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coleskingdom · 1 month

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Letting Someone Go

Adam Cole x F Reader

Minors DNI 18 + NSFW

@midwestmade29 @madhatterbri

Summary : Revenge and Sad Songs leads to betrayal

Coles POV

Finding her was never hard when Jay was out of town, she liked a drink and a country cover band at the place in town. She sat at the back by herself with her vodka and soda. She looked more relaxed when she wasn’t around him softer, prettier not that any of that mattered for my plan to work. Jay had made all of this personal, first with the concussion he gave me, then the constant condescension, and finally only half heartedly coming after me as if I wasn’t a threat to him. I needed to hurt him mentally, I needed to shatter his soul, to hit him in his known weakness her. She was going to be collateral damage.

My POV

I saw him when he walked in, this wasn’t Cole’s scene. I wondered what he wanted, why he was here. I kicked out a chair, “ Adam sit” I said cooly,” what do you want?” . His eyes showed a slight surprise I clearly had interrupted his thought process. “ what would Jay say about this? You asking me to sit“ the smirk on his face. “ I didn’t ask I’m pretty sure I told you.” my tone unamused. “ Besides, I do this thing called whatever I want. “ raising my drink at him. He didn’t need to know that I had just had a fight with Jay, that we’d been fighting for weeks. He sat down and flagged the waitress down for another round.

“So?” I said eyeing him, his brown hair slicked back into a pony tail, a black v neck shirt, jeans and boots. He was attractive always had been, his eyes a light blue, the lines around his eyes told me he laughed a lot.

Adam’s POV

Fuck, this isn’t going to be as easy as I thought. She’s waiting on me to say something . “ I thought I’d come out to have a drink” I said wondering if I could charm my way in. “Really?” She questioned “ This bar tonight? When I thought you were looking for little ol me” her over emphasized twang making me laugh. “ What? Why?” I asked “Oh I don’t know, Jay is my boyfriend, you have a vendetta against Jay, you want to get at him by irritating me.” She said “ That’s it isn’t it.” as my face was clearly shocked. “You’re all the fucking same.”

My POV

“You can have the table, I’m done.” anger rising. “I swear to God it never fucking stops. Between the time away , the travel, the kayfabe that turns into a shoot. It’s too fucking much. I can’t even come out for a drink and a sad fucking song without his shit following me. Fuck.” Adam’s face fell, “ Hey, I’m sorry” he said his tone sincere, “Are you okay?” “If I wasn’t why would I tell you?” Wiping a tear from my eye. “No, I’m not okay. I just wanted a drink, to get away from all of the bullshit.”. taking a swig of my drink. “ How about a dance?” he said “ Your serious?”I said looking at him quizzically. He offered his hand, I accepted even if it was the worst dance ever it’d be funny. He led me to the dance floor the band started a cover of “PBR promenade ” he pulled me close and he led me in a two step, he didn’t say anything just led me across the dance floor.

Adam’s POV

There it was her walls coming down, I danced her across the floor. A little spin, my hand appropriately placed with just enough pressure to seem like I was enjoying this. Nothing like a soundtrack of cheating and heartbreak songs as a sound track to this plan, maybe it makes it easier, the idea of lost love, dreaming of someone else than who you’re with. She does feel good in my arms , she’s feisty but just wants someone to meet her half way. Her soft clean perfume, made me pull her closer, as the song ended. I held her a little bit longer. “ Thanks for the dance “ she said pulling away, her face a mix of emotions. “No problem” I said my hand lingering in hers. “ What’s one more dance?” pulling her back in, she nestled her head on my shoulder,I heard her sigh. My head and heart at war with each other. “You’re okay” I don’t know if the words whispered were for her or me. I felt her tears on my shirt, the words of the song hitting her , the only lyrics I heard were her soft breath and sighs as she pulled me closer.

My POV

“You can't lie to yourself

After loving something true

And I've never loved a soul

Quite the way that I loved you

You told me you despise

Everything that I've become

How we always turn into

Everything we're running from”

Why did he feel so good and why did I not feel guilty ? I’m crying in the shoulder of the last person I should be, but he’s here, and his hands feel good. It’s just a dance I can leave as soon as the songs over. I can tell Jay I danced with him, I can tell him he won’t be happy. He smells good, he’s so warm.

“Take it slow as you leave me

Don't you go home this evening

With someone

You're acting like is me

And I will try my hardest darling

Wait on a star that's falling

And I will wait so desperately

One thing I have quickly come to know

Nothing kills you slower than

Letting someone go”

The song ended, the last line of the song, the double meaning as I let go of his hand. Walking from the dance floor, grabbing my purse and out the front door of the bar. I got to my truck, I couldn’t breathe. I heard his footsteps, “I can’t let you leave like this” Adam’s voice soft, “let me drive you home.” his hand soft on my face. I looked into his blue eyes, there was a sadness there I recognized. I kissed him, his mouth reluctant,before giving in and pushing me up against my car as his body pressed closer into mine.

Adam’s POV

“Listen, I need to tell you something” I said needing to tell her what my plan was, I needed absolution from this. “ I don’t care, whatever it is I don’t care” she said cutting me off. Kissing me again wrapping her arms around my neck. If she doesn’t care then who am I to force the issue it’s what I came here to do. I kiss her deeper bringing her as close to me as I can. “ Honey, we can stay here, I can take you home, or you can come home with me.” In her ear.

My POV

I should just go home, I should just go home but why does he feel so good? Jay would forgive anyone but him, I’m not going to delude myself into thinking he wouldn’t find out. He presses me further against the truck, parting my legs with his, kisses move down my jaw, and to my ear I barely recognize the noises coming out of my own mouth. “Adam, truck please” he moved me barely catching my breathe to the side as he opened the truck door and climbed in the drivers side, he chuckled and smiled as he looked at me as he moved the bench seat back before helping me up and settle on his lap. Face to face in the truck it feels more intimate than it should, he kisses me again bringing me back to the moment and my overwhelming desire for him.

“Honey , you’re gonna be the death of me” as he bucked his hips in to me making me whimper. He continues his ministrations kissing down my jaw and neck as I grind against his lap, the combination of his jeans and the seam of my shorts the friction on my clit was addictive. I reached around and pulled his hair down. As I pulled away from his mouth on my neck reaching for the hem of his v neck, as I pulled it up over his head. His chiseled chest and arms further stoke the fire inside. He hums as I run my hands down his chest letting me take my time. “Honey, as pretty as you look in this top, I’m gonna need it gone as I’m much more interested in what’s underneath.” I raised my arms so that he could take it off.

"Honey you're fucking perfect," Adam pulls your hand that was going to cover yourself and places it between both your crotches onto his hard cock. You both moan out at the sensation. Adam reaches up to unbutton your shorts and you aid him in pulling them down and tossing them to rest with your discarded shirts. Only the black lace thong remained. The phone rang in my purse but I ignored it.

Adam’s fingers toyed with the edge of my panties before he pulled my panties to the side to catch a glimpse of your wetness.

"All for you Adam," Adams whole body audibly twitched at that admission and he pulled me in by the back of the head for another deep kiss with his hand that wasn't between my legs. As you kissed messily with your free hands palming over his length Adam increased his speed and plunged his middle finger into you. I moaned against his mouth at the intrusion and whimpered trying to find something coherent to say.

"Adam please I'm so close,"

"I know honey, please cum for me." Adam begged whilst he circled my clit once more with his thumb. Feeling myself clench around him Adam repeated his actions over and over as I moved against him as pleasure overcame me. Breathing hard. I kissed him, parting from the kiss, he stuck his fingers in his mouth and licked them clean. His blue eyes focusing on mine as the phone rang again. “ You probably should get that , he’s gonna keep calling.” his cocky tone bringing the gravity of what we just did to the forefront of my mind. I dug for the phone and tried to get off his lap his hands held my hips in place.

I answered “ Hey Jay, sorry I didn’t hear the phone in the bar.” trying to compose my voice, Adam mouthed put it on speaker, I mouthed no . He reached for the phone and hit the speaker button. Adam heard Jays explanation for the fight and the generic I’m sorry. Adam bucked up into me causing a laugh curse moan to fall from my lips. “Are you okay he asked?” his voice concerned. “I’m tipsy, and I just kind of tripped.” trying to not moan again. He chastised me for being out tipsy, that I should be more careful. “I’ve got to go, we will talk when you get back.” as Adam found the place on my neck. I hung up the phone finally releasing the breath I held. “Oh Honey, did you think I was going to say something?” I nodded, “ Why would I do that? When your neck has the imprint of my lips on it.” his cocky tone replacing the soft sweet tone, that he’d used earlier. I got off of his lap and put back on my clothes refusing to meet his eyes. “Honey don’t be that way, we had fun, I know you did. “his grin caused a shiver down my spine. “This is all up to you, you can tell him break his heart, I can tell him, or I’ll make a one time offer we don’t tell him and we do this again sometime.” his voice fully composed and with an edge. “Adam” my voice pleading with him not sure what I was agreeing to. “ I’m gonna say you’re gonna pick the first or last option, no need to answer now. You’re too feisty to let me be the one to do it, but you do have a self preservation instinct. However , I think you liked this more than you’re going to admit” as he reached for his shirt putting it back on. “Get out” refusing to look at him. “ Honey, I’m going” he turned my face to his and kissed me again deeply and possessive before getting out of the truck and shutting the door. I didn’t know what I was going to do. As I started the truck and drove away.

Adam’s POV

The mix of emotions that were warring inside was not what I expected. I expected to feel satisfied instead, I missed her, and realized that I wouldn’t hurt her, even if it furthered my goal. Though something told me she’d be back as I watched her peel out of the parking lot.

Song list

PBR Promenade American Aquarium

Letting Someone Go Zach Bryan

Something in the Orange Zach Bryan

Sun To Me Zach Bryan

City Lights American Aquarium

#adam cole fan fiction #adam cole x reader #Adam Cole x you #adam cole smut #adam cole imagine #wrestling smut #AEW smut.#song fic

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radiowallet · 1 year

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Meant to Be - Part 2

The Engagement

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand, Eventual Oberyn Martell x Fem!OC (nameless, third person) Summary: Preparations are made for a wedding, and both bride and groom are plagued by nerves. WC: 5.8 K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, grief, death, political intrigue, arragned marriage, drinking, mentions of food, allusions to vaginal sex, allusions to masturbation. Oberyn being a sexy little shit. Oberyn Martell comes with his own warning.

A/N: As always, a few things to keep in mind: This is an alternate universe that takes place after the main events of the show. Bran is still king of Westeros. Sansa is still queen of the north. Oberyn lives. Doran never had any children. Our Fem!OC is from Winterfell, but she is not a Stark and is a blank a canvas physically.

Masterlist II Series Masterlist

Part 1 >>> Part 3

Engaged with your heart

Intended for mine

Come to me and I will meet you

In between and all around

If Winterfell was named well, then Sunspear was preordained by the stars above. From her first steps out of the carriage she could feel the heat piercing through her heart, bright yellow streaks singing through the sky and cutting across her cheeks. Still, the chill of the north clings to her bones, a reminder of the home and family left miles and miles behind. She can still feel the puff of Sansa’s breath on her neck from where the two held tightly to one another, a prolonged goodbye that followed her across the territory, her dearest friend’s voice ringing in her ears.

“I should travel with you.”

“You’re needed more here.”

Cold hands cupped her cheeks, ice blue eyes finding her own.

“You can still change your mind.”

But she had refused to go back on her word, even as a deep curl of anxiety settled upon her shoulders, a bitter lining along the fur of her winter cloak. That same cloak is clutched in her arms now, a poor substitute for the friend she left behind, the yellow sun beating down upon her as she steps forward to meet her future.

“My lady,” Prince Doran greets and she smiles despite herself, his smile small but warm. He strikes a formidable figure, even bound in his wheelchair, and when she bows, the respect she gives is heartfelt. She’s glad she had the foresight to wipe the last of the charcoal from her hands before arriving when the prince takes one gently in his own and places a friendly kiss along the ridge of her knuckles.

Prince Oberyn stands tall beside his brother, the vibrant hues of his orange and gold robes contrasting with his cloudy demeanor. He gives a nod and then a bow, eyes connecting for the first time beneath the fiery tendrils of the Dornish sun. He does not move to take her hand and she does not offer, and yet…

She cannot look away.

Something swirls low in her belly – nerves, perhaps – as she looks upon the man who she will call husband.

He is more handsome than any books or rumors could ever truly do justice; a sharp jaw framed with dark facial hair, a hooked nose between cinched in brows, the deep brown of his eyes tracking her as she steps close to stand before him, a peak of tan skin, the column of his thick neck dusted with freckles. She feels like she can track them as easily as she does the stars, her fingers twitching at her side, suddenly desperate with the need to paint the constellations across his body.

It’s an urge that comes and goes before she lets herself understand the meaning behind it, instead meeting her betrothed’s gaze head on as she curtsies.

“It is wonderful to finally meet you, Prince Oberyn,” she says, repeating the words she had practiced in her head again and again throughout her travels south, proud that they came out steady despite the hammer of her heart.

Still he does not speak, but at the sound of her voice, his lips part, and she tracks the clench of his jaw as it loosens around the tip of his tongue. He tilts his head again, his eyes shifting, the color like sweet honey as he traces her features from head to toe. She tries not to shrink beneath his stare but it feels a true impossibility, sweat beading at the back of her neck, the slick of it sliding down to pool along her stiff collar. The sun is too high, her dress too tight.

Oberyn’s gaze too warm.

But then he’s frowning again, looking out and away into the blue sky, fists balled tightly at his side.

The rest of the pleasantries are tabled for later, the two pulled apart just as swiftly as they were brought together. A pair of women dressed in loose folds of gauze and silk lead her to her chambers with the offer to settle herself before dinner is served, and she leaps upon it, desperate for a cool splash of water on her overheated cheeks and a moment alone to catch her faltering breath.

Her quarters are larger than she could have imagined, a sight her mind can barely comprehend especially when it feels like the biggest pieces of her heart are still waiting for her between the stone walls of Winterfell. But here in this sweeping space, every corner glowing with a light she did not know exists, she feels as if she could stretch her arms out wide and fill this space completely.

The sitting room seems to spill endlessly outward, open doorways that lead to a terrace glittering beneath the late afternoon sun, the waves of the Dornish sea rocking a pleasant rhythm down below. It’s familiar, comforting, and already she’s picturing falling asleep to the soothing sound in her ear. Waking up to the creeping rays of a sunrise, the weight of an arm around her bare waist.

She frowns. Shakes her head. The memory is gone.

As she steps in further, she spies a bed dipped in luscious shades of burgundy, and just beyond that, a porcelain tub. Her body aches to fall into both, the hardship of travel making itself known in the tightness that’s settled between her bones and the fatigue that plagues her mind. One of the women calls her attention away, a secret smiling pull at her painted lips.

“The door just past your bedroom leads to Prince Oberyn’s–”

“Liddy! What are you suggesting?” The other woman gasps, but her smile is just as sly.

“What? It’s not as if the Prince is so concerned with propriety. He’d probably welcome all thre–”

“I think I’m just going to lay down, thank you!” She shouts above their laughter, ignoring the pang of jealousy that threatens to rise up her throat as she watches them leave with their arms woven tightly, heads pressed together as they continue to swap teasing secrets.

At the mention of his name, reality makes its presence known again, and it’s all she can do not to thrash at her own choices. The room suddenly feels smaller, enough to push her out into the open space of the balcony, sea salt air pricking at her skin.

Oberyn had been less than pleased in her presence, and it was clear that their upcoming nuptials was not a day he was looking forward to. She couldn’t say she disagreed; it was not as if she had been climbing the trees up north in search of a husband to tie herself to. No — she was here out of duty to her home and love for her queen — but that did not mean she intended to approach the matter with a sour taste in her mouth.

The Prince seemed to disagree.

She glances back towards the bed, the archway of a door now visible just behind it. She feels no desire to go to it now, and bitterly, she wonders if she ever will.

And yet she cannot look away.

———

Dinner had been tense.

To say the very least.

A sullen Oberyn sat at the far end of the table, arms crossed, his food left untouched. It had been his mood for most of the afternoon, going about his business with a frown stitched permanently into his lips.

He had barely spoken, his thoughts seemingly twisted in the darkest corners of his mind. Ellaria watched as he stomped from one corner of his quarters to the other, his eyes stealing to the doorway that led to where his future wife was resting, but never once did he move towards it. She had wanted to speak, perhaps suggest, maybe ask for an explanation of some kind…but with a bite to her own tongue, she fought the urge.

The northern girl was seated to his left now, a matching frown curving her features downward. Her movements were stilted as she picked at the plate in front of her, barely more than a bite making it past her lips. She still wore the same dress she arrived in, the heavy brocaded fabric wrapped around her like a fortress. Ellaria wondered briefly how much of Winterfell she still carried inside her, to be able to walk about Sunspear dressed in such a way.

Neither of them spoke a single word throughout the entirety of the meal, lips sealed shut and gazes pointed very much away from the other, leaving Doran and Ellaria to fill the silence.

Every word felt stilted, awkward, like knives drawn across her skin. It wasn’t long before both she and Doran gave up the pretense of conversation all together, tired eyes meeting across the table in exasperation. She could hear the older man’s steady voice even as he kept his thoughts very much to himself.

Patience, my dear. We must have patience.

Ellaria did not possess the fortitude that Prince Doran seemed to pride himself on. Patience, she has found, never suited her when the ones she loved most were on the line.

———

“You will go to her.”

Oberyn glances over his shoulder, his refusal burning at the tip of his tongue. He says nothing, instead ignoring Ellaria’s command with a frown and a shrug, turning his eyes back to the sky above. He had needed fresh air after dinner, craved it, like a drug he wished would flood his veins. He had come back to his quarters in a rush, barely gifting the others gathered in the great hall with a parting goodbye. Once in the safety of his rooms, he stripped himself of his robes and headed straight for the balcony, Ellaria trailing each and every step he took.

