#they occupy more space in my mind than anything else rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jiminrings · 3 years

Note

can we get a fratboy Jimin and good girl oc with pinning from both sides 👀 ahhhh thank u in advance love ur writing!!

cherry king

drabble week: day four

drabble week masterlist

pairing: fratboy!jimin x goody two-shoes!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "y-you uhm, you-? y'know, you like... doing that? is that why it's your nickname?"

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

“next!”

great!! the line’s moving :D

that’s only like the 87th time jimin has heard the word next and it makes him wonder how much more would it take him to bring him to the front

(it’s actually only been 14 times and jimin might just be a self-admitted impatient bitch!!!)

he understands that yes, it’s ten in the evening!!! and reasonably-large stores/pharmacies like these can have less staff at the time compared to ten in the morning

sure, checkout machines and cashier lanes could be broken down!! or they could just not be open at all

jimin gets that alright, maybe the self-checkout machines are close at this time of the night because it is ten in the evening

what’s not clicking in his mind, however is that at the exact time that he comes here

as in the EXACT time that he’s here (!!!) — there happens to be dozens of people in a store at ten in the evening, and there happens to be a grand total of one (1) cashier lane

atleast random store music would be entertaining :((( all he hears are the beeps of a scanner and the chatter of groups of people who came here

jimin was eavesdropping on some guys in front of him and he wAS invested but lmao turns they were just discussing the plot of die hard or any testosterone-jacked movie like it

he’s also tried looking at the smaller middle-aged woman’s phone in front of him who’s scrolling through her facebook feed, but quickly decides against continuing it

because what if u could see his face and when she turns it off, she’d see a college guy deeply-invested in the baloney article she was reading about how subway sandwiches are the work of the devil

so uh yeah he’s just looking everywhere besides the front, back, and the sides of him and in all angles basically

he’s,,,,, aimlessly scrolling through his instagram feed he’s already scrolled through tHREE times and his explore’s page a little too dry

it’s a good thing that jimin’s entirely sure he’s the nosiest person out of this line and no one else is trying to figure him out

might be wrong though

“cherry king?”

hold the fuck on

jimin’s eyes widen, head snapping up and clueless to the fact that he doesn’t look discreet at all, and his head-cocking’s the most movement he’s done the whole time in this store

WHO’S SAYING HIS NICKNAME?????

it can’t be a coincidence either because as far as he’s concerned, there isn’t anything named cherry king that’s being sold here

there is literally NO other plausible scenario happening here besides the fact that someone who knows him is in the store!!!!

his gaze falls to the person behind him, brows knitted in confusion until it clicks

that was you?

“jimin? huh, it really is you. i thought i was losing my mind for a second.”

“y/n?”

okay maybe hE’S the one who’s losing his mind here

he knows you!! you’re the smart girl in his year who’s known for being pristine and stuff!! you’re like the good-est girl he’s ever known and heard of

.... quick question lads is that weird to know someone by

“you could’ve just called me by my name, y’know,” jimin chuckles heartily, still a little dumbfounded to see you here but he’s grateful for the interaction nonetheless

you look casual today?? like you still look like yourself but everyone else would think it’s an out-of-body experience to see you out of your pretty dresses and monochromatic get-ups

it’s you..,.. in a hoodie three sizes larger than your size with your pristine shoes traded in for socked-feet wearing slides

jimin thinks that you look like grace under pressure

“i wasn’t sure,” you smile right back and it’s the first time he realizes that there’s glasses atop your nosebridge, softening your image more from the usual composed look you carried

“how were you sure enough to say my nickname out-loud though?”

jimin questions you, bringing light to how he’s wearing a plain white shirt and is looking as relaxed as ever with how he’s dressed — his hair long enough to be put into a messy sprout of a bun

you clear your throat, the amusement bubbling in your scratchy throat

“you have yourself as your lockscreen, jimin.”

oh my gOD

he winces when you say it, eyes screwing shut in embarrassment that he whines in pain with how direct you put it

“n-no way — fuck you respectfully, y/n. i-i’m not- i’m changing it right now!!”

does he look the vainest person alive rn

the way he has a mini freakout entertains you to your core, giggles unable to be suppressed as he finds the latest-taken picture he has of dogs that he comes across with

that’s 10/10 an experience he doesn’t want to repeat again

“it’s okay. i won’t tell anyone.”

he hears you reassure and he believes you, a flustered blush on his cheek still as he coughs to make up for a diversion topic he couldn’t think of

frankly, you’re getting bored too and jimin’s the only form of entertainment you have because using your phone atm would be too disorienting

“what are you doing here, by the way?”

your head tilts in query and he’s relieved that you address something else, not being relieved seconds later when he realizes his answer

“just a little supply run for our frat. we weren’t supposed to run out of things for three more days, so this is just a lil emergency haul for awhile.”

you nod in understanding, glancing down at his basket and uh

uhm 1/4 of the space is literally occupied by boxes of condoms

....

......

jimin’s confused to why you turn silent, thinking that he must’ve gotten boring to continue talking to until he follows your gaze to his basket

NO WAY?!]>|>]%%[%]%]

“i-it’s not l-like that!!!” he crouches and immediately gets the food and the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to bury the condoms in the bottom of the pile, attractively getting more attention from you who’s ready to let it go

“i-it’s not — it’s ours — n-no!! t-they just gave me a list and i just put it because it’s on the list b-but like it wasn’t my-...”

how many more times will the universe fuck jimin up in front of the person he has a lil happy crush on

you only smile meekly, tilting your head and he thinks this is the part where you tell him how much of a douche he is

"y-you uhm, you-? y'know, you like... doing that? is that why it's your nickname?"

