pussy loves sucking on our cocks, eh? Just a fucktoy aren’tcha?” He felt you squeeze against their cocks, “oh? You like being bullied, darlin’?” You squeezed again.

David looked over your shoulder at Marko, who was still sucking marks into your breasts. His golden eyes glossed over in lust; David could only imagine the look that was on your face, or his. He chuckled, his two favorites, both so wrapped up in their own pleasure to think of anything else, to notice anything else. With the way you were sucking them in it was a wonder how they both lasted so long. You felt Marko’s hips begin to falter, his nails gripping against your waist, and both you and David felt him throbbing as he came again.

Marko made such cute noises as he came, he grunted as his hips stuttered against you. His soft panting and whimpering into your skin was endearing, then he fell back hard against the bed. He was the one thing keeping you sitting up, so when he fell, so did you. You pushed your hands to Marko’s chest, trying to push yourself off, but you were stopped by a large hand on the back of your head.

David didn’t stop, he was merciless. He pushed your head down in a warning to not move, and he pulled your hips up and off of Marko. He fucked you against the other vampire.

Your top half was slumped against Marko, who was still panting from his own release, and you could feel the cum dripping down your thighs. David’s hips were smacking hard against your ass, the way his cock dragged slowly out of you, and slammed hard into you. His cock bullying its way into you, as you wiggled your hips, trying to get him to stop. His tip hitting your cervix hard with each thrust. It was torture, your poor cunt was so abused by this point, you could barely think with how sensitive you were. You were panting, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re finally quiet? Sweet thing? I wanna hear you!” David said, slapping your ass.

“Aah!” You moaned.

“More!” David yelled, smacking your ass again.

“Fuck!” You could hear some rustling behind you, and you felt David smack your ass again, this time it stung more, much more.

SMACK.

“Fuck! David!” You screeched. David had taken his belt from his jeans and was hitting you with it. You felt tears begin to prickle your eyes again, “please!”

SMACK.

“David!” You were crying now, your ass stung and the way the pleasure mixed with the pain… your eyes rolled back into your head, and you felt the tears roll down your cheeks.

David didn’t entirely like hurting you, but the way you clenched around him when he did… it was too good for him to stop.

SMACK.

“You really like getting bullied don’t Cha darlin?” David’s hand kneading the plush of your ass. “Dirty little whore, loving out cocks.” His hips pistoning against you as he continued to degrade you, “my good slut, our good slut. Come on sweet thing, tell me how much you love getting fucked dumb on my fat cock.”

Marko had finally caught his breath enough to look down at you, he saw you crying. He was a sadist, but after how good you made him feel he wanted to help you enjoy the pain that was being inflicted on you.

“Look at me, bella,” he called to you. His eyes were a deep golden color now, his voice was like silk, and you couldn’t help but listen to him. “Just enjoy it, principessa,” he called to you.

You were so weak, you let your mind slip under his control. The last of the pain quickly turned to pleasure, and you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. Marko smiled at your fucked out expression and pulled you into a kiss.

SMACK.

You felt David’s belt come down hard on your ass again, your legs shook, and you fell deeper into Marko’s kiss.

You moaned and screamed against his lips, you felt your orgasm crash into you, your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest, and this intense wave of pleasure washed over you. Your eyes crossed, your toes clenched, your whole body shook; suddenly, everything was hot, then everything was wet.

You heard David moan out behind you, and his thrusts became sloppy, and finally he pressed hard into you. You felt his spurts deep against your cervix and his hold on your hips felt like it was going to bruise, if not make you bleed.

He held himself against you for a second, then slowly, so tortuously slowly, pulled out of you. He watched as your cunt twitched around nothing, and the cum dribbled down your clit, and onto the bed.

“Fuck,” David panted out.

Marko pulled from the kiss, and you felt the fog in your mind begin to dissipate. The sting on your ass came back, and the welts from where the boys’ nails dug into your skin burned. But the ecstasy that pulsed from your cunt, it was all worth it. David was chuckling behind you now.

“What?” Marko called to him.

“She made a fucking mess of my jeans,” David moaned in delight.

“Did she?” Marko peered out from under you, sniffing the air. His eyes rolled back at the scent of your love, and he let out a low groan.

David swiped his finger across his pants and licked your taste off his digit. “Mmhm, my sweet thing.” David helped roll you off of Marko and pressed his index and middle finger into your mouth. You softly sucked on his fingers and pressed them between your tongue and the roof of your mouth. He smiled down at you, and Marko put himself back in his jeans.

David watched as your eyes softly shut and you gently stopped sucking on his fingers. He wanted more of you, but he knew you were done. Marko rolled off the bed and walked over to the wheelchair to pick up the rest of his clothes. He slid the shirt over his head and then put on his jacket; one arm in, and then the other, he looked over to David, who was still leaning over you in the bed.

Marko watched David smile down at you, he placed a soft kiss to your temple and covered your naked body with one of the blankets that was on the bed.

“David?” Marko called to his brother, he could usually read his mind, but right now he had closed himself off to Marko.

“Shh,” David hushed him, still watching you as you drifted off to sleep. After a moment, David turned to Marko, the look on his face a graven sight.

David knew he wouldn’t be able to keep you a secret from Max forever, and God forbid that psycho, Montgomery, came looking for you and the pack got caught in the crosshairs. He didn’t know what to make of it, but he knew Marko would be able to at least calm his nerves; maybe even offer some advice.

David stared at his brother, unsure of himself, “we need to talk.”

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phoenixcatch7 · 9 months

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Just finished playing sb ruin!

STEEL WOOL YOU HAD ONE JOB how did you make the plot holes worse.

Three characters have just EVAPORATED two were just environmental hazards at BEST and only two got any sort of character development!!!!

Literally the only new characters were a) the protagonist (expected, wanted) and b) the antagonist (CONTEXT??? LORE?? HELLO?!). 'Oh it's been down there for a really long time' HAS IT NOW?? HAS IT?? BECAUSE IT SURE WASN'T THERE BEFORE. WE WENT THERE AND IT WASN'T THERE.

The voice acting was great, I will say that. Every actor gave 110% and it really brought the whole thing to life. The set building too. And the glitchy effects!

Unfortunately the story completely fell through again.

At the start, it felt pretty clear where it was going to go. 'Gregory' was directing us down to the old afton fight area, there was rabbit/vanny graffiti everywhere, there was a strange rabbit mask that turned the world purple and glitchy and let you walk through solid objects occasionally, instructed by a gaslighting little AI that knew more than it was letting on.

Given the way it lined up with the gargantuan plot holes in security breach, and it was free dlc for the game marketed as fixing those holes, it was fairly obvious it'd be a story with vanny as the final boss, having not given up on her goal and possibly still kidnapping children. Cassie would potentially face mind control or sensory brainwashing from the mask, we'd get attacked by the broken animatronics, maybe put them to rest or cure them enough to escape the pizza plex, and at the end we'd find out how Gregory was being impersonated, a boss fight almost certainly in vr against whatever weird blue robo bunny kept staring at us (it doesn't even do anything???) and vanny irl, Cassie would stop their plans and/or burn the pizza plex down the rest of the way. Meet up with Gregory again at the end, possibly with a freddy head, I wasn't picky.

You know, closure.

Instead, the plot was... Essentially nonexistent, just as much a run quest cycle as sb despite the linear progression and lack of teleporting animatronics, somehow. The boss 'fight' was completely divorced from the rest of the game, all but roxy and the da were entirely absent of any character development, both of which were relevant for about three seconds.

The lift ending was a cheap shock value ending which only left more questions than answers. The other two, which we googled, were equally free of things like 'explanations' and 'filled plot holes' and 'context' and 'closure', and all of which were dependant purely on random actions in the final scene we were given no hints to knowing about, unlike sb. By the end we were left in shock, fury, confusion and betrayal, which isn't a great note to end your game on.

All in all, while eclipse was a pleasant surprise and roxys five new lines of dialogue were sweet and a bit sad, ruin managed to be like security breach in all the worst ways, and didn't even have any funny glitches to laugh at. Loading screens were insanely long, enough we once ate a full meal during three back to back ones and went on our phones instead of waiting patiently, AND regular. All deaths were to the slippery catwalk in gator golf or frustration making us reckless, and we had to get out the walk throughs just to navigate certain areas. Though we were told we were invisible to most animatronics in the mask no one had told any of them. Bar the endos every single one could spot and chase us in the mask. We got softlocked several times and had to restart. The weird robot rabbit never got any context or explanation and didn't even do anything to our knowledge?? Summoned the animatronics maybe but even if you didn't take the mask off and walked through him he wouldn't do anything. Got jumpscared ONCE and then we continued on our merry way.

Also the game crashed twice.

#fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb ruin #security breach ruin #fnaf ruin #One job!! One job!! It was an easy job!#So annoyed. Like what was the point of the dlc then?? If not to fix the problems of sb?? It's free so it's not money!#Finished the game annoyed confused frustrated. Too many things thrown at us like we're excpected to magically intuit the truth #Like yeah the mimic thing could have just been a really bad callback to a previous game but the Gregory thing??#What we're supposed to trust his voice after the mimic reveal?? HELLO are you MAD?!#He brushes off any 'prove its you' and has 'a friend' who knows how to get her out and sees her live location despite no cameras #And then tries to kill her. Are we supposed to believe that's Gregory?? RIGHT after the reveal?? No chance! No way!#But the game plays it completely straight like that's what we're supposed to believe.#Insane. I really think steel wool has lost the last of the fandoms faith with this. They were so close to a good game. It had POTENTIAL.#But they learned nothing.

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voldemorts-tap-shoes · 2 years

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Some Jily for @cruelsummer-ficfest ❤️

Everything Has Changed

“I can’t believe I’m letting you lot drag me to Hogsmeade when I’m so behind on my Potions revisions.”

Marlene’s complaint is contradicted by the fact that she’s leading the way through the castle, and Lily chuckles. Marlene would never let school get in the way of a good time, and they all know it.

“Professor Slughorn’s not that bad,” Lily says as they traipse down the stairs. “I’m sure his exam next week won’t be as tough as you think.”

“You can say that because you’re his favorite,” Dorcas grumbles. “The rest of us haven’t got the chops you have, Lils. Remind me why we carried on to NEWT level anyway?”

“It’s required coursework for Healers. Or have you changed your mind again?” Lily can’t help but tease.

“Okay, enough about school, please?” Marlene jumps in, to which Lily snorts.

“You are the one who brought up potions, Marls.”

“And now I’m changing the subject.” Marlene reaches for the front door with a smile, and the fall chill assaults them with unexpected force.

“It’s only October,” Lily complains with a shiver. They have barely even made it down the front steps onto the grounds, and at this rate she will be frozen solid by the time they get to Hogsmeade. “Why is it so cold out?”

“You could always ask James Potter to warm you up,” Dorcas snickers.

Lily rolls her eyes even as she can feel her cheeks flushing. “Oh, very funny. I would rather set Fiendfyre to my own coat; much more effective and not nearly as annoying as Potter is.”

Marlene scoffs. “Sure you would. Seriously, what’s going on with you two?” she presses.

“Nothing.” The answer is more true than ever, as James has barely said two words to her since term started. She frowns and tugs her coat tighter around her waist, changing the subject herself. “I think I’m going to run back upstairs and grab a scarf.”

“No,” Dorcas groans. “I’m already running late for my date with Paul.”

“Go on, then. I’ll catch up.” Lily breaks off from the other two, and Marlene fixes her with a discerning stare.

“Don’t think I’m letting you off that easily about this James business,” she warns.

Lily waves a dismissive hand at her, though she knows her best friend means business. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you there in a few.”

She trots back up to the castle, while Dorcas loops her arm through Marlene’s and continues down the path.

Most of the eligible students are already down in the village, leaving the castle quiet for a Saturday. Lily is halfway back to Gryffindor Tower when she sees none other than James himself coming down the corridor toward her. He and his crew are usually the first ones to Hogsmeade and the last ones back at night—any opportunity to escape the school for a bit—so she’s surprised to find him near the library, a bulging satchel slung over his shoulder.

“That’s a lot of books for Hogsmeade,” Lily jokes as they approach each other. “Or have you actually got a bag full of pranks?”

James shrugs, not quite meeting her gaze. “Not going to Hogsmeade today.”

“Why not? I figured I’d see you there.”

His hazel eyes flash up to hers. “Did you?”

Lily frowns up at him, startled by his defensive tone. “Yes. First weekend of the year? I thought you’d be leading the parade, not holed up in the library.”

James lifts his shoulder in another nonchalant gesture, and Lily’s heart races. Things have been weird between them this year—mostly because Potter has ceased asking her out every five seconds—but she isn’t sure why their friendship has delved into such awkwardness. James has always been an open book, and now that he seems to have put walls up to keep her out, all she wants to do is tear them down.

“Guess things have changed,” he replies. “Enjoy the village.”

He turns away from her, and she lets him take a few long strides before she calls to him. “Potter?”

His quick sigh echoes in the deserted hallway before he swivels his head around to look at her again, one eyebrow raised in question. “Evans?”

Lily takes a deep breath, not sure how exactly to get through to him, and then blurts, “Are we okay?”

“Are we okay?” James repeats the question and barks out a laugh that holds no humor. “Sure, Evans. We’re fine.”

“Then what’s going on right now?” she demands. “What is this?”

“This is me finally taking no for an answer,” James snaps back. “You’ve made your feelings clear, and you deserve someone—” He shakes his head and fixes his eyes on a crack in the stone floor at her feet. “Someone else.”

Lily takes a step forward. “We can be friends, can’t we?” She wants more than that, and she knows James does, too, but she’s not ready to confront her feelings for him.

“We are friends.”

“Then come to Hogsmeade.”

“Can’t.”

“Potter—”

“Look, Evans, don’t make this harder than it has to be. You were right, okay? When you said I’m no better than Sniv—than Snape. So I’m trying to do better. Trying to be better. For you. So that the next time I ask you out, you might not be wishing for the Giant Squid instead.”

James spins on his heel, and his hurried footsteps match the erratic pounding of her heart. The thought of a next time tells her what she needs to know—that he hasn’t given up hope on her, on them. She wants to follow him, but his words have her rooted to the spot. “Potter?” she tries again, but he keeps walking, and she knows she will have to resort to drastic measures. “James!”

The use of his first name is enough to halt his retreat and when he turns to face her again, his lips are twitching with the effort of holding back a smirk. “You called me James.”

“I’ve called you worse.”

He laughs again, the sound much more genuine this time. “Yeah, you have.”

“I wanted to make sure I had your attention.”

“You always do.”

And she does. His hazel eyes bore into hers as he drops his bag to the ground with a thud. The awkwardness between them has morphed into something just as powerful, but the tension between them now is charged with something else entirely. Something that has long existed between them, but that Lily has denied for far too long. James folds his arms across his chest, waiting.

Lily opens her mouth, but speech fails her. What does she want to tell him now that he's hanging on her every word?

She focuses on what he said before he walked away; on the library, and on the bag of books at his feet. He’s giving up a Hogsmeade weekend to study—for her. It’s flattering in a way, but it doesn’t sit right, and Lily finds her voice.

“I don’t want you to change,” she admits, wringing her hands together. “Definitely don’t change just for me. I mean, yes, you can be a bit of a prat sometimes, but you’re funny, and loyal, and kind. And maybe you’re a better judge of character than I am.”

She's thinking of the incident with Severus, at the end of last term. How he had lashed out at her, what he had called her—it stung, but when the shock wore off, she found she wasn’t all that surprised. It didn’t excuse James’s behavior that day either, but he’d seen Severus’s true colors long before she had.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that…maybe I haven’t made my feelings clear.” Without realizing it, she and James have moved closer and closer, and her breath catches in her throat as his hand lands gently on her waist. Lily looks up at him, only inches away now. Ready or not, if she doesn’t tell him now, she may lose this moment—and him—for good. “I like you, Potter. Just the way you are.”

He lifts his other hand toward her face, hesitating before letting his fingertips graze her cheek. Lily’s eyes flutter shut as James leans closer. When a long moment passes without him kissing her, she opens her eyes again. His face is so close to hers that the slightest raise of her toes is all it would take to press her lips to his. What is he waiting for?

“Last chance, Lily,” James whispers.

Lily furrows her brow but doesn’t move away. James using her first name in that husky baritone has her brain turning to utter mush. “Last chance for what?”

“If you’re just trying to make the Giant Squid jealous, you can tell me. I’ll understand.”

Lily groans, but James’s laugh is infectious. “Can’t you be serious for once in your life?”

“Thought you didn’t want me to change,” he teases as his hand slides around to her back, pulling her flush against him and pressing his forehead to hers. “This is what you’re in for. Are you sure you can handle it?”

Normally, Lily would be quick with a retort, but her head might explode if she has to wait one more minute to find out what it’s like to kiss James Potter. Without a word, she closes the remaining distance between them, throwing her arms around his neck as she presses her lips to his. He tastes faintly of coffee and cinnamon, and every nerve in her body is aflame as he deepens the kiss.

When they finally separate, James looks as if he’s been hit in the head with a bludger, his goofy grin matching hers. “I suppose this changes things between us,” Lily quips between ragged breaths.

“I sure hope so.” James lets out a low chuckle and brushes his nose against hers. “But not everything has changed.” He slips his wand from his pocket, quickly banishing his book bag to the dormitory before lacing his fingers with Lily’s. “Studying can wait. Can I buy you a butterbeer?”

James is asking her out again, their equilibrium returned, but Lily finally has a different answer for him. She leans up to give him another quick peck before replying, all thoughts of a scarf now forgotten as James’s hand in hers has warmed her from head to toe.

“Absolutely.”

#jily #james x lily #james potter #lily evans #cruel summer fic fest

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vestriabymoonlight · 2 years

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untitled sad cowboy fantasy

CW: alcohol abuse?

It was never a good sign when the preacher started drinking. Ivory robes, stained with crisp crimson and patches of pale golden sand hung over his shoulders that had sunk after his first glass. A necklace of gold and brass, bearing the icon of God, sat on the counter of the bar beside his drink; that came off after the second. The barkeep had given the shell-shocked preacher a cold towel when he entered, and that sat dirty with sweat, dust, and blood just beyond the pendant. After another sip from his glass of cool amber, he brought his sallow, sunken eyes to continue boring the same hole in the wall straight ahead. The whiskey stopped biting five glasses and four hours ago.

After swirling the last of his fifth around some more, he glanced sordidly down at it before guzzling it down whole. One bad day, five solid drinks; it was the worst day and the most drinks he’d had in years. Maybe if he were lucky, the barkeep would take pity enough to let him keep the bottle. But the preacher’s head was fuzzy, his mouth dry, and his mind not straight, so he knew that such was the wish of a drunk man praying his silent prayers.

* * *

When he woke, his forehead was sweatily glued to the damp arm of his robe, shaken by a source unseen from his front-row seat to stare at the grain of the bar. A pit formed in his stomach as he lifted his head, heavy as lead, to look past the glare of the dim lanterns to his right. There, he found the source of the shaking of his shoulder to be the gloved hand of a cautious looking woman in a cowhide vest and wide-brimmed hat. Her skin was naturally a cool shade of lavender, though her time in the sun had graced her with indigo freckles and had formed deep crow’s feet beside her eyes. Though she was comfortable in the dark slacks and blouse, she was flushed, as if she had recently been running, as she was required to by holding the station indicated by the brass badge pinned on her vest, over her left breast.

“Preacher?” she asked, her deep purple eyes filled to their brims with concern.

Groggily, he sat up, grunting from the pang of pain from the side of his head. He glanced at his short whiskey glass, filled only with some room-temperature water. At least he’d had the sense to get some before passing out. Though his memory was blurred, the preacher could tell the light was different; it was late afternoon by now, probably just on the verge of dusk’s beginning. As he blinked the restless, drunken sleep from his eyes, he tried to speak, but felt nothing but sand trickle out past dry lips. Groping sightlessly once, twice, thrice for his glass of tepid refreshment, he wetted his mouth and then spoke.

“Elise,” his voice came out as smooth as sandpaper before he cleared it, “how long have I…?”

The sheriff glanced up at the barkeeper-- who was absolutely not listening-- at the other end of the bar, and though the preacher didn’t see it, she echoed what she saw him hold up. “‘Bout three hours now. Samuel…” Though Elise wanted to gently chide him on drinking so early and so long, she knew she couldn’t do that to him. Not now.

The preacher narrowed his eyes. “Elise, I’ve known you for the twenty years since you came here. You might have thirty years on me, but I can still see through you--” As his double vision came together, he made out dark spots staining the right side of her blouse. He froze as the pit in his stomach did a flip. She followed his eyes and breathed deep.

“Samuel--”

“Turn around, Elise.”

#vestriacowboy #samuelcincaid #fantasy writing #world building #cowboy fantasy #but not like that #tumbleweeds

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nctsworld · 3 years

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two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone off to one side.