“Oberyn.”

Again, he does not answer, fingers curling down and around the banister, knuckles bleeding white from the strain of his grip. He considers the shape of them, the pull of his muscles and the crack of his bones beneath the stretch of golden skin, wondering why he could not use them to piece together the messy shape his life had taken upon itself.

These hands had studied ancient text, had held babes fresh from his lovers’ wombs, had avenged the death of his sister and her children. They had accomplished all he had set out to do, and yet now they choose to fail him.

Behind him stands the love of his life, and one room over, the woman he is intended to wed.

A woman he did not know. A stranger. A mystery.

But that did not stop the urge to reach out to her, to cup her cheek and touch his lips to hers; to take her hand gently and lead her to his bed. He grips his hands tighter to the polished wood, the compulsion following him even now, the want so strong it felt more of memory than daydream. Oberyn licks his lips and swallows, the sound like sand between his ears, before finally turning to face Ellaria, his decision final.

“Not tonight.”

———

And so it goes. Three nights more of the same; Oberyn’s petulant avoidance and silent fuming matched only by his betrothed’s stubborn frown and persistent presence.

He had grown restless with nerves over the past few days, taken to pacing like a caged animal, torn between wanting to scream and desperate to fuck. He’s lost count of the times he’s sought the solace of his hand, hard cock gripped tight, thinking of anything but her. Anything but visions of her face and clever tongue that seemed destined to tease along the edges of his fantasies.

He would normally call upon every brothel within the region as a sure distraction, but it’s only Ellaria he seeks out, when his grip grows tired and his knuckles ache. He pressed himself to her fully each time he filled her, tired of the facade, wishing inward and outward for her to be his soul’s match.

And still she haunts him. Haunts the place he once considered his safe haven; now overrun with the very essence of this woman he did not ask for but cannot seem to refuse.

“As worse a pebble in my shoe and twice over the inconvenience,” his only reply when Doran had asked after his opinion of her.

In the mornings he watches as she walks the courtyard, arms twined around her chest as if to shield herself from the frigid temperatures she left behind; a truly ridiculous notion considering the heavy dresses she continues to wear despite the warmth shining from up above. By her second day in Sunspear, Ellaria has taken to joining her, the girls trailing at their skirts as the two women walk beneath the shade of the lemon trees. Oberyn can see their lips moving from where he hides up above, though he isn’t sure why he does so.

They do not spare him a first or second glance.

His mind conjures up the worst of what they could possibly have to discuss, and yet the sight of them arm in arm leaves a pit of something swirling low in his belly. He blames his overwrought nerves as he stomps away from the balcony, impetuous anger and unfurling desire sticking to his heels.

During the day, she seems to disappear, though he hears the servants speak of her intricacies with kind smiles and earnest laughter. Charcoal nicked from the kitchen, small scraps of parchment along with, and requests for wine tasting of cherries instead of plums. He does not seek her out but it’s as if he can feel her on the other side of his bedroom wall, her furious hands scribbling away, her lips stained a cherry red.

They are seated beside each other for every meal, her woodsy scent overwhelming and intriguing him, and it is all he can do not to drown himself in cup after cup of Dornish wine. He simply turns away and grits his teeth, leaving the table more hungry than he had been before the meal had ever started.

Come the fourth night, Ellaria has had enough.

“The wedding is one week away.”

“We shall see,” Oberyn murmurs from his bed, eyes half-lidded as he watches his lover undress, stroking his cock, the pull of his hand slow, deliberate. The last of her clothing falls away and he feels his length twitch in his palm.

“You will go to her.”

“Come to bed,” he coos, not bothering with a rebuttal, instead spreading his legs that much wider.

Ellaria does not move from where she stands at the foot of his bed, body bare and so very out of reach.

“Tonight.”

Oberyn sits up, eyes narrowed, and teeth barred, a venomous refusal seeping through his veins like poison. But in a flash he thinks of her — bright red wine and bits of parchment, stained fingers and painted lips — and he falters.

“Why do you not hate her?”

Ellaria’s smile twitches, but never falters. She crosses her arms as she moves to join him, her body curling easily into his own.

“Why should hate be the assumption?”

Oberyn thinks it seems most obvious but it does not stop him from saying the truth aloud.

“I am marrying another woman, when it’s you that I…” he chokes off, shakes his head, then starts again. “I love you.”

He hates this feeling. Loathes it. His confidence shaken. His heart inexplicably torn. Restless fingers reach for her and she complies, long arms resting along the broad shape of his shoulders.

“I am happy, my Prince. Loved by a good man with his whole body and his fiery heart. He has given me four beautiful daughters and I am honored to stand beside him.”

“But you deserve more,” he hisses, the urge to jump to anger rising up his throat yet again.

She leans in to steal a kiss, her breath warm where it mingles with his own. When she pulls away, her smile is still as it was.

“You forget sometimes, my paramour, that not all of us wish to sneak away from the life we’ve been given. Some of us know how very different things could be if the scales were to tip in another direction.”

He nods, unsure if she is right but too tired to fight her on the matter.

“Go,” she murmurs, lips kissing at the hinge of his jaw. “I will still be here.”

The promise is enough to push him out into the hallway and without a reason why his feet carry him forward. It isn’t until he’s stepping into the grand hall, his betrothed standing with her back to him, that he realizes he had no way of knowing that this is where she would be.

———

“Trouble sleeping? Or have you been running with the wolves for too long?”

She does not jump at his greeting but her shoulders rise, something like nerves crawling up the the base of her spine at his intrusion upon her private moment. She sneaks a glance back, catching Oberyn’s expression in her sight line. He seems to take her silent reaction in stride, stepping deeper into the room, eyes pinned to her form.

After a moment’s consideration, she cuts out a reply, her words bitter but her tone soft.

“He speaks. And here I was only a day away from asking the Lord of Sunspear if his brother was mute.”

“Sharp teeth. Fitting.”

She frowns, turning to face him fully. “I am no wolf, Prince Oberyn.”

His eyes are dark, casting a piercing stare from where he stares her down. His figure is striking, his shoulders rigid. His head held high.

“What would you prefer I call you then? A lady, yes but not nearly a Stark and not yet a Martell.”

“I think my name would do just fine,” she offers before turning back around, her eyes tracing the shape of his brother’s throne.

He says it now, almost as if he’s savoring the feel of it on his tongue, and she ignores the pounding of her heart as it sings for him, and still she can’t help but wonder how it would sound moaned between the silk of his sheets.

Her frown deepens.

“What do you want, my lord?”

She hopes he does not miss the hint of sarcasm she touches to his moniker.

“Less of your presence, to start.”

It is like ice down her back, Oberyn’s stormy glare and tight posture matching the sting of his words. She does her best to wipe the look of pain off her face but she’s one beat too late. The prince does at least have the grace to look half-regretful for his honesty. She steps around him, suddenly exhausted from the unintended confrontation. She gives a small bow, tipping in close enough to smell the plums on his breath, and then it’s gone, stolen like a dream she can’t seem to remember.

“I will see you tomorrow, my Prince. I hope you sleep well.”

He calls her name just before she crosses the threshold, a request following in the swell of his baritone.

“Meet me here again. Tomorrow night.”

She doesn't reply, her only answer the soft step of her feet as she walks away.

———

The shape of the water eludes her. She watches the waves rise and fall closely, crashing up and down onto the sandy shore just below the jut of her balcony, wondering how it is they move the way they do. The parchment in her lap sits blank, her finger curled around a piece of charcoal, itching to bring the image to life but unsure where to begin.

The sea seems so much more alive than she had ever thought it to be. She had tried to ignore it at first, the desire to match its fury on paper, instead keeping her eyes on the lemon trees lining the courtyard. They were familiar even in their newness, a shape she could easily replicate if she wanted. She had been walking amongst them every morning, alone at first and then not.

Ellaria had proved good company, the other woman seeking her out on her second morning amongst the groves. She politely introduced herself and assured her she did not mean to pry upon her solitude, admitting outright that she was simply curious. The direct honesty was comforting in its own right, similar to the blunt cut of a northern wind. Before Ellaria could take her leave, she offered her arm in request.

“Will you walk with me?”

“I will.”

It was not meant to be a fast friendship. Those things took time. But she could feel a kinship forming that was a balm to the loneliness she had been ignoring with a steadfast stubbornness.

Ellaria spoke with confidence, not in a way she lorded over anyone, but instead speaking as a woman who has seen a great deal of what the world had to offer. She did not force the conversation of Oberyn upon either of them but instead allowed it to come them naturally, before finally admitting she was the one who had sent him to her the night prior.

“I know the situation is less than ideal, but I thought maybe…” Her words drifted into nothing, eyes watching Loreza pluck white petals from a low hanging branch, her small fingers gentle. Delicate.

“Oberyn is as ferocious as the sea, and all the more deadly for it. Some say to be patient with him, to allow his tide to rise naturally.” Their steps slowed, Ellaria’s gaze matching her own, watching her daughter with unfettered love and adoration. “I never could understand waiting when I had legs of my own, content to meet him halfway.”

The other woman’s words carry more weight now than they did this morning. The sound of the sea is persistent in her ears, her legs curled beneath her, her head empty save for the sneered contempt of her future husband. Ferocious. Unpredictable. Loud. In any other circumstance, she is certain she would find him grating; enough of an annoyance to turn her back and never spare him another thought. But she intends to stand firm, the choice she’s made settling the argument before it’s even begun.

Oberyn’s invitation lingers at the back of her mind, and she wonders if he intends to wait for her. Or perhaps he took her silence as a decided refusal. Before she can stop herself she’s unfolding her frame and walking the familiar path back to the great hall.

He is waiting for her, standing just inside the entryway, his arms crossed behind his back, his posture regal as he takes in the high ceilings and sweeping space. All of him seems to glow, the muted shades of yellow stitched into his robes catching in the candlelight. He seems at home half-hidden amongst the shadows, and she allows herself a moment’s breath, catching herself before she gets lost in the sight of him. She crosses behind him and up towards the center of the room, not able to find the right words to greet him, choosing instead to let her silence speak for her.

For some time they simply share the space, no words to give in exchange for each other’s presence. Instead they pass the time as they had been since her arrival in Dorne – together, but not.

It isn’t until the candles have burned down low, the hour far later than the previous night that Oberyn finally speaks.

“You do not like the dresses provided to you?”

She glances down at her dressing gown, thick fabric in shades of grey cinched tightly at the waist. The bulk of it was so very out of place on the sunniest side of the map, practically weighing her down, trapping her where she stood and yet she had clung to it. Desperately so. Her final piece of armor. That explanation is too intimate to give away so soon, and so she simply parrots his words from last night back to him.

“I am not yet a Martell.”

The briefest sting that crossed his features almost felt good in the moment, but alone in her bed she could not shake the guilt that stuck to her insides, sleep only finding her as the sunrise began to sweep slowly across the shore.

———

“We could call it off?”

It’s their fifth night together in the great hall, but only the third time he’s chosen to speak. They’re both sitting; she curled along the steps that lead to his brother’s throne and Oberyn perched along the high council’s table, one leg propped up, his bare foot flat on the polished wood. She had averted her eyes a little too late, heat racing up her neck and sitting heavy on her cheeks when she realized the prince was bare beneath his robe.

“What?” she asks, shifting her eyes carefully to his face before pointing them away again.

“The wedding. Call it off. You could leave in the middle of the night. I would provide you with whatever you need.”

She is quiet for a moment, lips caught between her teeth, picking at her fingernails, soot staining the skin beneath and little done to wash the dirt away. She had considered it. Of course she had, in the lonely hours of the morning, aching for snow and leaves and cold stone beneath her feet, still trying to adjust to the silk and sand of Dorne. And yet…

Something kept her rooted in place, something that felt stronger than honor to a place or love for a queen. But as she sat in silence, struggling for words, Oberyn kept speaking.

“No one would expect any more than what you have already given. It is not as if you are truly of noble blood.”

She stands at that, the abruptness of her movements enough to jar him off his perch, both feet falling to the floor below.

“Do you have any honor? Any at all, Oberyn Martell?”

Her face is twisted, her fists balled tight, and she moves quickly, refusing to let him see the tears that threaten to spill. With fast feet she moves out of his reach and back towards her quarters, one final reprimand slipping from her lips.

“I think you and I have very different ideas on what it means to be noble, Prince Oberyn.”

When she is finally alone, only the flicker of candle light to keep her company on the long walk back to her quarters, does she allow the tears to fall.

———

The smell of citrus always seems to burn brightest in the morning, the rise of the sun matching the yellow tang of lemon on his tongue. Most would think Oberyn to detest the early morning hour, his dalliances keeping him up until well into the night. It is a fair assumption but not always the most accurate.

There is a peace this early in the day; the air carries the slightest chill, the sky not yet filled with a fiery heat, tepid blues melting away to a shimmering orange across the shore. He reveals in it, when the mood strikes, finding solace in a serenity that is not always commonplace in his life.

The courtyard is quiet, save for the slap of bare feet, Dorea and Loreza racing across the stone path, disappearing up into the lemon groves, and returning to where he and his brother wait, the bright yellow fruit clutched between their tiny fingers.

Doran takes the offering with a smile, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out as far as he can, the pair of them erupting into giggles that ring out to meet the sunrise.

“Your papa and I used to do this very thing every harvest. Sucking the juice from the rind until our lips burned.”

The girls hang on his every word, asking to hear more and in the blink of an eye Oberyn is lost in the memory, same as Doran. Two boys racing down the curved steps, the rush of sea crashing in the background, their knees knocking and elbows jabbing, in search of an early summer treat. If he allowed himself, he swore he would hear Ellia’s voice chasing after them in a plea to slow down, her skirts rustling as she did her best to keep up.

How simple things seemed.

He’s back in the present before he can properly cling to it, his daughters still laughing as their uncle tears through the thick skin of the fruit for them. Oberyn tries and fails not to notice how his brother’s hands shake from the effort, and a pain he had been dutifully ignoring threatens to rise up. Doran, having caught his eye, is quick to divert the conversation.

“I hear talk of a quarrel between you and your betrothed?”

Oberyn chuckles, head shaking from side to side, letting his palm cup the curve of his cheek, the first rays of sunshine starting to warm his skin. Certainly he is not caught off guard by the question, but his frustrations threaten to swallow him whole anyway. It seems unlikely he will find peace in this morning.

“Who in your staff have you assigned to spy on us, my dear brother?”

“You give me far too much credit, Oberyn. This palace may be large but it is still a small world we live in. Word travels of its own accord. I have no need to rush it along. I am a patient man.”

Doran hands each girl a large slice of lemon as he speaks, and they squeal as the sour taste hits their tongues. Oberyn watches them as they take off, now in search of blossoms for their hair, and he marvels at the simplicity of their hearts. He hopes they can hold tight to it, if only a little bit longer than he was ever allowed.

“Go on, then. Tell me how I should do the honorable thing and offer her my apologies before tomorrow comes.”

He should not be so surprised when his brother only laughs, passing him his own slice of lemon with a hearty jab of his elbow, so very reminiscent of all those summers lost in the long ago.

“Oh, my brother! You are about to be married. You have your whole life to apologize. And with your track record it will be more often than not. I think perhaps you can simply count yourself forgiven if she meets you at the end of the altar.”

“And if I am alone?”

“Well then,” Doran offers, shaky hands bringing a slice of lemon to his own lips, “perhaps she is not the fool you have made her out to be.”

———

The layers of gauze and silk draped across her skin feel heavy, a sneaky trick considering how light the fabric felt in her hands earlier this morning. She had chosen the dress from the many left for her in her room, unable to resist the golden hues on today of all days, fingers tracing the vibrant stitching of the sun, crystals that seemed to glitter of their own accord framing the length of the gown.

Each step she takes feels weighed down, her gait slipping on the polished floor, the beaded sandals tied to her feet foreign and uncomfortable. She shakes out her fingertips, desperate to tug at the necklace fastened around her neck, the ruby red jewels choking back her breath and stealing her voice, but Ellaria’s hand in her own stops her.

Just beyond the double doors, sealed shut and hiding her from view, is the sound of music, the murmur of a crowd, a call of her name to signal her entry. It overwhelms and saturates, only the crash of the waves and Oberyn’s tempered anger filling the space between her ears. She feels too hot, too cold, and so very suddenly she wishes Sansa was here to hold her other hand. She curses inward, hating herself for refusing her friend’s offer to make this journey with her. How foolish of her to think this would be so easy a task accomplished.

She can hear Ellaria call her name, once, then twice, and slowly she turns to look at her, trying to steady her heartbeat in the depths of her honeyed gaze. She licks her lips and blinks back the saltwater sting of tears, wishing her words would present themselves clearly.

“I was not until…I had not truly…he does not…” she glances back towards the doors then to the open windows, unable to look into Ellaria’s eyes when she finally admits the truth aloud.

“I am frightened.”

“I don’t think there would be anyone who would dare discount that feeling.”

She nods again and tightens her grip around the older woman’s hand. “Will you…will you walk with me?”

“I will.”

They walk together slowly, and if not for the pomp, for the circumstance, it could just as easily be another of their shared moments between the lemon trees. But with each step further down the aisle the crashing sound inside her head booms louder. Waves slamming up against the rocks, drowning out the sense and sensibility of the choice she’s made, and waiting for her at the end of it all is Prince Oberyn.

He is dressed in the palest shades of yellow, save for the chain around his neck, the jewel at the center the deepest shade of scarlett to match her own. He stands tall, hands folded behind his back, his eyes watching as the two women move towards him. The look on his face is indiscernible, his lips parting around a silent question as he looks first to Ellaria, then to her.

She takes a breath in, holding it in her lungs until they burn, smoke and fire threatening to swallow her whole. Her head spins faster with each step she takes, her knees buckle, her steps falter. Beside her, Ellaria is balanced, the grip she has around her arm secure, her presence soothing. It is only when she reaches the altar and the other woman moves a hair away, do the tears she had been fighting all morning finally fall.