“t-that?” jimin clarified albeit confused, thinking back to his nickname as he tries to rapidly connect the dots to not look like a fool

cherry king? that?? what do you-

WAIT WHAT

“nO!! o-of course not!!”

he almost shrieks and his voice sounds ultimately defensive, shaking his head no

why does he look so frantic

“hey, hey, i believe you! — calm down, jimin. you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

whew

fuck

but he argues that it iS the truth though!!!

but why won’t you just ask him why he’s called cherry king though >:(

you’re already content with the silence after the conversation but he isn’t, still wanting more

is it so bad that he wants redemption D:

“how about you? what are you doing here?”

you don’t answer instantly and it’s because you’re nudging jimin to continually walk, the cashier looking much more visible now as he’s nearer in line

he takes a look at the handful of things that’s in your basket —

electrolytes, hot pockets, soup, cup noodles and fever patches...?

“oh. i think i’m running a fever.”

what???

what are you doing here aLONE if you think you’re running a fever???

he’s not gonna lie about the fact that you don’t look too good

what if you pass out and no one’s there for you and all the graveyard shift employees do is put a wet floor sign around your figure???

“y/n?? what are you doing here alone then?? are you oUT of your mind??”

the panic in jimin’s voice is clear as day and you’re a little startled, instead responding to tapping him on the shoulder to point that he’s already the one on the cashier

what he does is grab your basket before he is, putting it in front of the conveyor belt because he couldn’t even wait for it to roll out

“i said i think i’m running a fever.”

jimin stops from simultaneously rummaging for his rewards card and putting his items on the counter to unceremoniously drop the box of condoms down jUST to put his hand on your forehead

“you are.”

you surely don’t think low of jimin but you can’t help be surprised either at his concern for you when this is the only time you’ve had a conversation with him!!!

“you drove here?” he asks in seriousness, sending you a look while waiting for the total amount

“walked. the airconditioning makes me even more sick,” you answer with no fuss because even thinking about car fresheners while you’re sporting a fever makes you want to gag. “let me-...”

jimin already pays for both your items in cash, getting them bagged separately as he’s not gonna take no for an answer for what he’s gonna propose next

“then i’ll keep the windows down. i’ll drive you back to your dorm.”

he grabs both your bags in one hand and uses the other to beckon you over, holding you still because it’s dark out and a fever vision wouldn’t exactly help

it’s only when he straps you in and (true to his word) puts the windows down and starts his car that you start asking

“why are you doing this for me?”

why IS he doing this for you??

jimin thinks about his answer in a second

“would you do the same for me?”

well

if you were in front of him at a godforsaken line, had yourself as your lockscreen, realize that jimin’s behind you with a fever and is by himself in a store at 10 in the evening

“of course i would.”

jimin smiles, steering away from his parking spot

“then i would too.”

( ♡ )

maybe you’re thinking of jimin

no wait you’re dEFINITELY thinking of jimin

you’re much better now and your fever’s already subsided enough for you to go back to class!!!

the whole interaction with him was three days ago and maybe your head is just full of him at this point

“are you sure you’re okay to handle this by yourself??”

jimin worries when he drops your bag to your hands, briefly coming inside your dorm to set it down

“mhmm. i’ll just sleep it out.”

“i think if you’re missing a couple of steps.”

you snort as his paranoid features, waving him off. “i’ll eat. then go to the bathroom. and then sleep.”

okay good enough

“what if this just-“ jimin trails off, his expansive mind suddenly running as he points to your chest, “stops????”

cute

“i have a smart watch.”

“would you put me as one of the emergency contacts? please?”

he’s making you take down his number without malice because jeez he’s gENUINELY worried!!!!

it may not always be great sharing a house with his frat brothers, but he knows that if he has a fever, atleast half of them would dote over him and you have atleast one who would go into hysterics!!! it’e a full package!!

“i’ll be okay, jimin. i’ll call you when i need someone to hand me my puke bucket.”

“please do. i’m not even kidding. get better now because i miss your dresses.”

o_O

uhm

“n-no i meant your usual style!! wait, not that there’s anything wrong w-with your style right now. i-i was-...”

“yeah. i miss them too. now go home, jimin.”

“you sure?”

u never really had the impulse to invite a guy to go inside your place but maybe now you do

“mhmm. drive safe.”

okay

:-)

“good night, y/n. call me whenever.”

classes were a bit rough today because you’re still easing yourself on getting back to the groove of things, but it was tolerable!!!

you’re getting your key out of your backpack when a lock clicks open a couple doors away from you, the hinge noisily squeaking

it’s jimin who leaves it, with seri who’s the actual occupant of the dorm leaning on the doorframe

“y/n—!”

he squeaks the moment his eyes land on you

your hand automatically waves, the same meek smile for him to see

“jimin.”

( ♡ )

the last interaction you had with him is still on jimin’s mind, a whole week later

it’s been bothering him recently that you know what it looks like the last time around!!!! but he could swear up and down that it wasn’t

he just feels this great urge to explain even if you haven’t asked

“oh. so we have to move out for the time-being?”

jimin clarifies with namjoon, the head of the frat, and he’s met with a solemn nod

it makes sense!!!

the house got checked today and there were mULTIPLE fire hazards!!! and it needs to be fumigated anyway under new campus protocol so it indeed makes sense

practically everyone's going home because it’s a long weekend anyway because of a holiday

and he’s not sure if he wants to take the same route.

“hi.”

jimin squeaks the moment you open your door, surprise evident on your face but not shock to the point you’d close the door on him

“jimin?”

okay maybe he’s gonna go straight to explaining

“frat house needed to be closed because of some complications, and it wouldn’t be open to us for another three days. most of the guys are coming home,” jimin clears his throat, his head down while he shyly scratches the back of his ear, “i have one, but i’m not sure if i wanna.”

it’s that problem

it takes one, two seconds before it all registers in your head, nodding surely

“you can take my bed. i’ll take the couch, it’s a pull-out anyways.”

you open the door for him widely and the only thing you ask if he’s had dinner and if he’d like some

god you’re really throwing him in a loop here

it’s after a batch of your cooking that jimin’s only ache is why you were the way that you were, half-dazed the whole time he’s met you properly

“why do you never ask me?”