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.”

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly.

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

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you-are-my-joy · 3 years

Text

The Return of an Empress | 08

Title: The Return of an Empress

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut (Later on), Slow burn

Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

Word count: ~9.2k

Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive.

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

Masterlist

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“Here you go, your majesty,” Joy offers you a glass of water before preparing your bed for you to sleep in.

Your eyes soften at the girl, “Thank you Joy,” you gratefully take the water and nearly drink it in one gulp. Absolutely exhausted after everything that has happened.

“Long day?” Joy teases as she takes the now empty glass from your hand.

You let out a long sigh, stretching your arms above your head, “don’t even get me started.” Joy purses her lips, giving you a sad expression as she can see how tired you were, both mentally and physically. She wishes she could help further, but the most she could do is attend to your needs, but honestly, that’s all you really need at the moment.

To say it was a long day would be an absolute understatement as you recall the events that occurred. From the morning of the beheadings, to dealing with reporters, and finally to consoling a crying Yoongi, yup, it was most definitely a very long day.

You close your eyes as you think about your time with Yoongi just a few hours ago.

Yoongi sniffs before pulling away, his red puffy eyes looking at your now damp shoulder, suddenly feeling embarrassed for breaking down right in front of you. But that doesn’t stop him from grabbing hold of your hands, “I’m so sorry for everything, for not being there for you when you need me the most,” his tearful gaze staring straight at you, glossy eyes on the verge of producing more tears.

He continues as he lets out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry for giving up on you,” his voice cracks as a fresh batch of tears begin to form in his eyes.

You give him a soft smile as you reach a hand to wipe away at his tears, “I forgive you,” you whisper softly.

Yoongi closes his eyes, savoring this moment as you caress his cheek gently. “You shouldn’t,” he whispers as he tearfully looks at you with a downcasted look.

However, you two didn’t stay in that position for long as your presence was urgently needed elsewhere when Joy called for you. You remember looking back regretfully towards Yoongi, but he only nods, understanding that you’d be busy with the whole scandal. He ushered you out of the room, gingerly placing his palm to your back. Promising to speak to you privately when the whole ordeal dies down.

And so despite having such a long day, you can’t help but feel like things worked out in the end. You no longer have to deal with Lee Joong-Gu nor do you have to worry about Yoongi. You had always planned to reconcile with Yoongi at some point in the future, but you never imagined it would transpire like that, with the usual cold advisor breaking down his walls and sobbing in your arms. But you can't help but feel like a weight is off your shoulder.

The only thing on your mind now is what’s going to happen when you’re attending the meeting tomorrow. Because for the first time since you’ve arrived in this world, all eight of you would be present in the same room. You’re not sure how that would turn out considering how tense it was when only five men were in the same room. You can only imagine what would occur with all seven, but you try to remain positive, only hoping that the meeting would run as smoothly as possible.

This was probably one of the most awkward things you’ve ever had to sit through.

Here you are, all eight of you sitting around in a circular table in complete silence as you eye the men wearily. Initially it was only just going to be you, Hoseok, and the three advisors, but the three youngest insisted that they attend this meeting as well. And yet, no one has the courage to speak up in front of each other. The only sounds coming from Taehyung’s fingers tapping against the hardwood in a steady beat. Meanwhile the rest of the men fidget in their seats impatiently, avoiding eye contact with one another.

You let out a sigh, unable to handle this any further. Here goes nothing. You clear your throat, immediately gaining everyone’s attention, “Thank you for being here everyone, we have a lot to talk about.”

Hoseok nods his head, crossing his arms, “indeed we do.”

You turn your attention to Namjoon sitting in front of you, “I’m sure you have a list of things to discuss about,” you wave your hand, “take it away,” you lean back in your chair crossing your legs, ready for whatever's about to come.

Namjoon looks down at the countless documents in front of him as he skims through its contents, “we need to first discuss what we plan to do with former Grand Duke Lee Joong-Gu.” Offering you a tentative glance before looking through the documents once more.

You hum, leaning against the arms of your chair, “Who will be inheriting the late grand duke's wealth?” you ask curiously.

“His eldest daughter, Lee Yuri, is the heir,” Namjoon answers without raising his head to look at you.

Suddenly, Jin speaks up, “We should thoroughly investigate her and the rest of the family,” he glares down at the documents as if they were cursed, “his butler turned himself in for knowing about the drugs, who’s to say more people don't know about it either. We should take them away and put them in the dungeons before that happens.” You hear many of the men murmur their agreement to his statement.

You, however, try to avoid eye contact, pretending to busy yourself with looking over the documents, trying not to act suspicious because you know she’s innocent. Despite being a god awful human being, the grand duke truly did love his family and made sure that they never knew about the drugs in hopes of protecting them. If he ever got caught, he didn’t want to bring them down with him. His only decision in life that you agreed on.

You nod, “we will go through with investigating his family.” You didn’t want to, knowing they were innocent, but how could you explain yourself without them thinking you’ve gone crazy.

You raise your head to look around the room, “however, the investigation will commence a week after today.”

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows, “I’m sorry but I have to disagree,” he butts in, “we need to take them into custody just to play safe. What if they hide every evidence of their involvement during that time frame?”

There are none. Is what you want to say. But you know without any proof to back up your claim, they would never believe you.

“They just witnessed the beheading of their father, that’s not something that’s easy to get over. We should give them time to grieve,” you suggest. You watch the rest of the men eye each other wearily, clearly opposed to your idea.

“Their father is a criminal,” Yoongi grinds out with clenched teeth.

“Does that automatically mean they’re criminals as well?” you question with a raised brow.

He crosses his arms as he leans back against his chair, lips pursed with displeasure, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Just because he was their father doesn’t mean they share the same morals,” you defend.

Jin only sighs, “I understand where you’re coming from, but chances are, they probably knew about it too. We shouldn’t risk anything and take them in,” his tone cold and disapproving.

“Let’s put it this way,” you start, “they’re automatically being labelled as criminals just because they’re his family without any solid evidence,” you furrow your eyes, waving your hand around, “does that sound fair to you?”

The men remain silent, urging you to continue, “You have to also think about what they’re going through. Because not only has their father betrayed the empire, he betrayed them, surely that’s not a good feeling to have. Their family reputation is in shambles because of him all because he chose his greed over his own family,” your voice rising with each passing second.

Hoseok cocks a brow, both surprised and confused over your sudden behavior, “why are you so persistent with this?”

“Because I don’t want to be responsible for-“ their death.

You stop yourself. You got too emotional and nearly almost blurted out something you shouldn’t.

In the sequel to the story, where the Grand Duke finally gets exposed, it’s revealed that not only does he have to pay the price for his crimes, but his family does too. The boys were far too emotional to make any rational decisions due to the scandal. In their fit of anger and need for revenge, they investigated and apprehended every family member of the criminals associated with the drugs, starting with Lee Joong-Gu’s.

They didn’t care that the family was still in the early stages of grief, because to them, they were just the family of the man that ruined their lives.

And for that reason, they didn’t care when they got ridiculed publicly or when their name was absolutely stomped on in the tabloids. Even when they were proven to be innocent, they didn’t do anything to stop the harsh treatment they received from society.

His family never had time to grieve, their emotions bottled up due to all the attention they were receiving. Where the eldest daughter was essentially known as the daughter that killed the late empress, despite her efforts in trying to rebuild their reputation that title followed her everywhere she went.

And when the entire family took their own lives, unable to handle the bankruptcy and excessive bullying, the empire rejoiced. They were innocent, yet their lives were ruined all because they trusted someone who promised to protect them. It wasn’t fair.

“Your majesty?”

You blink, “huh?”

Jimin eyes you in concern, “You didn’t want to be responsible for what?”

You clear your throat, an attempt to compose yourself as you try to to avoid their prying eyes, “I didn’t want to be responsible for ruining people’s lives if they turned out to be innocent.”

Yoongi scowls, clearly against your decision, “You’re being too lenient,” he points at the document angrily, “they could retaliate and avenge their father!”

You suck in a deep breath, calming down as you stare deep into his eyes, “Yoongi do you trust me?”

He stills for a moment, before his eyes soften at this. He hesitates before nodding his head reluctantly, “yes, I do.”

You offer him a weak smile, thankful and surprised he admitted to that so easily, “then please trust in me on this as well,” your pleading eyes boring into his.

Yoongi sighs, before slumping down in his chair in defeat, wanting to avoid conflict after somewhat reconciling with you the day before. He didn’t want to risk causing more tension when you two have a lot more to talk about. So for now, he’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it.

You look around the room, immediately taking note of their displeased expressions, “any objections?”

Suddenly the sound of a chuckle echoes around the room as Hoseok shakes his head, “seeing as how Yoongi hyung wasn’t able to get through you, neither of us have a chance,” he leans on the table with a smirk, “let’s hope her majesty’s judgment is correct.”

You turn your head back to Namjoon, “alright, what’s next on the list.” But before he could utter a word, Jimin suddenly rises to his feet.

“Wait!” he calls out, causing you and many of the other men to jump in surprise, he sends you all a sheepish smile before continuing, “there’s something important I need to say,” you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, lost in deep thought wondering how to explain himself, his expression tight and strained.

You nod your head, giving him permission to speak. He runs his fingers through his hair with shaking hands as he lets out a low chuckle, “I believe now is the time to break my fingers.” He stares at you, shoulders slumped while doing so.

You frown, “Why would I do that?”

“Because I broke our promise,” his head hangs low, unable to look you in the eye, “I wasn’t able to protect you.”

You thought for a moment, tilting your head, “I’m sorry Jimin but can you explain more?”

He nods, straightening his posture, “The night of the ball, after the criminals were apprehended,” he starts before carefully thinking of his next words, “there were spies in the area,” his voice low and tense.

Everyone freezes, as they process what he said. Spies?

“There were spies in the area?” Jin asked, rephrasing the statement into a question as though it were a surprise as he leans on the table.

Just when you thought you had nothing else to worry about, here comes Jimin dropping a huge bomb on all of you. You begin to feel immensely anxious, as this has never occurred in the novel, but seeing how much you've managed to change the story from the original plot, you’re not entirely surprised.

You clear your throat, stomach contracting into a tight ball, “can you please describe what happened?” you know this would only stress you out more, but you needed to know all the details.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, “I was watching the scene from above the dome ceiling, when I saw movement from the corner of my eyes,” he hangs his head low, feeling ashamed over his actions, “I was so immersed in the scene from below that I didn’t do my job correctly and only saw the spy at the last minute.”

He lets out a shaky breath before turning to you, his eyes brimming with tears, “They managed to escape, I’m sorry,” his voice cracking and tight. You want to go and soothe him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move at the sudden stab of anxiety in your gut.

The men stiffen at the sudden revelation, fidgeting in their seat as their eyes dart between everyone’s shocked faces around the circular table.

“It gets worse,” Jimin adds in a low voice causing everyone to snap in his direction.

Jin lets out an exasperated sigh as he rubs his temples, “How could it get any worse than this?”

Jimin gives you all a weak smile, “There was more than one,” he confesses, voice edged with tension.

Taehyung chokes on his own spit, “What do you mean there were more than one?” His voice rose an octave in disbelief.

Jimin’s lip grows thin and firm, he explains to the group how when he was chasing after the person, an onslaught of arrows flew past his head before he could even grab hold of the person’s cloak. Too many arrows at a time to be just one person.

Namjoon groans, already feeling the uncomfortable ache in his head developing beneath his temples as he buries his head in his hands, “I thought once the drugs were dealt with, we’d have nothing major to worry about,” he raises his head, his tired expression showing, “now you’re telling me we have to deal with spies too?”

Taeheyung sighs tiredly, “took the words right out of my mouth,” he turns his head to you, “seems like her majesty has a lot of enemies.”

Truthfully, you knew many people opposed the empress, most of them were nobles who lost their power and authority when she began her reign. And for that reason, you’re unable to deduce the list to one person. You groan, slumping lazily on your seat as you lean against the chair.

Hoseok’s mouth quirk upward, slightly amused at your posture, “could it be an old fling enacting their revenge? How many people have you been with again?” he teases as he leans on the table, an attempt to lighten the mood seeing how stressed you’ve become.

You glare in his direction, not at all in the mood to laugh at any jokes, “mind your own business,” you grumble.

But the man only laughs as he grins back at you, “I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but you are my business, Y/n.”

This especially doesn’t go past Yoongi as his eyes widen by his statement, “Y/n?” he questions in disbelief.

Jin looks up at Yoongi, eyeing his reaction, “her majesty gave Taehyung and Jungkook permission to address her by her name,” he explains, careful not to set the advisor off with his words, but he cocks a brow in Hoseok's direction, “although I was unaware she extended this to Hoseok.” But the said man only shrugs.

You flinch when Yoongi and Jimin whirls their head in your direction, face unreadable as their hardened eyes stare you down. You clear your throat, straightening your posture as you stare at everyone, “well, I was actually planning on extending this to all of you at some point during this meeting,” you send them an uncertain smile, “guess now is as good a time as any.”

Jin raises a brow, “Really?” his disbelief evident in his expression. Though you give him a small smile, nodding your head in confirmation.

Jimin’s breath hitches, “You’ll allow me to call you by your name, despite failing you?”

Your eyes soften in his direction, “Jimin you didn’t fail me, you saw the spies despite how dark it was outside and informed all of us. That’s more than I could ask for from you,” you reach your hand to wrap around his, squeezing it gently, “you did well, thank you,” you send him a reassuring smile.

You see his eyes becoming glossy as he looks away from your stare, sucking in a breath to compose himself before turning back to you. He squeezes your hand in return as the corners of his lips curve upward, more than grateful for your words.

Jungkook, who has been silently listening and observing this entire time, looks up hesitantly, “what do we do now?”

Everyone in the room looks around, unsure of how to answer his question before you clear your throat, “we don’t know if there are more spies in the palace, I think all we can do is keep this to ourselves for now and just observe our surroundings more closely,” you suggest, watching as the rest of the men nod in agreement.

“This is why you’re the empress,” Taehyung yawns as he stretches his arms above his head, feeling a lot more relaxed as compared to how he was just moments before.

Just then, Jimin stands up, gently pulling on your joined hands for you to rise on your feet as well. “I think that’ll be enough for today.” You watch as Jungkook and Taehyung stand up as well, preparing to leave.

Namjoon shifts in his seat as he stares at them incredulously, “We’re not done!” waving frantically at the countless documents on the table.

“I understand but there was a lot to process during this meeting,” Taehyung states, then points at you, “I personally believe her majesty should let off some steam.”

Instead of giving a snarky reply, Namjoon only groans as he waves you all off. Taehyung quirks a brow, “You surprisingly gave up a lot sooner than I expected.”

But the advisor just lets out a sigh as he gives him a bored expression, “it’s not like you’re going to listen to me no matter what I say, and frankly, I don’t have the energy left in me to make you all stay.” You can tell he was being serious as he stares at you all in a tired manner. Surprisingly, the rest of the men had similar expressions, you had thought Yoongi or Jin would put in their two cents, but contrary to what you expected, they remained silent.

Taehyung winks, “glad we’re on the same page,” he salutes goodbye to the older males, “if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be taking our leave,” he moves to grab hold of your other hand as he begins to lead you three out the door.

You tilt your head, you let them lead you out the room despite being confused over the situation, “What are we doing?”

Taehyung doesn’t turn around, but you can tell he’s smirking, “I was thinking we should do some training,” he starts, “seeing as how there’s spies we gotta worry about now.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at the back of his head, “We?”

You hear Jungkook snicker from beside you as he throws an arm around your shoulder lazily, “Yes, we are going to train.” His grin grew wider at the sight of your horrified expression.

Please have mercy on my soul.

You didn’t realize Taehyung was actually being serious about the whole training session, not until he ushered you into your bedroom calling for Joy to gather a change of lighter clothes that allows you to move more freely. And now here you are in the palace courtyard, absolutely dreading what was about to come.

“Alright, who's going up against our dear empress,” Jimin claps his hands excitedly.

In the next second, Jungkook raises his hand in the air, as Taehyung laughs and pats his shoulder, “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a volunteer.” Jungkook winks at you and you do your best to smile back at him, but if anything it came out more of a grimace.

“I’m betting on Y/n,” Jimin suddenly calls out before pointing at Taehyung, “you’re stuck with supporting Jungkook.”

Taehyung stops walking as he furrows his eyes, “No fair! I had my bets set on Y/n from the beginning!” He whines loudly.

Jungkok scoffs from beside you, carrying two wooden swords in his hands, “Should I be offended that none of you believe in me?”

But Taehyung just shrugs his shoulders, “You’re going up against the empress herself, can you really blame us?”

“Fair enough,” Jungkook grumbles, almost as if he was already admitting defeat as he hands you your sword.

You chuckle nervously, your palms beginning to sweat as you grip on the handle of the sword tightly, “I’m afraid you’re giving me far too much credit,” you joke to hide the fact that you were absolutely terrified when the sparring began. In any other situation, you would be drooling over Jungkook’s biceps, but at the moment, you can’t help but shiver in fear knowing he was strong enough to crush you in a second. At this point you’re desperately praying for muscle memory to finally come to your rescue.

Taehyung huffs, “fine, I’ll place my bets on Jungkook,” he grumbles at last, clearly upset over his current situation.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Gee thanks,” he replies sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware we were even betting money on this.”

Jimin smirks as he shrugs, “makes things more interesting, y’know.”

Taehyung whips his head, staring at him incredulously, “Yeah for you! You’re betting on Y/n. You practically win by default!” Taehyung snaps before raising his palm in Jungkook’s direction, “No offense Jungkookie.”

“None taken.”

You shake your head, no longer fazed by their childish banters at this point, “How much are you even betting on,” raising a container, similar to a water bottle, up to your lips.

“50 gold coins.”

You spit out your drink, “50 gold coins?” you cough. During your first few days, you were curious to know the value of those gold coins, so you did a little research in the library. Apparently 1 gold coin was enough to feed an entire village for a month. Now they’re betting 50? “Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive for a measly bet?” your eyes widen as you switch between Jimin and Taehyung.

Taehyung nods as he takes your side immediately, “I agree 100% with Y/n.”

Jimin only rolls his eyes, “You’re only saying that because you’re betting on Jungkook,” he points accusingly.

“And you’re only happy about that cause you’re betting on Y/n!” He snaps right back at him.

Jimin pauses, “Well… I can’t argue with that.”

“See!”

Just then, Jungkook turns to you with a mischievous smile.

Oh no.

“Why don’t we make this even more interesting,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows in your direction.

You raise a brow, “I’m listening.” You know nothing good could come out of this, especially at the way he was looking at you.

He smirks, “why don’t we have a bet of our own. Loser fulfils one wish from the winner.”

You hum, before turning your attention to Jimin. “Team meeting,” you call out, gesturing to him to come to you.

Jimin raises a brow before laughing, jogging up to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you huddle in your own ‘private’ space.

“This bet seems kinda risky. You think I should accept it?”

Jimin nods his head seriously, “Of course. I wouldn’t have made a bet on you if I didn’t believe in you completely,” he scoffs before pointing behind him, “I mean look at the kid, does he really look like a hard person to beat?”

You nod, turning your head to eye him down, playing along with him, “You’re right, looking closer he’s really not all that.”

“Guys I can still hear you.”

Jimin waves him off, “Ignore him, anyway I think you should take him up on this offer.”

“Got it. Alright, good discussion.” You two break apart as you look at the now glaring knight. “We’ve come to a conclusion, Jeon Jungkook, I accept this bet.” You stick your hand out, he smirks before you’re both shaking hands in agreement.

You turn to look at Jimin as he gives you a thumbs up with a wide reassuring smile - your very own cheerleader.

You turn your attention back to Jungkook, only for your eyes to widen into saucers when his abs make a sudden appearance. You were definitely not mentally prepared for this as the author never mentioned anything about articles of clothing being removed during training. Jungkook, having noticed your ogling winks at you, “try not to drool too much.”

You only roll your eyes, turning away, embarrassed you were caught staring, “not much to drool over.” Oh who were you kidding, his body was practically sculpted by the gods. And you're sure he knows this too, based on his reaction.

Instead of getting snarky or offended at your words, he only shakes his head with a low chuckle before smirking back at you.

Alright. You admit. That was kinda hot.

You gulp nervously as he begins to stretch, his muscles flexing with every movement. At this point you just hope you make it out alive.

“Showoff,” Jimin exclaims loudly, now sitting on a nearby bench on the side.

Jungkook smirks, “no need to be jealous hyung.” Making a show to flex his muscles even more in ridiculous poses.

Jimin only rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to you, “Y/n, do me a favor and beat his ass.”

You let out a chuckle, “I’ll do my best.”