She hears her name again, spoken gently, cutting through the screaming sound of the sea inside her heart. But it is not Ellaria’s soothing voice that pulls her to the present. Instead it is Oberyn calling out to her, and when she looks into his eyes, she finds an anchor waiting for her.

“Take my hand.”

She looks down at his offered hand, his palm open, thick fingers splayed out wide, an invitation and apology waiting in silent patience. She breathes in again, letting it leave her lips softly, slowly, the last of her nerves leaving her to stand tall before the man she’s chosen.

For worse.

For better.

Oberyn’s lips twitch up, the smallest of encouragement, and after what feels like an eternity too long she reaches out for him, sliding her hand gently into his own.

And the world goes blissfully silent.

———

Dedications:

Forever and for always grateful for @jazzelsaur and @astroboots for keeping me on track with this one. Oberyn and Game of Thrones in general is so far outside of my comfort zone, and their support of this fic that embraces so many things at once has meant so much to me. I'm literally writing this story a sentence at a time, in between wrapping presents and making cookies and the mad dash end-of-year rush at work. So having the two of them to bounce ideas off of has been nothing short of my saving grace. I love you hoes. Thank you!

Also big thanks to @grogusmum for chatting Oberyn with me in the DM's. I am officially gone for that menace of a man and Hazel has been so wonderful in talking this story with me.

#Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell fic #Oberyn Martell x ofc #oberyn x ellaria #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #pedro pascal characters #oberyn martell fanfiction #Oberyn Martell x female character

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ineylesian · 1 year

Note

okay okay i have an idea… making out w gaz while you’re scolding him for getting hurt 🥰

— AN | AHHH i just wanna kiss him bro stop

— WARNINGS | mentions of injury, slight (like super slim) suggestive content

— AO3 | MASTERLIST

“Kyle, what the Hell happened?”

There’s a sheepish grin that meets narrowed eyes, and you find yourself tugging on his ear in annoyance.

“Bloody- okay!” He swats your fingers away, closely eyeing the supplies you pull from your kit. “I fell out of a helicopter. Got hit by falling shit while trying not to lose my head.”

Irritation swiftly molds into concern, and you’re reaching out to check for more wounds. He rolls his sleeves back while you tilt his neck up, and you’re shocked the moment you look down. A mosaic of black and blue adorns each of his arms, and even he looks a little surprised at the sight.

“Jesus, Kyle, how did this happen?” You frown, gently patting along his bruises. “I mean, the whole falling out thing.”

“Just another day in the military.”

Gaz shrugs, wholeheartedly. There’s a glint in his eyes that you don’t miss, and you feel your heart pull as a result.

“Well.” You reach up, running a gloved hand over his jaw. “Someone’s gotta keep the world safe, right?”

A sarcastic eye roll follows, and you’re left with no choice but to grab both sides of his face, forcing his body straight. Once he’s fully turned, you lean forward, pecking the small bruise on his chin.

“Don’t be so grumpy, Gaz. You signed up for this.”

He frowns, allowing you to lay his arm flat. The process of stitching his wounds go by relatively quick and painless, yet, that seemed to be the problem itself. Gaz was normally full of complaints when being stitched up, which led to a growing sense of worry within your chest.

Overall, Gaz was not a terribly quiet person. Now 5 minutes had gone by without a single word, and you can feel sweat building up against your forehead. Once you’re done, you move to throw the dirtied alcohol wipes in the trash, but he’s quick to keep you in place with a rough tug of your wrists.

You don’t say anything. He’s staring at you, hard, eyes raking over every little feature on your face. As they travel up, he finally notices the distress glistening along your nose bridge, and his grip on your arms loosen. One of his hands remains busy as it brushes stray strands of hair from your face, the other lightly tilts your chin up.

The press of his lips is light, nearly scared. He tastes of the vanilla bean chapstick he always has on hand, tainted lightly with sand from the desert. It’s long, but you couldn’t feel as if it was any shorter, longing for the taste of his once more the moment he breaks away.

“I missed you, angel.” His voice is barely audible, traveling to your ears in a singsong whisper. “Wouldn’t ever wanna lose you.”

You know fraternization is dangerous. It gets people killed.

But when he looks at you like this? Like a teenage boy so awestruck by the feeling of love?

“I know, Kyle. I know.” You kiss him briefly, earning a soft whine of protest when you pull away. “You won’t lose me, ever.”

You couldn’t care less.

You hum at the feeling of him on your lips once more, reveling in the way his hands gently clamp over your thighs, holding you still. Your own hands travel up his back, gliding over the soft balm encasing his skin, and up to the shells of his ears. A soft tug of his hair elicits a muffled groan from the depths of his throat, and his canines instinctively sink down into your skin.

Disappointment flashes in his eyes when you pull away, tracing two fingers over the brim of his hat before pulling it off.

“We’ll continue this later.” You smile, lightly bonking him with it. “You need a shower.”

#arqhms #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw22 #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz x you #gaz garrick #gaz cod #cod mw fanfiction

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spikedsoul · 1 year

Text

maid's worst nightmare - ch 18

damn, can't believe i'm roughly 27k words into this story and not only has it only been 3 days, but also no actual romance yet. hope y'all like slow burns...

previous chapters

@sovereign-of-succ

On one hand, your fingers were sore already, but on the other hand, the heel of your palm was getting tired from constantly kneading. You were working on the spaces between the uppermost spikes on his back, your whirlwind thoughts interrupted by how it seemed like you just barely started. You pulled your hands away, not for the first time, and stuck them in the warm water for a bit of relief.

"Again?" Bowser snorted. "Thought you were a handmaid."

"Which is a fancy name for a personal maid waiting on royalty - I'm not a masseuse," you retorted.

His head tilted slightly in what you could only assume was an exaggerated eye roll. Without another word, he shifted a bit and grabbed your hands; you squeaked softly as he pulled your chest to the edge of the tub. Instead of pulling you in, though, like you'd briefly feared, he took each of your hands in his massive paws and started to lightly massage your fingers and palms.

You flushed in embarrassment, but didn't pull away.

"What're you–"

"Hush. Let's make a deal, hm? I can get the lower half of my back without help, so you just finish up between the next set. But when I get out you oil my whole back down to my tail. It's not as intensive and you'll get a handy little cloth, like you're just wipin' off a kitchen counter really well. I may or may not make you comb my mane, too." He leaned his head back and turned to face to the side so you could meet his eyes, his big mitts still steadily massaging your hands.

The sigh you let out was a little more dramatic than it needed to be but you nodded. "Alright. Deal. I'm more used to doing laundry or sewing or cooking, not massaging a giant…" His eyes narrowed a little, warning you to be careful of your next word. You swallowed just a bit. "...Reptile," you finished.

He scoffed, "No shit? The fact you took like five breaks didn't tip me off or nothin'."

"Oh shut up," you muttered.

He finally let go of your hands, and you had to admit they felt much better. Well, you wouldn't admit that out loud to him, but it was a definite relief; you missed the way his nostrils flared and contracted as he turned his back fully to you again.

He hunched his shoulders a bit and leaned forward a little so you could access what little you had left of his skin to work on. You got to it without further complaint, kneading the soap into his skin as best you could, quietly enjoying how you could feel his quiet rumbling traveling up your arms from his back. It was almost like a cat's purr, honestly.

By the time you finished the last bit, your hands were sore again, but instead of complaining you just washed your hands free of the soap. No words were exchanged between the two of you as you took your leave of the bathroom and he moved to finish up what you hadn't done.

You almost, almost, went to peek your head back in when you heard him grumble to himself. However, you were quick to reason that if he'd wanted to say something or had an issue, he'd bring it up with you to your face. He wasn't exactly afraid to speak his mind, after all. Soon enough, Bowser was ambling his way from the bathroom with a few things clutched in his right hand: another bottle, a soft-looking cloth, and a comb.

"Remember - down to my tail," he instructed, pushing the items into your chest. You jerked your hands up to grab them before anything fell.

"Yes, your beastliness," you mumbled. He snorted softly and you waited until he turned his back to you to smile a bit. "Um, this is an awfully small bottle…"

"A little goes a long way, 'specially with that rag," Bowser replied. "Just put a little on and work until the sheen isn't getting applied anymore. Easy."

The genuine instructions were appreciated after the snarky bath you had to endure, but it left you with a question.

"So I really am just wiping you down like a wooden table?"

"You got it, little lady. Then just a brief comb through my mane, and after that you're done for the evening." He settled on his stomach with his chin on the pillow and his hands slipped under to help support his head. His knees splayed out to the side a little, like a monitor lizard or crocodilian, and you found that a little amusing.

For now, you set the comb on the bedside table closest to you, then moved to start on his left side. You dabbed a little of the oil on the cloth and started with his neck once again; sure enough, there was a noticeable sheen that stuck to his skin after just one pass. You opted to work the rag in circles to better and more evenly spread the oil. Just the little bit you used covered his whole neck, his shoulder, and just under the first couple of spikes. You had to move the spikes yourself but they weren't hard to handle.

Although it had been your decision to be thorough and rub down to the middle of his sides too, a blush crept into your cheeks as you worked lower; you'd basically railroaded yourself into swiping the rag over his hip. Despite his tummy, his hips were still relatively pronounced, and you were forced to reckon with the fact that he pretty much was all muscle - even that belly of his.

Bowser effectively had the physique of a power lifted.

…No wonder it had been so tough to massage him. Also, you could kill yourself for having this revelation because it was what got you into Rodney in the first place.

What could you say? You appreciated guys that could lift cars. It was just unfortunate that you realized this about King Bowser, your captor, who would eventually be giving you back to Princess Peach you hoped. And it wasn't like you actively sought Rodney out - you knew very well how to appreciate from a distance, but the man had seen you look one too many times and became rather persistent getting you to date him. He was sweet at first, as most abusers are, and by the time he'd shown his true colors it was too late.

You didn't intend to make that mistake again.

Your hand brought the cloth up underneath that last middle spike, over the divot at the base of his tail, and a tiny movement brought your careening thoughts to a crashing halt. Sure you had been mistaken, you repeated the action. But there it was again: his tail arched up a little at the base.

"Don't do that, you weirdo," you frowned.

"Do what?" he huffed. "Far as I know I didn't do anything."

"You're arching your tail like a damn cat when I get near the base," you stated. "So stop. It's weird."

His spikes clacked softly against each other as they briefly raised just a little and lowered again in a small wave. It was like he had to fight to keep them down, and you remembered Ludwig mentioning they were a tell of his.

"Then don't - if you don't wanna see it, just skip that part," he muttered without looking at you.

"Cool." You got up off the bed completely to move around to his other side; you didn't trust what might happen if you climbed over his legs. For whatever reason, Bowser seemed almost embarrassed by the tail arch, and you didn't care to humiliate the king.

It probably meant nothing, just a good spot like on cats and dogs and other animals. Yeah. Sure.

When you settled on his other side to continue the process, he turned his face away from you. You didn't comment. If he wanted to be a baby about it, fine with you - he was actually doing you a favor by reminding you he was a haughty man-child with the title of king. Silently, you continued your task, careful not to use too much oil and spreading it as evenly as you could, just as thoroughly as you'd done on his other side.

#bowser #bowser x y/n #bowser x reader #super mario bros #fanfiction #fanfic

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mrsnegan · 1 year

Text

Rain down on me

[HAPPY NEW YEAR! This little drabble sat in my drafts for way too long (or at least the first two lines and now I finished it). It's very depressing, I'm not gonna lie, I have no idea why my mind came up with this, I'm very happy personally, haha. Guess I kinda like the drama. Have fun reading, maybe there will be a part 2 in the future.]

Warnings: lots of angst, mentions of cheating

"The little kiss you stole..."

Negan tried to speak louder as the rain poured down on the both of them and the fireworks kept lighting the sky. "...what the hell were you thinking?"

She tried to avoid his gaze, she knew better than anyone that kissing him should never have happened.

"It's the new year, so...it was just a kiss."

Her excuse sounded lame, a blatant lie to cover up her real emotions. Of course Negan could read right through her.

"Bullshit. Hey, at least look at me if you're going to lie."

His fingers came up to her chin, gently turning her head so he could meet her eyes.

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"The truth."

Under his stern gaze her resolution crumpled.

"The truth, the fucking truth?" She turned her head away in one swift motion, resulting in Negan losing his grip on her. She took several steps backwards to make a point, to get some distance between them. The unforgiving rain kept pouring down on them.

"I've fallen for you, you bastard. I'm head over heels in love with you and my stupid feelings got the best of me," she shouted over the fireworks. "I can't keep this shit up, can't be your little mistress anymore. It hurts like hell."

"Y/N, I..."

"Yeah, of course this is the only situation in which you don't know what to say. Bravo, Negan, you're always a big talker, but as soon as it's something important to me, you can't find your voice. Thanks for the invitation and a happy new year, it's the last time I will bother you with my presence."

Her words cut like knives through the new year's celebrations. Soaked through to her bones, she couldn't tell if hot tears travelled down her cheeks or if it was just the rain playing a trick on her.

With a last look into his eyes, she turned around, about to leave this shit show. Though she couldn't walk far, Negan's hand curled around her upper arm, dragging her away from the entrance of the building, where the party continued without them, towards a backstreet.

Her protest died in her throat when her back was slammed againt a brick wall and Negan's lips captured hers in a heated kiss. For several moments she wasn't able to react at all, then she found her strength again, pushing him away with enough force, he stumbled backwards.

"What the fuck?" she exclaimed out of breath, wiping over her lips.

"I love you too, Goddammit," Negan confessed through gritted teeth, leaving Y/N speechless.

"I've fallen for you so fucking hard, I have no idea what the fuck to do." He ran his hand through his soaked hair and over his face. "You can't leave. It would destroy me."

"And what about me? It destroys me to see you returning to your wife over and over again."

Negan sighed, taking a few steps back into her direction again, coming face to face with her. His hands carefully cupped her cheeks, pressing one single kiss onto her now trembling lips.

"I know...but she's sick. I can't leave her."

"No, you can't. But you also can't keep fucking me while she's needing your support. Or inviting me to parties while she is home alone. It eats me away, Negan, I no longer want to be one of those bitches. I've done enough damage already. You too. She doesn't deserve this."

His forehead pressed against hers, defeated.

This time, her fingers lifted his face to look into his eyes. Her lips found his in a deep kiss after they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. She could feel his hands clutching the wet material of her dress tightly, but stopped him from going any further.

"Goodybe, Negan," she whispered against his lips before she slipped through his embrace, returning to the main street.

She turned around one last time. The look on his face nearly broke her heart again, but she needed to walk away from him or she would never be able to do it.

"Happy new year...," she murmured to herself while she cried. At least no one would bother her with pitiful looks, they were all busy with celebrating the new year. And the rain did its best to cover her tears while she walked farther and farther away from the one man she loved with her whole heart.

---

Taglist: @murphslass @negans-attagirl @you-a-southpaw-doll @toxic-ink

#negan #negan x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #negan fanfiction

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hyungseos-cafe · 2 months

Text

the letterbox series ; chapter seven - the gardener

paring: the boyz juyeon x gn!reader

genre: time travel au, fluff, angst

warning: none

word count: 961

taglist: @deoboyznet @winterchimez @mars101 @cloverdaisies @uwu0clock

series masterlist

The next morning I woke up in my bedroom, strange, I thought. I usually wake up in the basement, but that’s besides the point, my bedroom looked different again. I began snuggling further into the sheets, however unfortunately for me, the loud and obnoxious sound of a lawn mower began circling my house.

There was no point in going back to sleep since it doesn’t seem like the person outside would be done anytime soon. Getting up, I put on my slippers and headed to the bathroom. As soon as I exited the restroom, mother began calling for me.

“Y/n, honey, come down please”

“Yes mother, I’m coming”

As I arrived in the living room, mother was at the sliding door, sipping on her coffee as she faced the double doors facing the outside lawn.

“Good morning Y/n! Come have some breakfast!”

I nodded, but couldn’t help but notice the mysterious boy outside mowing the lawn, he wore a short sleeve shirt which highlighted his nicely toned arms, while the sun perfectly shined on his dangerously sharp jawline.

“Mother, who is that outside mowing our lawn?”

“Oh, that’s Juyeon! He volunteered to do our yard work for some cash. Said he’s saving money for a gift– Don’t you think he’s handsome?”

“Mother!”

“What? He said he noticed you reading in the park and asked for your name”

“He did not! Mother!”

“Oh, looks like he’s done! Here he comes!”

I stood there stunned, the mysterious boy who appeared in front of me was like no other. His skin was smooth, a tall nose, and I couldn’t help but notice how tall he was.

“Hi! I’m Juyeon! I asked your mother if I could mow her lawn since I’m saving money to buy a gift for my little brother”

I was speechless, enamored by Juyeon. It felt almost illegal how I was able to look at such a gorgeous statue– I mean goodness. His smile was so sweet and his sweaty hair perfectly framed his face, and god, his voice was as smooth as velvet.

“Uh, Hi! I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you! Thank you for helping my family with our yard work!”

“Oh it’s no problem! It’s my pleasure since your mother posted about needing some help on the community bulletin” He giggled, and I swear this was what heaven sounded like.

“Oh, haha really?”

“Yeah! It’s so hot, do you want to grab some ice cream once I’m finished here?”

“Sure!”

“Perfect”

And he walked off, but I didn’t feel as excited as I had sounded. Had I just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life? I practically agreed to a date with Juyeon. How am I supposed to subtly tell him this “thing” between us can’t go any further?

Half an hour later, Juyeon emerged from our backyard, wiping his sweat with the towel draped around his neck. He smiled at me, making eye contact and joined me on the couch.

“Hey, let’s grab some ice cream?”

“Sure”

We bid my mother farewell and made our way to the ice cream shop just down the street. Juyeon and I made small talk, he told me of the gift he was getting for his little brother.