“hmm?” you hum as you dry the dishes that you’ve used, wanting to get it done as soon as possible so your full attention would be on him

no, actually. jimin WANTS you to pry!!

he wants you to worm your way into his privacy and into the confines of his mind

but it seems like you’ve already did without even asking.

“ask me why i’m called the cherry king.”

you tilt your head in confusion, that time playing in your head of why jimin looked confused when you didn’t continue to ask further

maybe you’ll indulge him

“why are you called the cherry king?”

jimin smiles, leaning to your couch with his arms relaxed

“we did secret santa for christmas at our frat house. taehyung thought it would be nice if he pranked me by gifting me a jar full of cherries, but i thought that was his actual gift, and i liked it to the point that i finished it in one sitting.”

tHAT’S ACTUALLY PRETTY ENDEARING

cute, even

“ask me why i came out of seri’s apartment last week.”

oh that’s.,.,. that’s a bit higher in level compared to nicknames

“why did you come out of seri’s apartment last week?”

“because seri’s the ex-girlfriend of hoseok, my frat brother, and he wanted me to return all her stuff because he doesn’t want to be reminded of his cheating ex.”

well that was definitely weighted

jimin plays with the hem of his shirt, the words tumbling out of his mouth

“ask me why i love you.”

why do you wHAT

your mouth drops open, the new position you took on the other end of the couch taking an impact on him

“w-why do you love me?”

jimin’s a lot of things but he’s not drunk tonight

he doesn’t know why he’s letting his feelings slip either, but it’s the bottomless need that he feels when he’s around you

“i feel wanted. i feel needed.”

he smiles cheerfully even if he feels shy dropping this on you all of a sudden

“not sure if you want me nor need me, but i feel welcome with you if that makes sense.”

“you just make me feel loved, i guess.”

jimin looks at you for the first time since he’s opened his mouth, an equally fond look on your face

you said no words but what jimin receives is a gentle tug, your hand on the side of his face until he’s leaning on your shoulder

“i wanna know what's up there.”

he points a finger to your temple, an amused lilt to his tone, “surprise me.”

it’s an unfolding of things that was weeks in the making but months in developing, the distant glances leading you to recognize jimin in the shop in the first place

“i feel the exact same with you,” you answer honestly and it makes his laugh from his chest, his cheeks warm and his heart content

and you just wanna suspend yourselves in this moment forever

“oh! and if i were to lose my virginity to anyone at the moment, it'd be you!!”

...

....

jimin swats at your shoulder to which you only giggle at, a toothy smile on display as this is the warmest he’s ever felt

“i wasn’t kidding!!!”

you yawn when you defend yourself, predicting that you’d fall asleep sooner or later on the couch, but for the time-being, you just stroke jimin’s hair to soothe the both of you

jimin is now the furthest thing from sleepy

"what? you told me to surprise you!!"

422 notes · View notes

justletmeplayminecraft · 3 years

Note

It doesn't happen often, but sometimes Mumbo will find himself frozen in place, struck down with fear and doubt.

He'll find his mind echoing with the "but what if" and "you're not good enough to stop them leaving" and he'll begin to lose his vision as his eyes become clouded with tears.

He'll take out his communicator and, with shaking hands, send a message into chat;

<MumboJumbo>: Hey I need some reassurance, could someone stop by?

And the hermits will always stop by. Sometimes just one, sometimes many, but he'll always get at least one hermit at his side in a matter of minutes.

"It's okay" they'll tell him. "We'd never abandon you" they'll say.

"Wherever we go, you'll always be welcome. Until the end of time."

oh my gosh this is so good ;-; hold on lemme see what i can write

warnings for self-doubt, fear of abandonment, implied anxiety attack

Mumbo knows what caused it this time. A combination of late nights, feedback on the HCBBS and being in Scar's base. Everywhere he looks is an incredible creation, more amazing than he could ever hope to achieve. He's felt the thoughts building over the past few days, shoving them down as deeply as he can. Which is always a mistake.

Ironically, it all spills over when he's looking at those same tiny mushrooms that excited him so much before. It's just so clever! It's so smart! And it's something Mumbo would never think to do. He's not smart like this, doesn't have Scar's creativity. He has no idea why the hermits keep him around when they could have more people like Scar. Probably because they know he has nowhere else to go, because they're good people and-

No, no. He tries to remember Xisuma's advice. He needs to breathe. Don't spiral. Long breath in, hold, long breath out. In, hold, out. His vision is blurry, eyes stinging with tears.

He keeps that mantra in his head as he pulls out his communicator. Hands trembling, he manages to navigate to the global chat. He doesn't bother reading the previous messages.

<MumboJumbo> csb somebody come over? need somrone rn

<Xisuma> mumbo? where are you?

<GoodTimeWithScar> Mumbo?

<ZombieCleo> where are you mumbo?

<MumboJumbo> msgic village

<ZombieCleo> omw

<Xisuma> let me know if you need back up

<ZombieCleo> will do.

By the time Mumbo hears rockets overhead, he's curled into the base of a tree. The bark presses hard against his back, his face hidden in his knees. He focuses on his breathing. All of those thoughts are blocked out of his head. He knows they're stupid, he knows. The hermits must be so tired of this by now-

"Mumbo." A voice calls, derailing that notion. "Where are you?" He raises his head, rubbing his eyes with a sniffle.

"I'm over here." Mumbo's voice shakes as much as the rest of him. There's a crunching of grass, and he flinches when he hears a twig snap. Soon enough, a wave of red hair falls in front of him, Cleo crouching to his level. She has a gentle smile that is in such contrast to her usual sarcasm.