At this point, you four caught the attention of many passing knights and maids who were initially confused and curious about what was going on. But once they caught on to what was happening, many are now conveniently standing at a distance, pretending to do work when in reality they were anticipating this match just as much as Jimin and Taehyung.

Jungkook smirks up at you, “Ready to feel defeat?” A glint in his eyes screaming trouble.

You let out a huff of air as you stretch your arms and legs, “I’d like to see you try.”

“What should we do regarding the rebellion?”

After the meeting, the three advisors stayed behind after you were seemingly dragged out by the younger boys out the room. Hoseok had to leave soon after as he needed to go do his daily routine of checking up on the knights training. And so that only left the three advisors to their own thoughts.

“Well isn’t it obvious, we step down,” Namjoon states confidently. The three men grow silent as they take in the immense weight that statement holds. The realization that the rebellion that they’ve all planned meticulously for almost a year now, is about to come to an end. They knew stepping down meant finally admitting that the empress has returned and was no longer the tyrant they all detested.

Jin looks around the room wearily, “let’s not speak here, we can talk about it another time,” he whispers. Although the room was quiet and desolate, he didn’t want to take any chances of anyone eavesdropping on their conversation. Especially if it was in regards to the rebellion now that spies were suddenly a problem, “And besides, Hoseok’s not here, we need to know where he stands in all this as well.”

Namjoon nods his head understandingly, “I agree, I think all we can do now, is be careful of our surroundings and wait until we’re in a safe private area to discuss further.” All three men rise to their feet, collecting the documents before heading out the door.

“You know hyung,” Namjoon starts, eyeing Yoongi as they walk down the halls, “I’m glad to hear that you reconciled with Y/n yesterday.”

“Hoseok told us everything this morning,” Jin clarifies.

Yoongi hums, not looking at either men in the eye, “I wouldn’t necessarily say we reconciled completely as there’s still a lot to talk about.”

“Let’s hope that once all this get settled, we’ll all have time to properly speak to each other, I believe we all owe her that much,” Jin clutches the documents in his hands as his eyes narrow down at them, a painful reminder of their mistreatment towards the empress when she was being taken advantage of. Namjoon and Yoongi nod sadly, too ashamed of their past actions to look each other in the eye as a wave of guilt washes over all three of them.

But they don’t dwell on that feeling for long when suddenly a small group of maids and knights shuffles quickly right past them, many buzzing with excitement as they make their way to what seemed like the direction of the courtyard.

All three men turn to face one another, immensely confused over the situation especially when they see more palace staff rushing past them. Curiosity got the best of them before they too began to follow the crowd.

They could almost hear distant cheering as they followed the small group. The closer they got the louder the cheers became. When they rounded the corner, they were surprised to find a crowd of maids and knights huddled around the many windows that were now opened.

And they were especially surprised to find Hoseok being among the bunch. He notices the advisors immediately and waves them over, “C’mon you’re gonna miss the show!” Using his General privileges, he managed to snag his own window to himself to watch the show.

Namjoon raises a brow as he approaches the general, “Thought you had to go observe the knights?”

Hoseok chuckles, “I am,” he states as a matter of factly as he points around the area, “they’re all here.” Well they couldn’t deny that as it almost did seem as though every person present in the palace was at attendance. They wouldn’t be surprised if that actually was the case.

Yoongi winces at the loud cheers around him, “What’s going on?” They were even more confused than ever before as the palace has never been this active in all their years of staying there.

Instead of responding, Hoseok only smiles and nods his head at the window. They all turn and simultaneously widen their eyes at the sight before them.

Jin lurches forward against the open window, “Is that her majesty?!” his eyes bulging out from their sockets at the way you and Jungkook fought, flinching at an especially hard blow that Jungkook gives you, only for you to retaliate with your foot against his face, “They’re going too hard on each other!” he then snaps his head to Hoseok, “Whose idea was-”

“HIT HIM WITH THE OLD ONE TWO, Y/N!” Jimin cheers loudly, standing on the bench, throwing punches in the air.

“C’MON JUNGKOOK DON’T FUCKING EMBARRASS ME! I’M RISKING A LOT OF MONEY FOR SUPPORTING YOU!” Taehyung yells on the side, standing on the bench as well.

Jin deadpans, “Why do I get this feeling like I already know the answer to this question.”

Hoseok bellows loudly, “Because you probably do,” he pats his shoulder, “just enjoy the show hyung, Jungkook and Y/n aren’t going nearly as hard on each other as they would normally do in a real fight.”

Namjoon nods as he leans against the window frame, “He’s right, believe it or not, they’re actually holding themselves back at the moment.” Jin sighs in defeat as he relents and faces the window, desperately hoping this whole thing would end soon.

A shaky breath escapes your lips, as Jungkook breathes heavily from across you. You were surprisingly holding yourself really well against the significantly larger knight, extremely thankful to see muscle memory coming into play as it almost seemed like your body moved on its own. And as a result, it was an exhilarating match between the empress and one of the strongest knights in the empire.

Loud cheers catch your attention as there is now a large group of guards and maids crowding around the area to watch the spectacle, while some maids and knights had a nice view from above through the open windows in the palace. It wasn’t every day they got to see the empress fighting, so they were definitely not going to waste this opportunity.

Jungkook wipes sweat off his forehead, the action catching your eye immediately, “Seems like her majesty is a crowd favorite.”

You chuckle back at him, “Probably cause they know I’m gonna win,” you tease with a wink. You know you’re probably an equally sweaty mess as well but neither one of you seem to mind in the slightest.

Jungkook doesn’t back down as you see a slight smirk forming on his lips, “Don’t get too cocky now Y/n, I was going easy on you earlier,” he readies his stance, “Now, it’s the real deal.” As if proving his statement, he suddenly lunges forward with his wooden sword.

Miraculously, you managed to dodge his attack as you swiftly duck down and move to the side. This catches Jungkook off guard as he had expected you to block his attack at hand, not move away. You take advantage of this as you swing your legs against the back of his knees, causing the knight to stumble forward as he attempts to regain his posture. But you don’t allow him a second to breathe as you continue your attack by kicking his back, causing him to completely lose his balance and fall onto the ground.

You hear multiple people squeal in delight over the move, especially the two loudest in the vicinity.

“OH YEAH THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!” Jimin cheers with his fists in the air. High-fiving a random knight who was equally as thrilled as him.

Meanwhile Taehyung was pulling at his hairs in frustration, “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT JUNGKOOK? A COMPLETE DISAPPOINTMENT THAT’S WHAT!”

Jungkook rolls on his back and impressively kicks his feet in the air until he’s back standing. He whirls around to face Taehyung angrily, “You call that supporting?!”

“Kinda hard to support you when she’s clearly kicking your ass!” Taehyung snaps back at him.

Jungkook turns his head around to face you when he hears you giggle, a faint smile on your face as your eyes lock onto one another. He raises a brow, “Her majesty thinks this is funny?”

“Hilarious actually,” you smirk.

This time, it was you who made the first move, you lunged with your wooden sword, swinging it in the air aiming for his chest. Jungkook blocked this with ease, grunting as he roughly pushes you off him, only to give a swing of his own in your direction.

Sucking in a breath, you quickly take a step further behind you, arching your back slightly, just barely dodging the tip of his sword before ducking down and swinging your sword from below.

But this practically does nothing either as Jungkook dodges your attack as well.

The two of you go at it for some time, neither one of you submitting to the other. There was no denying that Jungkook was an extremely talented knight. With the way his calculating eyes analyze your every move, almost predicting what your next attack would be, made it easy for him to defend himself.

But the same could be said about you. You managed to defend yourself surprisingly well. Even having the strength to counter his attacks. A testimony to how the empress gained her position.

Jungkook had long since lost his smirk as his narrowed eyes bore into you, now giving his full concentration in the fight. And with that he steps forward, you get ready to counter his attack, but instead of going for you, he aims his attack at your sword. And before you know it, your sword is thrusted into the air as Jungkook uses all his force for you to lose your grip.

You widen your eyes as you look at the now smug knight before you. You raise a brow. So that’s how you wanna be? You smirk, two can play at that game.

In the next second, Jungkook swings his sword with precision, but you weren’t going to let him take advantage of you, so instead of dodging his attack, you eye the sword's movement and as if everything moved in slow motion, you somehow catch the wooden object right in between your hands.

Jungkook widens his eyes in disbelief. You take advantage of his momentary shock when you twist and throw his own sword to the side with ease.

“If I can’t have my sword then neither can you.”

Jungkook chuckles as he clenches his fist, “fair enough.” He rolls his head, “I always did prefer hand-to-hand combat anyway,” and with that he takes a step back, before bringing his foot in the air aiming for your side. You dodge his attack, and retaliate with your own.

The crowd watches with bated breaths as you two were a perfect match. Where Jungkook excelled in strength, you excelled in skill and swiftness. With his muscles, Jungkook could easily overpower you, but your nimble feet somehow managed to move before he could lay his hands on you, much to his annoyance.

“Stay still,” he says with gritted teeth, a drop of sweat falling down his face.

You let out a tired breath, “never,” you wheeze out, weaving your way out of his reach, successfully dodging his attack once more.

You take a step forward, and with clenched fists you throw a punch aimed towards his stomach, but Jungkook catches your wrist and pulls you forward before turning your body around, wrapping his arms around your shoulder. His biceps successfully caging you in, rendering you motionless.

“BOO HISS,” Jimin exclaims loudly, clearly not a fan of your current predicament.

Taehyung only swats him away, suddenly feeling a surge of confidence over his friend, “C’MON JUNGKOOKIE!”

You feel his bare body pressed against your back as he tightens his hold. His head lowering until you feel his ragged breathing by your ear, “Ready to admit defeat my dear empress?” he whispers lowly causing shivers down your spine. You suck in a breath. Focus Y/n, now is not the time to fangirl.

You look down before smirking, “That would imply that you’ve beaten me, so no,” as disgusting as it sounds, your bodies covered in sweat allowed you to escape his viper-like grip by seemingly sliding out of his grasp. And in one swift movement, you turn your body to face him. He attempts to bring you back by grabbing your forearm, jerking you forward, but you use that momentum to your advantage by raising your knee towards his abdomen.

Jungkook grunts upon impact as he stumbles backwards, you move to kick at his chest, but he catches your ankle mid-air and twists it, careful enough as to not sprain your ankle, but enough force to cause you to lose your balance.

Your breath hitches as you suddenly find yourself laying flat on the ground. Jungkook, having composed himself after your hard blow, lunges forward, you roll away, successfully dodging his feet. But from your position on the ground, you widen your eyes as you notice something laying right beside your head.

Though you don’t have much time to think when suddenly you feel a weight over you as Jungkook roughly turns you around and is now practically on top of you. His legs caging you in like an animal. Looking up, you find that he’s grabbed hold of his fallen sword and is now swinging it in circles calmly from above you.

He smirks triumphantly, “Not going to lie, this is a very nice view,” he snickers as you glare up at him, “any last words before I win?” However, he stops short when he notices a smile forming on your lips. “What?”

You giggle mockingly, “you talk too much,” this time it’s your turn to smirk.

He furrows his brows until he feels something sharp poking him. Looking down, he’s shocked to find that you had managed to retrieve your wooden sword. Which, by sheer luck, was laying right beside your head on the ground and is now pointed directly at his stomach. In a real life scenario Jungkook would’ve died.

And for that reason, you won.

Jimin is seen laughing his ass off as he too realized that the winner in this intense match was indeed you. While Taehyung looks absolutely miserable right beside him as he slumps down in defeat. The two friends expressing a wave of emotions, contrasting one another.

The crowd around you cheers loudly, the sound deafening as if the entire empire were present to watch the spectacle.

Jungkook lets out a low chuckle as he finally admits defeat, “I should’ve known better than to think it would be that easy to beat you,” he states before looking down at you, “but no matter what it seems I can never outsmart her majesty.”

You wink up at him, “better luck next time Jungkookie.” He only smiles softly down at you.

But it’s only now do you realize the position you both were in. His body straddling yours, with his abs on full display right in front of you. You feel blood rush up to your cheeks at his almost predatory gaze, that you can’t handle it and turn your head away from the man on top of you.

You swear you could see him smirk from the corner of your eyes before he shakes head and stands up. He offers you his hand, to which you gratefully reach for before he pulls you up to your feet.

“I can’t believe you lost,” Taehyung whines as both he and Jimin begin to approach the two of you. You giggle at how disheveled Taehyung looked, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was the one fighting instead of Jungkook. You can only imagine the thoughts going through his mind with his stress level rising with each passing second.

Though Jimin grins widely as he runs up to you with open arms. You widen your eyes, raising your arms in front of you, “W-Wait Jimin I’m sweaty,” but the boy doesn’t mind as he wraps his arms around your waist and twirls you around.

Jimin laughs, “I knew you could do it!”

You giggle, the sound causing his heart to skip a beat. He widens his grin, finally putting you back down on the ground as he stares at you feeling proud.

You beam back at him, “Thank you for believing in me,” you say sincerely.

His eyes soften as he smiles at you adoringly, “Always.”

“I would just like to clarify I believed in you as well,” Taehyung suddenly butts in, but Jimin pays him no mind as he waves him off.

Just then you suddenly hear clapping, turning around and you find Yoongi slowly approaching you four along with Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok trailing not too far behind him. Despite his calm demeanor, you can tell at closer inspection that he was fighting off a proud smile.

“Good job,” he finally speaks up when he reaches you. Your eyes widen, stunned before looking at his face, trying to confirm if what you heard was right. His cheeks glowing a tint of red when you don’t say anything.

You grin at his sudden timidness, “thank you.” He nods before turning his head, suddenly feeling too shy to look you in the eye. But you don’t comment any more, more than grateful to see him making an effort to act nice.

The three older men finally join the rest of you. Jin lets out a sigh as he eyes both of your bodies being littered with bruises, “now did you two have to go that hard for you to get harmed like this?”

Yoongi scoffs just then, rolling his eyes, “oh quit your nagging old man, they look fine to me.”

Jin lets out an offended noise as he snaps his head to look at him in disbelief, “old man?! Now you listen here-“

Hoseok shoves his way between the older males, successfully silencing the both of them as he grins at you, “that was an amazing show your majesty!” he grins, “when you’re up for it, I want a turn next,” he winks.

You let out a tired chuckle, “It would be an honor to go up against the great Jung Hoseok.” You two smile at each other, you know he was joking, but you can tell there was some truth to his statement.

“Drinks on Taehyung!” Jimin suddenly announces with a wide grin.

The said knight whirls around with comical wide eyes, “That wasn’t part of the deal!”

Jimin laughs tauntingly, “No, the bet was you give me 50 gold coins. And I’m going to use that amount to give everyone here a drink. Let’s party!” he pumps his fist in the air excitedly.

“Shouldn’t you ask Y/n for permission to hold a celebration,” you stifle a giggle at the way Taehyung’s pleading eyes meet yours. You can practically see his body language begging you to listen to his pleas.

But if you’re going to be honest, with everything that’s happened, a moment to let loose and have fun was exactly what you needed. And you’re sure this is something everyone else would appreciate as well. And not to mention, your body being all bruised up was thanks to Taehyung’s brilliant idea to spar. So with that in mind, you give Taehyung a playful wink, turning to the crowd, “Drinks on Sir Taehyung tonight!”

Suddenly a second wave of cheers surround the area that you begin to think even the neighboring kingdoms could hear you.

Taehyung’s jaw drops as the cheers around you seemingly grow louder. The rest of the boys were amused by the whole situation in front of them, reveling in seeing the usual cocky knight get beaten in seconds by one sentence coming out your mouth.

“50 gold coins is nothing,” Yoongi hums, crossing his arms.

Taehyung presses his lips together, narrowing his eyes into thin slits, “A knight's salary is drastically different to the empress’s advisors.”

But the older male shrugs his shoulders with a slight closed-lipped smile, “You’ll be fine. Thanks for the drinks,” he teases, his grin growing even wider at the young knight's apparent annoyed expression.

Namjoon eyes the bruises on your skin in concern, “I believe you should go off to the royal physician before anything else. I can’t have our empress showing up in bruises for everyone to see.”

Jungkook scoffs, “And what about me?”

“What about you?” Namjoon questions with a bored expression.

“I got all bruised up as well! Her majesty isn’t an easy opponent, you know?” as if to prove his point, he makes a show to dramatically point at every bruise, big or small, that you inflicted on him, “Am I not a priority either?”

Namjoon clicks his tongue in displeasure, “you are, but the empress’s health is more important than anything else, don’t you agree?” he asks with a raised brow, as if daring him to challenge his statement.

But Jungkook relents, not having it in him to deny his claim as he agreed to it wholeheartedly. Because to him, you were more important than anything in the world. But Jungkook, being as petty as he is, refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right. So instead he grumbles incoherently under his breath, but you swear you heard him mutter “dickhead” at some point in his rambling.

You laugh loudly, immediately catching the attention of the men around you, their mood instantly brightening as they smile widely staring at you in adoration.

This interaction surely doesn’t go unnoticed by the multiple pairs of eyes around you, as many maids swoon over the scene before them. The empress was surrounded by the seven men who were closest to her. They didn’t think it was possible to see them all together again but here you eight are, laughing and teasing as you’re all in your own little world, proving them all wrong.

“For the record, I let you win,” Jungkook grumbles, pointing a finger towards you as you walk down the halls. After the crowd had dispersed, Namjoon and especially Jin had insisted you both visit the royal physician, neither man was going to take no for an answer, that much you could tell based on their stern expressions and posture.

So here you are, standing beside Jungkook on your way to get your bruises treated. You can only imagine the look on the poor physician’s face when you two enter with sheepish grins.

You giggle, “sure, just keep telling yourself that,” you tease as you nudge his arm.

“It’s true,” he pouts childishly.

“Then how do you explain all the other times you’ve been beaten by the empress, hmm?” You can’t help but tease him, especially when he was acting all high and mighty moments before the fight.

Jungkook only rolls his eyes, “That’s cause i was being a gentleman who just wanted to make you happy.”

You scoff at his lame excuse, playfully pointing at a bruise slowly turning purple on your arm, “you call this being a gentleman?” But you regret saying that statement immediately at the crestfallen look on his face.

His eyes droop as he slowly reaches a hand and gingerly holds your arm in front of him, inspecting the bruises gently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he utters softly, feeling immensely apologetic, “I just got way too competitive back there.”

You shake your head, smiling it off, “Jungkook I was joking please don’t worry. I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to this. If anything I think I should apologize to you for giving you this monstrosity.” You reach your hand out to gently soothe a rather large bruise on his abdomen in the area you kneed him. Jungkook freezes at your touch, gulping nervously when you caress the bruise absentmindedly.

Jungkook turns away in hopes of hiding his growing blush, “It’s really fine Y/n. I’ve been inflicted with far worse bruises before, this is nothing.” He insists calmly, a stark contrast to his racing thoughts.

You let out a sigh of relief, “that’s reassuring.” You take your hand away much to Jungkook’s disappointment.

He clears his throat, “Well since you won,” he playfully gags before laughing when you nudge at his shoulder, “what do you wish for?”

You hum, only now recalling your small little bet from earlier, “Not sure,” you turn to him, “If you had won, what would have been your wish?” You were curious, he seemed to have been fighting with all his might that you were wondering what his wish was for him to exert so much effort.

Jungkook stills, as if contemplating whether he should reveal his desires to you or not. You stop walking at the same time he did, now looking at him curiously. And after a few moments of thinking he made up his mind and turned to you. You suddenly feel anxious at his intense gaze. He still hasn’t said anything so you tilt your head, “Jungkook?” He blinks, “what was your wish?”

“I would’ve asked if I could kiss you.”

...

...What?

In an instant your eyes widen into saucers, in complete disbelief that he would actually confess to that. Neither one of you having the courage to speak as you just silently stare at one another.

He held your gaze, but he was slowly losing his confidence the longer you maintained eye contact. His ears turning a bright red as he’s slowly coming to the realization that yes, he indeed just blurted out his feelings like that.

He hastily turns away, “I-I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me.” And he wasn’t lying, because he too wasn’t sure why he said what he said. In all his years of knowing the empress, never once did he harbor such romantic feelings for her as he looked up to her as one would to a sister. But for some strange reason, this past month he’s been looking at her in a different light. And he honestly has no idea why. Why was he feeling this way after knowing the empress for so long. What changed in the past month for this to happen?

“Do you want to hear my wish?” You finally speak up softly.

Jungkook, though still blushing, nods his head, unable to meet your eyes.

You give him a small smile, “My wish was to make you happy,” you turn to look away when he snaps his head in your direction, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “I know how you get when you lose, so I figured I could use my wish to make you happy. Because your happiness is also my happiness, Jungkook.”

You fidget with your hands as you continue, “So if you want me to fulfill your wish then I will.” At this point, you just wanted to dig yourself a hole and swan dive right into it. You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth but it’s too late. You said it and now you can’t take it back.