“That’s really sweet of you to buy your brother a new bike! You’re such a great brother”

“Thank you” He smiled gently while averting eye contact

“How’s your ice cream by the way?” Juyeon gestured to the cone in my hand

“It’s good! But you should have let me pay! That way you have more money to spend on your brother”

“Oh, no it’s no worries at all!”

My heart skipped a beat as we locked eyes once again, his smile was so sweet, and the beautiful lashes that lay neatly above his deep brown eyes

“Are you free tomorrow night? We should get some dinner.”

Shit, this was what I was trying to avoid. Do I say no or do I make some excuse?

“I actually have plans tomorrow, I’m helping a classmate with some work. Sorry!”

“That’s okay! Just let me know when you’re free” and slipped a piece of paper across the table with what I assumed was his number. I couldn’t take it, but I had to do it since he was right in front of me.

“Thank you for ice cream, Juyeon. It was really nice getting to know you, but I have to go! Mother is expecting me soon” I got up and ran out the shop as quickly as I could, rushing home.

At home, mother greeted me and I shouted a quick response back while rushing to my room and pulling out all of my supplies. I had to write the note as quickly as I could and hand it to mother before I fell asleep.

“Dear Juyeon,

You may be surprised to be hearing from me like this. I know we were just together the night before, but I have to go. Unfortunately I cannot share with you where I am going, but just know that you will forever be in my thoughts.

I wanted to take the time to thank you for allowing me to know you in such a short time. You have been so kind and friendly. All of the wonderful stories about your childhood warmed my heart and the way you speak so fondly of your brother.

Please promise me that you won’t go searching for me, it’s not worth it.

I am so sorry to have left you like this.

Goodbye, Y/n”

I quickly sealed the letter and ran to mother, explaining to her that I was unable to deliver it to Juyeon as I was to help a classmate with their homework.

#hyungseos-cafe #deoboyznet #ube iced coffee with almond milk brown sugar syrup and tapioca #series: the letterbox series #the boyz blubs #the boyz series #the boyz scenarios #the boyz sangyeon #the boyz jacob #the boyz younghoon #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz juyeon #the boyz kevin #the boyz chanhee #the boyz changmin #the boyz haknyeon #the boyz sunwoo #the boyz eric #the boyz

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b0nelessdoodles · 3 months

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Art Summary 2023

shoutout to the one month were i drew fanart and then everything else was just dnd content again lmao (also shoutout to me being late to posting this haaaaa)

2023 wasn't the best year for me personally. between money problems and job searching, health issues, mental health issues, unintentional discomfort at my new job, and the overall issues of the world it just hasn't been great and I felt it heavily in my creativity. I never really had any creative highs this year outside of artfight (and even then i felt like i didn't do well) which only fed into some of the issues I was having.

But looking back I am really happy with most of what I made! Sure I didn't draw much but hey I think I popped off when I did!

So here is to 2024! Already off to a good start in the art department and even if I slow down at least I've had fun so far!

(i was gonna put me gushing about things in tags but its a lot so i'm doing a read more this post is already so damn long lmao i'm sorry)

okay i'm here to gush about two pieces at a time and their contents cause then make me happy to look at so lets get started on that with march and september 'cause hey! look at the relationship development of my little goblin guy!

march was when kk (tic's best friend and now boyfriend) first appeared to the rest of the party outside of just tic talking about him. literally the entire party could see that kk was in love with tic and was just like "oh buddy sorry about that" 'cause tic was a dumbass and romance was just never something he thought about until meeting the party. then we flash forward to september where the two confessed to each other after what really felt like the end of tic's story arc. at least it felt that way to me 'cause he reached his goal of killing groll and becoming the king of goblins but i know he still has shit to do I'M LOOKING AT YOU TRAVELLER AND RIP! but yeah that was the whole reason he left and it was done. he did it! but it almost cost him kk and the two ended up having a really important talk about it. kk chewed tic out and spilled his guts and i still think about it a lot holy shit it was so good omfg but it was in that moment that it clicked for tic. that if he had actually lost kk he had no idea what he would do, that he felt like his whole life would fall apart without him. and just man it was good wholesome content. congrats to the goblins for being the first canon relationship! (even tho they were not the first confession that one goes to rhami!)

now that that block of the text is out of the way we get to more depressing ones, those being january and october with my guy, dr. cecil wilfree.

its just.... man. what do i even say about him. january was probably the last moment before his life went into a full downward spiral, eventually leading into his demise. that piece isn't even anything major but rather something like a reminder going "hey, remember when wilfree had two normal eyes? good times!" and just man (-insert that image of a horse standing on the beach-) compare that to where he's at in october and knowing what happened in those 10 months? january he still had trust and hope, he believed that he was going to get back home and help river out with his plague, maybe even get aster home if she'd let them, maybe find a way to cure himself and help casey. but by the end there was no hope and he found out that he had been used, was nothing more than a tool for someone who he trusted, despite knowing that he really shouldn't have. river was dead and it was his fault (at least in his mind it was), he had failed to protect aster and traumatized both her and willow, and he could do nothing to save an entire population from being wiped off the face of the map. and he caved under the guilt. he gave up. its sad to see him alive and pissy in january and then look at december and see a shell of the same man, no more thoughts in that head as his mind got disconnected from his body and self.

and then for extra sads we've got december which was his birth month, so i drew something from a time before the campaign. back when he was alive and well, no soul curse and unknowing of the horrors yet to come, and receiving a gift from someone whose life he could soon destroy due to his own hubris.

anyway! pay no mind to may! i didn't draw a damn thing that whole month!

#art summary #art summary 2023 #i was trying not to go off in the main comment but i did anyway oops #the read more is actually just what i was going to put into tags but yeah no i wasn't gonna do that #it would be way too damn long!#if you do read it all and then still read my tags afterwards thank you!#i have a lot of words to say all the time i'm so sorry

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jww-archive · 2 years

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SHE’LL WRECK YOUR WORLD, LEAVE BEFORE THE MORNING SUN. self para

The alarm drew June from sleep. The bed was cold. Cold and too big. She hadn’t slept proper, the departure from Ty’s had been filled with tears. The run? Tears. She showered and cried, and then cried herself to sleep. A little around 1 in the morning, she jerked from sleep, filled with anxiety about being yelled at that she’d look puffy. It took her a second to realize that fear was gone and that she was entitled to look like shit. Still, the alarm went off and June could feel the vast emptiness that surrounded her. There was no escape, she didn’t wake up without it on her mind, she awoke knowing it all.

She pulled herself into the shower again, and went about getting ready, a comfortable outfit for the plane. Comfortable cute, because she knew she’d be photographed. June usually wore one of Ty’s shirts when she traveled. Before that, she wore the same ratty shirt she had stolen from Vann. Today, both options felt a personal attack. Which left her standing in her closet and staring at her clothes.

Crop top it was.

She yanked it off the hanger and began to pull her things down the stairs. The driver was waiting in the foyer, the maid had let him in. June felt tired. As she walked past a mirror, she glanced at herself. The reflection staring back at her didn’t look like someone she knew. June wiped her face, as it if it would help. June was wondering where it all went wrong, when she stopped recognizing herself. When she saw was aware of who she was. Pulling her bag over her shoulder, she let the driver take her bags and load them and the maid handed her a smoothie. It counted as a meal, June thought.

She walked through the airport, and stopped, taking photos with fans. She had a smile on her face, June glanced at the photos they took, and she looked a little more like herself. Eventually her security corraled her toward the plane. She made her way into it, settling in and then tucking herself against the window. Digging into her bag, she pulled a blanket out. She was used to at least traveling with Beau, if not Ty as well. This loneliness was something she did recognize. She pulled her phone out and sent Ty a text, On the plane now. I’ll text you when I land. She switched it to airplane mode and then pulled her knees to her chest. She was supposed to be thinking about the decision she needed to make, but she didn’t want to.

Part of her wanted to tell them to fly her to Italy, or Cypress, or somewhere — anywhere than Nashville where she had to do business and think of what the hell she was gonna do when she returned. The look on Ty’s face, the look he tried to hide, when she admitted why she left Vann, was seared into her brain. Leave it to her, to hurt the one person who actually tried really hard to not hurt her. Her mind latched onto the melody he was humming when she walked out into the garage, before she shattered his world. She didn’t think it would ever be the same.

But then, June didn’t know if she was the same.

She fished out her journal, and started to jot down a few lines that went well with the melody in her head. A few more lines turned into something else, and she was slowly workshopping a song with low hums. She would have gotten the guitar out, but she wasn’t in the mood. The flight was quick and she was on the ground, her bad over her shoulder. She turned her phone off airplane mode and sent Ty another text, landed. Headed to the label now.

The rest of the day was a flurry of meetings, talking about contracts, talking about albums and next steps. June was surprised that she wasn’t being yelled at during the whole thing, but it was very matter of fact. They talked through new contracts. They talked through the possibility of the lawsuit. It turned out, Jamie couldn’t sue her or them. It was the first stroke of luck that June had in a while. Before she knew it was six in the evening and June was walking out, feeling empty and tired. She was headed down the stairs when she all but ran into her producer.

Suddenly, June was alight again. “Briggs!” Her arms went around him and he laughed and patted her head. “What are you doin’ here?” She held onto him a little tighter. Briggs had been her source of consistent comfort through the highs and the lows of the last five years.

“Me’n Morgan are workin’ on a tune, what are you doing?”

“Fire brigade, you know how it is.”

He laughed at that. “Can you sneak away?”

“I have no keeper, that’s why I’m here. Need a new one. Fired the last one,” June said with a nod.

“Good for you, she was a piece of work.”

“Seems like everyone saw that but me.”

“C’mon, then, I’ll drive you over to the studio. Got some folks there that’s be happy to see you.” His eyes tracked to her bag.

“Yes, I’ve been writing, I will be happy to share,” June said with hum and a nod.

She skip followed Briggs out the garage door to his truck and got into the passenger side. His truck was lifted, which fit the part and June had to haul herself up. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Was this a version she recognized? It felt close, but as she dug deep, she could still feel the vast emptiness.

The drive was short and before long they were at the studio. June’s foot tapped with nervous excitement. She loved the studio. It was a nice break, but she also had an early day. She looked to Briggs. He just shrugged and stepped out and then opened the door for her, lending her a hand to get down from the truck in her heels.

Bursting through the door, she immediately saw Morgan and started to laugh and all but launched herself at him in a hug. “It’s been a minute,” he drawled.

“You always have a funny way of popping up when I’m at my worst, but still happy to see you,” June said with a laugh, and swiped a tear. She was happy to be here. “We need a picture, Briggs —“ June glanced and motioned for him to get in the frame.

> junewatson posted a new story

“Got your social media back, I see,” Morgan said.

“Yeah, among things.”

The last time she saw him, it was on the set of Taste of Country, and June left the duet crying. They had spent that evening at the bar, and June told him the very high level of hurt she was feeling.

“You’re looking good,” he said with a nod. “Guess you’re not feeling it though. God knows you not feeling good is great for your career though,” he joked.

“Yeah, might get a gem out of it this week if you two wanna share some studio time?”

Briggs looked to Morgan and Morgan looked to Briggs and they both shrugged. It was their way of saying they didn’t mind.

“If you’ll do a duet?”

“Again?” June shook her head. “Guess we never cut the record on that Taste of Country, huh.” And they never would. June gave him a nod. “You have something in mind?”

He cracked a grin at her, and she rolled her eyes. She got it now. Her eyes moved to Briggs, narrowing, because he knew and planned this all along. There was a half written verse that needed help with and here she was. Then, Morgan and her had been friends for a long time. He was her opening act in 2016 and joined her as her buddy for all the awards shows that Vann missed and in 2017 until she started dating Hayes.

“Well, let me see it…” June said and motioned for the lyrics. Before long they were in the studio, guitar in hand, and trying to work through the song. June missed this. This was what she was missing, it made her feel a little less shitty than she had been feeling, she even had a smile on her face that felt real, and when she looked at her reflection in the studio glass, she saw a part of her that she knew.

It took them the better part of two hours to work it out, and then they finally had it. It had been a while since June had been in the booth with someone else, and she felt good, felt like she was getting a small part of herself back. This was something she wouldn’t have been able to do. The thing about June was that, when it came to recording, she always gave her all — just like every show. So when her verse was up, and she stepped away from the microphone and opened her eyes, she was staring at one dumbfounded boy, and one very proud producer. That’s my girl. Forgot who you were dealing with, Morgan.

If there was any reason why she was who she was, it was that right there.

> junewatson was tagged in the story.

She glanced at the clock. It was 10:38pm. She needed to go. She grabbed her things and then called her driver, who was there quick enough. Headed back to her hotel room, she went to the top. It wasn’t the penthouse, but close enough and she put her things down. She changed, washed her face, and then got into bed. Another text to Ty. Long day. Talk tomorrow. Good night.

—

A clipped phone call. That’s what June would have called that. To say that she left things tense would be an understatement. Yet, Ty sounded unshakable, like he always did. She could, however, sense that he was wounded underneath his stoic and sweet conversation. It made her want flee. Instead, it caused her to give him very high level updates. Spent time in the studio, working through a song after hours. She told him about the new managers she was meeting. Ended the call with a clipped, love you.

She walked back into the studio and there were two sets of eyes on her. “Don’t look at me like that.” It was all June said.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” June hummed, but it didn’t reach her face. Instead, all the grief and stress she’d been going through since she saw Vann again was on her face.

“June, I been married for a decade, I know I’m fine means you ain’t fine.”

“Not right now,” June said, she didn’t want to talk about it. Not with Morgan in the room, he already knew enough.

But, it was guessed. “Either the fiancé or the ex,” he said with shake of his head.

Briggs cut him a glance. June shook her head. “Saw him again.”

“The ex,” Morgan filled in.

“Oh. And?”

“And…” June waved a hand.

Morgan shook his head. “She bolted out of the room in tears after Taste of Country, Briggs. What do you think?”

Briggs shook his head. “That rock says you can’t be having that happening.”

“Thanks for the obvious take,” June snapped. There, that was her. Somewhere along the way she lost her fight, and there it was. Right there.

“He know?”

“Which one?”

“Both, I reckon.”

“Yeah.”

“Cruel woman,” Briggs shook his head.

“Tryna not be, hence, distance.”

“From them both?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe the answer’s in one of those journals,” Briggs said with a shrug. “Or maybe it’s still inside you and one of those journals will help you. You did us a solid, we’ll do you one, help you out.”

“And I’ll only take half credit on the songwriting,” Morgan said with a grin. June threw a guitar pick at him. There it was again, that was her. She was recognizing herself a little more. Slowly, she was getting the pieces and part of herself back, the things she recognized. But as soon as she put her finger on them they slipped away.

#( self para. )

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themculibrary · 2 years

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Mythical Creatures Masterlist

Links Last Checked: August 15th, 2023

Aquired Taste (ao3) - 74days steve/bucky T, 6k

Summary: Steve Rogers isn't really quite sure what is going on, because one moment he's feeding Clint's dog a treat and the next the hottest guy he's ever seen is wiping blood from his mouth and accusing him of tasting bad.

(OR: The one where Bucky is a vampire and Steve is anemic)

Cat Nipped (ao3) - Akira_of_the_Twilight bucky/tony T, 71k

Summary: “Steve,” a bit of anger leaked into Bucky’s voice, so he paused to cull it back. “Tony is a werecat, and you really want the two of us to meet?”

Steve sighed, his shoulder dropping. “Bucky…”

“No!” Bucky bit back a bark. “Steve, I’m a werewolf, in case you have forgotten. Canine weres and feline weres do not get along well.”

“I’m a werecanine and Tony and I get along fine.”

“That’s not what you were saying last week.”

When cats and dogs collide there is bound to be trouble.

Command Me To Be Well (ao3) - tumtatumtum steve/bucky, peggy/angie E, 29k

Summary: The first time Bucky meets his new partner, he’s shackled to the wall of a filthy torture chamber.

Incubus!Bucky and Priest!Steve travel through 16th century Italy hunting HYDRA monsters for the Vatican, kicking ass and trying not to fall into bed with each other.

Well, Steve tries. Bucky's mostly a flirtatious little shit.

Down Into The Golden Lands (ao3) - alby_mangroves, Speranza steve/bucky T, 9k

Summary: "Did he leave a forwarding address, the emigrating bastard? Steve Rogers, 50 Main Street, Valhalla?"

dust to dust (don't cry for us) (ao3) - amosanguis steve/bucky T, 1k

Summary: Wolves are smaller now than they used to be.

Howling Commando (ao3) - AnonEhouse steve/tony, tony/everyone E, 41k

Summary: In this apocalyptic world survival takes precedence over nearly everything. Throw in Alphas, Omegas, soul bonds, and shape-shifting, and it's a wonder Steve Rogers remains such a level-headed person. Tony Stark is still a specially flaky snowflake, of course.

is it not living? (ao3) - shatteredhourglass bucky/clint M, 5k

Summary: The dream he has is strange, of green-blue scales shining under metal fingertips and strong hands tugging him through the water. There’s a voice, too, a hint of an accent he can’t distinguish through the haze, talking to him with what sounds like exasperation. He thought drowning was supposed to be peaceful.

Our Names in Blood (ao3) - OhCaptainMyCaptain steve/bucky E, 29k

Summary: The super soldier experiment results in Steve becoming a lethal killing machine. Isolated, alone, and terrified, Steve finds his way to Europe where he learns Bucky's been taken by Hydra. When he finds him strapped to a metal slab and moments from death, Steve faces the choice: either let his childhood best friend - and the love of his life - die, or turn him and condemn his soul.

Pardon Me While I Burst Into Flames (ao3) - poisonivory matt/foggy E, 9k

Summary: He moves his mouth a few times, soundlessly - a sure sign that he's working out what to say and doesn't think Foggy will like it. "I, uh, I...remember how I told you I was a demon?"

"That's pretty memorable," Foggy says, because, well.

"I…may have neglected to tell you what kind of demon I am," Matt says.