"Hey, Mumbo. You want to go inside?" He nods. He can't quite find the words to say, so he accepts Cleo's hand as she pulls him to his feet. His suit is crumpled, pulling in all the wrong places and it only feels more stifling. Cleo walks with purpose, searching each building until she finds one that's mostly liveable, with a fair amount of grumbling about Scar and chestmonsters.

It is nicer inside the house. She sits him down on an old sofa, ruffling through already messy locks. The suit jacket is discarded and laid carefully over an armchair. Mumbo tucks his feet onto the edge of the sofa, wrapping his arms around long legs. A blanket is soon wrapped around his shoulders. Mumbo snuggles into it, disappearing until he's a head and two black socks in a pile of blue fabric.

"There you go, do you want some tea?" Mumbo nods. Tea sounds nice right now. He gets a good hair ruffle before Cleo vanishes in search of the kitchen. He can still hear her moving around, cursing under her breath as she tries to navigate Scar's overflowing storage. Mumbo laughs softly, more air than noise. He closes his eyes, resting his chin on his knees.

Cleo's good to him. She came here so quickly, like she often does. If not Cleo, then it would've been another hermit. They always drop everything to come help him. He just- is he really worth that effort? He doesn't do anything in return for them. Maybe it was a mistake calling someone over, he should've just dealt with this on his own, they're going to get frustrated he keeps doing this-

"Mumbo," Cleo calls. Mumbo blinks as he finds himself back in reality. "I can hear your thoughts from here. Do you want honey in your tea?" Mumbo squeezes his fingers into the soft material of the blanket, listening to a distant kettle boil. He breathes in a scent similar to a library. Something old, with a hint of magic.

"Yeah, honey would be nice."

"Got it!" He occupies his mind by looking around the room, naming each of the things he can see. There's a bookshelf against one of the walls. The top two shelves are decorated by various trinkets. Little statues and toys, sentimental items that Mumbo doesn't know the meaning of. The bottom shelves are filled with books from various designers. Scar showed him some recently, pouring over the art with a bright grin. Mumbo hung onto every word he said. A solitary redstone book sits amongst them, and Mumbo huffs an amused breath.

When Cleo returns, he's looked at the curtains, one of them pulled tied open, the forgotten mugs on the coffee table, the various doodles scattered in sheets of paper, the plants that are somehow alive and Cleo, who isn't. She smiles, passing Mumbo the mug. He curls his hands around it, pleased the heat isn't unbearable.

"So which ones do I need to fight this time?" She asks. Mumbo chuckles. The blanket has slipped further back so his hands can stick out.

"You don't need to fight anything," he replies. Cleo crosses her arms, dropping into the space next to him.

"Really?" He looks into the steaming tea. Cold isn't a problem in the jungle, not during the day. But the heat is a good grounding point. Though he could get lost in the way the steam catches the light, shimmering white patterns painted in the air.

"It's the usual," he finally concedes. "With some added 'I'm only bothering you and you're all going to get tired of needing to help me.' You know." Cleo hums. She does know. Mumbo sometimes wishes his doubts would get more adventurous, and then remembers what a terrible idea that would be.

"Do you have the book?" She asks. Mumbo shakes his head.

"I think I left it in my- no, Scar's base." He would usually keep his book of affirmations in his enderchest, but he was a bit flustered with the whole move. He thinks he left it under his pillow.

"I'll ask Scar to bring it over later."

"You don't-" She gives him a look. "Okay. Thank you," he amends. Taking a sip of the tea, he sighs. Cleo knows just how he likes it. The honeyed taste is a much-needed treat.

"So, you know what I'm going to say?"

Mumbo smiles, telling her, "Say it anyway."

"Mumbo, you could be the biggest spoon in the world, and we'd still keep you around, right?" Mumbo laughs, falling into the script with ease.

"Right."

"You're our family. We don't care if you don't achieve these incredible feats, though you do, by the way. We're lucky to have you here, and it makes me smile everytime I see what you're up to. Big or small." He hides his wet smile behind a sip of tea. There's no hiding the tears gathering in his eyes. "Mumbo, you're an amazing person, alright? The best annoying baby brother I could ask for. Wherever we go, you can come with us. As long as you want to."

"And if that's forever?"

"Then it's forever. And I'll consider myself lucky everyday you decide to stick around." Mumbo sinks back into the sofa, finally letting go of the tension he was subconsciously holding. "Right. Now let me read all the chat messages."

Mumbo laughs, reaching up to wipe his eyes, "Seriously?"

"We care about you, you dork." Cleo sits forward, holding her communicator up. She takes a deep breath, continuing in her best gameshow voice, Mumbo laughing the moment she speaks, "And first up, we have Xisuma! Asking me to tell you that he cares about you and he's always here if you ever need to talk." Mumbo settles back, a wide grin on his face, content to listen.

Cleo carefully takes the mug from Mumbo's hands, the redstoner offering no resistance as he yawns. His eyes are half open, blinks growing longer every time. She brushes hair from his face, gently lying him down until he's resting in her lap.

"There you go," she soothes. Mumbo quietly rearranges, hugging Cleo's legs. "You've done so well. You can rest now." Mumbo's sleepy hum brings a smile to her face.

She watches as Mumbo's breath evens out, his body growing heavier on her. She carefully tucks the corner of the blanket in before pulling out her communicator, snapping a quick photo.

<ZombieCleo> mission successful

<Xisuma> :-D

<Stressmonster101> awwwwwwww <3

<iskall85> some much needed sleep i'd say

<GoodTimeWithScar> I'll be over with the book when I find it

<ZombieCleo> don't worry, i think he'll be out for a while lol

She smiles at her communicator and the lanky redstoner in her lap. There are very few sights that warm her undead heart more than this. She leans back, and settles in for however long Mumbo needs her.