When he remains silent, face unreadable, you begin to stammer nervously, “b-but you don’t have to of course. There’s plenty of other things you could wish for if you-”

But you don’t get to finish your sentence as in the next second, you hear fast footsteps approaching, you raise your head only to suddenly feel a strong grip on your arms pulling you forward until soft pairs of lips land on yours.

You freeze at the sudden realization.

Jungkook just kissed you.

A/N: Hey! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I feel like we had a lot of drama in the past few chapters. I wanted to have a slightly more light-hearted chapter so here it is!

Haha were you guys expecting Jungkook to be the first one to be kissed? Cause I initially had another member in mind, but ideas always change with me lol

Feel free to let me know what you guys think!

And as always, thanks so much for reading and hope you all have a wonderful day! 🥰

Tagslist: (those in bold, I’m not sure if it worked for you, I’m really sorry, I’m not sure how to fix it) (I also apologize if I forgot to add someone, just comment again and I promise to add you in the next one!!)

@reallysparklychaos, @unknownsageking, @casspirit0705, @fangirl125reader, @silscintilla, @serefara29, @chimtaesty-main, @xxqueenwxtchxx, @diamonddia-mond, @vishakhas-world, @purelyecstacy, @resticou, @woopetals, @magicsweetener, @splaterparty0-0, @daydreambrliever, @strangeobjectmaker, @luna-xial, @m0chilattae, @celaenaelentiyavox, @lindsayjoy444, @layzfeelit, @kimsaerom, @songtiddies, @untamedgrape, @sonnymii, @moonssuga, @kassandravictoria, @galaxyflab, @blank-et-noir, @nynhope , @midnight1199, @yessii-i, @protontippens, @gguktings, @borahebangtan, @katkrusade, @handsupanddropthepotato, @missseoulite, @cellula-staminale, @red-bow-tie3, @whateveritis616, @ggukkieland, @sbroces, @nnessworls, @yoonieebear, @ssols, @totallynoanalien, @kaithezaftig, @seok-jinnies, @just-me-and-myselfs, @writingdust

#poly bts #poly!bts #bts au #bts fanfic #isekai #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

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isthataneren · 4 years

Text

hugs ~ hcs

a/n: deep down, once you get past the overwhelming anxiety involving affection, all I really want to do is hug people

∫ summary: you love hugging. a lot. how would the bakusquad react?

∫ pairings: bakusquad(individual) x crush!reader

∫ warnings: none, fluffy fluff

Bakugou Katsuki:

Sitting in the common room with the others Bakugou was grumpy

All he wanted to do was go to his room and not talk to anybody for the rest of the day; well, the only exception being you

But he couldn’t just single you out from the rest of the losers he hangs out with

That would make it too obvious that he feels a little different towards you than he does them

It’s definitely not a crush though

Yeah sure whatever you say

So he just is forced to sit through another insufferable game that the others are playing because he’s hoping to at least see you before he high tails it to his room for the rest of the day

They forced him to play a round of Mario Kart but after he almost breaks the tv they decide it’s best to let him just spectate

Except he’s on his phone so he’s not paying attention

Which is precisely why he didn’t see you enter the room until he heard Mina squeal as you plopped down on her lap

“Hey! you know I love your hugs but I’m on my last lap. Go sit on Bakugou! He won’t mind”

“Like hell I won’t!”

He wouldn’t

But he had to keep up the facade

That didn’t last for long though

You shuffled your way over to him, standing and pouting slightly waiting for him to consent

Good god that cute face is going to be the death of him

Sighing, he just uncrossed his arms and opened them slightly

You brightened up at the invitation, not actually have expected for him to do it

Without waiting for him to take the offer back you climbed into his lap, wrapping your legs and arms around him

Stiffly put his arms around you

After a minute he relaxes a little, running his hand down your back once before securing it around your waist

You sigh into his neck

“Thank you”

He just grunts in return

Doesn’t want to admit it but he likes it more than he thought he would

Won’t want you to do it in public again though

He never heard the end of the squad’s teasing

Kirishima Eijiro:

Loves it

Though it does catch him off guard

Especially when you do it in public

So he was out with you and his friends

And they were currently getting food and left you two alone together

Definitely on purpose on Mina’s part

You were playing on your phone next to him while he was just admiring you with a big smile on his face

How were you so cute??

He felt so lucky to be able to know you, even if you weren’t dating yet

Totally didn’t notice that you noticed that he was staring at you

You took the opportunity to put your phone aside and turn to him

Blushes when he realized he was caught

“Can I hug you?”

The questions takes him off guard for a moment

“Hug me?”

You nod enthusiastically

His heart melts at your smile

Once he shakes out of his stupor, he grins brightly

“Of course!”

Within a second you were hugging

It was a little awkward with you both sitting but you made it work

His arms loosely wrapped around your waist as your arms did the same

His head rested on top of yours

It was a sweet hug

Not too tight or too loose

You were both so caught up in your own little blissful worlds that you didn’t even realize when the others showed back up

“AWWW! Man, they’re so cute!”

You both sprang apart, cheeks hot with embarrassment

“Kaminari! You scared them!”

“Sorry dude”

Kiri sighs before smiling softly at you

Maybe next time he can hold you for a little longer

Kaminari Denki:

You were worried about a test that was due to take place the following day

Mina assured you that you would do fine but you were still worried

Kaminari jumped in to support, telling you that as long as you did better than him, you would be fine

This caused you to uno reverse and start saying supportive things back to him

It became a competition on who could be more enthusiastic about the test

You both did a review together that night, seeing as you convinced him to do a last minute study session in preparation

Later on the next day you were waiting for the results from the test that you took, head swimming with anticipation

When you finally got your grade back your eyes widened and you looked at Kaminari, who was already looking at you with the same expression

“We passed!!!”

Next thing he knew, a weight slammed into him

kaminari.exe has stopped functioning

Did his crush, whom he is always trying to get attention from, just hug him???

Is this real??

All thoughts of the test flew out of his mind as he blanked

It took him almost a solid minute to realize that his arms had wrapped around you subconsciously and that you were rambling about how well he did

He snapped out of his stupor and squeezed you tightly

“You did really well too! Don’t give me all the credit.”

Tries to act nonchalant but fails miserably

His face is red but he's smiling goofily

When you pull away he already is counting down the minutes until you hug him again

Mina Ashido:

Yes yes yes

She loves affection, so when you are even slightly affectionate she wants to combust

You both were in her room doing your homework together so you could watch a movie after you were finished

She was already itching to wrap you in a hug but she wanted to at least finish some of her homework beforehand

Since you told her that she couldn’t hug you until she did

Pouting but trying her best

Once she got five questions right without a mistake you pulled her into a quick hug

Now she was really craving a cuddle

It felt like she had a mountain of work left but she pushed on as best as she could, thoughts of cuddling for the rest of the night kept her energized

Finally, finally she finished her work and was practically dragging you to her bed for snuggles

You barely got the movie turned on before she wrapped every possible limb around you, head buried in your chest

Can’t believe that she was able to make it that long without affection tbh

So dramatic

Granted, you were also surprised you could suppress it too

Considering Mina is great at hugs

They’re quite addicting

Alas, I digress

Seeing as you couldn’t move very well, you couldn’t return the love that you were receiving

“Uhh Mina?”

She hummed happily against your chest

“I want to cuddle you too”

“Huh?”

She realized the position that you were in

“Oh! Whoops”

Releasing her hold on you slightly, she moved a little to the side to make it more comfortable for you to wrap your arms around her, burying your face in her hair

She couldn’t be any more happy than this

Well, she would be if she could give you kisses too

But she’ll have to save that for later ;)

Sero Hanta:

Happy baby

But also a little shy (just a little tho)

It was break time between classes and he was standing in the hallway next to the vending machine, talking to his friends

There was only a couple minutes left before he had to get back to class but he was making the most of it

It had been a pretty chill week for everyone, all things considering

No villains, no tests

Just normal school stuff plus hero training

Everyone was quite relieved about that

The only thing is Sero hasn’t seen you in a while

Usually you hang out with Mina so, in extension, the rest of the squad as well

But you’ve been gone the last week on a trip with your relatives

You got back two days before but he only saw you in class since you had to do extra stuff to make up work

It seems that you finally got a break, though

He felt arms wind around his waist, a body pressing close to his side

Startled, he looks at the person only to recognize them immediately

You tucked yourself against him, face pressed into his neck

He could physically feel the tension leaving your body as you relaxed against him

Smiling, he wound an arm around your waist, pulling you a little in front of him before wrapping his other arm around you

“How was your week?”

You groaned

“Don’t get me started”

He chuckled lightly before going back to the conversation he was having, rubbing your back softly

Kirishima didn’t say anything, just smiled and continued talking to Sero

Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows at his friend, who, if you squinted close enough, had a faint blush on his cheeks

So maybe he was a little flustered at the sudden PDA

But he cherished every moment with you

So he didn’t mind

He only hoped he could work up the courage to properly ask you out sometime in the future

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Text

In Big Trouble.

Summary: Bucky never texts back until he has a reason to 👀

Warning/content: (18+) no real smut but it's little steamy

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Master list || Bucky Barnes tag list.

Is everything okay?

Anxious eyes read over the words over and over again, hoping this will be the time Bucky Barnes will finally learn how to use a damn phone. He's been gone for over a week, you try not to call or worry too much but it's not like he makes it easy.

It's been five days since you last heard from him, called from Sam's phone claiming he'll never be able to use his own. Of course, he grew up in a era where cell phones weren't a think but you mostly think it's because he's stubborn, refusing to use any kind of technology because he's an old man at heart.

Feet nervously shuffling on the floor under your desk, chewing on the fat of your lip nervously. It's hard to sit back and act like it's okay not to hear from him, like he's not the only thing running through your mind 24/7 because he is. It's a learning curve really, not a single person in the world has ever prepared you for having a super solider boyfriend and the endless worrying that comes along with it.

Sighing loudly you throw the phone back into the drawer of the desk before getting back to work. He'll be fine. He always is.

***

It's hours later and once again you're staring at the stupid screen but now in the confines of your own home, on your own time but it doesn't shake the worry, it's worse.

Buck are you there? Answer me back old man.

Five days is a long time.. what if he's hurt or something went wrong and he's trapped knees deep in snow in Antarctica or some kind of freak accident happened that Bucky and Sam are trapped on a deserted island?

But then again, how would he be able to text you? No, No, everything is fine, Bucky is fine just technologically challenged. Waiting a few more minutes before throwing the phone onto the the coffee table with a loud grunt.

***

Now it's been eight whole days, still not a single word from Bucky or Sam. Not even a little thumbs up emoji and quite honestly it's worrying.

Bucky on the other hand is well aware of all the messages, reads every single one but scowls trying to press the small letters to form something even close to English but ends up getting aggravated and gives up.

Everything is fine, except for every waking minute he's either on a stake out which means he can't even take ten minutes to call you or out of reach from any kind of service. It's his last day here, the mission is finally over but the debriefings will hold him for just a few more hours.

He looks around the room of people, all politely listening to Sam as he clears up the mission, any loose ends sealed tight but Bucky can't care enough to pay attention. Except this time the phone chimes in the side pocket of his tac pants and it's not like he's doing anything anyways, why not peak?

He looks up, just to make sure no one is looking before angling it towards his face, but just enough it's hidden under the table and presses the notification, it's surrounded by hearts and 'my doll' is in big letters.

He starts to get annoyed, nimble fingers hovering over the screen as it freezes momentarily but the words aren't hard to miss on the screen.

'Miss you, big guy 💘'

It's sweet, the small pink heart after it fills a warmth over his cheeks, flushes his nose just enough that if any one cared to look over they would totally catch the Winter Soldier pinched pink. It makes him smile, a feeling all so new to the solider, never in his life having someone waiting for him, worrying and missing him.

But what happens next causes him to audibly choke, spit caught in the back of his throat as a deep, red flush claims his face which only makes it worse as he looks up to notice everyone is staring at him.

There you are, in front of the floor mirror. It's a simple pose, sitting on your legs, arm over your head while your hand ruffles your hair, back arched so high he can almost feel the similarly of it on his hands, fingers twitching to feel it again.

He notes the way your bottom lip is pulled between teeth, red and puffy, begging for his own. Eyes roam over the long muscles of your neck, small brusies from his departure still stain the skin purple, they trail down your collar bones and stop right between the valley of your breast.

His mouth waters to taste the salty tang of your skin again, bare breast high in the air, pedals pink and puffy, knowing for a fact they have been played with moments before. He can't look away, just follows the path set out from your torso to the skin of your thighs that are strategically placed to hide where you want him most.

He's so, so hot, the temperature of the room at least increased by 20 degrees in the last minute as he awkwardly coughs. "Sorry, Just need so water."

He takes a fake sip, making sure all eyes are somewhere else before looking back down pulling his collar away from his neck. Desire fills his chest and pumps throughout his whole body with a dull ache in his lower abdomen.

Fingers press more harshly then they should, he's so close, has the whole sentence typed out. 'Someone's being a bad girl' before he hovers over the send button but it's too late, there's already another picture.

This time you're laying down, phone raised in the air, thighs spread revealing everything to him. A hand rest dangerously low below your stomach and he stands so quickly the stupid chair spins behind him, he's already almost out the door before a word could be said.

It's not even ten seconds later when the contact picture pops up, letting it ring a few times and answering it with a knowing smirk. "Hi baby."

"Don't hi baby me, what was that?"

Bitting your lip with a smirk and looking around the room innocently despite a soul not being around. "What was what?"

"The pictures, you know exactly what I'm talking about doll." He sounds angry but you know him far too well to know exactly what he's feeling. Voice grovels just enough to being back the memory of the soft words that would be mumbled into your skin as he takes you and it's heaven to your ears.

"Oh those? Just missed you big guy."

It's funny how two basic words have him weak in the knees, desire burning in the pit of his stomach as you continue. "Just trying to get your attention."

"Is that what this is sweetheart? Are you feeling a lonely?" It's pure sugary, velvety smooth how he patronizes you but you want more. The desire to have him buried between your legs is too strong to fight even if you tried.

"Yes, feeling a little neglected here, Buck.." Sultry smooth, each word makes him want to palm his aching hard on as he struts down the stairs, midful of every turn and staircase he takes to avoid any awkward altercations.

"I'm sorry baby, I'll be home three hours tops. Give you all you need. Be a good girl and wait for me." It's easier said then done, a small groan is music to his ears.

"I mean it, wait for me. Don't be a brat." Taking his warning rather low as he hears shuffling on the other side of the line.

"Want another picture, to hold you over?"

His mouth snaps open, but he can't seem to get the words out. It's hard rejecting such an offer, jaw clenching in annoyance, not directed towards you but the aching, heavy feeling between his thighs. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't you dar-." Before the words could even leave his mouth the phone chimed against his ear, brows narrowing in frustration. "You're in so much trouble."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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inkskinned · 5 years

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my arch nemesis cynthia is, of course, at the bank, because we both were sent like clockwork to pick up the checks of our husbands. she is wearing a lovely long green gown, which i know was on behalf of me, because, as my husband will tell you, our house abhors green and glamour. already the tellers look at each other under their little hats, for they love our tirades, i’m sure, although not more than i hate them.

“oh, is that your knitting?” my arch nemesis cynthia peers her eyes at my hands. “is it some kind of... sock?” everyone knows she and i used to be close before we were married and our husbands, smartly so, have introduced us to the idea of true vengeance.

“it is a scarf,” i say. i want to tell her that when the time comes and the world gets cold it will go over my mouth and i will breathe warm air and it will fill my lungs and i will be able to run around with my love even in the dark night. “it is not,” i say, “over surprising that you should be caught unawares of a scarf,” i say, “as i’m sure enjoying winter festivities are too beneath the handsome qualities your husband prefers.” pompous ass.

the tellers pass each other eyes for now it has started and they are delighted.

my arch nemesis cynthia thrusts out her hand. a white bottle. “rat poison,” she says. “i would expect the whole town knows about your little problem.” stage whisper. “such a shame, my dear.” then she rustles her long green skirts - which i know she wore on behalf of me - and she shimmies herself out of the room like royalty. oh, she floats everywhere she goes, beautiful black hair behind her. the bottle in my palm is cold. i will devise how to get her back starting first thing tomorrow.

the week, as always, is a long week, for there is much to make and do and knit and be. my husband comes home and i love him for who he is; for he never comes home without checking the state of the house up and down. he is the kind who loves his home so completely and sets each room like a stage for a great band to come playing. i am too ashamed to tell him why so many of the rats go missing, only make him a stew the next morning to celebrate. his favorite, although not mine, i’m afraid. plenty left over.

my arch nemesis today - of course - in a green the color of rotting. a bruise is uncarefully covered on her cheekbone, so striking against all of her dainty. her husband would say it was for her ungraceful nature, and i know mine would agree. i strike first, already delighted by my master plan, shoving over our best picnic basket tied with a bow. “i made you and yours a stew,” i say, “for beneath all that you carry” all that horrible wealth of your husband “it seems you’re getting rather skinny.” i can’t resist one last comment. “i am worried you’re about to waste to nothing.”

She plucks it out of my hand. “yes, if it weren’t for you and your husband’s dwindling wealth,” her sarcasm is biting, “i’m sure i will be nothing in, oh, 5 weeks time.” she arches a brow. “so long from now.”

“i am counting the days,” i tell her. her lips purse. the tellers behind me make a choked titter. perhaps, by their estimation, i have won this round quite completely. i go home to my husband smiling. he asks where i have been and i tell him i’ve been at the bank, but he checks anyway because i like to get up to tricks and he doesn’t like to fall for it. it is a good game we play. at night, when he is asleep, i am so in love that i must convince myself to pull the covers over my nose and practice breathing. how silly to wake him up for a young girl’s feelings.

the first week of five: she gives me a solid, ugly ring that requires three knuckles to hold. “i feel so badly for your status, and i must remember to practice charity,” she says. “it such a small thing, but do be careful amongst all that thin pine furnishing of your house, which dents so easily.” my husband appears at the bank’s front door. just checking. so lovely to be picked up by him. at night, in a rage, i try it - beneath the table bends easily. i scuff out the scratch with walnut before my husband can see. i pull the covers over my face in bed and breathe.

the second week: i wear her ugly ring and give her more stew, this time hearty with meat. her dress is a meadow. my heart each time it sees her collapses on itself. she hands me clothes for my husband, since his wealth continues to go missing, and the charity of her heart is so loving. i am so ashamed i bury them far by the old tree, where all my shames go hiding. again, the covers. it, by now, helps me sleep. i have gotten so good at it that i can simply shimmy my shoulders to be perfectly toasty and buried.

the third week: she asks how comes my knitting. i tell her it’s nearly complete. she asks how comes my husband, whom she must know has been ill recently, and who is doing quite badly. i go home to him, shaking. even sick he is a good housekeeper, who comes home examining for dust and dinge so i do not fall behind on my chores. who checks to be sure i spoke to only him and no one more, for fear a man might snatch me. tell me, who else has a man so involved, in this day and age?

the fourth week she is envy green. i shove a whole heaping of stew at her, for now her husband has gotten it. i say it will return him to spirits, she laughs, a sudden, beautiful sound, even in the quiet of a bank. everyone stares. maybe it is the stress that is making her quite improper. i feel the same way. so much is happening and it always seems she knows. she says she heard he has left me nothing in the will, which everyone already knows. she says she doubts either of us can dig upwards from the hole we’re both in. i look at the bruise on her nose. i tell her to mind her own husband, and be careful where she goes.

the fifth week: so final. her, garishly lime green. and i in black, to pick up a check that hardly seems the effort. it will be enough to cover my husband’s funeral. she smiles at me and hands me a silver bottle. she says quietly: now that i am destitute, there is one thing for it all, and everyone would understand quite completely. it would be quiet, and quick, and complete.

it is the night of the new moon, so dark no man can see in it. i receive notice her husband has died, and i am sorry to say i find a terrible joy in it. the air has changed cold. i have left a note asking to be buried in my scarf, the last thing i have made on this earth. i go through each perfect room, but there is nothing else to take with me, for the house has always been his and his alone, and now aches to be gone of him. i would not serve as a good tender for it. having spent so many nights watched carefully, the silly girlish freedom i’d gain would surely set the house ablaze.

i follow her instructions. quick, quiet, complete.

the horrible rustling is what does it. like a million green skirts. and then it is dark, and i am in my own coffin, eerie with pine. my head hurts but i must be quick and quiet. they have listened and buried me with my scarf. i shimmy my shoulders just-so and get it over my face. bring my arms up, ugly ring heavy, and begin to hit as hard as i can, over and over, the thin wood of my husband’s favorite furniture, the cretin. it would be pine, of course - he left me no money to be buried in any nicer recourse.

the wood splits so horribly, and then it is very hard to breathe, harder than under the covers, and i have to remind myself to be patient and continue to dig upwards, while my throat closes and my heart beats so loudly and the whole thing is so heavy it is a universe. the shifting of gravedirt is loud, and loud, and i feel i will be turned into a worm, and i fear everyone has forgotten about me, or i have gotten the timing wrong, or i will really die down here in the dirt and the cold

but then her hand, and my hand, and we are both digging towards each other, and she lifts me so easily from the ground like a plucked turnip and holds me against her, us both panting and muddied. we can only stay like this for so long, here in my pauper grave, and then we are both running to the old tree where we met, and unburying a second thing; my lovely box of shame, and men’s clothes, and all of my husband’s dwindling fortune i have slowly been squirrelling away.

my love and angel cynthia, who has black hair like a curtain and a mind so fast i sometimes am in frank awe at it, who is, even now and dirty and raw: even now the only sun in my life.

like this, i a man in an almost-dawn, and us cleaned by the river, and her smiling so widely, and only a faint bruise on her, and our pasts behind us in ugly garish colors. and her delicate hand and beautiful nose and when i finally get to kiss her it feels like green feels; my favorite color, all warm and nature and sunny grace and grass and lying awake so filled with love it makes you shake.

i hold her, and she holds me, and our future is a love like a dream unburied.