There are different kinds of demons? Matt's expression is nothing shy of abject terror, so Foggy makes a heroic effort and keeps his voice very calm. "What kind of demon are you, Matt?"

Matt gulps audibly. "An incubus."

Sniff (ao3) - Shi_Toyu bucky/tony T, 19k

Summary: When Bucky's Wolf takes control and follows a tantalizing scent, it leads to a few interesting situations with a certain genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

So Here I Am Alive At Last (ao3) - shatteredhourglass bucky/clint E, 9k

Summary: He’s not sure what happens, but the next minute Clint’s eyes are flicking towards him, something dangerous and feral in his stare. And there’s blood still smeared on the corner of his mouth. For a minute, he’s not entirely sure he’s not going to be attacked, because all he can think is that this isn’t a human in front of him, this is a predator.

The Ballad of The Three Legged Werewolf (ao3) - The Notorious Trollop Vo the Terrible (Voishen) steve/bucky E, 84k

Summary: Funny how the perfect time to begin again is right after you realize everything you had is gone. After being a test subject and a weapon in the hands of the humans for fifteen years, Bucky is finally free. His first order of business is finding his own kind and maybe some answers about the holes in his memory. When he meets the pack's First Alpha, he quickly realizes there is something irresistible about him that has nothing to do with his pack standing. With mating season on the horizon, it's time to pick a partner and he knows exactly which alpha he'd like to keep his den warm. Now if only he could remember how seduction works.

the sirens and the thunder (ao3) - legete steve/bucky T, 15k

Summary: “Hide that,” he says, forcing the words out past every instinct. “As well as you can, all right? Before morning.”

Steve stares at him blankly, like he needs a moment to work this out, then swallows once, sharply. "What's your name?" he asks at last—asks as he stands there with the pelt in his hands.

And oh, he thinks suddenly, what is his name? He can’t speak it, not with this mouth, he can’t sing it into the air like he can in the ocean. He just shakes his head; like his nakedness, it’s something he can't explain. Steve nods, just nods, his eye swelling shut and blood drying on his shirt collar, and says "we’ll figure it out."

(An AU where Bucky is a young selkie who is accidentally called to Steve and ends up staying around to help this poor, wretched kid not die.)

This Side of the Blue (ao3) - notlucy steve/bucky, riley/sam, peggy/natasha E, 156k

Summary: Tucked against a set of crumbling, stone steps was a tank made of metal and glass, filled to the brim with greenish water, distorted sunlight filtering through and casting strange shadows. Playing tricks on the eye. A trick was the only explanation for what Steve saw floating there. This figment of his childhood. This myth. This legend.

Within the tank, the siren bared its teeth.

Turn Around (Three Times Before Lying Down) (ao3) - kellifer_fic steve/tony M, 15k

Summary: Everyone knows that Tony Stark is a playboy, billionaire philanthropist, but what they don’t know is that he’s also a werewolf. When a government agency known as SHIELD finds out, they use this information to force Tony’s hand and bring him into a new elite lycan field team, codename The Avengers Initiative.

Suddenly Tony finds himself playing host to a bunch of lycans, a misplaced God of Thunder and an experimental supersoldier that isn’t as dead as everyone assumed. Can his week get any worse?

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #mythical creatures #mythical creatures masterlist #masterlists

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kimnjss · 3 years

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uncharted territory | kth

⤑ series: kinda hot

⤑ pairing: campus flirt!taehyung x sweet girl!reader

⤑ genre: lmao i don’t even know... angst? smut?

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 7.5K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: use of alcohol and weed, cursing, dirty talk, slight hair pulling, over-the-shirt nipple play, dry humping, ruined orgasms.

⤑ A/N: hihihi! just here to remind you how much i appreciate all of you guys reading this story nd getting as invested as you are!! don’t hesitate to let me know what’s on your mind - no matter what it is ., feedback is my favorite!!

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:07

Hoseok is leaning handsomely against the side of his car when you're stepping out. Arms crossed over his chest as his teeth nibble on his lower lip, eyes seeming to sparkle when he's looking at you. The shine only getting brighter when the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. Body lifting from the side of the car to pull the passenger's door open, gesturing to it with his hand.

“Ooh, check out the gentleman,” You're teasing with a laugh, ducking into your seat as he rolls his eyes. Jogging around the front of the car until he's sinking into the spot beside you, taking another moment to let his eyes travel over your body.

Nodding slightly to himself before he's grinning, “You look hot,” His warm hand landing on your thigh to give it a little squeeze before he's pulling from his parking spot and onto the road.

Compliments from Hoseok came sparingly, wasn't really one to gush over your appearance with mere words. He was more of a show-er than a talker in that sense. So when he was paying you a compliment, it was never anything all that deep. Never once compared the brightness of your eyes to the sunlight or whatever Shakespearean shit he could muster up. He was just going with what he thought and you appreciated that.

It kept things from getting confusing between the two of you. If he was constantly dotting on you and telling you how amazing he thought you were (and you were amazing, no doubt about that), but if he was telling you.. it would definitely put a damper on your whole arrangement. You were a simple girl to be completely honest. Words got to you, you'd be head over heels in love if he was calling you beautiful every chance he got.

Hot was good. Hot was fine. Hot was safe. Because catching feelings for Hoseok? You'd be better off standing in the middle of the road waiting to be run over. And then getting the driver to put it in reverse. Hoseok was brutal when it came to girls and relationships, didn't waste time on feelings or the overly emotional.

A bit of an asshole, but that was why you liked him. He knew how to keep things fun and exciting, loved being surrounded by people. But he wouldn't hesitate to tell someone to fuck off if the circumstances called for it. He was cool. To put it simply. A very cool guy taking you out on a date. Anyone would be giddy about that, it was Jung Hoseok for crying out loud!

“What you got a taste for?” His eyes don't move from the road in front of him. One hand steering the wheel while the other keeps its hold on your thigh. Skin easily warming under his touch, you force yourself to focus on what he's saying.

Having to keep yourself from suggesting, (for the first time in person but the eighth(?) to him) skipping dinner and going back to your place to make proper use of your time. You bite that down. He wanted to take you out to eat, so you planned to humor him. Eat with him so he can eat you out. Simple.

“Anything, really. You like pasta. Should we just go to that Italian place?” With a slight nod, he's directing the car toward the restaurant. The smile on his face lets you know that he had been secretly hoping to get to eat there tonight. It was his favorite place to go, knew the menu like the back of his hand.

So he's pleased that you're suggesting it.

The car ride is filled with soft music and playful banter about whatever comes to mind. He's challenging you, saying things that he knows will get under your skin just to hear you argue why he's wrong. Laughing as you outline all the reasons why mints and chocolate should be far away from each other.

He keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leads you into the restaurant. Still egging you on with why he thinks you're wrong, laughing at the way your face twists up at him. Pausing only briefly to get your table, but the debate is in full swing the moment the two of you are settled across from each other.

There's a subtle type of competitiveness in his tone, paired with the playful smile on his face. Not even a full hour here with him and you were starting to see what Jimin was talking about. Being out with Hoseok, talking beyond where you should do it next, was something you never considered.

It's nice.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:59

Conversation between the two of you doesn't die down even after your food is being set down in front of you. You're only now noticing that you never really talked to Hoseok before. You were friends, of course, that's what the 'F' in FWB stood for, but you were more like group friends.

Never really hung out alone until some months ago when you were starting this whole thing up. And fucking didn't really account for all that much talking. You knew nothing about him aside from the fact he was Taehyung's asshole womanizer roommate. No idea how witty, how animated, how attractive he could be.

It made you want him even more.

He's in the middle of explaining the King Henry VIII drama he had seen the other night, which is also surprising. He almost seemed 'too cool' to be this interested in a period piece starring Natalie Portman. But he's speaking so excitedly, that you can't help but hang on to every word from his lips. All until your phone is flashing on the table beside you, Taehyung's smiling face lighting up the screen.

The buzz steals both of your attention from the conversation, your brow furrowing slightly. A part of you knows that he's only calling for nonsense, probably in the midst of a fight with his girlfriend and he's calling for you to tell him he's right. It's hardly ever an emergency when he's calling you, so there should be no problem with letting his call go to voicemail.

Especially this close to the end of your date, you'd be heading back home with Hoseok in no time. Plus he could just text you if it was something important. There was no reason to answer, and yet, you can't keep your hand from reaching for the device. Shooting an apologetic smile over at Hoseok.

“He knows I'm with you... he wouldn't call if-,” The nod of Hoseok's head cuts you off, waving you away with a smile to take your call. And you're excusing yourself quickly, pressing the phone to your ear once you're far enough away from the table.

He better have his dick caught in a mousetrap or something to justify interrupting your dinner. “Tae. What's going on?” You listen, for any telling sounds of things being out of the ordinary. All you hear is the hum of the TV and his heavy breathing hitting the line.

“Yn, you've gotta get over here.” There's an urgency in his voice that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing. “Why? What's going on?” It's probably something stupid, it usually is when it comes to Taehyung. But curiosity has already set in and you find yourself thinking of how to tell Hoseok you have to go.

“I can't just tell you... you have to come,”

Groaning into the phone, your hand lifts to pinch the base of your nose. A deep sigh leaving your lips. “Tae. I'm out right now. If this isn't urgent-”

He's quick to cut your words, “It really can't wait.” He almost sounds serious, which has the slight annoyance you feel melting away. “Okay, okay. I'll be there in a minute,” Quick to hang up the phone and head back over to the table.

Hoseok has his head bowed, full attention on the plate of lasagna as he shovels forkfuls into his mouth. Reaching for his glass as you slip back into your seat, gulping down his water. And you're two seconds from telling him that you have to go when he's reaching for his napkin, wiping the corner of his lips.

“Taehyung needs you to rush over?” How he was able to just guess that is beyond you, but you're nodding your head a sheepish smile taking over your features. “He says it's urgent,” You genuinely feel bad. Even though things between Hoseok weren't any deeper than hooking up, you still had agreed to come out with him. To stay out with him.

To leave in the middle of it (not to mention before you could wrap everything up and go back home) felt shitty. You were having a good time getting to know him, but if you didn't go see what was going on with Taehyung, you knew it would bother you for the rest of the night.

Despite everything, Hoseok seems to understand. Insisting you finish the rest of your risotto before he's paying the bill. He even keeps up with the bubbly conversation from earlier, enjoying the sound of your laughter all the way to the car. Guiding you in with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

He lets you choose the music and hums along with the songs you play. It's not long before he's pulling up in front of his house, car staying on as he steps on the brake. You wait for him to put the car in park and when he doesn't, you're shooting a confused look in his direction.

“You're not coming in?”

He's quick to shake his head, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “I'm gonna go see what's up with those girls in building E.” Oh. Right. You almost forgot for a second who you were dealing with. Jung Hoseok, notorious fuck boy. If he wasn't sleeping with you, then he'd just find someone else to do it with.

Feeling bad for cutting your date short was useless. “See you later, then.” He meets your words with a nod, waiting patiently for you to get out of his car. Spares a moment to lift his hand in a wave before he's speeding down the road.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 20:21

Taehyung is sat on the couch when you enter the house. Hunched over a bowl with chopsticks in hand. Torso bare and hair falling in a ruffled mess around his face. He doesn't budge at the sound of the door, too focused on pushing long strings of spicy noodles into his mouth.

He could've at least put together a fake emergency if he was going to call you over like this. Pretended his arm was broken or something, instead of coolly sitting on the couch trying to gulp down his beer around the mouthful of Ramen.

“Hey! What's so urgent? Why are you half-naked?” Your loud voice startles him, droplets of beer falling from his lips and rolling down his chest. He swallows, reaching forward to grab up a napkin, using it to wipe at his well worked on pecs.

Your eyes follow the movement of his hand, long fingers brushing the droplets from his tanned skin. It must be the anticipation of getting fucked tonight because you're finding it hard to tear your gaze from the ripples of his stomach. “I'm in from the gym,” He explains the no shirt, the tightness in his arms that have fallen victim to your greedy stare. Flexing obviously as he reaches for his drink again, taking a few sips before he's picking up his bowl. His chest tenses with the movement.

Has he always been this... wow? Quite literally staring in the middle of the room, greedily enjoying the sight of your best friend without his shirt on. Yet, it's not the first time you've seen him sans shirt. Countless sleepovers and pool parties, but his bare stomach seemed different now.

Seriously. Did he always have abs like that?

You're forcing yourself to look away, face grimacing at the loud burp he lets out. Enough to snap you from your thoughts, wherever they were going was uncharted territory. And you had no interest in exploring that, especially when you were supposed to be annoyed with him!

“What's the problem? Why'd you make me rush over?” Wearily, you step closer to him. Eyes scanning over his body in a less pervy way, trying to detect any sign of injury. Maybe even a paper cut a little too deep. “Are you okay?” Your face inches from his, still searching.

He's laughing, hand lifting to rest on your forehead, pushing your head back slightly. “I'm fine. Want some?” Taehyung lifts the bowl between the two of you. And your gaze drops to the spicy scent. And normally you'd be letting out an excited whoop, accepting his generous offer and plopping down beside him.

But right now, all you are is annoyed. Annoyed and frustrated. If it wasn't for him, no doubt you'd be off somewhere with Hoseok, minutes from having your eyes rolled back, nails scraping against his skin. Instead, you're here, no emergency in sight. You shaved for this! Matched your lingerie for this! What a waste.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? I was out with Hoseok, Taehyung.” As if he didn't know. And he had the audacity, to sit there, slurping his noodles as if he wasn't at fault for this annoying ache in the pit of your stomach. Something that would've been long taken care of if it wasn't for him.

His shoulders lift in an uninterested shrug, jaw falling slack as he shovels another mouthful into his mouth. “Well... now you're not. It's extra spicy. Your favorite,” He's offering more food up to you and all you do is roll your eyes, letting out a frustrated huff.

“You're fucking ridiculous,” You scoff, hands rummaging through the contents of your purse until your fingers are catching onto your phone. “I'm calling Hoseok,” You announce for no real reason, especially because he acts as if he hasn't heard your words. Attention back on the hot bowl in his lap.

He's being weird and you don't know what it is. Noticed it in doses these past few days and assumed it would just blow over... but he just seemed to be acting more and more out of character the more time passed. It confused you. And you hated being confused.

Part of you was convinced that it had something to do with him now knowing that you're sleeping with his roommate. The side comments, inadvertently trying to cock block, and now this being proof enough. But there was another part of you... a much smaller, poorly trained part, that was convinced these were the actions of a jealous man.

What would he have to be jealous of, right? It wasn't like he wanted to be the one sleeping with Hoseok. Well, debatable... but seriously, the way he's been acting lately has led you to believe that there was something else going on that he wasn't telling you. Tae's known the guys you've fucked around with before and never has he acted so... stiff?

Something changed. Something was different. And you can't help but wonder if the picture incident had something to do with it. Highly unlikely, as Joon said, he has probably already forgotten about it. But, nothing else made sense.

Hoseok doesn't answer. Not like you actually expected him to. He went to 'see what's up with the girls in Building E'. No doubt busy with that, why would he answer his phone? “Come on, Yn.” Taehyung is beside you now, you're not sure when he stood up, but you can smell the sweetness of his body spray. Even after the time, he spent in the gym.

“Listen, I'm sorry I interrupted you.” His hand is reaching to lower your phone, halting your request for an Uber. “...but you're here now. Just stay. Relax.” Flashing that breathtaking smile of his and it's becoming apparent how he gets away with so much. This boy knew how to use his looks to his advantage, there was no denying that.

But, you're not easily fooled. “You can't just interrupt my dates because you're lonely,” Some of the bite is gone from your tone. Not entirely sure how upset with him you really were. Of course, calling you out when he knew you were with someone else was shitty... but it was Taehyung!

A terrible reason, but the best one you could come up with. There was no way staying mad at him was an option, when he has done the reverse many times with you involved. He's smirking at you, picking up on the anger melting away from your features. “So it was a date. You told me it was just dinner,” He teases.

Not entirely pissed at him anymore, but that didn't mean you'd just let his stupidity slide. This was the second time he's interfered with your much needed Vitamin D and it was about time he heard something about it. “Just dinner. A date. A fucking square dance. Taehyung, you can't just cut in because you want.” He's looking at you funny, this dazed expression that you've never seen directed to you before. From him.

It makes your heart stutter, so you ignore it. “What if I did the same with you? If you were out with Ailee and I called you up with some stupid excuse?” He doesn't even hesitate, dark eyes glued to yours. A stare so intense, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “I'd come running,” The deepness of his voice and the seriousness of his tone has your breath hitching.

There was no way this was happening. You were used to flirty Taehyung, got pretty good at compartmentalizing your feelings when it came to the Taehyung that you dealt with on a day-to-day basis. But this... this was different. Uncharted territory, indeed. The way he was looking at you? Talking to you? Nothing like you've ever handled before when it came to him.

No idea how you were supposed to react, so you decide to just leave to keep from making a fool of yourself in front of him. “I'm leaving. Goodnight, Taehyung. Call your girlfriend.” A halfhearted request, you're really just reminding yourself that he has one. And while 'The Other Woman' was a great song, that wasn't you.

“She broke up with me like an hour ago,” Again? You want to say, feigning disbelief. Their routine breakups were far from surprising and they always ended up in the same way: them back together and holed up in Taehyung's room for days on end. Only to end in a pointless fight that would repeat the cycle.

They were always broken up, but that didn't mean they were done with each other. It never meant that. “Please, stay.” He's pouting obnoxiously, so you're confused why you find it so cute. Fingers laced with yours as he lightly shakes your arm. “I miss hanging out with you,” Puppy dog eyes aimed right at your heart.

He's not wrong. It's been a little while since the two of you just hung out. Lounged around in sweats, ate, and watched bad TV. And it was very unlikely that Hoseok would be returning your call. Jimin is surely busy with Jungkook or something. You'd just be going home to sit around and do exactly what you could do here.