#hc #mumbo #cleo #my writing #ask #scarred-but-still-smiling #i feel like i should maintag this because i like it #but also. no. jkjggfd #but yeah i had to write this #the image was very vivid in my mind

176 notes · View notes

spvce-cowboy · 3 years

Text

two suns

ch. 6 of i’ll be here in the morning (the mandalorian x f!reader)

previous- ch. 5: “the hero’s shoulders”

next-ch. 7: “an old friend”

rating: explicit

6.1k words

warnings: smut, unprotected piv sex (seriously don’t do that), riding, oral f-receiving, communication?! we don’t know her, disturbing imagery, i think that’s it but pls lmk if i missed something

a/n: nothin’ for rn ! enjoy <33

It’s too much of a risk to allow himself to sink fully into the comfort of the moment, so he dozes while you sleep. Though it’s selfish, he’d rather have this restless night than allow you to return to your own bed.

He just doesn’t know what would be there if he allows his eyes to fully shut, what kind of images he’d be forced to face, and the last thing he wants to do is wake you.

There’s a small, foolish part of him that thinks if he concentrates too hard on the feeling of your body against his like this, something very bad would happen. As if all of this would literally disappear if he were too present, if he thought too hard about you.

He even has this strange image in his head of you evaporating, as if you were a mirage that would vanish as soon as he finally reached it. He has an image in his head of the way the sheets would billow around the emptiness of where your body once was, then quickly crumple in on itself in its fall back against the mattress. It would be a soundless departure, leaving nothing but the ghostly feeling of where your body used to lay by his side.

He thinks that anxiety started when you first said his name. You spoke so softly, Din.

At first it was just a repetition of what he had already said. It sounded like you were just rehearsing a word in a foreign language to yourself, like he’d seen you do while studying those little dictionaries you keep buying. It’s been so long since he’s thought of himself as anything but Mandalorian that he was hardly able to process the word himself.

Din. Cautious at first, testing out the sound. The weight of it heavy against your tongue. Then you gained confidence, as he’d seen you do so many times before. And it was his name you were saying. From your tongue, from those precious lips.

The feeling it gave him, hearing it like that, was a feeling he’d spent most of his life training against. He thought he got lucky, when he’d surpassed those turbulent years of his youth without having to fully engage with the tricky emotions most threatening to his oath.

There were always stories of fallen foundlings who sought the affections of another outside of the Creed. Whispered rumors about bunks found empty in the morning, wordlessly exiled friends never seen again. Hormonal imbalances confused for some mythical conception of companionship, their instructors told them. Natural, but easily fought against. That feeling would pass soon enough.

And he believed them. Of course he did. So when he reached those years, he quickly drowned himself in enough violence and meaningless sex to avoid the threat of succumbing to foolish desires. Bodies were bodies. A notch in your belt or your bedpost, didn’t matter either way.

He thought he was safe from the worst of it, he really did.

But you said his name as if it were a word for hearth. For home. And it made him want to unravel that shoddy piece of fabric from around your eyes and guide your hands to his face. It made him ache for some other world where it could just be this, you and him wrapped up in each other with the kid peacefully sleeping just a few paces away. That alone would be more than enough.

So Din doesn’t sleep. He dozes. And when he knows Karga’s men will be awake and able to unload the quarries from the carbonite chambers, he disentangles himself from you as gently as he can. You give a small whine but resettle regardless. He pulls the blanket up over your bare shoulders. Maybe he takes a moment to stroke your cheekbone, in dazed fascination, with the back of his knuckles. Maybe.

He dresses, body tired in a way he can’t exactly place. It didn’t come from physical exhaustion, he knows that. Something else. Something he doesn’t want to deal with in the moment.

The fresher’s cold blast of water is the only thing that begins to shake him from his mood. The unpleasant feeling is grounding—it reminds him of the skin he lives in, what it has endured, what it is still able to withstand in spite of everything else. All of it.

He downs a cup of caf before heading out to meet Karga. The cantina is sparsely populated, mostly leftovers from the night before, slumped in their respective booths.

The bartender is reading something on a datapad. She glances at Din before looking down at the screen in her hands and typing something. Din leans against the countertop, supporting himself on his forearms as he waits.

It only takes a few moments. He doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Karga approaching, the frustrated pace of his footsteps identifiable enough. The man seats himself on the barstool to the right of where Din stands.

“Mando,” there’s a smile to the man’s booming voice that doesn’t reflect in his eyes. “Quite the performance you made back there.”

Under the helm, Din runs his tongue over his teeth. He doesn’t respond, just waits.

“I have some… news. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad, but certainly interesting,” he motions to the bartender. Din’s eyes flick from her, back to Karga.

“A bit early for that, isn’t it?” It feels strange to speak through the vocoder again. He tries to push the feeling away.

Karga crinkles his nose, waving Din away and grabbing the cup of spotchka as soon as the woman places it in front of him.

“The Guild is… grateful for how quickly you managed to capture Tyreus Cavill, but there’s been ah—” he clears his throat. “A bit of a hiccup. Nothing you have to worry about. But it does mean that you’ll have plenty of time to find the kid’s people without having to worry about chasing more quarries.”

“What.” Din says it sharply enough that the eavesdropping bartender flinches, nearly dropping the glass she’s drying in her hand.

“Cavill senior is having a bit of a hard time understanding our position as a Guild. He’s of the ‘blood for blood’ variety and he… well,” Karga shakes his head. “We’re working on it. He hasn’t demanded specifics yet but it’s best if you lose his men’s trail, earlier the better. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t stay sedentary. It should be no different, really, than if you were tracing fobs. And you’ll get to find the kid’s people! It’s a good deal, if you think about it.”

Karga’s weak attempts to reassure prove infinitely more irritating. Din closes his eyes briefly to re-center himself. An attempt at a calming breath proves futile.

“There’s a contact, Gor Koresh,” Karga continues. “He might have information about where your people are. Already sent his last known locations to your datapad. I’d say going to Coruscant first will be your best bet, someone might be able to point you in a better direction from there.” Karga downs the last of the spotchka effortlessly. “He’s a bit of a slippery one so I’d suggest you get a move on.”