#spilled ink #prose #short story #wlw #if you're confused they were planning this from day 1 #rat poison goes to the rats #rats go into stew.... subtle poisoning #the ending can be read many ways #but always happy

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wooteena · 3 years

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technoblade speedrunning adopting ranboo (high school edition): the fanfic

also on ao3!

hey remember this post? well i got so attatched and impatient that i wrote over 1k words for a pilot type chapter for it <3

chapter one: officer in my defense i punched that guy because he deserves it

Techno Blade-Minecraft would call himself smart. He got good grades without trying, learned second, then third languages with ease, read textbooks for fun, etcetera etcetera. Wisdom without experience was a rare thing to possess, especially in a high school senior but techno had it tight in his grasp, easily making him a ‘Model Student’. He understood he got unneeded attention from that, which sucked, but it was an easy trade-off to be the automatic teacher’s favourite.

But Techno was a man of wisdom, not a man of sense. So naturally, he remembered a fact about baby birds he learnt when he was six years old:

‘Classical "imprinting", as seen with for example, ducks or geese, means that the animal's instinctive programming says "the first big animal you see after hatching is your mom, follow them and look to her for food, warmth, love and learning’

Actually, Techno decided he was the man of Most Sense because at that very moment, the tallest, yet somehow weakest looking freshmen he’d ever seen was being cornered by a group of hefty looking seniors.

And the baby bird, with its innocent, scared eyes was looking right at him.

He looked around the hallway, a desperate scan for other students he could push his growing parental responsibility on to. It was a ghost town, as empty as the remakes of towns from the old west he saw on childhood school excursions.

‘Fuuuuuuuuuuck.’

Technoblade took a deep breath in through his nose, then released it out of his mouth like if he breathed hard enough, his empathy could be taken away with the non existent wind in the soul-crushing grey hallways. It obviously didn’t work because Jesus Christ that kid looked helpless.

As quickly as one could without compromising a freshmen’s still intact nose, Techno examined the seniors. They all wore the school football team’s letterman jacket (‘what is this, Heathers?’), a classic pointer for internalized insecurity, toxic masculinity and most importantly unrightfully self diagnosed Strong Guy syndrome, which meant that they definitely were only beating up a freshmen because that was the most they could actually fight. One point to Technoblade. They also were all at least a solid five inches shorter than him, which Techno would have laughed at if the situation wasn’t so dire. Point two for Technoblade.

Catching himself before letting his wandering mind think up a full five paragraph M.L.A sighted essay to why he could crush these nerds, he decided that two points was enough leverage to still crush these nerds, but with slightly less confidence.

With as much patience as he could, he slowly walked up to the group like a silent lion hunting his soon to be, very dead* (maybe not dead, *slightly bruised) prey. The baby bird, trapped in one of his prey’s chokehold, stared at him like he was a madman. Techno’s objective changed: knock out the dickhead choking a kid.

They stood in a corner, the choker in the middle, the other two blocking off the only escapes and laughing cruelly at the baby bird. Completely distracted.

Techno curled his fist, aiming to punch that asshole’s teeth in or at least break his nose. He starts to run, about five feet away from his target and oh god this is a terrible idea he does fencing not hand to ha-

BAM.

Choker’s nose made a resounding crack and fell back onto the jock on the left. Probably because it’d be ‘too gay’, or whatever, the guy sidesteps and lets a knocked out, nose broken, probably popular kid by comparing his ego to the size of his dick, fall onto the ground

The two awake bullies look between their knocked out friend, then at Techno, then at each other.

“MISS NIIIIHACHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!”

Techno knew they’d call a teacher because they’re cowards but really? Nihachu?

That lady is TERRIFYING what did he do to deserve this.

He let out a long, disappointed ‘bruh’ before with a jolt, remembering the whole reason he punched that jock in the first.

The child.

He doesn’t bother trying to pick up him up because holy hell he’s tall, but pulls one of the kid’s arms over his shoulder, and with his other arm holds their waist and sprints as fast as he can down the hall.

“What the…” murmurs the half dead lump on his back, and while Techno’s surprised his vocal chords aren’t dead? Not even a ‘thank you’? Techno thinks he should start doing charity work at this point.

He continues to run though, because he’s a generous soul, until slowing to open a door that opens the blinding sunlight of the free world outside their prison.

Despite himself, Techno lets his mouth slip into a big enough smile that actually shows his teeth because he just did that. His celebratory moment is cut off though, because the weight on his back suddenly felt even heavier and-

Oh my God the baby bird just fell asleep on me.

Am I a father now?

What do I tell Phil? Does this make him a grandfather?

I can’t just take him home.

What’s stopping you?

Oh my God, I’m a genius.

Techno may be a proclaimed genius, but he is not immune to the inherent propaganda of cute children, so he sets down the kid on the least grimey part of a battered metal bench to get his first proper look at the sleeping giant.

Apart from his injuries (a bleeding nose, bruises forming on his arms, a black eye and a red handprint on his neck) the kid looked… Weird. Techno had subconsciously noticed it while carrying him, but only now the complete oddity of him. His skin from the jaw down was a uniform, warm, dark brown, which was decidedly normal, but his face was… different. Not ugly, no, he looked average, if not perpetually awkward, even in his sleep. The right side of his face was a similar, if not slightly darker tone than the rest of his skin, but where it got weird weird was from the middle of his face and leftward, his face was pale. As pale as Techno, which is saying something because Techno himself has albinism; he has no melanin in his skin.

He found himself sympathizing for the kid again. Techno himself got bullied for his reddish eyes - a symptom of his albinism, and his naturally stark-white skin and hair. It got to the point that he dyed his hair pink, which decidedly made it worse because a guy dying his hair pink ? apparently high school treason to both students and the school rules. His bullies had a colourful range of insults, at least; Techno’s personal favourites being from after he died his hair: homophobic slurs. The teachers had constant complaints and even a couple suspensions, which didn’t stop Techno, obviously. What a wonder public school is.

So yes, Techno understood the baby bird, because despite Techno’s only weakness being himself (and apparently non-threatening freshmen?) as of now, it wasn’t like he came out of the womb a scary pink haired senior. He knew bullying like the hair dye aisle at his local department store.

He knew that helping the kid would make him more attached to the point of no return, but he’d accepted it. It felt like feeding a wild animal more food after making the mistake the first time, it’s not like it’ll get less annoying to have it following you around.

The moment Techno processed his own thought, his face blanched - somehow getting whiter despite literally being the textbook definition of a white boy.

He’d fallen into the ‘senior adopting a defenseless freshmen’ trap.

Shit.

Even more embarrassingly, this didn't deter Techno from pulling his first aid kit, for once his anxious over-packing doing some good.

acording to tumblr statistics, only a small percentage of people who like the post actually reblog it. so if you liked it, give it a reblog! it takes five seconds and you can always delete the reblog later.

#mcyt #mcyt fanfic #mcyt au #technoblade #ranboo #nihachu #dream smp #mcytblr #sleepyblr #philza #homophobia tw #bullying tw #violence tw #minecraft youtubers #baby bird au

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willwriteforhugs · 3 years

Text

the most beautiful girl i’ve ever known- jung hoseok

boyfriend! hobi x chubby! reader- one shot !

word count: 2.3k

genre: angst

synopsis: you’ve always struggled with confidence- it’s simply part of who you are. always the chubby student in the class, always the one wearing pants instead of a mini skirt. as an adult, you tried to make peace with it, but after a horrible run in with your coworker, you feel like you just can’t do it anymore- at least, until your boyfriend takes things into his own hands. hoseok’s determined to get you to realize your own beauty, and he’ll do anything for that to happen.

warnings: body-shaming, work harassment, swearing, minor arguing

a/n: wow, first bts fic, here we go...

this fic was requested by a sweet anon- and if they’re reading this, i hope i did the request justice! i think i did well, though i tried to treat the topic with love and respect.

i hope everyone enjoys <333

- - -

your apartment building’s elevator makes a polite dinging noise as the doors slide smoothly shut- and for the second time since they opened, you thank god the small space is empty.

elevators are generally silent places, but now the box is filled with the sound of your rushed, uneven breathing. you rotate so your back is pressed into the corner of the moving elevator, pressing a hand to your face. hot, silent tears stream down your cheeks. your thoughts are a jumbled mess:

god, how embarrassing. crying in a public elevator. anyone could walk in right now.

you try to take a stabilizing breath- but you quickly realize the attempt was in vain. your inhale causes you to hiccup and choke, making you cry even harder. you bury your face in your hands, wondering what you’d done to deserve this.

‘why this body? why?’ you think to yourself. it was a thought that came all too quickly, and one you were familiar with.

you don’t think you were ugly, not necessarily- but you certainly don’t think you were desirable, either. being overweight had always had that effect- not complete hopelessness, but a serious lack of overall confidence. and it’s not like you can help it- you try your best to stay healthy, but genetics do what genetics do. so you are overweight. some days, that fact it didn’t bug you- but today was not one of those days.

in the moment, you feel yourself reach up down and clutch at your own arms, squeezing the soft flesh. you groan quietly, unwillingly reliving what had caused this spiral in the first place.

one hour ago:

you had begun the day in a positive mood, really- but that had all gone to shit once the work day began.

you had a new coworker- mr. lee. he wasn’t your superior, but he liked to be called by his surname, apparently. he’d been hired on a whim two weeks ago, when the company lost the long time employee that previously held mr. lee’s position.

the man, though being probably a decade your senior, had a childlike way of going about the work day. he laughed at things that weren’t funny, and tried to make conversation even when you had your earbuds in.

you hated him, naturally.

he was just too much. over-caffeinated, controlling, and immature- basically everything you despised in a peer.

however- or up until today, at least- you’d been able to tolerate him. but while you were on lunch break, mr. lee drew the last straw with you.

he’d walked into the breakroom, already making too much noise. he was humming, and tapping his foot, and running the microwave, all at the same time. and, unfortunately, you were the only other person in the room- so he made a beeline straight for you.

“afternoon, peach!” he’d said. you hated the nickname, and had no idea of its origins.

“hi,” you grumbled, staring down at your food.

“i didn’t see you come in this morning.”

you made a noncommittal noise. “got here early.”

“right.” the man replied.

a beat passed, and the two of you settled into a stiff silence, only disrupted by the sound of your eating.

and finally, the vulture had a point of interest.

“you really gonna eat all that?” he’d said, looking pointedly down at your meal.

you’d frowned at the comment, and dodged the question. “why do you ask?” you’d replied.

“well, you know. didn’t think a girl like you would need all of that, right?”

you set your fork down, trying to keep your breathing even. before you had been able to come up with an answer, though, he’d continued:

“i mean, you should be trying to lose weight.” he leaned into the word ‘lose’, as if speaking to a child.

you remember your anger had begun to dissipate, quickly replaced by offence and sadness. you’d stood up quickly, grabbing at your things so you could leave.

mr. lee had frowned at your reaction. “come on now,” he’d said. “there’s no need to feel upset, i’m only being honest with you. you don’t want me to lie, do you? you’re fat, you may as well know.”

you spun on him. “and what’s so wrong with being fat?”

before he could supply you with an answer (which he surely thought he had) you’d stormed out of the room and requested the afternoon off.

and now here you are.

you stumble a bit on your way out of the elevator, cursing as you nearly drop your bag. when you finally make it to your door, it takes three tries to get the code correct.

you sigh heavily as the door to your apartment swings open. to your surprise, you find the lights still on, and it takes you a moment to realize why.

it’s friday.

hoseok had the day off.

shit.

you kick off your shoes and shut the door quickly, abandoning any efforts to be quiet. your own sniffles seem loud as you scramble to shut yourself in the hallway bathroom. you don’t want him to see you like this- crying, puffy, and chubby as usual.

right as you slam the bathroom door shut, you hear his voice.

“y/n?”

you grimace, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle the sounds of your crying.

“y/n-ah, is that you?”

you hear your boyfriend pad into the hallway, and his steps falter when he discovers your belongings strewn about by the front door. there’s a pause, then the footsteps continue to the bathroom door- where, on the other side, you’re slumped against the cabinets.

hoseok knocks gently. “y/n? love, are you alright? i thought you worked until five today...”

when you don’t answer, he continues. “are you sick?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, and a small sob tears its way out of your mouth.

you can tell your boyfriend heard it, because his voice becomes even more frantic. “y/n?” he says, leaning against the door.

oh, hoseok. sweet, innocent hoseok. he was always so kind to you. you remember the day when he first asked you out- you’d been convinced it was a prank at first, but when you realized he was being genuine, you’d fallen for him instantly. now, you know that genuine was all hobi ever was.

he’d never called you fat. it had crossed your mind, of course- whether or not your size bugged him, or if he had to defend you to his friends- but whenever you’d been brave enough to ask about it, hoseok would always respond with: “of course not, my love, you’re beautiful.”

you’d never pushed it, though now you realize you always wanted to.

now you remove your hand from your mouth, taking a shaky breath. your voice trembles as you finally respond: ‘”i’m okay, i’m- i’m not sick or anything.”

you hear your boyfriend’s body slide down the length of the door, ultimately settling on the ground in front of it. you lean forward so your head is pressed against the wood- the two of you are sitting face to face, with only the closed door keeping you apart.

“y/n-ah, talk to me.” hoseok says. “please.”

your shoulders shake as another wave of tears crashes over you. “i’m sorry,” you manage. “i’m just- i’m not feeling very good right now.”

you can tell hobi’s face is pressed into the door from how close his voice sounds. his words are tinged with distress. “what happened?”

you sigh, overwhelmed with shame and anger. you don’t want to tell him- but of course, you know you have to anyways. if for anything, just to wipe the sad curiosity out of his voice.

“you remember- do you remember how i have that awful new coworker?” you croak.

there was a pause, then: “the older one?”

“yeah. he’s annoying. and rude.”

“okay, yeah. i remember.” hoseok says quietly, urging you to continue.

you inhale slowly. “he just- he said some things to me today, and i-”

hobi interrupts you suddenly, his tone having gone sharp. “what kind of things?”

you pause. “he said... things about my body. he said i needed to lose weight.”

hoseok says nothing, which is always worrisome. you can practically feel his emotions through the solid wooden door- a chaotic mix of distress, concern, and red-hot fury.

after a moment, your boyfriend speaks up. “y/n-ah.”

you hum dully in response.

“can you please open the door?”

you frown, but decide not to fight it. you know he’s only trying to help. so you reach up and scoot back a few feet so that the door can open inwards. hoseok, who had been so faithfully slumped on the other side, shuffles inside the small bathroom, still on his knees.

when he meets your eyes, you can see his heartbreak, and he can see yours. without any hesitation, he reaches forward and takes your face in his hands, softly caressing your tear-streaked cheeks.

you lean into his touch, allowing your body to fall forward into his. he slips an arm around your abdomen in support.

a few minutes pass without speaking, the air filled only with the sounds of hobi’s hand running over your back, and your laboured breathing.

finally, your counterpart speaks up. “y/n- is that all he said? the one thing?”

he places his hand on your jaw to lift your face away from his chest, wanting to meet your eyes.

you sigh, pulling away. “no, he- he told me that i should eat less, and that-” your breath catches. “well, he said i was fat.”

hoseok’s jaw clenches, and you shift in his arms. “what?” you whisper.

his eyes are aflame when he responds. “why would he say those things to you? i just- why did he think he’d have any right?”

you look away. “i don’t know. male workplace entitlement.”

hobi gives a wry chuckle. “that’s no excuse.”

“i know.”

“we’ll report him, alright? i will, if you won’t. that’s no way to be speaking to coworkers.”

you nod vaguely as hobi runs his hands up and down your arms. trapped underneath you, your right foot begin to fall asleep.

“baby?” your boyfriend asks after a minute.

“do you think he’s right?” you burst, eyes burning. “do you think i need to lose weight?”

hoseok’s face falls, and he grasps at your wrists. “y/n,” he starts.

“no,” you interrupt. “really, hoseok. i- i’m not enough for you, am i? i don’t know why you stay with me. you’re way out of my league.”

“y/n!” hobi snaps. his tone is suddenly sharp.

you shut your mouth, already regretting your words.

“my love.” hoseok whispers, his voice breaking. “how could you say that?”

you choke on a dry sob, unable to answer.

your boyfriend’s eyes search your face, desperate for an answer that isn’t there. “how could you ever think that you aren’t good enough? and- what, just because you aren’t skinny?”

you look down at the floor as he continues, blinking rapidly. the tears really won’t stop.

“that’s a silly way to think.” hoseok says quietly. “and i know that for a fact, y/n. because you are the most beautiful girl i’ve ever known. and you always will be, no matter how big you are. you could be four sizes smaller, or four sizes larger, and i would love you all the same.”

you burrow your face further into his chest. “you mean it?” your voice comes out in a whimper.

“absolutely.” he says, not hesitating. “there is no version of events where you aren’t good enough for me. you’re too good for me, honestly. sometimes i think you deserve better.”

you pull away now, frowning. “that’s not true.”

“why not?”

“well,” you falter. “because i love you. and i chose you. i chose you because i love you, and i don’t want anybody else.”

above you, hoseok smiles gently, waiting for you to hear your own words.

the realization hits, and you understand suddenly. he wanted you to say that, to hear it from yourself.

“oh,” you whisper.

“now do you get it?”

you sniffle, grateful that your tears have mostly subsided. “yeah,” you mumble. “i get it.”

“good.” hobi pauses. “i love you, y/n. and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says about you, because you’re gorgeous, and you’re important. and you will never be defined by your body. i’ll call your office and report that awful guy, alright?”

you nod silently.

“okay.” he says, nudging your arm. “now how about you get cleaned up? since you’re home early we can spend the whole evening together if you’d like.”

you perk up at that. “oh- yes, i want to.”

hoseok smiles. “i thought so. here-” he rises to his feet, extending a hand to help you. you take it, placing your palm in his. he lifts you to standing, then smiles again.

“don’t worry, my love. i’ll fix your mood right up. i even have some sample tracks i could show you!”

you smile gently. “that sounds nice.”

as he turns to leave, you clear your throat. “hoseok.”

he turns quickly, eyebrows raised. “hmm?”

you gesture for him to come closer, and as soon as he’s in arm’s reach, you lean over and kiss him.

it’s a gentle kiss, really. a kiss that says i love you, and a kiss that says thank you, for everything.

hoseok hums into your mouth, hands quickly finding your waist. you lean into him, body and mind buzzing. kissing hoseok is your favorite, because each time is just a little different.

your hands find his hair, and you smile against his mouth. you can feel him smile back.

he kisses you for just a moment longer, then pulls away.

he rests his forehead on yours, sighing lightly.

and you know that you have never felt more loved, more beautiful, more safe, then you do in that moment, with him.

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kpopfanfictrash · 3 years

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Exes and Superher-o’s (II) Teaser

Posting Date: Friday, August 13th, 7:30 PM EST

Genre: Superheroes / Exes

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Synopsis: Things were just starting to look up in your life. You were this close to capturing the villain, had finally patched things up with your globally adored, superhero boyfriend, and then – BOOM. A damn twist ending had the audacity to ruin things. Now, you’ve been labeled the villain along with your handler, Jungkook, and a powerful, surly teenager who distrusts anything to do with your former organization. Facing insurmountable obstacles and swiftly running out time, will you be able to fight evil, save the world and reunite with your boyfriend?

[ PART ONE OF EXES AND SUPERHER-O’S HERE ]

Estimated WC: 28K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 670

[Author’s Note: this teaser is not the first scene in the second part of the story.]