“Fine.” Eyes rolling to exaggerate your annoyance. “Go make another packet while I change,” Soft hair bounces as he nods his head, turning to pick up his half-empty bowl from the coffee table, carrying it into the kitchen.

You're halfway up the stairs before he's calling out to you, smiling when he sees your head poke around the corner. “I'm really sorry I ruined your date. That was not cool,” There's sincerity in his tone and in his eyes, every last bit of annoyance or frustration you felt dissipating at the sight.

“It's fine,” The prettiest smile he's ever seen pushes onto your lips, nearly stealing his breath away. “I'll just have to text Hoseok and explain your issue with separation,” Giggling at your own lighthearted joke and he's matching the sound.

Silently praying you hurry upstairs so he can get his heart in check. So he could think. Something he's been skipping out on that since the moment he picked up his phone and decided to call you.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 21:43

You're wearing basketball shorts. His basketball shorts. Paired with a sports bra that you must've left here for one reason or another. It takes everything in him not to zero in on the jiggle of your ass as you pass him. The pebble of your nipples pushing against the fabric. You always complained about how cold his apartment was.

He tries not to stare as you stretch to pull a bowl from the cupboard, laughing out loud when you realize that he's already taken one down for you. Thanking him as you move to stand close. Your cheeks are red and irritated from the quick way you removed your makeup with the dried-out wipes you left in his bathroom. Hair let out of the tight ponytail, cascading down your back in pretty waves.

It's not until you're pinning him with a furrowed brow and an upturn of your upper lip, does he realize he's literally gawking at you. With this unmistakable love-struck look in eyes. “Why are looking at me like that?” Spoken while plucking a piece of meat from the pan and pushing it into your mouth.

Caught and he doesn't even think of trying to backtrack. With a shrug of his shoulders, he's turning his attention back to the food in front of him. “I don't know. You just look beautiful or whatever,” He can hardly look at you as the words leave his lips, afraid you'll catch the blush on his cheeks.

“Or whatever?” You joke with a laugh, ignoring the flip of your stomach at the compliment. Instead, you move to the fridge, retrieving a couple of eggs while chastising him on forgetting the best part. Not sure what was up with him, but you refuse to let yourself get carried away.

You've spent so long accepting that he has and only will see you as a friend. Best friend, even. And just because he was throwing a few compliments your way didn't mean that everything all of a sudden changed. Nothing has changed. The two of you were still in the same spot you had been two years ago.

Taehyung serves you with a smile ten minutes later, fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than normal. Not long enough to be weird, but definitely long enough to get the wheels turning in your brain. And then he's plopping down across from you like nothing, head ducked as he takes the first steamy bites of his food.

It takes everything in him not to profess his unclear feelings. Trying to limit how often he looks at you, censoring his thoughts as they teeter between mushy and cringe. It's hard with the way you're joking between bites the way you always do, he can't help but notice how pretty you are.

He felt lucky to have you like this. Even if it wasn't truly having you. Just the fact that you were comfortable enough around him to be like this. Even if it had been years, it felt different now somehow.

Everything felt different since he's started to notice little things about you that he failed to see all along. Your cute habit of flicking and tossing your hair as you spoke, more often with how animated you got. How your eyes lit up when you were excited. That tiny dimple at the corner of your mouth, which only made an appearance when you were laughing really hard.

On top of it all, he was noticing how obvious you were. Not exactly sure when it clicked in his mind and it could very well be his ego talking, but he was starting to feel like he wasn't the only one keeping a mental scrapbook. The more attention he paid to you and your little mannerisms, the more he picked up on the fact that you were doing the same.

Whenever he'd bite his lip, rest his cheek on his palm, angle his head in a certain way – your eyes would follow. And how could he forget the lust-filled look on your face as your eyes devoured him, it hadn't even been a full ten minutes since you got there and you were so obvious.

A wonder he didn't notice it before, but now that he thinks back... all of the signs were there. Everything that he missed has been screaming at him for the past-however-many years. And as much as he wanted to do something about it, he knew he had to be careful.

Extremely careful.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 23:52

Right now, you had your legs in his lap – ankle inches from his junk, but that's the least of your concerns. You're more focused on tucking every last crumb of weed into the paper, eyes flickering between your fingers and the TV screen.

“How is she this oblivious?” You're commenting with a wrinkle of your brow and Taehyung has to act like he's been following the plotline all along.

From what he was able to pick up with your brief summary of the plot and the way you talked over every scene with backstory, the main character was set the be married to a man with much more experience than her. In life. In the bedroom. The scene playing in front of you right now she was just finding out that he had been lying about not being able to have children.

You had suggested starting from episode one, but he denied the offer. There was something about watching you explain a show while getting frustrated about the scenes that played out before you that he found endearing. Not a new feeling, but holding a new meaning now.

He can hardly hear what's being said because you're in the middle of a rant on how there was no reason for her to be so clueless and sent into a marriage. And how her mother should've gone into the nitty-gritty before shipping her off. And how her husband was just a compliment douche bag for taking advantage of her ignorance.

Taehyung is positive he looks like you just agreed to go riding off in the sunset. Leaned back against the couch and watching you with this dazed-dopey expression that you sum up to him just being high. You were working on rolling the second joint you'd share.

His eyes follow as you lean forward, hovering over his lap as you reach for the lighter on his side. Not even thinking to ask him to pass it over, not that he's complaining about the closeness. Elbows holding your body up as you fiddle with the spark, bringing it toward you when it stays.

You catch his stare as you exhale, handing the joint off to him before moving back to your end of the couch, legs falling back in his lap. He doesn't pull his gaze from you, letting the weed burn out between his fingers. “What?” You're asking with a soft laugh. He's hissing out a breath, bringing the smoke to his lips and inhaling.

“You're fucking gorgeous, it's annoying.” He says with a shake of his head, a thick cloud of smoke leaving his lips. “You're always talking shit,” Speaking through a burst of laughter, but he doesn't entertain the thought any further. Extending his hand to pass it over, eyes flickering up to the screen.

There had been something that he had paid attention to when you first turned this show on. The conversation that was being had on the screen about best friends and getting married and falling in love. And how that's how you should do it. Marry your best friend and it would work out.

No matter how many porn-like sex scenes appeared after that, he was still stuck on that one conversation. And the thought that if you looked so pretty next to him right now, there was no telling how much prettier you'd look done up and dressed in white. He has to laugh at himself, though.

Blaming his raging thoughts on the half-empty bottle of liquor on the table and the green you're handing back over to him. Which is why he doesn't bother to stop the question that slips out next. “Do you think that's really the key?”

Half forgot that even though you never left his mind, you couldn't read it. So you have no idea what he's talking about. “Key to what?”

“Being happy in a relationship?”

He hardly ever really talked about his feelings being with Ailee. You just knew what he told you and that was very limited. She annoyed him, but she was sometimes funny and knew what she was doing. That was pretty much it.

So you're a little shocked that he all of a sudden was bringing this up as if you knew their relationship from a hole in the wall. “Are you not happy with Ailee?” Someone who fought with their significant other as much as Taehyung did, couldn't really be happy. But you could be wrong.

“I'm sure I could be happier,” He's looking at you with those eyes again, flicking the ash off with his finger before bringing the joint back to his lips. “Do you think falling n love with your best friend is the key to all that?” He pauses, the blurts the last part out like he's lost control of his tongue. “Like you and me,”

You're letting out a harsh cough that has nothing to do with the smoke cruising through your lungs. Eyes tearing up while your back shakes. “Me and you?” You manage, letting out a gasped breath. “Like me falling in love with you and you falling in love with me?” Finger used to point between the two of you, just to be sure.

Taehyung nods his head, unphased by your dramatic reaction. “Yes, that's exactly how that would work. A money-less transaction,” You're letting out a laugh and a shake of your head, pushing the thought from your head. He was only joking, talking shit for whatever reason.

“Yeah, no. That would never work out,”

His words chase yours, “Why not?” You don't miss the small pout of his lips, as if he's actually asking. Wondering why you thought the two of you together wouldn't work out.

“I know too much. You know too much,” Going with the first reason that pops in your head, one that you've used countless times with convincing yourself. “There's gotta be some mystery,”

Taehyung is rolling his eyes, “Oh, come on. We're not the Scooby-doo kids, Yn. Mystery is overrated.” He's really pushing for this and you're not sure why. Most likely entertaining the thoughts that pop into his foggy mind, so you don't allow yourself to think too hard on his words.

Or what they could mean. “It's perfect,” He continues. “You meet someone, become best friends, decide to fall in love and now you're married to your best friend. That's the dream,” He says with a grin. And you're not sure if he's actually talking about you or if he's just talking.

“That's lazy,” Either way, you attempt to get the race of your heart to slow down. No matter how much closer he was to you now, backs of your thighs pressed against his. You're nearly seated in his lap and you just now noticed the mindless way his fingers drag over your knee. “You can't pick off from your existing friends. You meet someone, fall for them and then you become best friends,”

His laugh rings through your ears, then your entire body. Just the sound has you feeling warm all over, something that you were sure you had gotten under control a long time ago. “You just said the same thing as me, except you changed the last two steps,”

“It makes a huge difference,” It did. One was the two of you and the other could be any two strangers on the street. For the sake of you, your version was the one you'd go with. Anything else and it would be hard to talk yourself out of it.

But Taehyung has been a lot more attention, putting the pieces together as they appear. And one thing he was always good at spotting (except when it came to you for some reason) was when someone was into him. And judging from the subtle changes in your demeanor throughout this entire conversation, you were so into him.

With caution on his mind, he's shifting focus. Hand lowering to discard the dead bit in the ashtray. Leveling you with a squinted eyes and a purse of his lips. “What's the real reason you didn't want me to know about Hoseok?” Sort of had an idea of what this might be, but he wanted to hear it from you.

“What do you mean? I already told you,” You're reaching for the bottle on the table, taking a swig to keep your hands busy. And to keep you from having to look at him, no doubt the unfiltered thoughts in your mind would be slipping out with one glance.

He doesn't pull his gaze from you, though. “No, you said you didn't want things to get awkward. I think that was a lie,” His face is much closer to yours now, you can clearly see the faint beauty marks scattered against his skin.

Just a simple stretch of his leg and you're pushed further on to his lap. Back resting against his arm now that he has his hand is pressed against the armrest. He's close, but not suffocating, has left enough space for you to get up and move if you wanted to. But that's the farthest thing from your mind right now.

“Wanna know what I think it is?” Voice so low he might as well be mumbling. His eyes flicker down to your lips, noting how soft they look. And he finds himself wondering just how they'd feel pressed against his. “What?” You sound breathless like you had been thinking about the same exact thing.

He's smoothly moving his arm from you, guiding the way your back falls against the couch. “I think you're into me, like how I'm into you... and you didn't want me to know because of that,” The risk of fucking up your friendship takes the backseat because he knows he's right. Took his time and put the signs together.

“Yeah, right.” You laugh it off, but he's learned how obvious you are.

A grin spreads over his features, hand dropping to your hip. “You're making the face you do when you've been caught,” The heat of his palm spreading from your side to your entire body. And you've come to terms with the fact that you've lost control of your heart. Wrapped up in the moment where Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, your best friend and former crush revealed he was into you.

His head bows, nose nudging against yours. It's embarrassing the way your lips instantly pucker, eyes falling shut as you wait for the soft press. Eyes fluttering open after a moment of waiting and receiving nothing, catching the devious smirk on his lips.

“You're into me, aren't you?” While he was sure, positive after seeing how ready you were to have him kiss you, he needed to hear it. Needed to be sure that he wasn't missing something, he's been doing a lot of that lately.

The nod of your head is answer enough, followed by your warm hand reaching to rest on the back of his neck. Not sure who moved first, if you were pulling him down or he was lowering himself and you really didn't care.

A tiny moan escapes from your lips as he shifts above you, the sound being sent straight to his crotch. His mouth is pulling from yours, brows raised and eyes wide as he stares down at you – surprised by the fact that you could actually sound like that. Before he's given a chance to comment on it, you're pulling him back down.

Kissing you is everything he's imagined it to be and more. The soft push of your tongue paired with the deliberate scrap of teeth on his lip. Your hummed moans fill the room and stir him on, his grip falling from your hip to your thigh. Easily pulling your legs apart to slot himself between them.

Fingers tangled in his hair and heavy breath hitting his lips each time you pull away, only to dive right back in. Mouths moving over each other messily, Taehyung can barely ask the groans that die on your lips. Free hand pressed against his chest, you can feel the hammer of his heart.

Thighs squeezed to his hips, bodies so close the thinnest of papers wouldn't fit. So it's no wonder you feel it. The twitch of his cock hardening against you, so enticing you can't help the way your hips lift to meet his just as he's dropping down to press into you. A hissed moan falling from your lips at the contact.

“Fuck,” He's groaning, a switch seemingly turning on inside of him. Mouth breaking for yours and hand moving up the toward your chest. His thumb brushes over your hardened nipple through the fabric of your bra as he rolls his hips into yours.

Just the heat from pressing against you like this was enough to rile him up, mind reeling with thoughts of what it would be like to really fuck you. And the sounds you'd make. You sounded so pretty with the simple rolls of his hips, what if he was actually buried deep inside of you.

His head drops, mouth latching onto the crook of your neck to suckle at the skin there. Your senses are fogged with nothing but him. The smell of him, the feel, the taste. Still lingering on your lips and hitting your taste buds as you lick them. There's a definite heat growing between your legs with each drag of his covered cock, angled perfectly that he's just barely tapping your clit.

You want more. So much more and it's making you delirious. Needy. Hips rolling up to meet his and he's pushing you down every time. Teeth scraping against your skin and fingers pinching at your chest. “Taehyung,” It sounds more desperate than you intend it to. He's groaning back in response, face lifting from your skin to admire the red mark he's left behind.

Tongue dragging over it, soothing it with a simple swipe. Hands re-positioned on either side of your head, his gaze drops to watch the way your hips move in order to meet his, a smirk pressed on his lips. “Fuck, look at you... such a mess.” He's pushing forward, cock meeting your clit perfectly.

Strained whimper ripping through your throat as you brace your hands on his side, back arching into him. “Grinding that pretty pussy all over my cock, didn't even let me get undressed. You're so wet, huh?” Now you knew what the boys were on about when they clowned him for being mouthy. Had laughed along before, but having his words directed to you was no laughing matter.

You knew what you were doing. You could feel the effect of what you were doing but something about having him point it out in that breathy tone of his was hot. What you didn't expect was for him to want you to talk back, but the slow of his hips is quickly warning you of your role.

“Don't stop,” You're gasping, hands reaching out to him. “I could cum like this,” Your whispering, cheeks heating up at the admission. How embarrassing, losing it over dry humping, you half expect him to laugh it off as a joke.

But he doesn't, instead, he's lowering his body back onto yours, the movement of his hips picking up in speed. “Me too,” He breathes out, fingers tangling in your hair as his tongue teases against your covered lips. “Wrap your legs around me,”

His words are muffled, but you understand him enough to lift your legs, ankles locking behind his back. He drives into you like he's balls deep inside of you, pulling gasps and moans from your lips. Nails pressed into his skin as you beg him not to stop, chanting your near release. And just as you feel it bubble up in your stomach, his low pants of your name getting to you. Just as you're about to be knocked over the edge you've been teetering on, Jin's voice is breaking through.

His loud laughter bleeding through the door behind you, followed by the low grumble of Joon's voice. The jingle of his key is what snaps Tae out of it, body freezing as his head lifts to glare at the door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You're quick to push him off, looking away as he adjusting the throbbing bulge in his pants – leaving you to wipe at the slobber-dampened mark on your chest. Jin and Joon are stepping in just as you're rushing upstairs for a shirt. Their laughter filling the downstairs as you rummage through drawers for something to pull on.

All while shoving your raging thoughts out of your mind. Still in shock that that actually happened... whatever that was. Taehyung was into you. He had said it and then kissed you. God, he kissed you. Would've been to be able to fully enjoy it if you weren't so damn greedy.

Just one taste and you were wanting the whole thing and from the look of it, he was willing to give it to you. But what if it had been a fluke. A one-off because of whatever happened to Ailee and the fact that you were there. Into you, but what did that really mean? Would that change anything?

You dare to hope, even though you're sure you're wrong. There was a lot going on tonight. Him fighting with Ailee, you being torn away from Hoseok before you can do anything properly. You were high! Still, high to be honest. Would he still be into you when he was sobering up?

Finding out is the last thing on your list. Fitting yourself as his best friend after your quiet crush was one thing. Doing that after he's taken back being into you was another. You didn't want to think about what a disaster that would be, you'd rather just go home and sleep.

Jin is turning to happily greet you as you make your way downstairs, while Joon makes room for you on the couch. Taehyung doesn't look up, cheeks flushed and eyes glued to his knees. You'd give everything to know what he's thinking.

“Yn! Tae said you were here. We're gonna open Monopoly, wanna play?” It's an invitation from Jin that you'd usually be jumping at. Claiming your designated money bag piece without a thought, so he's shocked when you're shaking your head. “Think I'm gonna just head home, turn in early.”

Tae looks up at the sound of your departure, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He had hoped you would want to stay, so he could have a chance to talk to you properly. Tell you how he was feeling even if he didn't fully understand it yet. He wanted to tell you that he liked you and he wanted to hear you say it back.

Let you know that he wanted to try to be good at relationships because he wanted to try with you. He's standing with that in mind, shrinking back when you're looking at him. There before did he feel nervous around you, but with all this weighing on his chest, he doesn't know how else to feel.

“Let me walk you home,” He offers, it's a twenty-minute walk across campus. Enough time for him to talk to you... or just be around you for longer.

You're shaking your head, though. Pushing an easy smile onto your lips. “It's fine. I texted Jimin,” It's a lie and he knows it is, but he doesn't call you on it. Obvious that you didn't want to be around him. Most likely regretting the whole thing.