Din gives a curt nod, pushing off the bar and straightening as Karga speaks.

“My men will follow you back to the Crest to unload. Tell that girl of yours I send my best--and Mando,” he slides on his forearms, ducking his head to look straight into Din’s visor. “For the kid’s sake, don’t stop moving.”

Din rips away from Karga before he starts something he didn’t have the energy to finish.

The kid is waiting for him at the door of the Crest when he returns with Karga’s men. Din wordlessly scoops him up in one arm. Something within him quiets when he feels a small, three-fingered hand wrap around his thumb. The gentle pressure against his glove is calming.

There’s the distinct sound of the shower running when he accompanies Karga’s men to the carbonite chambers. They finish the job, he gets his credits.

Once they’re gone, Din checks his bunk to find it, expectedly, empty.

Nevarro is a familiar planet for you, and it’s not like you’ve ever informed him of your outings. Still, he wishes you would have left him a note or called out to him as you left, just to prevent the brief surge of panic in his gut. He knows you’ve probably just gone out to run errands.

He knows this. But still.

The kid chirps from where Din holds him in the crook of his arm, stretching his little hands towards the swaths of blankets.

“No naps yet, bud,” Din places the kid on the floor in order to gather your things. There’s the small patter of feet toddling behind him, as well as the occasional tug on his pant-leg, as he moves about the tight space.

If he were brave enough, he’d acknowledge the tumbling litany of fearful thoughts roaring at the back of his mind. If others know what brings you peace, that peace will be ripped away from you before you can even blink. Learn to find solace in this. Gentleness is not something to be worshipped, to succumb to. Soft heart. Soft heart. Soft heart.

He isn’t brave enough. So he doesn’t dare recognize any part of it.

Keeping in motion helps him not to think too much. He steps back into the hull, the blanket and pillows tucked under his arm. He leaves them on your empty bed. Quickly scaling the ladder into the cockpit, he checks the information Karga sent him. He keeps the kid occupied by bouncing him on his beskar-clad thigh as he does. It works surprisingly well.

Din confirms the coordinates and his landing location after scanning the airwaves for any sign of Cavill’s men. The three of you are in the clear for now, but that’s not likely to last much longer.

Heaving a sigh, Din puts the child in his pram and sets out to find you.

The morning sun is high enough that the city is sweltering by the time he reaches the market. There’s a faint breeze that only achieves to move the heat around, the streets remain sparsely populated because of it.

That fact makes it far easier to spot you, conversing with two Devaronian smugglers, taking shelter from the pounding sunlight under the red awning of a disinterested vendor. You’re carrying a bag heavy with supplies on one shoulder, which you occasionally adjust as you try to speak with the men.

You’re using your hands to talk in a way that tells him that the language barrier is more of an issue than you initially anticipated it to be. Din is already bristling with the way one of them looms over you. The sneering expression the smuggler gives his companion while you aren’t looking sends a wave of anger pulsing through him out of pure instinct alone.

Din is by your side right as the Devaronian begins to say something. The hulking smuggler closes his mouth immediately, but his expression remains incredulous, eyes narrowed at Din from where he stands behind you.

You turn your head as soon as the Devaronian shifts his gaze, a stiffness in your shoulders relaxing slightly when you see yourself reflected in that all too familiar T-visor. Your expression remains tight, pissed off even.

“I’ll take it now, please,” your break into Basic is jarring. You’ve shifted your gaze back to the smugglers. The one who was eyeing you previously turns to the vendor, speaking to the frail woman in his native tongue. Din can only make out a few phrases himself, but it seems like you were bartering over some kind of technology.

Din’s hand hovers over the blaster at his hip as the woman reaches under the table, arm dropping back at his side when she places a small piece of Republic tech into your open hand.

It looks like a new comlink. You quickly stuff it into your bag and hand your credits over to the vendor.

“Forgot mine at Febhana’s,” you mumble to yourself or Din, he isn’t exactly sure. He grunts as you turn heel, pointedly refusing eye contact as you scoop the child from the pram. You rest him against your hip as you walk away. Din follows suit, keeping a few paces behind you.

“G’morning stinky,” you rub your nose against the kid’s in greeting. He coos happily, reaching up to tug on your hair—a motion you expertly dodge.

If it weren’t for the Devaronians boring holes into his back, Din would warm at the sight. With the threat of their witness, the image of you and the kid in front of him only serves to wind his anxiety tighter. His words are harsh because of it.

“I thought I made it clear to you that we have to lay low,” he grits out once you’ve put enough distance between the three of you and the marketplace.

“Don’t.” Your voice goes sharp in a way that’s genuinely shocking. You keep your back to him, pace quick and even. “I had that under control.”

“I never thought you didn’t,” he clarifies after a second. Din swallows, his body tense. He doesn’t know how to express how worried he is in public like this. Cavill has infinite men and infinite supplies to hunt you down? Too alarmist, he already wasn’t on your good side. To deliver the news now would just rub salt in the wound. If I could, I’d bear the weight of the sky itself to keep you safe. The truth, but he’d already confused you—and himself—enough in trying to express how he feels for you. To try and elaborate any further would just be cruel.

So he settles for silence as the three of you continue the walk.

You give a sigh after a moment, stopping in the middle of the street and turning to face Din, dropping the bag of supplies at your feet as you do. The kid’s ears droop from where you hold him against your hip, sensing the unspoken tension coursing between his caretakers.

“I don’t want to be mad at you anymore,” your eyes are big, brave in their vulnerability. You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, thinking for a second before your next words leave you in a rush. “What you said last night really hurt me. I’m not gonna pretend I understand all of it, because I don’t. But I.... I know you’re only trying to do what’s best.” The breath you take is quick, sharp. Your shoulders pull back, setting your posture with courage that doesn’t exactly reach your eyes. “I hope you can understand why I lashed out before I took the time to think it through.”