Standing at the stove – it’s your night in the rotation to cook – you watch Jungkook’s knee jiggle staring out at the rain. It must be near sunset, although it’s hard to tell through the gloom outside. Streaks of water slide down the window, obscuring the view of the horizon beyond.

Alright, fine – the hour is well past sunset. You were late putting the roast vegetables in the oven. Blame Namjoon, and the awesome obstacle course he built for supers in his basement.

“I’m sorry!” You apologize to Jungkook again. “I promise I’ll start dinner earlier next time.”

Groaning out loud, he lowers his head to the table. “Don’t say next time, Y/N. That would imply we’ll be here five days from now.”

“Hey!” Taehyung glances up, offended. “I’ve worked hard to turn this place into a home for you all.”

“And we’re eternally grateful,” Jungkook mumbles into the wood. “But even you have to admit this is frustrating. Roa has gone completely off the grid, and whatever Seokjin and Yoongi are doing doesn’t seem to be working.”

“I’m sure they’re close,” Namjoon says from the couch. Without looking up, he turns the page in his book. “Yoongi sounded hopeful over the phone.”

“Yoongi? Hopeful?” Jungkook lifts his head. “Someday you’re going to have to lend me your translator, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s lips quirk upwards in a grin.

“Seriously.” Jungkook glances around. “At what point do we admit things aren’t moving fast enough hand try something different?”

“Different?” you ask cautiously. “Like what?”

Lifting a shoulder, Jungkook lets it fall. “I don’t know. Namjoon could absorb some hacking books and try to breach ISA’s security system. Or Y/N could follow the Head Agent home and freeze him long enough to steal his laptop. Or maybe –”

“Or maybe,” a new voice says from the doorway, “you could let Seokjin inside before you vote on a different plan.”

Head jerking sideways, you nearly spill the sauce you’ve been stirring. The kitchen, which previously held only five inhabitants, now holds one more.

Wet hair plastered to his forehead, Seokjin stands in Namjoon’s side door.

The entire kitchen sits, stunned, and then erupts into motion. Namjoon shuts his book, Taehyung pushes his chair back to stand – and you freeze them all, except Seokjin.

He frowns, realizing he’s the only one still moving and turns to face you.

The moment your eyes meet, you break, spoon clattering to the counter as you launch yourself forward. It takes barely three steps to cross the kitchen, but it’s three steps too many before you throw yourself in his arms.

Anyone but Seokjin would stumble backwards, but his super-strength keeps him solid. Catching you easily, he crushes you closer. Arms sliding around his waist, you bury your face in his chest and deeply inhale. Surrounded by the scent of pine and citrus, you can finally breathe for the first time in weeks.

Squeezing him tighter, you pull back to look up. Seokjin stares down at you, his eyes shining in darkness.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Hey, yourself,” you whisper, unable to stop smiling.

Seokjin doesn’t release you; simply holds you to him.

Now that you’ve recovered from your initial shock, you find yourself able to appreciate other things. Like Seokjin’s damp suit, clinging to his muscles in a way that’s borderline obscene. Or his hair, wet with rain as droplets slide down his throat.

Your gaze follows one, halting when it disappears inside his collar. Forcing yourself to look up, you swallow – hard – when you notice Seokjin’s gaze darken. His right hand, splayed across your lower back, pulls you closer in a deliberate manner.

Lifting a finger, Seokjin brushes your cheek before roughly, he cups the back of your neck with one hand. Titling your face up to his, he lowers his, and –

“You know we can see you, don’t you?”

Jerking away, you realize you released the flow of time in the kitchen. For the past several seconds, you’ve had a captive audience. Cheeks instantly heating, you take a step backwards.

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

#teaser #Exes and Superher-o's #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic

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quicksilverrwrites · 3 years

Text

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you can’t sleep and neither can peter, but at least you both know exactly how to comfort one another. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, fluff, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: y/n is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

It’s eleven-thirty, and you can’t sleep.

Your thoughts shift to your lessons in the morning; to how tired you’re going to be; to that iced coffee you’d had while getting your assignment done after class; about how that drink was definitely a bad idea considering how you’re lying awake now. It had tasted good then, and it had given you the energy you needed to fire out five thousand words in the span of a few hours… but now you regret it.

Sighing, you roll over. Your eyes glaze over the objects on the nightstand beside your bed. Your alarm clock, rectangular in size and wooden in material, glares at you. Eleven thirty six. Eleven thirty seven. The time seems to spiral, and you realise that you might as well do something with yourself if you’re awake.

You eye the books stacked on top of the alarm clock; you’d been reading one before and it had bored you half to death, so you can’t bring yourself to pick up any again. What else? What else?

Your gaze settles upon the picture frame on the dresser next to your nightstand, and you let out a sigh as you settle upon the silver-haired speedster within it. You’re next to him, a mere blur since he’d sneakily taken the camera from your hand and taken a picture with an expression that radiates cheekiness, but you’d liked the picture enough to keep it.

You’ve got a few more picture frames scattered around your room—photos of you with Scott, Jean, Jubilee and Kurt. Even some of Charles. You might not be close, but he is your uncle, after all. He’s still family.

And yet it’s Peter you keep your eyes on. It’s Peter's mischievous aura which calls to you across the room.

What would he be doing right now? He’s probably playing video games or practicing on one of his guitars. You’d been surprised to see him play well; you’d been surprised to see that he actually had the attention span it takes to successfully learn an instrument. You would know: your mother used to nag you about practicing the piano to perfection. Practice makes perfect, she’d always said, and yet she’d always left out how much energy it took to practice in the first place.

Is it too late to reach out to him? The two of you have a specific way of speaking to one another across distances by now, although even the thought of doing such a thing due to the time seems rude. Your mother had always told you that it was your duty to be polite, and your father had by example. You think you picked it up from him rather than her, but—

Don’t think of him right now. Don’t think of what happened. Don’t.

As if in an effort to push the memory of that night from your head, you move. You pull the drawer attached to your nightstand open to reveal a mess of junk inside, but what you need—and what you spy—is a pen and paper. You pull it from the drawer and slam the nightstand drawer shut quietly, and after, you get to work writing:

Are you up? Can I come over?

Your fingers buzz with azure energy as you feel your mutation working in your favour. A tiny portal of blue opens before you, one you could make larger if you wished but one which you keep small for now. It’s no larger than a letterbox would be, and the faint sound of music from the other side tells you that Peter is very much awake.

You slip the note through the portal, and then you leave it open as you wait.

When you receive no response for a solid fifteen seconds but can hear movement on the other side, you wonder if this was a mistake after all. It’s too late, you scold yourself, mentally preparing for rejection. Oh, god, this is going to be awkward. What if he—

An empty Twinkie box falls at your feet.

You blink at it, momentarily confused, and then you pick it up. You glance about the dessert’s display as you begin to turn the box over in your hands. Nothing on the front, but on the back—

Scrawled in pink glitter pen—probably his sister’s—, the box reads on the back: Yeah. Come through.

You grin lazily as you set the box down on your bed and extend the portal with your fingers like you’re prying open a heavy door. The orange light from Peter’s basement slips through and becomes one with the light of your dorm, which is yellow and warm with your room’s wooden accented walls and flooring. And as you slip through the portal and your bare feet touch the soft tartan carpet of his room, you let the portal shut with a soft shum behind you—

But Peter Maximoff does not look his best. In fact, he looks downright miserable.

His eyes are red as if he’s been crying, his hair is messy—messier than usual, at least—and he’s wearing a band tee and some tartan pajama bottoms that look intended for comfort rather than style. You were about to say hey, but you stop in your tracks. You tilt your head as you look at him.

Peter is still. It’s strange, especially since he’s usually so eccentric. He blurts out, “What?”

You frown, momentarily stuck for what to say. “Nothing,” you respond, but it doesn’t seem right.

Peter stares at you. You stare at him. You’re both quite similar, so it strikes you then that you both know that you’re each not telling each other something.

“You okay?” You ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

Peter shrugs nonchalantly. It’s a rigid movement. “Yeah,” he says, far too confidently to be true. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You narrow your eyes on him. His tone of voice has all but solidified your suspicions. “Okay, first of all,” you say, crossing the small space of the room between you and the sofa, “you use a very distinctive tone when you lie.” You settle down on the sofa as you cross your legs under you. “Second, your eyes are really red. Have you been—?”

“No.”

Crying, you were about to ask, but he cut you off. You narrow your eyes again.

Peter sighs and averts his gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Tonight’s just… not a good night.”

You press your lips together as sympathy wells in your eyes. “Why not?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us."

Peter inhales deeply, and before you know it, he’s sitting on the sofa next to you. You’re used to how fast he moves by now. Something warms your heart in the way he sits with his body angled towards you. Like he’s opening himself up to you.

“Wanna stay here tonight?” He asks.

You glance at the other end of the sofa and then back to him. You’re reminded of how he took the sofa to sleep on that night after you guys got caught in the rain. “Here?”

Peter’s brows rise. “Is my basement not fancy enough for you?”

You know he’s joking even despite the lack of humour in his tone, and you let out a small huff of laughter as you flash him a lazy smile. You sit back on the sofa, reaching out your hand to intertwine it with his. Things between you are still blooming after your first date, but you both feel comfortable enough to do this. Peter’s fingers wrap around yours as he starts drawing patterns on the back of your hand with his free one.

“I just mean,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the backdrop of quiet music, “won’t your mom mind?”

“She didn’t mind when you stayed over last time.”

Your lips quirk upwards in gentle amusement. “That time you slept on the couch. This time I was thinking, I mean, if you want to, then maybe—”

“Oh,” Peter murmurs. His head lifts upwards in a sort of understanding motion. “Yeah, I mean… ah, I can deal with whatever safe sex talk she wants to give me in the morning.”

Your cheeks flush red. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant maybe we could…” Oh, god, embarrassment— “cuddle.”

Peter grins. “Cuddle, huh?” He pauses, until— “Okay,” he murmurs, reaching an arm around the back of the couch to wrap around you. “I guess I could be down for cuddling.”

You snicker softly as you lean into his touch, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me why you looked so upset when I arrived?”

Peter tenses. “It wasn’t because of you, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Mm,” you murmur, “I think I’m confident enough in our relationship to know that your reaction when seeing me is generally excitement rather than the dread that accompanies sad under eyes and red markings around them.”

He pauses for a few seconds before he lets out a long breath of defeat. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mm,” you murmur, looking up at him. “A little.”

His lips twist to the side as he lowers his gaze. “I was thinking about my dad.”

It’s your turn to pause now, looking up at him in a way you didn’t before. You assess every detail of his body again: the way his shoulders slump, the way his head hangs low, the way his hair falls in the way of his view and his eyes are heavy with something you haven’t seen in him before. He’s usually so full of life.

Is this what he’s hiding deep down?

“Tell me about it,” you say softly.

Peter grimaces. “It’s a long story, and the stupid thing is it’s mostly my fault.”

Frowning, you sit up and face him. “I don’t believe that.”

Peter lets out a humourless laugh that might be bitter if he showed a hint of anger, but he doesn’t. “It’s true. The only time I’ve ever been too slow and it’s in finding the most…”

He trails off, pulling his arm away from around you so that they both now rest in his lap. He continues, “It’s a mess.”

“Start from the beginning."

So he explains, if not vaguely: about trying to find his father, about finding a house empty and police arriving on the scene. Peter had fled at the sight of them, and—

“His name’s Magneto,” he admits. “Erik Lehnsherr. You’ve probably… seen him on TV or something."

Suddenly, it all adds up. You weren’t at school to see what happened with Apocalypse, but you’ve heard about it from your friend group. Peter doesn’t talk about it very much, and now you know why; had he been part of that whole adventure because of his father? He hadn’t been involved with Xavier’s School before, that much you know.

You suck in a breath. Okay, Y/N, push the fact that his dad’s a known terrorist aside— “Does he know?”

Peter shakes his head. “Nah. I had the chance to tell him and I didn’t. I screwed it up. And now I’m right back where I was before all of it, because I have no clue where he is and no way of telling him the truth. I couldn’t even do it for Wanda.”

“Hey,” you murmur, your fingers moving to cup his cheeks. “Fight or flight, right? It’s normal. To see him right in front of you—to have to muster up the courage to tell him? Knowing what a change that would be for you? Peter, that’s normal.”

Peter’s eyes well with softness as he listens to you, gazes upon you, and you think you’ve never seen him look so vulnerable as he lowers his head to your shoulder. He takes in a shaky breath; wraps his arms around you; pulls you into his lap—

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your shirt. It’s not his shirt this time; you’re wearing a pyjama set that consists of blue silk shorts and a top. “Not sure I believe you, but thanks, Y/N.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you believe me?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Aside from mind control? Not sure.”

You press your lips together and begin to stroke his hair. “To be honest,” you murmur, “I’m not sure I’d believe you if you tried to tell me something similar about my father, either.”

Peter lets out a choked laugh. “Maybe that’s why we work together.”

Your lips curve upwards, still stroking his hair. His face is still buried in your shoulder. “Maybe,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head.

Peter shifts so that he’s leaning against the back of the sofa and you’re in his lap again. You turn so that you’re straddling his waist, but your fingers find his jaw to cup the skin there. Your thumb brushes soothingly against his skin.

“You mean a lot to me,” Peter murmurs, staring up at you. It’s almost as if the music in the room has stopped; it’s almost as if the two of you are the only souls left in existence. His brows are slightly raised and there is awe in his voice as he says, “I don’t really believe you’re real half the time.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Definitely real, Peter. Definitely here.”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone riddled with amusement, “and here of all places. You could be anywhere. You’re like, perfect and—”

“Ssh,” you murmur, pressing a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you.”

Peter tilts his head up towards you, a silent request for consent, and you kiss him in answer.

He wraps his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss, your tongue slipping out to meet his own. He makes a low, guttural noise between pleasure and content at the feeling of it, and your free hand clutches at his shirt as your other hand remains at his jaw.

You spend the rest of the evening like that, whether it's on the sofa or in his bed, but in those moments together there’s nothing carnal about it. Your touches are soft and comforting rather than lustful and yearning, and as much as you’ve thought about him that way before, you know that now’s not the time.

Tonight, you both need this. Tonight, your sole purpose is to be there for one another.

“And for the record,” Peter murmurs between kisses, his words random and uncalculated, “I think your tragic backstory’s way worse than mine.”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #xmen imagine #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff fanfic #peter maximoff x y/n #xmen x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver fanfiction #quicksilver fanfic #xmen fanfic

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221bshrlocked · 3 years

Text

A Sky Full of Stars

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Fem!Reader

Words: 11340 (I know I say this all the time but this really was supposed to be a short one-shot but it got away from me because I just loved this idea so so much. Sorry not sorry.)

Warning: Nothing but fluff. Some kissing that turns into a heated make-out session that turns into a cuddling session.

Inspired by this tiktok by the lovely ameliagonzales who was gracious enough to allow me to use her idea and write this.

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote something that's fluffy slightly angsty and dialogue-centered. I'm not going to lie, this took longer than usual because of the lovely anon that decided to tell me my characterization of Din is hella off and I realized I don't care if it is because it's my writing and I get to do whatever I want with it. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments and reblogs are always always appreciated. You can add yourself to the taglist here. This is not beta'd btw.

“No silly this isn’t green, it’s blue.” The little girl put her toy away and brought out a new one, giggling at your faux pout as she shoves the new object in your hand and asks you what color you thought it was. You turn it around in your hands, trying your hardest to hide the hurt growing in your chest at not knowing what color it is. You think it’s closer to the first toy she gave you but you’re not sure. You’re never sure. You look at the girl and smile at her before setting the toy aside and wiggling your hands at her. She immediately stands up and screams as you run after her, laughing along with her giggles as you chase her around and watch as more kids join in and run away from you.

You’re not sure how long you’re chasing the little ones and you hear some of them gasp and ‘oooh’ when your young friend runs into a solid figure. You stand up and watch as the girl tears up as she apologizes to the man she just ran into. You’re immediately hugging her and assuring her that everything is okay, turning to the side and narrowing your eyes at the man that scared her half to death.

“Shame on you Mando,” you pretend to smack his shoulder three times and watch as the child in your arms sniffles between laughs when the Mandalorian tries to hide away from you.

“I’m sorry little flower, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You watch as the man reaches for a small bottle in his pocket and slowly hands it to the girl. “Here you go, a token of my apology.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, he’s a nice man...even though he doesn’t look it.” You wink at Boba Fett and giggle along with her when he sighs heavily and pushes the flask into her hand. She takes it and shakes it around, her eyes lighting up when the bottle shimmers at her ministrations and illuminates her hands.

“It’s so pretty! How did you know orange is my favorite color?” The girl slides down your arms and quickly hugs the hunter in front of you before running away and showing her friends. You look at her with longing in your eyes, wishing with all your heart that you saw the gift the same way she saw it.

“Still no color princess?” Fett questions and you shrug your shoulders as you make your way towards Slave I and sit on the ramp.

“Yup, same old same old. Who knows if I’ll ever see color.” There is a hint of hurt in your tone but Fett says nothing as he approaches you and stands to the side. He pats your shoulder once as he takes his helmet off and softly wipes at the visor to clean it.

“Don’t give up, kid. You’re still young...you’ve got all the time in the galaxy and you travel everywhere. You’ll meet them when you least expect it.”

“In this line of work? Yeah, I don’t think so Fett. But at least one of us didn’t lose the positive attitude. If I’m being honest, I was hoping to see color before the next supply run. The chances that I’ll live to go to Pasaana during another Festival of the Ancestors are practically non-existent. I heard they wear so many variations of the same color...maker, it would have been nice to experience that.” You pick up a rock and throw it away as you nervously ring your fingers and brush the conversation aside, not wanting to start the journey with a sour mood.

“Well, lucky for us, we have extra help on this run so it should be quicker. Maybe you’ll see color before you go?” Fett looks up and you follow his line of sight as another ship slowly lands just behind Slave I. You stand up and walk behind your old friend, looking back at the crates to ensure they’re still there before you approach the landing ship.

“Oh no, what poor soul did you manage to rope in this time?” You eye the ship and swear there is something familiar about it but you pay it no mind as Fett puts his helmet back on.

“Hey, I don’t always bend people to my will you know. He volunteered actually...he knows his way around the Narvath Sector and he might even tag along with us to the Forbidden Valley. So, be nice and don’t flirt with him.” Fett warns and you throw your hands up in defeat, failing to hide your smile as you respond with feigned offense.

“I’m not going to flirt with him.” You raise an eyebrow when Fett snorts at your high-pitched voice as he makes his way to the landing ship, and mutters something beneath his breath. The ship powers down after a couple of moments and you take a deep breath when the doors to the docking ramp slide and a figure appears at the corner.

“There he is...took you longer to land this time.” Fett yells to the other Mandalorian, not noticing how you take a few steps back as the man walks down towards the two of you.

“Oh well things just got a little more interesting now.” You break the silence and cringe when the Mandalorian struts past your friend and takes out his blaster. You hold your hands up when he points the weapon at your head and you watch as Fett strides to the two of you and stands in between your body and his brother’s weapon.

“You?” The Mandalorian growls and he tries to step aside and Fett holds his chest and pushes him back.

“Me!” You smile nervously and gulp when Fett turns around and looks at you. You swear you can almost see the look he’s giving you but you say nothing and hope that he can handle this situation for you.

“Oh.” You would have laughed at Fett’s response if there wasn’t a bounty hunter standing not five feet away from you and killing you a thousand different ways.

“You two know each other?” Fett breaks the silence and continues to stand between the two of you, knowing his friend’s short temper and your dumb comments might escalate this situation.

“I wouldn’t say we know each other. I’d say we met very briefly on-” You try to explain what happened the last time you saw the Mandalorian but he cuts you off. He pushes his blaster into its holster and you sigh heavily but keep your hands raised, afraid he'll change his mind any second and try to shoot you again.

“You almost blew up my ship!” The Mandalorian yells and you jump at his exclamation. His irritation seeps into your skin and you narrow your eyes at him as you walk around Fett and begin to nudge at the beskar armor with one finger. Your anger at his unfairness outgrows your fear of what he can do to you and you continue to push on his chest plate as you talk back at him and ignore Fett’s whispers to let it go.

“I did no such thing. I merely tried to fix your shitty cooling radiator panels but you scared the fuck out of me when you came up behind me and suggested I switch the parts, hence why I dropped the cauterizer and burned through the wires. So technically, you almost blew up your ship.” You’re breathing heavily and you’re sure your nose is flaring from how annoyed you are by the man in front of you. A few seconds pass between the two of you and it’s not until the Mandalorian tilts his head that you realize what you’ve just said and done. You take your hands away and swallow the growing lump in your throat as you step back and apologize a few times before you walk to the crates.

The Mandalorian stands there in silence, never once looking away from you retreating form, even when Boba Fett comes and stands him.