Nodding as he plops back down beside Jin. He watches as you pull your shoes back on, throwing a quick goodbye over your shoulder before stepping out. Not even sparing a proper look in his direction. A huff leaves his lips as he sinks into the couch, hands tugging through his hair.

He really screwed up.

>> PART TWO COMING...SATURDAY.

— you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

One Wall Over: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re new in the neighborhood, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a warm welcome from your duplex buddy.

wc: 3k

tw: nsfw, smut, annoying noises at five am, the works

a/n: ahhhhhhhhh! I am so excited to be taking part in this collab with @suna-reversed reversed for a super sexy jjk collab! Please check out the masterlist for the collab here and the other authors! SO EXCITED TO READ THE OTHERS! (The other title I had for this work is “First of All, How Dare You” because that’s literally me every time I see my hubby Suguru, but anywho!).

Moving in was a bitch.

For the first time ever, you have no roommates, no parents, and no pets - just you and your meager belongings moving into the little, two-story duplex a friend allowed you to sublet. As you stare out of the window facing the sparse front lawn, you wonder what your neighbor is like. They hadn’t come to welcome you to the home, but you knew they existed by the sound of the bass through your shared wall at five am every morning.

You assume they’re male or a couple, but you’ve never gotten a chance to see them with your own two eyes. So you kept a lookout day after day. At exactly four p.m., you would sit across from the window with a book and keep watch, the sun streaming in and illuminating your figure and crossed legs anchored on the window sill. But day after day, you wouldn’t see anything. The neighbor’s car wouldn’t even move an inch from the previous day. Everything would remain the same until the next day when you took your perch by the window.

It isn’t until you’re out on your front lawn, slaving over the flowers you maintained for a whole month - a new record - that the sleek Range Rover drives up to the garage on your neighbor’s side of the house. At first, you don’t notice it, your eyes firmly planted on the soil at the root of your orchid tree. But then you hear a car door slam, and you look up, watching for the person who would be exiting the vehicle.

A tall, black haired man slides out of the truck and slams the door shut, his locks tucked into a half bun and a white towel resting around his rippling shoulders. He slides his keys into his gym shorts and turns to walk into the house, barely noticing you on the front lawn in an ill-fitting t-shirt and dirty yoga pants.

He’s halfway to his front door when you find your voice and yell out, “Hey, neighbor!” You wave your hand at him in hopes that he would return the gesture, but you’re sorely disappointed when he only looks your way with disinterest and walks into the house without speaking. You frown at the encounter, hoping that he would return a little while later and explain his lack of manners, but he doesn’t, and you retreat into the house once more.

______________________________________________________________________

“Unzzz, unzz, unzzzz…” Both eyes fly open at the sound of the bass on the other side of your bedroom wall, the sudden noise jarring you from your sleep.

“Ugh…” Your eyes slide to the white numbers on the clock face, which politely remind you that it’s five-fifteen AM. Don’t confront him, don’t confront him. You wrap the pillow around your ears, hoping the gentle cushion would block out the sound. But for some reason, it gets even louder, and a groan escapes your lips. There were only two more hours for you to rest, but at this rate, you’d be up until it was time for you to wake and get ready for work. That just wouldn’t do.

The grey sweatpants deposited on the floor the night before are quickly jerked on, and you pad to the front door, not caring about your appearance as you walk the length of the porch over to his front door. Inhaling, you find the will to bring your fist up and pound on the door, hoping the sound would be angrier than you actually felt. Fear ate at your nerves while you waited. A few agonizing moments later, the door is yanked open, music floods outside, and your neighbor stands before you in just a pair of black sweatpants. Nothing else.

“What?” he gripes, sweat rolling down his forehead. As your eyes take in the full sight of him, you wonder what kind of sculpted god you had for a neighbor. You could even faintly see the v that would culminate in the bulge near the crotch area of the pants, which apparently is quite--

“Uh…” You had entirely forgotten what you had come over to his side of the house for, but as he leans on the doorframe and gives you a withering stare, you suddenly remember your complaint. “Your wall is next to my bedroom. Can you turn your music down?” You place a hand on your hip, trying to seem more inconvenienced than you actually were in that moment.

“Yeah, sure.” He shuts the door in your face, and you trudge back over to your side of the house, hoping the music would soften.

But for some reason, you swear he turns it up even louder.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Why don’t you just call the landlord and make a noise complaint?” your friend wonders over the phone, the sound of a frying pan in the background slightly overshadowing her voice.

“But you said you didn’t have any problems with him, Mariela.”

“Yeah, Geto was nice enough and didn’t bother me much. Not sure why he’s being such an ass now.” You hear an oh, shit on the other end, and Mariela hisses into the receiver, “Hey, y/n, I have to go; the risotto is burning. Call me back if you have any other issues, okay?”

“Okay.” You hang up and toss your phone on your desk, trying to focus on the words in front of you but failing as the sound of the bass filters through the other side of the wall again. For the fourth day in a row, you’ve been subjected to the sound of pure noise coming through the other side. Tonight was absolutely not the night, mostly because you had a presentation that took you all night to finish, and the clamor was interrupting your prep work for the bright and early eight o’clock meeting. You feel like Squidward, subjecting yourself to the endless noises from the grunting to the bass to the sound of weights clanking back into place.

It’s the sound of Geto’s groaning that sets you on edge the most. If it weren’t for the added noise of weights, you’d be convinced he was fucking someone. There was no way he could make so much noise and not know that he was disturbing your peace. Hadn’t he ever heard of headphones?

You snatch up your set of earbuds on your desk, place them in your ears, and try to turn up lofi music as loud as it will go. But that doesn’t work. Even relocating to the living room didn’t seem to fare you well, and you wonder if he truly had cranked up the music higher than before just to annoy the hell out of you. Finally, you toss your earbuds down and slam your computer on your coffee table.

You’d had enough.

Stomping over to the front door, you fling it open and bang on Geto’s door, hoping he would answer it in a rage so you could let out your frustrations. But when the door flies open, he’s dressed in only a pair of gym shorts, this time the outline of his dick even more apparent. But you’re not focused on that. You point a finger at him and inhale to begin your tirade; sick and utterly over his shit.

“Hey! Can you fucking turn it down?” Geto stretches out a hand, and for a minute you think he’s going to grab you by the shirt, but he pulls you inside by the wrist, crushing you against his chest. “What the hell?” You push away from his sweaty chest, backing into the closed door harshly.

“Lower your damn voice; the neighbors will hear,” he chastises, and turns away from you to grab the water bottle on the counter. The muscled man takes a long swig, then wipes his face with the towel right next to it.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but I’ve never been so disrespected in my li--” As you talk, he’s advancing on you, pushing back his long black hair back behind his ears and getting too close for comfort. Once he’s right up on you, you gulp hard, fully intimidated by his size and stature. The music suddenly stops, and you’re left in silence.

“I’m listening,” he mutters, staring down at you. “Please, continue.”

“I was saying…” your throat dries up. “What I meant was…” Your eyes travel from his chest to his navel, and then to the hand pressed against the doorframe.

“Uh huh…” He nods, squinting his black eyes at you. “You said you’ve ‘never been more disrespected in your’… life, right?” You don’t reply. Rather, you can’t reply. All of the words you could have ever said are now gone from your skull. “I highly doubt that, y/n.”

“H-how…”

“You’re Mariela’s friend. I’ve seen you quite a few times before you moved in here. Never thought I’d be living so close to you, though. Mariela’s subletting, isn’t she?”

All of these questions. And you can’t reply to a single one because he’s practically squeezing you between the door and his rock-hard abs. Or are you pressing yourself against the door to get away from the heat emitting from his body - oh, fuck; you don’t know.

“But I had to get your attention somehow.” The admission startles you so bad that you accidentally knock the back of your head against the door, touching the point of contact in pain and hissing slightly. Geto hums at your blunder, then pushes off of the wall to turn away from you. As he rotates, you catch a glimpse of his erection, now fully apparent in the atrocity that is his shorts. “The yard work wasn’t effective, the trips to the gym and back barely worked; shit, by now I would’ve thought you would throw yourself at me the first chance you got. I guess I had to make you mad enough to confront me.”

“You literally looked at me and said nothing the first time I saw you!” you retort, throwing your hands up in the air. “Then you almost bit my head off the first time I came over to tell you the music was too loud.”

“I didn’t expect you to come over the first time. Besides, I couldn’t figure out anything smooth enough in that short amount of time.” Geto shrugs, his shoulder muscles moving like water in the dim lighting of the living room. You look around at the furnishings, noting his impeccable taste in wood and red suede in conjunction with his minimal exercise equipment. “Coffee? You look like you’ve been up for a while.” He leans over a coffee-maker - one of those fancy ones that you’ve seen on TV - and slides a plain coffee cup into the holder.

“Uh, no thanks.” You turn to the door and begin to open it, but Geto clicks his tongue thrice.

“You’re just going to leave without getting what you came for?”

You pause for a moment, then turn back to look him over once. “Don’t you mean what you brought me over here for?” A lazy smile spreads across his face, and that’s when you realize that he’s charming, but not necessarily as suave as you first imagined. You shut the door and walk over to him, examining his physique as if you hadn’t just helped yourself to his tall, statuesque figure already. He allows you to look him over, eyes dedicatedly following you.

“Like what you see, doll?” You don’t get a chance to answer as he pulls you into his chest with a smooth movement, then presses his lips against yours. You instantly open your mouth so he can slide his tongue inside, and he does so without hesitation. Hands grasp at your flimsy night shirt, pulling it over your shoulders as he backs you up against the wall, hiking one leg up and wrapping the other around his waist.

As both of your hands tangle in hair, fabric, sweat, you wonder how long - just how long - he’s wanted to do this. But your train of thought is rudely interrupted by his lips trailing kiss down your neck and to your collarbone, where he pauses for a second, catching his breath. Fingers dance through his locks and he peers up at you for a second, drinking in your flushed expression and breathy exhales.

“Geto, please, I--” You’re silenced again by his lips, his thick fingers rolling past the waistband of your night shorts and right to your core, where he nestles them into your heat with ease.

“Goddamn…” The rumbling of his voice vibrates against your chest, and you gasp, feeling every stroke of his fingers inside of you. “So fucking wet… just for me.” Your vision narrows in on the black eyes watching your every move, the angle of your face, the way you tilt your chin to the side and shakily exhale. Everything is perfect. Maybe even better than he imagined at first. But you don’t know that, and you really don’t care to know. All you want is release and for that release to be at Geto’s hands. When he removes his fingers and hoists you onto the suede couch, your first reaction is to cry out in shock.

His hands roll your shorts down to your knees and then press your legs open, spreading you for him to examine.

“You’re a mess down there… perhaps I should help you clean up.”

“Huh?” The double entendre is completely lost on you in the heat of the moment. You watch as he leans down, then moves to lick your core with a flat tongue, stroking up before he goes down again and repeats his action twice. Your head finds the soft cushion of the pillow in ecstasy, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Geto hums down below, fully appreciating your taste before sucking on your clit, hard. You yelp, shooting up, but his hand presses you back down, eyes still closed. Fingers make their way up to your breasts, tugging at your nipples leisurely before tightening and pulling with more tension. “Oh, god, please…” Your hands find his head, and at the sudden application of pressure, he grunts again. And you’re left there in agonizing pleasure, dangling between an orgasm and a build-up of pressure, one stroke away from tumbling into the cavern of blissful unawareness.

Geto stops without warning, pulling back to watch you as he still tweaks your nipples with varying degrees of firmness. You tug at his shorts in a silent plea for him to discard them, and he waits a minute before sliding them off wordlessly. His length is impressive, you note, his cock springing free from his shorts and angled upwards a little. A condom is produced just as quickly, and he rolls it over himself before spreading you a little wider to accommodate his length. When he nudges his cock at your slit, you realise he’s a little breathless and shaking, but that all goes to the back of your mind when he slides inside of you with little resistance.

“Fuck, doll, that’s--” He groans just as you moan, both of you relishing the expanding feeling. “God, that’s perfect.” You whimper at his praise and bring your hands to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he begins to pump into you. Geto’s lips find your neck and he sucks a hickey on your left side, placing another one neatly below it while his hands cup your ass.

“Does that feel good?” He whispers and you nod, completely at a loss for words. But soon, it’s not enough, and your fingers dig into his back. He’s fucking you slowly… too slowly.

“M-more,” you whine, and he delivers his thrusts faster, pumping into you and moaning loudly. Your fingers find his face and angles it towards your raised head so you can kiss him on the lips. He offers you that mercy - a deep, languid kiss - while he plows into you with abandon. Pleasure is the only thing on your minds - you just so happen to have found it in each other’s arms - and your orgasm is just within reach.

“Geto, I’m close…” His response to your words is to lift your left leg a little higher so it practically hung off the couch and in the air, deeping his strokes until they settled against your cervix, like someone tapping a soft rhythm into your stomach. “Shit, like that.”

“Yeah?” he exhales, looking at your face with a blissed-out expression, his cheeks reddening. You raise your hips to meet his with each thrust, hoping your orgasm would arrive before Geto came. There isn’t much you can do though, besides writhe beneath him and pull him closer to you, thereby making you and him almost inseparable. He’s merely rocking into your hips now, cock barely rolling out of you as before. And you can’t deny that it feels like heaven, not when you’ve been so frustrated for so long.

“I’m gonna cum,” Geto hisses into your mouth, and you nod, constricting a little to urge him on. What you fail to realize is that the constriction was just what you need to tumble over into the abyss of thoughtlessness, and your mouth opens to let loose a guttural moan as Geto fucks you faster and faster, chasing his own orgasm on the heels of yours. “Oh, shit,” Your neighbor sinks into you one final time, shooting his cum into the condom, but pumping in stuttered strokes as if he were really letting loose inside of you.

When you both fall from the heights of your sex-induced high, shoulders and heads are draped where there is comfort and space, little exhales from his mouth fanning across your breasts. Geto lifts off of your sweaty chest and looks you in the eyes before breathing:

“Maybe I should start my days with this instead of a workout.”

#geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru #geto smut #getou smut #jjk smut #jujutsuhub collab

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 3 years

Text

Of Constellations & Creeds

Chapter 21: Fire of Devotion

Summary/Author’s Note: Din presents you with a gift that he has had for while. You start exploring what it means to work as a team and meet a fiery mechanic that takes a shine to you.

There is a note at the end for what something looks like if you guys are having a hard time picturing it. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading!

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Alpha/Omega/soulmates AU) Word Count: 5k Warnings/Promises: Mature/18+ - language, sexual themes, weapons/shooting

[Previous Chapter] [Series Masterlist] [My Complete Masterlist]

This is what dreaming felt like.

You were the perfect temperature of warm bodies and crisp blankets. Sprawled among the sheets, you lucidly stretched your body as your mind slowly woke up the rest of your limbs. You started by wiggling your toes while you listened to the birds chitter in the trees outside the barn, your ankles, your back, and lastly your arms. You quietly popped your fingers as you brought them up to rub gently at the back of your sore neck with a groan.

"Shit."

You winced as you stretched your arms and suddenly remembered why your shoulder was so tender. Rotating the cuff much slower, you worked the stiffness out of the muscle until you could move it more freely. That was at least a little better.

Before falling into bed last night, Din had ravished you against the wall, then again on the ground, neither one of you able to stop long enough to tear yourselves apart. The idea of moving into the comfort of your bed never came up, due to not wanting to wake the kid and once again...that required you to stop touching each other. Whatever discomfort you felt had absolutely been worth it.

The morning sun was warm on your face and you opened your eyes to find the Mandalorian facing you...still helmetless. You had worried the moment you fell asleep everything would have ceased to have happened. You really wouldn't have seen his face. You really wouldn't have received his mark. But he had sleepily assured you that closing your eyes erased nothing and he promised to be here when you woke up. Everything you had done last night was no dream. It had been very, very real.

“Din?” you whispered almost inaudible, as if to test him.

His eyes were closed and his mouth open ever so slightly as he continued to sleep with his arm bent behind his head against his pillow. He looked younger in the sunlight. The gentle rays tinting his already light brown skin to a warm sienna, it did the same to his hair, finding the small strands of molten gold throughout the tousled dark curls. He was so handsome and you had yet to tell him, but something told you he wouldn't believe you even if you did.

Did Mandalorians have a concept of beauty? When you spent your entire adolescence with a helmet on, you couldn’t imagine it mattered much what the person underneath looked like. It leveled the playing field so to speak. While society squabbled over such trivial attributes, you imagined Mandalore was more concerned with your ability to win a fight, to negotiate, to contribute to your clan.

It used to be easy to look at him with disdain. Then that disdain turned to something little more than convenient indifference. It was easy to blame him for the destruction of your home world, for the loss of your old life. Anger was always easier. And yet as you looked at him now, and fought the desperate urge to trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger, you knew you felt something else towards him. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time. Something that felt a lot like affection...a lot like love.

Yes, to you Din was beautiful. But then again when you loved someone, weren’t they always? There was that word again. It made you smile quietly to yourself as you mulled it over in your mind.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, a chaste kiss that caused a soft groan to come from somewhere deep in his chest as his arm slid around your middle.

"Good morning," you whispered against his mouth and he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Ten more minutes."

You smiled, kissing him again as he pulled you closer. You reached down and grabbed the blanket before pulling it up over the both of you more securely. For a man that never took a break, he loved sleep more than anyone you had ever met.

"Alright, ten more minutes," you said quietly as you moved to kiss his cheek before tucking your head under his chin against his chest and closing your eyes.

Saying goodbye to Omera and Sorgan was more painful than you imagined it would be. She was the first person who understood your struggle. If it weren't for her who knew how long it would take you and the Mandalorian to find one another. But no matter how you felt, you couldn't stay here and she couldn't come with you. It seemed everywhere you went there was something new to lose, a new heartache to experience, and as you hugged her tightly and held back your tears she was added to the long list of loss in your life.