“I do,” Din resists the urge to flex his hands into fists at his side. He wants to reach out to you, to touch your arm or shoulder or cheek in reassurance. But there are the Devaronians to his back. City streets filled with watchful eyes. Soft heart. It’s a risk neither of you can afford to take.

You nod, lips pressed together. “Friends?”

Din ducks his head in agreement, shouldering your bag for you. “Friends.”

The smile you give is still a bit tight, but genuine in the relief it communicates. “Cool.”

The two of you walk side by side the rest of the way back to the Crest. The silence is easier this time.

It takes another day in hyperspace to reach Coruscant. He spends most of it in the cockpit, tracing signals and rewiring faulty panels, but he keeps the doors open. He’d like the convince himself it was just so he could hear your radio, which you have playing all day, but that’s just an added bonus.

There’s something calming about the noise you and the kid make as you go about your daily tasks. He likes the frustrated huffs you give when you try and fail to get the kid to work through the drills you’ve made for him, or how you turn the radio up when there’s a song you’re particularly enjoying. The child’s constant chattering serves as a reassuring white-noise.

The warmth of it all is enough to transform the general air of the ship in a way you’ve managed to do for months at this point. He doesn’t know why it’s taken him this long to acknowledge that. He allows himself to sink into the comfort it gives him, even if it takes several barriers of steel between him and you to do so.

It is late afternoon on Coruscant by the time he lands the ship in a remote hangar.

Din pushes away from the console and stands. He immediately has to catch himself on the headrest of the pilot’s seat, vision blackening at the edges for a moment before returning to normal.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, he quickly checks his vitals. The graphic flickers to life on his display screen. All normal, so--

Din heaves a sigh. He hasn’t slept for maybe… four days straight? That sounded about right. Since the Crest landed on Canto at least.

He rests his elbow against the pilot’s seat, briefly lifting his helm to his forehead in order to rub his face with his gloved hand in a weak attempt to rouse himself. It doesn’t work.

The informant most likely to know anything about Koresh’s whereabouts was at a law office of some sort, their schedule regimented enough that he could get away with finding them in a few hours’ time. It would be best to catch them right as they were coming into the office anyway, early morning hours usually means less people around. Waiting until morning would be ideal, really.

It’s a long-winded way of justifying a nap.

Din carefully climbs the ladder back down into the hull. You’re in the process of reading something to the child, who sits in your lap as he gnaws on a fruit leather. You glance up as Din passes, giving him a small smile in greeting. He nods in response, then makes his way to his bunk. A familiar, guarded, exchange. Back to basics.

Din allows himself the comfort of stripping down to his under-armor but keeps the helm on, settling onto the bunk with a grunt. The blue darkness is quick to agitate, the day’s frustrations and unsettled tensions quickly tumble into the memory of how this same faint light hit your bare body as you twisted around him. The press of your breasts against his chest. The hiccuping breaths you took when you were about to--

He sharply turns on his side, as if physical movement could push the thought away.

It takes a while for his brain to settle, so tired it’s nearly impossible to rest. He lays as still as possible, counting every inhale and holding before releasing the breath. It nearly works. He’s still so jittery he can’t keep his eyes shut for too long without it feeling as though he were being dropped from an unknown but impossible height.

Sighing, Din sits back up and slides the door of his quarters back open. He isn’t sure how long it has been since he first lay down, but all the lights in the hull have been turned off. The only source of light is the soft glow of a lantern just around the corner of the stacked crates that block off the alcove you’d fashioned.

You’re singing a lullaby. He can only guess by the small sounds of sleepy babbling that you still have the kid with you.

Din can tell it’s something in your native tongue by the foreign, lilting quality of it. Nothing like the siren’s song he knows you’re capable of—it’s far too soft for it to be anything like what he heard you sing to the mountains--but it has a similar circling quality about it that he’s only ever heard from your lips.

It takes the breath out of him. Din sinks to the floor, resting his back against the wall and drawing his knees up to rest his elbows on their caps. He allows his head to droop forward, just for a moment. Just to listen a little longer, to grab onto these moments and store them somewhere quiet and hidden within him.

When the kid finally lets out a snore, you cut yourself off. It’s quiet for a long time, but he doesn’t hear any rustling of fabric that would suggest you getting up to put him back in the pram.

“I love you a lot, lil guy,” it’s a soft whisper. He doesn’t know if he would be able to hear it if it weren’t for his helm. “Your dad does too. He’s weird with the way he shows it sometimes, but he does. I can tell. It’s important you know that.”

Din closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall between the two of you. He stays like that for a long time, listening as you continue to hum despite the fact that the child is asleep. When the lantern light finally clicks off, he clambers to his feet and retreats back to his bunk.

“Din?” It’s your voice, just outside. Panic surges in his chest, the slight warble of your words reminiscent of the night you woke up screaming.

He’s upright and at the door immediately. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t sleep,” your voice is hoarse. “Can I…”

Din slides the door open without hesitation. You already have the blindfold around your eyes, your arms protectively crossed over your stomach in a weak attempt at self-soothing.

Your hand hesitantly stretches out, blindly trying to locate him. He circles your wrist with his large hand, gently pulling you forward to guide your palm against his chest. You follow suit, collapsing against his body, burying your face in his sternum.

It’s a motion filled with such warm familiarity that if he closes his eyes he could almost imagine that the previous night didn’t end in the way it did. Almost as if this were just some long awaited reunion. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly against him.

“Hi,” your voice is a small, shy sound against his chest. It’s a greeting, it’s a let’s forget about all of it, for now. Just for now. Din lets go of you for a second to pull off his helmet, burying his face in your hair as soon as the thing is off. He breathes you in. He thinks you might be doing the same.