He’s missed this, and more than he preferred to admit.

“Little princess is fiery today.” Fett comments and notices when his friend turns and stares at him through the visor. The Mandalorian says nothing as he walks away from Fett and follows you. You’re in the middle of counting the supplies in the crates when you hear the crunching of footsteps approaching you. Thinking it’s Fett that’s come to help you move the supplies, you roll up your sleeves and ask him to take the opposite side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at your brother. I was just annoyed because I was only trying to help and he scared me.” When you look up and see that it was the Mandalorian and not your friend, you drop the crate and stare at him. He says nothing as he picks up his end of the large box and waits for you to mirror his actions before he begins to walk back to his ship. Neither of you say anything as you go back and forth until all the crates are on his ship. You walk out and stand next to Fett, waiting for his instructions to see whether you were going to go with him or with the new member of the crew.

“So what’s the plan?” You avoid the Mandalorian standing next to you and turn your body towards Fett, hoping that he’d say that you were tagging along with him.

“You’re going to go with him.” You cease to breathe at his command and clench your fists when you recognize his tone. He’s not leaving room for negotiation.

“W-why?” The Mandalorian walks back to his ship at your question and you pout when you realize that he may have misunderstood your inquiry. Not that it mattered whether or not he misunderstood...

“Fennec...we’ll meet you at Iktotchon.” You look to the ground and shuffle your feet against the sand, turning back to him and nodding quietly as you follow behind the Mandalorian.

“And princess!” Fett calls for you and you glance at him when you reach the top of the ramp.

“Hmm?”

“Try not to get into too much trouble.” You look at him with annoyance and shake your head when you realize he’s just teasing you. Standing at the large doors of the ship, you glimpse one last time at Mos Eisley before you make your way into the heart of the ship. A few moments later, the ship powers up and you watch as the barrier raises and locks just as light filters through the area. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do or where you’re allowed to go so you remain standing where you are. Not a minute later, you jump when a voice breaks the silence and booms through the ship.

“Come up to the cockpit.”

You take a deep, calming breath as you set your things to the side and ascend the ladder to the cockpit. You come face to face with a door and you’re about to knock when it slides open and reveals the Mandalorian sitting in the pilot chair.

“Sit down and buckle up.” He says as he flicks on buttons across the board. He turns his head towards you to make sure that you’re buckled in before he raises the throttle levers and begins to take off. You hold back from saying something snarky as the turbulence gets worse, only shutting your eyes when it gets to be too much. You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there with your hands clasping the leather of the chair but it’s only when you hear the seat in front of you turning that you realize you were already in space.

You frown when you open your eyes and see the Mandalorian already looking at you, the tilt of his helmet letting you know that he was silently mocking you.

“What?” You break the silence and watch as he rights himself before he turns around and pushes the auto-pilot button.

“You’re a supply dealer who hates flying.” It’s more of a question than a comment and you can’t help but narrow your eyes when he stands up and continues to stare at you.

“So?”

“Not a good quality of life.” If you’re surprised by his response, you try not to show it as you stand up and face him defensively like before.

“Says the man who wears beskar armor every minute of the day.” It’s a low blow and you know you have no right involving his religion. But you’re fed up with his passive aggressiveness and you want to make sure he knows that he can’t talk down to you.

The Mandalorian turns away and looks at the passing stars of the galaxy, softly whispering for you to follow him as he exits the cockpit. You want to apologize for what you said but you hold back instead, following him down the ladder and standing to the side when you see him moving things around.

“This is my cot, and that right there is yours.” He points to two doors across from each other at the end of the hallway and waits for your confirmation before he walks past them and shows you the refresher.

“Help yourself to any of the rations. We’ll arrive at Iktotchon in four sleeping cycles so there should be enough food for the two of us until we get there.” You’re not sure what makes you reach for his wrist when he turns around to walk away. He stands still and looks down at the hand grasping his beskar before he looks at you.

“S-sorry...I- umm, are you coming to Pasaana?” You ring your fingers nervously as you look at yourself in his visor, taking two steps back when he straightens up and looks down at your hands.

“You’re going to the Festival of the Ancestors.”

“Yes. Well, it’s me, Mando, and Fennec. So I was just wondering, you know, if there was...if you had anything lined up after this supply run. Because if not, you can tag along...it only happens every-”

“42 years. I know.” He cuts you off and you’re not sure if his body-language seems more open or not but within a few seconds of chatting with him, he’s suddenly relaxing and leaning back against the metal wall. He’s silent for longer than you prefer so you force a smile and rub the back of your neck awkwardly as you prepare to tell him to forget that you asked since he probably has more important matters to handle.

“Ok.” It’s a simple response yet you feel your skin heat up as he nods at you and walks to his quarters. He hesitates at the door for a moment before he pushes the button and steps into the privacy of his room.

You let out a deep breath and stand in your spot for a few minutes before you slip back to the docking space to bring your belongings to the room. The ship is surprisingly more quiet than others you’ve been on and you remember what he told you about it the last time you saw him. A faint memory of how he defended the size of his ship makes you giggle. Then again, you’ve heard from Peli about the piece of junk he had before this and knew that it was barely considered as machinery.

“Maker, how am I going to make it four days on this ship with him?” You shake your head as you prepare to go to bed. The twin suns were just setting on Tatooine when you were leaving and you knew it was better to get as much sleep in as possible considering how quickly things sometimes escalated on these kinds of runs.

Surprisingly, things weren’t too bad when you left your sleeping cot the following day. The Mandalorian was already awake and cleaning his weapons. You bid him a quick good morning as you moved past him and looked for some snacks. He didn’t seem like he wanted to converse with you so you opted to stay in your room for the remainder of your waking hours. A voice in your head told you to keep the door open in case he did want to chat eventually but as you thought, he never once disturbed you.

The second day on the ship was perhaps slightly more eventful. Although he continued to pass his time in silence, he did manage to ask you to help him fix something in the cockpit. You were shocked he requested your services with ease and said nothing as he stood aside and watched you tinker away with the radar display screen. He thanked you twice when you finished and told you that he’d let you know if he needed your help with anything else.

The third day, however, made you wish you could open the docking doors and throw yourself out in space. You hadn’t seen him all morning long and you thought it was probably because he wanted some privacy in the cockpit. By the middle of the day, you jumped out of your cot and grabbed some spare clothes as you headed to the refresher, wanting to shower once before you landed on the sand-filled planet the following. As you walked to the door and pushed the button, you were met with a heavy fog escaping the room. When the fog cleared, you dropped your clothes and slammed your hands on your eyes, immediately backing away from the room as the Mandalorian scrambled to wrap something around his waist. You weren’t sure how many times you apologized in the span of one minute but when you heard the familiar sound of a blaster turning on, you stood in silence and waited for him to say something.

“Pfassk, do you have no kriffing regard for privacy?” He growled through the vocoder and you shook your head to try and explain to him that you saw nothing but his back.

“I- maker, I’m so sorry. I swear on my life I didn’t see anything except your back. I didn’t know you were in there...I really didn’t or else I wouldn't have gone in.” You sigh in relief when you hear him murmur to himself as he sets down the blaster and shuffles around in search of his clothes.

“What do you mean you didn’t know I was in there? The red light was on, which usually means someone is in the fucking refresher using it.” Hearing him swear shouldn’t make you shiver and yet you do. When you notice that he’s gone still, you assume it’s safe to look at him again. Taking a deep breath, you turn around and lower your hands as you muster up the courage to try and explain to him why you couldn’t see the red light.

And boy was that a mistake. You regret removing your hands from your eyes as soon as you take a good look at him. Turns out, the beskar armor only made him look more intimidating. The man was large, made to be a hunter. He was broad-shouldered, muscular in all the right places and soft in others. You unintentionally frown when you see his bronze skin littered with scars of all shapes and sizes. Maker, the life he led was worse than you thought.

“I- uhh, I don’t...I couldn’t see it.” You hated how much your voice broke when you tried to explain yourself. As much as you wanted to blame it on being afraid of him, you knew it was less about the danger he exuded and more about the fact that you could see more of his skin than you thought you ever would.

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t know it was red.” You knew none of what you were saying was making sense but this wasn’t exactly a situation that you thought you’d find yourself having to deal with, and with the Mandalorian of all people.

“Are you fucking with me?” He was less hostile than earlier but his words were still spoken aggressively. You couldn’t blame him really, especially when you knew how strict his religion was.

“N-no. I- my species doesn’t see color until- well, it doesn’t matter. My species doesn’t see color. We just see grays. I’m sorry...I should have asked before if there was anything I needed to learn about the ship that required me seeing colors. It escaped me. I’ll try to pay more attention...I promise you I saw nothing.” You take one last glance at the heaving, glistening body in front of you before you turn around and walk in your room. You shut the door behind you this time, knowing that he probably wanted some of his privacy back and that he would need to limit himself should you keep it open.

It’s not until a few hours later that you sit up when you hear a soft knock on your door. You stand up and push open the barrier, finding the Mandalorian standing in front of you with his helmet looking straight at your reluctant expression. You wait for him to say something and when he doesn’t, you raise your eyebrows and silently ask him if he needs anything.

“I didn’t know about your...I didn’t know. And I didn’t mean to scare you with the blaster either, it’s a reflex to- umm.” You nod at him and look down to see what he’s holding in his hands. “You left your clothes lying on the floor.” He pushes the fabric towards you and averts his eyes when he sees your undergarments peaking through the shirt. You thank him as you set them down on your bag and look into his visor again.

“Ad'ika?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” The whispered exclamation does little to calm your nerves and you’re not sure what to say to him so you nod and awkwardly smile into the shiny beskar helmet. The Mandalorian murmurs a quick ‘good night’ before he makes his way to the cockpit, leaving you as confused as ever.

You don’t get an ounce of sleep that night, the image of him in nothing but a helmet and some flimsy pants making you wish he had shot you with his blaster instead. You refuse to admit the rising emotions you’re beginning to feel towards him, mostly because it didn’t matter whether or not he reciprocated them.

You still couldn’t see color.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

You’re afraid to leave the room the next morning, not sure which version of the Mandalorian you were going to have to deal with. It turns out, there was nothing to worry about because not surprisingly, you got the quiet, slightly shy man chatting with you. He pretends nothing happened the previous day and you go along with it. You’re just about to enter the atmosphere of Iktotchon when you receive a hologram from Fett telling the two of you of the sandstorm passing through the meeting point.

As you buckle into the seat behind the Mandalorian, he takes a moment to turn around and call for you.

“There’s going to be turbulence.”

“I- I know.” You barely hold back from furrowing your eyebrows at his comment but then he turns around to face you completely and you narrow your eyes at him with suspicion.

“I’ve landed on worse planets.” It takes you a few extra seconds to realize what he’s attempting to do and you can’t help but laugh and break the moment. You quiet down when he turns around and begins to descend to the planet.

“Are you worried about little old me Mandalorian?” You try to distract yourself from the sudden, harsh shaking of the ship but the teasing does little to calm your nerves when you realize that the sandstorm was as bad as Fett made it sound. You shut your eyes and try to picture the calm nights you’re so used to on Tatooine.

“You know, you can just call me Mando.” His voice breaks you out of your haze and you growl in response when you hear a few sounds go off above you.

“No, I- I can’t call you that. I reserved it for the other guy already!”

“You mean the Mandalorian who already told you his name?” He claps back and chuckles when you sigh in irritation at his question.

“Fine okay you’re right. How about this? Can you land this fucking ship without killing the two of us Mando?” You’re screaming at the top of your lungs and grasp the belt around your torso harder when you don’t hear back from him.

“Mando?”

“You mean the ship I already landed ad’ika?” Your eyes shoot wide open and you look around frantically, only to see that most of the turbulence you experienced was due to the sand and gravel hitting the metal of the ship.

“Oh...that was- not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Anything beats Maldo Kreis.” Mando says as he stands there across from you and the slight tilt of his helmet at your confused expression makes you realize he may not have meant to say that out loud.

“We need to go. The storm will only get worse if we wait until night.” You nod in agreement and follow him out of the cockpit to the docking station. Mando instantly regrets lowering the docking ramp when he sees gravel quickly entering the ship. You run to your room to grab the helmet you brought with you and lock it in as you return to help him with the crates.

It’s a difficult few hours on the planet, and you grow more irritated when the Ikotchi threatens you with less supply exchanges. When his demeanor suddenly changes and he asks you to take the crates and leave, you thank him and quickly take the crates up the ramp with Fennec before he changes his mind. You never once notice both Mandalorians as they subtly push their blasters back into their holsters.

You’re leaving Iktotchon later than you prefer, mostly because both bounty hunters find themselves in a heated argument that Fennec has to end not-so-gently. You don’t bother asking Mando what the issue was when you see him strutting into the cockpit, quickly strapping yourself in when he glances at you to make sure you’re safe.

It’s a rough take off for both his ship and Slave I, but you say nothing of it, knowing that he might not appreciate any light teasing at the moment. Once you’re out of the planet’s atmosphere, Mando puts in the coordinates for Pasaana and sends a hologram to Fett, letting him know that you would be reaching the planet in less than a day.

You want to ask him if you could help in any way but you decide against it and leave him to his thoughts. You want nothing more than to take a long, hot shower to rid yourself of all the sand that managed to seep into your clothes. But then you notice the state of the docking area and before you can talk yourself out of it, you look around for anything that resembles a sweeper and clean as much of the floor as you can. You’re thankful that Mando doesn’t leave the cockpit and when you’re done, you go back into your room to grab a change of clothes so you could use the refresher.

You think you hear Mando passing by your room but you say nothing and make your way to the refresher, halting in your steps when you look at the light and find it turned off.

Great.

“Mando? Are you in there?” You’re not sure if he can hear you or not so you try to ask him again a little louder.

“Mando!? Are you i-”

“No.” You jump as soon as you hear him respond from behind you. Turning around, you clutch at your chest when you see him standing in front of his door without the beskar armor.

“I- uhh, t-there’s no light. And I wasn’t sure what that meant really.” You’re ringing your fingers again, and hope that he doesn’t notice just how nervous you are in his presence.

“Well I- I rewired the electrical circuits of the refresher so you know when it’s occupied and when it isn’t. If the light is on, it means I’m in there, and if it isn’t, then it’s free for use. No more colores.”

You look at him as if he took off his helmet, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he went out of his way to accommodate you when you’re only on his ship for another few days.

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say before you push the door and scramble in. Mando looks at the door for another few minutes before he remembers that he hasn’t eaten in a while. He cooks up a meal for two quickly and eats his share before you finish your shower. When he hears you walking out, he sits in his usual corner and brings out his weapons to polish them.

You smell food as soon as you walk out of the refresher and you throw your clothes on your cot before you make your way to the large space across the hallway. You’re about to ask Mando about the food situation when you see a plate opposite of him on the table.

“It’s yours.” Mando breaks the silence as he wipes in between the crevasses of his blaster, nodding towards the space in front of him to let you know that you could join him,

“Thank you Mando.”

Neither of you say anything as you inhale your dinner and it’s not until you’ve washed your plates and set them aside that Mando decides to break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

“S-sure.” You think he’s going to ask you what it’s like to not see colors and to only see gradations of gray but his question catches you off guard.

“When can your species see color?” If you were uncomfortable by his question, you did a good job hiding it from him. Mando watches as you push off the wall and return to sit in front of him, lazily pushing around the towel he was holding as you answer him.

“This might sound stupid and I’m usually told that it’s not real but I’ve seen those of my kind experience the second they could see color so I know it’s not just a fable we’re told when we’re young. Basically, we see color when we meet our soulmates.” Mando’s heart breaks when you throw him a forced smile, one he’s seen a million times looking back at him in the mirror.

“Your soulmate?”

“Yup, the person I’m destined to be with. My other half. The one that will belong to me and I to him.” Mando nods along with you as he stands up and hangs up his weapons one by one.

“I know what you’re thinking. What’s someone like me going to do at the Festival of the Ancestors? Honestly, I think it’ll be fun to attend it whether or not I can see the colors. It’s a rich culture so I’m sure I’ll enjoy it either way.”

“I can always walk around with you and describe to you the colors, t-the patterns even. If...if you want.” His suggestion throws you off guard and as earlier, you gape at him as you try to figure out what he was playing at. You think he’s pulling your leg and will laugh at you at any moment, but when he doesn’t, you realize that he’s being dead serious.

“That would be nice Mando. I might not see the colors but I could always imagine what they look like next to each other.”

And just like that, the conversation is over as quickly as it begins.

“Good night mesh’la.” Mando murmurs as he makes his way to his quarters, leaving you more hopeful than you’ve felt in a long while.

It’s a weird thing to admit but for the first time in years, you don’t go to sleep wishing you could wake up and see colors. No. You doze off wondering what it would feel like to hold his hand and maybe, just maybe, kiss it. You think of how soft his untouched skin must feel like and how calloused his scarred muscles would look.

When you dream that night, you see faint images of his lips caressing yours and his firm arms bringing you into his embrace.

And you wake up with a lazy smile etched on your face because those dreams, those sweet, lovely memories your brain conjured up during the night, felt as good as seeing color.

You can’t look at him for the duration of the morning, constantly pretending that you’re doing something or other so he doesn’t think you’re avoiding him because the last thing you wanted was to make him think you didn’t want to talk to him. But you just can’t find it in yourself to look into his visor. Every time you so much as glance at the beskar helmet, you remember what your subconscious conjured up and you stutter out a response to whatever he says.

Not surprisingly, Mando notices the shift in your behavior and he waits until you finish fixing the crates’ locks, which were clearly not broken, before he approaches you.

“Mesh’la.”

“Yes Mando?” You’re still not looking at him and Mando starts to genuinely believe that he’s done something wrong. When you try to walk past him to place the tool back in your room, Mando reaches out and takes hold of your wrist before you’re out of reach. You look at his gloved hand wrapped around your skin before you meet his eyes past his visor and Mando holds his breath because for a moment, he thinks you can see straight through him.

“You’re angry with me.”

You never realize until this moment that Mando tends to ask most of his questions in the form of a statement and it’s strange. It’s strange because it never occurred to you that he’s the type to perhaps jump to conclusions when he can’t read the situation. Setting the tool box down, you stand up and fix your shirt as you muster up the courage to respond to him.

“I’m not. I’m not angry with you. I’m- it’s...difficult to explain.” His hold loosens but he’s standing in your space and you think it’s because he’s not totally convinced by your answer and won’t let it go until you give him a proper explanation for the sudden change in your treatment.

“It’s difficult to explain why you’re not angry with me.”

There it goes again, that weird phrasing of his inner thoughts. You huff in irritation and Mando misunderstands your annoyed expression so he steps away and turns to look everywhere else but you.

“No, Mando...maker- yes it’s difficult to explain because you’re- no, not you. It’s not your fault it’s mine. I’m just not used to- gods why is this so hard?” You’re visibly stressed and it must be a sight because Mando comes back to stand in front of you and he rests one hand on your shoulder, waiting until you turn to look at him before he tries to break the anxiety-inducing silence.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I- I shouldn’t have offered to walk through the festival with you. I should have thought of how uncomfortable you’d feel before I selfishly asked t-” You perk up at his choice in words and you’re about to ask him what he meant by what he said but he doesn’t give you a chance. “Please believe me when I tell you I only wanted to...I thought it might help.”

“You see, this is exactly why I’m avoiding you.” You’re not sure who’s more surprised by your little outburst but when his hold tightens around your shoulder, you think maybe it’s him.

“So you are avoiding me.”

“Yes okay? I am, I’m avoiding you because the last few days felt like a whiplash of emotions and I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. One minute you’re angry and quiet and it’s as if I’m not in the same space as you, and the next thing I know, you’re rewiring your damn ship so I know how to use it and then offering to pretty much waste your time during one of the most beautiful festivals in the galaxy just to make sure I’m enjoying myself. And...and it’s difficult because I feel myself falling but I don’t want to because I’m afraid...I’m afraid you won’t be there to catch me...because you don’t have to. Because why would you when-”

You’re not sure how you got to this moment but all you know is that you're’ suddenly surrounded by Mando and the cold beskar armor and his natural musk and this unique woodsy scent and it’s-

It’s breathtaking.

“Cyar’ika, I didn’t know...I didn’t know I was causing you this much distress. It’s difficult for me to- to speak my he- to speak at times. I wasn’t thinking of how I’m coming off and I was so busy trying to figure out my- my own feelings...that I didn’t stop and think of what you must be going through.” His voice is low and you think perhaps that it’s breaking with every word he whispers through the vocoder, so you do the only thing you think of at the moment. Reluctantly, you wrap as much of your arms around him as physically possible, hoping he’d understand that you were listening to him and no longer trying to ignore him.

“Mando-”

“I- I volunteered for this supply run.” You’re not sure how this relates to this current affair but you sink further into his embrace, hoping that he wouldn’t shy away from explaining why he’s bringing this up now.