"You'll always have a place here," she said quietly as you squeezed her tighter. It's as if she knew you were trying not to fall apart. She felt the soft cloth that you had used to bandage your shoulder and she leaned back to see your face and give you a knowing grin. “But you are now right where you’re supposed to be.”

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes as she fixed the shawl around your shoulders and gave your arms a pat.

“Keep up with your meditations. They’ll help.”

“I know.”

"Take care of them," she nodded to the man behind you who was holding the child and waiting patiently for you by the cart. "But don't forget to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The trip back through the woods to the Razor Crest was a somber one and you watched as the child stood at the back of the cart and waved its tiny three-fingered hand at the group of children who were waving in return. You leaned forward and rubbed the space between its massive ears gently. However you were feeling was probably nothing compared to the little guy. He didn't know what was going on, or that there were people hunting him, or why you couldn't stay in such a beautiful place where he had made so many friends. It was tough being a kid in such a big world. Maker, it was tough being an adult in such a big world.

You looked back as you felt Din put his hand on the small of your back and lean his helmet against your temple for the briefest of moments. You lowered your walls ever so slightly and accepted the comfort that he sent your way. Maybe Omera had been right, maybe he had wanted to stay too.

Being back on the Razor Crest came pretty naturally to the three of you and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Fresh supplies from Sorgan filled the storage bunker and with more variety to eat than prepackaged rations, your spirits were much higher than they had been previously.

“Come on, kid,” you said, gently as you picked up the child and straightened his burlap cloak. “Nap time.”

“Ba-to!” he squeaked, raising his arms up and giving you a two-toothed smile that warmed your heart.

“Just for a little bit,” you assured him. “Then you can come up front and help pilot. Sound good?”

“Ah-yo!”

“No, no, I promise,” you answered him like you were having a full conversation. “I’ll make him let you. You’re plenty old enough,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You just need a few phone books to sit on.”

He gave another happy squeak as you sat him in the hammock hanging above Din’s bed and tucked him in. You dug out the small stuffed frog that Winta had made for him back on Sorgan, with it’s bright blue felt skin and lopsided eyes, and helped him nestle it under his chin. You gave him a soft pat on the head and waited for him to close his eyes before pressing the button on the panel that closed the door with a quiet hiss.

You heard your name being said from above you and you went to the ladder that led to the cockpit, looking up to see the Mandalorian looking down. He had brought the ship out of hyperdrive for the time being as you researched a plan of action. Without coordinates, it was pointless to travel in circles and waste precious fuel.

“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked and you nodded.

Taking one rung at a time, you hauled yourself up into the main hull and gratefully accepted his help in order to plop your butt on the floor with a smile. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling back.

There had been precious little time for him to take off his helmet once you were back on the ship. Somehow the ship was less private than the bed you had shared in the barn. Although you were disappointed not to be able to look over and see his face whenever you wanted, you understood. This was a new experience for him in a way you would never understand, a type of vulnerability that you would never know, but how you longed to kiss him properly again. You wanted to feel his lips on the back of your neck as he curled himself behind you for sleep. All selfish reasons, of course, but that didn’t diminish them in any capacity.

“What’s up?” you asked as you leaned back on your hands and looked at him where he stooped beside the captain’s chair.

“I got you something.”

“Me?” You leaned up with widening eyes as you put a hand to your chest in question.

“Is there someone else I’m traveling with?” he asked and you glared at him before realizing it was his poor attempt at dry humor. “Yes, you.”

He moved under the chair and dragged a medium sized trunk out from the alcove created by the dashboard and the control panel. You recognized it as the trunk he had received from the armorer back on Nevarro. It was a dark slate colored material and he popped the latches before

beckoning you closer.

“I hope you like them.”

“Whatever it is,” you encouraged him. “I’m sure I will.”

“You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to--”

“Din, just show me.”

“Alright, okay,” he let out a heavy breath and lifted the lid before spinning the entire thing slowly around to show you.

“You didn’t have to get me anyth--oh, goddess,” you said softly in amazement.

Inside, carefully protected by a velvet type of lining, were crafted pieces of a silver metal. You hesitated, reaching out to touch one of them and thinking better of it before looking at him as if you needed permission. With a careful nod of his helmet, you picked up one of the cylindrical pieces and brought it closer for inspection.

“Is it--?”

“Beskar,” he nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Din, I--”

He held up a gloved hand to stop any argument you may have had and helped you take the pieces out one by one. Two bracers that fit perfectly over your wrists and protected your forearms about two inches from your elbows. He took them gently and slipped them over your tender skin before locking them into place and letting you get used to the feeling. You made a fist with both of your hands a few times, opening and squeezing, testing how they felt.

“They lock like this,” he said after completing the motion. “They’ll deflect anything. Blaster-proof. Just hold your arm like you would defensively,” he instructed, pulling your arm up to protect your face and tapping it once with his finger. “Ping. Right off the beskar. We can practice.”

“Handy,” you nodded and he dove back into the box for the next piece.

“This,” he offered the single pauldron to you, moving around your body slightly to fit it to your non-dominant shoulder. “Protects your dominant side by sitting opposite it.”

“Because I turn my body away from the blow?”

“Exactly.” He put it over your shoulder and clamped it down around your bicep. Hooking it securely across your torso. “Plus, the added weight on your dominant arm would slow you down if you’re using your staff.”

“Makes sense.”

“Move your arm,” he said and when you did, he adjusted it slightly. “How’s that?”

“It’s extremely generous and useful but--”

“No buts.”

“I--”

“You’re my Omega,” he interrupted you gently. “You have the right to wear it. And it’ll help keep you safe--and if you’re safe, I’m focused.” His hand came down to rest gently over your shoulder blade, covering the still tender skin of where he had marked you.

He had a point but it still made your ears burn with embarrassment. You knew he didn’t mean it as an insult to your abilities. You had more than proven you could handle your own when you first met, but the knowledge that your safety proved a distraction to him still made you feel guilty. You felt the sudden need to apologize but you knew Din wouldn’t want to hear it, let alone entertain such an idea.

“There’s one more piece,” he said gently. He held it out gently and when you looked at him in confusion he offered his hands forward. “Can I?”

You nodded and sat still with your hands in your lap as he made sure any stray pieces of your hair were out of the way. Even with the gloves and his armor, he was always so gentle, so careful. When he was satisfied he held out the silver circlet and slipped it around the front of your forehead and over your temples. The blocky beskar came to a strong point between your brows and the edges came down in front of your ears to frame the sides of your face. Each subtle point that mirrored the larger one turned what would have been an ordinary face guard into something much more symbolic.

“I feel ridiculous,” you said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also having a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that such a piece of finery was really necessary.

“You look breathtaking,” he argued and it made you smile. “You’re an Omega, an Ursa at that--people deserve to know.” He swallowed hard and nodded to the box. “If we find more beskar I can have a proper helmet made instead of--”

“A tiara?” you asked with a bite of wit and he chuckled.

“It has more purpose than that, I promise.” He touched the sides that came down almost level with your jaw line. “These protect your peripherals--keeps light from obscuring your view for long range weapons.”

“Smart.”

“And this,” he touched higher, closer to your ear and a soft static hum came before you heard his next words twice, almost overlapping one another. “Has a direct com line to me.”

“That,” you put your hand over his and spoke into the mic as if to test it the other way. “Is incredibly useful.”

He gave a nod to signal that it had worked and he dropped his hand from your face to rest comfortably on your thigh. You put your hand over his and held in gently. It was beautifully crafted and you were having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that he had spent any of the rarest metal in the world on something for you. But that wasn’t the only issue, no, there was something else. An issue of the timeline.

“When did you have this made?” you asked, tracing the metal etching that lined the outside of the bracer.

“When we got the bounty on the kid--I had it made along with mine.”

“But that was before I agreed to be your Omega,” you said carefully, watching his body for any sign of tension. There wasn’t any.

“I know.”

You bit your lip and looked down. With a shake of your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. “What if I would have left? What if I never agreed to this? You--”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have,” you argued. “And then all of this would have been for nothing. You--”

“I had a feeling.”

You looked at him in awe and realized how much he had staked on you making the right decision. He would have sooner sold his beskar than taken away your freedom, the freedom to choose what you wanted. He had hoped against all hope that you would eventually want him, but there was no guarantee. To Din it was all left up to faith. Faith in his creed, faith in his people, faith in you. It was hard not to feel undeserving of such things, but it only confirmed that perhaps it was time that you had a little faith in him.

Going up on your knees, you moved the metal storage box out of the way and grabbed him by the front of his chestplate. He said your name softly as you slid into his lap and his hands came around to rest on the swell of your hips. You tilted his helmet back just enough to kiss his lips, drawing a soft sound from them as he tasted you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly and you were glad you could see his mouth move up in a genuine smile.

“You’re very welcome.”

The more moments like this that you had, the easier it became to realize just how ‘all in’ you were when it came to the bounty hunter. When he had stepped off of his ship and chased you through the woods now flight like a lifetime ago and in a way it was. That was a different life completely. And you were okay with that. The world seemed a lot less scary now that you were on the same team.

You leaned in to kiss him again but there was a loud bang and whoosh of energy as something dropped out of hyperspace and the Razor Crest rocked slowly. Din lowered his helmet and the two of you looked around before you slowly climbed out of his lap and to your feet.

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure.”

He moved to the pilot’s chair and leaned over the control board, inspecting the map and waiting for the radar to ping something back. Nearly the exact moment a blip showed up on the neon green screen, a blast screamed passed your vessel and struck the ship, rocking it back and forth.

“Buckle in,” he barked and the two of you moved to your respective places.

You fell into the co-pilot bucket seat to the right of the Mandalorian and placed your feet up on the footrest to brace yourself. As soon as you clicked your seat belt, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the control stick in front of you and reached up to flip the buttons on your side of the dash. Your side of the ship whirred to life as you shared control of the panel with Din, making it easier for him to focus on flying. Like you had told him before, if he handled the fancy maneuvering, you could squeeze a trigger.

Another wave of fire lit up the dark atmosphere around you and Din turned the ship to try and find the culprit behind the attack.

“If the kid sleeps through this, I’ll be impressed,” Din said as he swiveled his own chair around and jammed the buttons for the back up thrusters.

“I’m pretty sure he could sleep through anything,” you agreed.

“Pa-too!”

The two of you both whipped around to see the small, green thing standing in the doorway with its arms in the air and a wide smile.

“You were saying?” the bounty hunter chuckled and the child stumbled its way to you as the ship took a nosedive. You barely had time to grab him by the tiny cloak and haul him into your lap.

“Got ya!” you said and he squealed with laughter. At least someone found your current predicament funny. You tucked him on your lap securely as a series of blaster fire whizzed passed the sides of the ship.

“Hand over the Child, Mando.” A deep voice said through the com-system and when the child in question squealed again you clapped your hand over his mouth. Another round of shots pinged around you and the crest gave a jolt as one of the engines took a hit. “I might let you live.”

“Guild?” you asked and Mando nodded before grabbing a large lever to his right and yanking it down quickly.

“You got both hands on the blaster cannons?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “When I say fire, let ‘em have it.”

Another hit rocked the ship as the engine on the left started to sputter and burst into flames before it powered down. Din cursed quietly under his helmet and pulled another lever to quickly power down both engines. “Hold on!” he yelled over the roar of the enemy ship as he rolled the crest out of the way of another round of fire. Stars streaked passed the windows as you both stared upwards and the other ship came directly into view.

“I can bring you in warm,” the enemy bounty hunter said flatly, “...or I can bring you in cold.”

“That's my line,” Din said in a deadly tone before he hit the thrusters and pointed at you and the kid. “Fire!”

You squeezed the trigger on the gun leavers and shots fired from the front of the razor crest, exploding the smaller ship into a wave of orange fire and metal debris. You flinched away from the bright light and the child clapped its tiny hands as Din gave you an approving nod.

“Oh-ah!”

“Not bad, little one,” you laughed softly, kissing the top of his green head between his ears. “Not bad.” Din clicked on a few of the switches above his head and the dashboard lit up in a series of red and orange lights. You watched him carefully and waited until he stopped before you spoke. “How bad is it?”

“We’re losing fuel,” he said, pulling up the map and thumbing through a few different screens. He thumbed through a few of the nearby planets before double tapping the screen and bringing up one of the larger orbs. “Mos Eisley is the closest place where we could dock and get some repairs.”

“Will we make it?”

“Of course.” He pulled another leaver and the ship gave a lurch forward before it evened out. “We have enough in the power reserves to get us there--don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” you said, biting your lip to keep a soft smile from gracing your features. The truth was, with Din, you were never worried.

Mos Eisley was the largest spaceport on the planet of Tatooine. Din explained that what it lacked in a centralized docking bay, they made up for in the fact that they had hundreds of hangars that were each maintained by individual workers and mechanics. It sounded impressive but to you it looked like little more than a patch of dust and poorly refined sandcastles.

The control tower told you to head for bay three-five and the Mandalorian copied as he steered the ship in that direction. The Crest had definitely seen better days as it sputtered and landed with jerky movements before finally touching down in a puff of sand and a clang of metal.

As you drifted through the vast emptiness of space before entering the atmosphere, the child had somehow lulled himself back to sleep. It was actually pretty impressive the amount of naps he managed to squeeze in in a day.

You carefully tucked him back into the sleeping compartment and put on the rest of the clothing you had from Arvala-7. It was still breathable but it wasn’t nearly as light as the cloth you had sported back on Sorgan. The leather riding pants and bantha hide boots would keep the sand out of your more intimate places, while the tan corded top and matching cloak kept your skin protected from the harsh sun without absorbing much of the light.

The beskar looked out of place with the rest of your attire, but something told you it was just the fact that you weren’t used to it. What was your favorite mantra as of late? One thing at a time.

You stopped in the doorway to the refresher and couldn’t help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. The metal of the headpiece that Din had tucked gingerly into your hairline. You had spent most of your life running from what you were: an Omega, an Ursa, a royal lineage of some kind that you had no desire to uphold. And yet, the tangible evidence was glittering on your forehead. Had Din designed such a thing or had it been at the behest of the Armorer? Somehow you felt you knew the answer to that.

You saw Din appear behind you in the mirror before you ever heard him and you prided yourself on not nearly jumping out of your skin.

"Good to go?"

When you nodded, he hit the button that started to lower the ramp on the main hull and you squinted against the bright sun. As you walked down the ramp a group of rust colored droids popped up from their current task and scurried towards the Mandalorian. Their saucer-shaped heads bobbed in place making them look like mushrooms on stilts as they surveyed the ship and chipped back and forth to one another.

Din pushed back his cloak and drew his blaster, firing one shot from the hip into the dirt. The droid squealed and jumped into the air before clamming up into a tiny ball.

“Mando!” you jumped and looked at him in surprise before looking back to the shivering droid.

“Hey!” a woman’s voice screeched from inside the building connected to the hangar. She pointed at the two of you through the window of what looked to be a very dusty office. “HEY!” she yelled again, scrambling out the door and stomping over to you.

Next to the Mandalorian she was incredibly short, but her demeanor was so incredibly scrappy that you weren’t entirely sure who you would bet on if the two of them were in a fight. Her grey mechanic’s jumpsuit was dusty and oil stained from no doubt thousands of ship repairs. Her hair was incredibly curly, poofing out in tight ringlets all around her head to her shoulders and seemed to be growing by the second as she jabbed her finger at Din’s chest.

“You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Din said flatly, pointed his own gloved finger to the fear-filled robot.

“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest before looking at you. “Blink twice if this brute is holding you hostage, honey. Though by the looks of ya, I’d say you can handle your own.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized on Din’s behalf before you introduced yourself and stepped in front of him. “We just need some repairs.”

“The name’s Peli,” she returned the politeness and shook your hand with strong, jerky movements. “He always this grumpy?” she nodded at the bounty hunter.

“Actually you caught him on a good day,” you smiled and she chuckled. Din sighed.

“Alright, well, let's look at your ship.” She picked up a clipboard and walked over to the crest. Looking it up and down slowly, she made a fist and knocked twice on the main hull and listened to the klonk that came from the inside.

“Is it bad?” you asked.

“Oof…” she winced as she wrote some things down. “Look at that.” She looked over her shoulder at you before gesturing to the sides of the ship. “Bad? You got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. Ya know--If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout.”

“Well…” you started and Din cleared his throat.

“Can you fix it?”

“Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that…” She mumbled. Peli ignored you both as she continued to poke and prod the undercarriage of the ship before pulling down a side panel and coughing at the smoke that it produced. “You got a fuel leak! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.”

Din looked down at her as she walked back up to him and he tossed over a coin purse that jingled when she caught it. “I've got 500 Imperial Credits.”

“That all you got? Well…” she weighed the money in her hand and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to the droids who were slowly approaching again now that she was there to protect them. “What do you guys think? I mean-- that should at least cover the hangar.”

“I'll get you your money,” Din reassured her.

“Ha! I've heard that before,” she rolled her eyes.

“I promise, we’ll pay you somehow,” you interjected and Peli looked you over again before waggling her finger at you.

“Now, you I believe.”

That made you smile and she returned it.

“Just remember--” Din started.

“Yeah. Yeah. No droids. I heard ya.” She stuffed the credits in her pocket. “You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat.” She mumbled the last under her breath as the two of you took her dismissal as a sign you were free to leave.

You waited until you and Din were out of earshot before you glared at him in disappointment. “We have got to work on your people skills.”

Note: When imagining the headpiece Din had made for you, I was drawing heavy inspiration off of Queen Hippolyta’s crown. Something that keeps your hair out of the way, looks futuristic and strong.

Hey guys, as always there is always room on the tag lists! That being said there are about 300+ of you that want to be tagged in this fic and that is totally cool, but I am human and I miss names and forget tags, SO–if your tag didn’t work, I forgot it, or you want to be moved to another group, please message me or send me an ask. Even if you have already sent me one reminding me, I PROMISE it was not on purpose. A lot of times I wont answer until I have PHYSICALLY put you on the tag list that way I don’t forget! Thank you so much. - K

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