“I know. Fett told me.”

“Did he tell you why?” Mando replies instantly and you furrow your eyebrows even though you know he can’t see you.

“N-no.”

“I- I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Ever since the last time I saw you, I’ve been at war with myself, with what I was allowing to happen. I knew you weren’t to blame with the cauterizer but I couldn’t accept my heart letting you...maker, I can see why you said this is difficult.” He chuckles nervously and you hold your breath in anticipation because he isn’t, he can’t be admitting what you think he is.

“W-what’re you saying Mando?”

“I’m saying I need you cyar’ika. I’m saying, I’ve been dreaming of you for the past 53 sleeping cycles. I’m saying, I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you after Pasaana.” You don’t realize how long you’ve been holding your breath until you exhale against him and Mando pulls away, keeping his helmet aimed to the floor as he continues. “And if- if you can give me a chance, I’d like to- I’d like to...well, I’m not exactly sure what you enjoy doing but I’d like to do it with you. You don't have to give me an answer now. I know I’m being selfish and I know that I- I don’t belong with you because you haven't seen color yet. But please, please consider this. Consider me.” His voice is much more reserved, lower even, than before and you realize it’s because he was probably considering not telling you up until now.

Your heart breaks at his last words because this was never something you thought you’d have to deal with. But looking back at the last few days, no matter how confusing or strange they were, you can’t help but admit how alive you’ve felt.

You know he doesn’t expect you to answer him right away and you know you should take some time to think over what he’s asking of you.

So when you lay both of your hands on his chest and ask him to look at you, Mando thinks you’re going to reject him and you feel his muscles tense when you step closer to him.

“I do...I- I am considering this Mando, I have been for the past few nights if I’m being honest...it’s actually part of the reason why I couldn’t look at you today. I woke up with this unusual thought, well, unusual to me. It’s been so long since I stopped thinking about seeing color and directed all of my attention to something, or rather, someone else.” You smile up into the visor and slowly reach to rest your hand on the space between his helmet and his cowl. The mere touch of your skin shakes him to his core and Mando has to clench his fists so he doesn’t lose control over himself.

“Today was the first time I woke up not caring if I hadn’t seen color because- because being with you, and- and talking with you and staying on this ship with you felt like I’ve already seen color. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I do...if I do, but I know that I’d like to give this, us, a shot.”

“You...you do mesh’la?” He almost sounds like a young child asking his parents for permission to have something and when you nod at him, Mando can’t hold back anymore. He wraps his arms around you once more, and carries you off the ground, smiling to himself when he hears you giggling at his dramatic display of affection.

He pulls away and you think he’s about to say something but a message comes through to the ship and Mando apologizes quickly before he ascends to the cockpit. You stay planted in your spot for what feels like hours before you hear Mando telling you that you’re nearing Pasaana. When you get to the cockpit and take your usual seat, Mando rises from his chair and approaches you, kneeling down at your feet to buckle your belt easier and ensure that you’re safe. It’s a small gesture but you know he’s conveying a thousand emotions in that little tap to make sure that you’re buckled in properly and when you smile at him, he reaches over and pushes a stray hair behind your ears before he returns to his pilot chair.

You don’t feel the turbulence once, mostly because you’re too busy replaying the brief moment over and over again in your mind until you’re sure you’ve committed it to memory.

Mando has to tap on your shoulder twice once he lands, and you nod in affirmation when he asks if you were feeling alright. The two of you make your way out of the ship just as Slave I lands. When you glance at Mando to ask him about the argument between him and Fett, you find him already staring at you. You smile at him and watch as he looks away apologetically. Maybe he really was as nervous as you.

“You’re coming along then?” Fett says to Mando as you make your way towards the desert and you pretend to focus on the dozens of kites flying in the air, unsure whether you were meant to be a part of this conversation or not.

Mando replies in Mando’a and you look to Fennec to ask her something about the kites to try and ignore the two men who may or may not have been talking about you. You’re about to ask Fennec about the colors of the flying toys when Mando steps in between the two of you and takes hold of your upper arm, pushing you ahead of the others so he could get a private moment with you.

“Is- are you okay?”

“Fine. He’s being difficult.” His curt answer lets you know that he wasn’t going to reveal what that whole ordeal was about so you nod and try to fall in step with him. You’re about to ask him about the colors of the kites when Mando leans over and whispers in your ears.

“Those two over there are red, like the color of the twin suns on Tatooine when they’re just setting. And, that one over there, the large one flying higher than the rest, it’s a dark blue...like the night sky.” You try to not let the proximity of his body affect you but the more he tells you of the colors, the closer you want him to get to you.

“That smaller one is light green, like many of the plants on Felucia.”

“I’ve never been to Felucia.” You admit to him as you keep your gaze on the kites, trying to differentiate between the colors but barely noticing a difference between the grays.

“I can take you there.” He offers with ease and you look into the visor and smile at him. “I’d like that.”

You can vaguely feel their eyes on you but you don’t bother to pay attention to them, wanting to spend as much time with Mando as you could. Once you reach the edge of the festival, you thank the Aki-Aki that approach you and wrap a necklace of flowers around you. You laugh when they reluctantly look at Mando and he sighs heavily at your death stare before he leans down and allows one of them to place a necklace around his cowl as well.

“Hey Mando?”

“Hmm.”

“Do the necklaces look the same?” Mando turns around and sees Fett and Fennec look away from the two of you. He waits until they walk the opposite direction before he looks at you and takes hold of your necklace.

“Yours have lighter colors...yellow, orange, white, pink and a few light greens here and there. Mine is darker. This is purple, and these are blue...and all of these are dark red and brown.” He points to each of the flowers and tells you its color, never once noticing the way you’re looking at him and hanging onto every single word he says.

When you hear the sound of distant music playing, you take Mando’s hand and make your way through the crowd, telling him that you want to see what they’re doing on the other side of the festival. Mando says nothing as you pull him through, only responding when you directly ask him about the color of the caravan fabrics and laughing when you joke about how he technically blends into the surroundings. And when you come across a large crate that you can vaguely see some designs on, Mando offers to make room for it on his ship so you can get it. It’s a long argument between the two of you but he wins in the end, telling you that he genuinely wanted to gift you something that you can remember him with and might enjoy some day. You almost cry at the unspoken implications of his words but when he shrugs his shoulders and hands over the credits, you quietly thank him and let the seller know that you’ll be taking it before you leave.

Over the next few hours, Mando never leaves your side once, even when you tell him that he should enjoy his time as well. You notice how he changes the subject every time you ask him to explore by himself and giggle when he responds with an opinion on some of the color combinations. It’s quite comical to be in the presence of such an intimidating individual who’s complaining about how ‘that blue doesn’t go too well with this red.’

As you’re making your way through the different caravans, you notice a table displaying a dozen large cloaks. Turning to Mando, you see that he’s busy asking one of the sellers if they have similar shirts but in darker colors. You walk to the table on the other side and look through the capes to try and differentiate between them. When you realize that it’s of no use, you hold one up and call for him to ask if he should buy a new one.

“Hey Mando, maybe you should get this instead of-”

The question dies in your throat when Mando glances away from the vendor and holds your gaze. Your brain refuses to catch up with what your eyes are seeing for what feels like an eternity and your hand flies to your chest and clench it tightly as your heart skips a beat at the sight in front of you. It takes a few seconds for you to inhale deeply when you realize that you aren’t breathing and you feel your heart skip a beat when you watch Mando strut towards you. He drops what he’s holding in his hands and takes a few strides in your way, not caring to hold back as he wraps one arm around your waist while the other rests on your neck and tilts your head so he could take a better look at you. You still can’t wrap your mind around what just happened and you’re not sure what he’s saying until he lightly shakes you in his arms and raises his voice to grab your attention.

Maker, his voice was unlike anything you’ve ever heard. It was hoarse yet calming, the kind of calming that one could only dream of feeling.

“Mesh’la, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice shakes you to your core and your eyes shift down to his lips, tilting your head to the side when you follow the scruff peppering his handsome features and memorize the different colors of his hair. Gods, you couldn’t put a name to any of them but you knew you liked the combination of the light and dark outlining his sharp jaw.

“I- I don’t...maker. You’re...you’re-” You’re unable to form a coherent thought and as you reach out to touch his cheeks, Mando clenches his jaw but doesn’t dare to move a muscle. He realizes that this is the first time you see him without his helmet and he finds himself praying that you find him, at the very least, okay to look at. His hold on you eases when he feels the palm of your hand caress the side of his face before you push his hair aside. Mando nuzzles into your touch and he shuts his eyes to commit this moment to memory. The last time someone was this gentle with him broke his heart, but he found himself longing for a similar feeling with you. Only if it was you.

“N-no...please. Look at me.” Your whispered request drowns out the music of the festival and Mando’s eyes flutter open immediately. He looks down at you and can’t help but shift his focus to your parted lips as you try to speak again.

“Mando? What...what color are your eyes?” You hold your breath as Mando’s gaze softens when he meets your eyes again. He doesn’t know why you’re asking but he answers you anyway.

“Brown.” His voice breaks but then you’re smiling up at him as you reach for his cheek with your other hand and rest it on his heated skin. He’s not sure what brought about any of this but he can’t care less, not when you were here, in his arms, touching him so gently and looking at him like he was the only one that mattered across the galaxy.

“Hmm...they’re a beautiful color.” The admission sends a shiver down his spine and he doesn’t register the meaning behind your words until he sees your expression change to one of panicked shock.

Oh.

“You can see color?” Mando doesn’t intend to sound so accusative but his tone must have been harsh because you nod and snatch your hands away from him as if he’s burned you. You don’t dare look anywhere else as the reality of the situation settles in your mind.

It’s him. It’s been him all along.

“I- I can see color.”

Mando watches as you blink in confusion before you look to the side. You do a double-take when you see the vibrant colors of the festival and Mando steps away as you walk around him and approach a caravan hanging clothing of all color gradations. You ignore everything else as you softly trace the different colors and patterns on the garments before you walk over to the next little cart and stare at the vibrant jewelry. There’s so much to take in and you forget for a moment where you are. When you look away and turn your eyes to the sky, you can’t help but smile at seeing the kites gliding through the air. You don’t know which one you want to focus on because they’re all so pretty so you stand in there for a few moments to take it all in.

It’s not until you feel a presence next to you that you remember how you came to see this new world. When you begin to ring your fingers anxiously, Mando takes a step towards you and takes your hands in his palms.

“Cyar’ika, do you need anything?” He doesn’t know what to say and your lungs refuse to expand when you finally look at him again.

You spent years conjuring up different scenarios in your head to try and anticipate what to expect when you finally meet your soulmate. But standing here, in front of Mando, in the middle of the Festival of the Ancestors, you realize that this compares to nothing.

“I- I don’t…”

“If you want me to go-”

“No! N-no, please. Stay here with me. Stay here with...me.” Y

ou tighten your hold around his hands to prevent him from leaving. Mando nods and turns back to the caravan he was standing by to grab his helmet. You say nothing as he carries it and looks at you, but your eyes must give you away because Mando throws you a quick smile as he keeps it on his side and leads you through the festival.

Neither of you discuss the new development but you don’t ignore it either. You continue to steal glances from each other every now and then, especially when Mando leans over and tells you about each of the colors. Except this time, he doesn’t tell you so you could imagine what they look like. He tells you so you could memorize what each pigment is and begin to recognize them on your own. It’s almost as if nothing changed with how often Mando describes to you the gradations and patterns, but you know that this was far from the truth. And with the way Mando breathes softly against your forehead when he leans down to talk to you, you sense that he knows this as well.

He’s much more forward with his touches now, perhaps even a little shameless too. Hours ago, he would apologize if he pushed you by accident or shifted closer to you. But now, he was walking with you with one hand on your lower back and he would stand longer behind you as you asked about a new color shade.

As the sun slowly sets across the sky, you turn to Mando and wait for him to finish his drink before you ask him about the others.

“Do you mind if we don’t tell the others just yet?” You watch as Mando’s expression falls and you shake your head immediately so he doesn’t misunderstand the reason behind your request.

“Not because I don’t want them to know about us, I- maker, it’s just that I’ve experienced so many changes in the span of a few days and I want to make sense of things without...without someone asking me too many questions about what I’m feeling. I want to let this sink in? And- and I’d like it if it’s just you and me. Please.” Mando is quiet for a while and you think that maybe it was the wrong thing to say to him.

“Us?”

You can’t hold back your laughter at the soft question and you almost fall over from how hard you’re giggling at him.

“That’s what you took away from everything I just said?” You sigh in relief when he mirrors you and chuckles in return.

“I’m sorry cyar’ika, I- of course. Whatever you need from me.” He’s a man of few words but he somehow knows what to say to calm your nerves.

“Thank you Mando.” You say as you turn your attention back to the setting sun to watch the colors change across the sky.

“Din Djarin.” He whispers to you after a long while, and you meet his eyes briefly, your furrowed eyebrows silently asking him what he was referring to.

“My name is Din Djarin.” His gaze is piercing and you find it much more intense now that you know for a fact that they’re your favorite color. “So you can start calling the other guy Mando again.” Your heart skips a beat when you see dimples appear on his cheeks as he grins at his own joke, and nudges your shoulder so you could relax into him again. You say nothing and lean against his shoulder, resting your head on his beskar armor and enjoying the cold sensation against your heated skin.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit there in your bubble and watch the festival as it continues on for, but you’re interrupted when Fett approaches you and clears his throat to catch your attention.

“We’re leaving.” The Mandalorian says as he watches you closely. You think you’re being subtle studying his armor but Fett notices how you continue to look between him and Din’s and he tilts his head to the side as he turns to his friend and barely holds back from smirking at him.

Din nods and lets them know that you would be returning with him back to Mos Eisley. Fennec is about to ask why the two of you are acting differently when Fett shakes his head as he looks at you.

“Until next time princess,” Din’s posture straightens when he hears the nickname and narrows his eyes at the man trying to get a rise out of him.

“Usenye.” You snap out of your haze when you hear Din growl at his brother and wave goodbye to him and Fennec as they walk away from you.

“Is everything okay between the two of you?”

“Yes sweet girl, don’t worry about it.” You flush at the pet name and Din notices how you shiver at his touch when he raises your chin to take a better look at you. He slowly leans towards you, never once breaking eye contact as he grows closer to your lips. “Is- is this okay?” He asks and refuses to move a muscle until you respond to him. You’re already breathless and he has barely touched you but you muster up the courage to answer him.

“Y-yes.”

He smirks when your hoarse voice fans over his cheeks and as much as you wish for him to take whatever he wants, you’re thankful that he’s being patient with you and ensuring that you’re comfortable.

“Sweet girl,” Din whispers as he finally captures your lips in a chaste kiss. It’s at this precise moment that the festivities begin to pick up but you don’t notice the fireworks filling the skies or the music growing louder. You shut your eyes and hold onto Din’s wrists as he moves against you and deepens the kiss. When you gasp at his ministrations, Din’s hold on your neck tightens and he pushes you back until you lay on the blanket he set down for you. You moan as he slips his tongue past your lips and swirls his tongue across yours. Fisting your hands into his cowl, you try to pull him closer but cry out in pain when the beskar armor digs into your hips.

“I’m- I’m sorry mesh’la. I didn’t mean to-”

“No no it’s...it’s just your armor. I promise, I- I liked this.” You gulp nervously when you see an amused expression take over his handsome features.

“Is that so?” You don’t have time to react to his question, squealing in surprise when he suddenly stands up and pulls you along with him.

“What- where are we going?” You ask him as he pulls you through the multitude of visitors and Aki-Aki. He stops abruptly and speaks to one of the natives before he pushes you into the caravan standing behind him.

“Din, we can’t just-”

“I asked for his permission. Don’t you know, all of these are for visitors who want to stay the night.” You’re about to ask him why you’re staying the night out here instead of his ship but you can’t seem to form the question because you see Din taking his armor off.

It’s mesmerizing watching him take each beskar piece apart but when he’s down to just his clothes, it occurs to you that this night might be going somewhere else. Your nervousness must show on your face because Din walks towards you slowly and takes your hands in his. He kisses your wrists before leans over and rests his forehead against yours.

“Don’t worry cyar’ika, I’m not… I won’t- we’re not here to do anything other than talk. I didn’t feel comfortable taking my beskar off out there so-”

“I trust you Din.” You interrupt his word-vomit and lead him to one of the corners of the tent so you could lay down next to each other. When you rest your head on the pillow and finally look up, you’re met with a small opening in the ceiling of the caravan that gives you a perfect view of the blue night sky lighting up with fireworks.

When Din finally seats himself next to you, you whine in irritation and pull him down until he’s on his back next to you. Din never once lets go of your hand and he occasionally raises the palm of your hand to his lips to kiss across the skin.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look away from the fireworks when you speak, not wanting to miss seeing any of the vibrant shades of reds and yellows as they broke through the clouds.

“Anything sweet girl.”

“Why did you take off your helmet? I thought your Creed prevented you from showing your face.” You hope the question isn’t too insensitive or private, and when Din takes longer than you like to respond, you finally turn to him to apologize. But Din cuts you off before you can even say anything, keeping his focus on your wrist to distract him long enough so he could respond.

“I had a son once, well, he wasn’t mine physically but, he was mine. He was a foundling by Creed and I was tasked with bringing him back to his kind. It’s a long story that I could tell you another time but...when I had to give him up, I couldn’t bear the thought of him never seeing me without the helmet. I needed him to see me, to know what I willingly gave up and what I had to do to ensure his safety. I’d taken off my helmet once before and even thought it was my choice, I didn’t want to. But in that moment, before I watched him go, I decided that he was more important than my Creed. He was...he was everything to me. And it took a long time to realize that personal connections and relationships weren’t a weakness, they were a strength. My strength.” You’re not sure when you turned to your side and nuzzled into his embrace. But you couldn’t focus on anything else but him and the way his eyes twinkled in sadness when he mentioned his kid. It was a shocking admission and you never once thought of him in such a role but looking back at the last few days, you didn’t find it impossible. He was kind, quiet, sweet, adn patient.

“I keep my helmet on almost all the time but I only take it off around people I trust. I’m telling you this because- because I trust you. I trust you cyar’ika. I took it off earlier today because I wanted you to see me...and also because I was trying to pick out a gift for you. I figured if I didn’t preface it with anything that it would be less dramatic but- little did I know.” The indirect mention of the not-so-little change you experienced earlier today makes you smile.

“If I knew you needed to look into my eyes for you to see color, I would have taken off the helmet the first time I saw you.” He trails his nose across your cheek before he kisses your eyes and your forehead, smiling down at you when he sees how relaxed you feel in his arms.

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Your response surprises him and he pulls away and looks at you quizzically.

“I- I saw you before my eyes saw you, Din. My heart chose you before my soul did. I...I think I knew when I saw you again…I think a part of me knew that you were it for me and that it didn’t matter if I didn’t see color with you because- because you were...you’re perfect.” You feel a weight lift off of your chest when you finally confess to him what you’ve been feeling for the past few days and you shift impossibly closer to him to let him know that you were telling the truth.

“I’m not perfect mesh’la.” His laugh is self-deprecating and he only stops when he feels your hand slip around his back and hold onto his shirt like your life depended on it.

“You are to me.” It’s perhaps too forward for him and Din doesn’t know how to react or respond to your confession so he nods at you and nuzzles into your neck to avoid any more of your intense emotions.

“You haven’t told me yet what your favorite color is.” He tries to change the topic, not expecting your response to shoot through his chest and into his heart like a blaster.

“Brown obviously.” You answer instantly and without hesitation.

“Why ‘obviously’?”

“Well, it’s-it’s your eye-color Din. What other color could be my favorite?”

His heart ceases to beat at your adamant reply and he pulls away again to look into your eyes to see if you were teasing him. Instead, he finds something swimming in your eyes that would have terrified his soul had he met you years ago.

“Ner kar’ta,” Din moans into your ear as he rests up on his elbow before molding his lips with yours again. You don't know what any of the Mando’a means but you have a pretty good idea of what he’s trying to convey in that moment and you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer to you. When he lays back down and pulls you into his side, you can’t help but take one last look at the night sky, finding the stars shimmering behind the multitude of fireworks. You watch the different colors blend with each other, and you almost cry when you see the yellows and greens and blues mixing so beautifully together to create new gradients across the galaxy.

But none of them compared to the color of Din’s eyes. And you go to sleep dreaming of the moment those kind, dark, brown orbs captured your soul and whispered affections into your heart.

Translations

Mesh’la - beautiful Cyar’ika - beloved/darling Ad’ika - little one Usenye - go away Ner kar’ta - my heart

Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @mouthymandalorian @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul

Din Djarin: @a--1--1--3 @tanzthompson

#din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #soulmate au

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