You eventually pull back, press your lips against his. It’s a small, chaste motion. He takes your hand and leads you back to his bunk, hoisting you up onto the mattress by your hips. Now eye-level with one another, Din stands between your open legs to kiss you again.

He doesn’t allow himself to think it through. Not as he leaves to retrieve the same blanket and pillow as he had the previous night. Not as he returns to find you exactly where he’d left, the sweater you were wearing in a crumbled heap on the floor. Not as your hot mouth presses against his as you undress him. Not as he sucks a constellation of bruises over your chest. Not as he stretches you open with his fingers, winding you into a quivering mess of exposed nerves with his tongue and hands alone.

In the haze of your second orgasm, you reach for the ridged tent of his boxers with a moan, legs still shaking from the come-down. He pushes your hand away gently, kissing your temple and tucking you into his side. The two of you tumble into a deep sleep quickly after.

There are a few points throughout the night where you wake him. The first is a small gesture, just a hand against the side of his neck, but the feeling is so new that is rouses him from sleep instantly.

Your bare body occasionally shifts away from his as you sleep. Not purposefully, just in small readjustments that usually involve moving your hips away from his, or curling a little further into yourself so that the tops of his thighs loose contact with the warm undersides of yours. Every time you do he wakes up to readjust, promptly curling back around you because he’s too selfish to not hold onto you while he can.

There are a few instances where he wakes up because you’ve turned over and onto him, draping your body over his with a little snore or an incoherent sleep-mumble. He’s never seen someone sleep this deeply, and he’s entranced by every little motion of yours. How you nestle against whatever is closest before giving a content hum once readjusted. How your breathing feels against his skin. How your body radiates enough heat that he had to push some of the blankets off the bed and onto the floor. How fucking cold your feet are.

He likes the weight of you there—against his mattress, against him.

At around 4am, you rouse him again when you get up to use the bathroom. He pretends to still be asleep when you return, clumsily managing to clamber back onto the mattress while blindfolded. You settle back into his side, pressing the length of your nose against the warmth of his throat, hooking a leg over his hips and flinging your arm across his chest.

Smiling to himself, he closes his eyes and turns his face further away from you, feigning sleep out of curiosity of what you’d do. After a moment, your hand begins to trail across his chest, settling with your palm resting against his sternum as you tilt your head back, tracing a series of kisses along the underside of his jaw. He shifts his head and opens one eye slightly to look at you, the curve of your body illuminated in the bluish darkness of the bunk.

“Din,” your voice is rough with sleep, speaking with your lips barely hovering over his pulse.

You push yourself further upwards, using the hand on his chest as leverage. Then, your lips against his cheekbone. “Din.” It’s a whisper. Husky in his ear. Another kiss, at the corner of his mouth this time. This one lingers. “Din.”

There is no possible way he could keep playing coy. He seizes you in his arms, pulling you onto his chest to straddle his waist. You let out a surprised squeak before he seals his mouth over yours. You can’t contain a giggle, quickly stifling yourself by deepening the kiss.

Din gently cups either side of your neck with his hands, thumbs rubbing either side of your jaw. It’s the most sustained contact he’ll allow himself—only fair, considering what limited access you had to his. It’s… very important to him that you feel like the two of you were on equal footing.

Maybe he isn’t doing a very good job of it, placing all the emphasis in all the wrong places, but he is trying. In the only ways he knows how, he is trying.

He trails his hands down your legs in a languid praise. When his fingers reach the bandages wrapped around your injured knee, his hands immediately go to your hips to lift you off of him and back on the mattress.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” he mutters. “I forgot about the—here, lemme—"

“It’s fine,” you kiss him to make him stop talking. It works exceptionally well, he can’t help but chase your lips with his when you pull back to finish your sentence. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“But you shouldn’t—”

“Last time I checked I was the authority figure on the subject,” you tease, prodding him between the ribs with your knuckle in mock chastisement. Your voice goes low. “Lemme prove it to you.”

And he thinks there’s just no way he hasn’t died and been sent to a heaven he certainly doesn’t deserve because your hands are moving down the length of his torso as you kiss him and just the feeling of that alone is enough. It could have only ever been this feeling alone and it would still be more than enough.

Without breaking from you, he wraps an arm around your lower back to keep you flush against him as he uses his other hand to push himself up. Back now pressed against the wall, he lowers you to his lap.

Your hands resume their downward path, palms flat against the skin of his stomach. He tucks both of his own hands in the pits of your knees, holding you exactly where you are as your hands wrap around his cock.

Din moans into your mouth right before you pull away, his neck stretching to chase your lips until you lean too far back for him to reach you. You release him, bringing up your hand just below your chin. The saliva you’ve gathered at the tip of your tongue glistens in the low, blue light of the captain’s quarters as you let it drip onto your hand.

If you weren’t wearing the blindfold, he knows you’d be looking up at him through your eyelashes in that heated way he had seen you do while flirting with that rat-faced boy back at the Tagge mansion. The thought of that alone it enough to have him straining towards you again, desperate to erase the events of that night—for your sake or his, he isn’t exactly sure.

You stop him by placing your hand, now wet with spit, back on his cock. One hard stroke is enough to have his body straining towards you, covering your neck in hard kisses and sharp little bites. He moans into your collarbone as you continue the agonizingly slow pump, your thumb coming up to swipe the head of his dick with every upwards stroke.

Din can feel how hot your cunt is from where you hover over his lap, the plush skin of your thighs pressed against his quads—his muscles, taught with the restraint it takes not to pin you down and fuck you senseless, are ropes of steel compared to how your soft body sinks against his.

That restraint crumbles when you lean forward to try and kiss him as you continue jacking him off, pressing your tits against his chest, breathing against his cheek as you blindly try to find his lips again. He surges forward to meet you, mouths clashing together in a heated reunion.

Wordlessly, Din removes his hands from your knees, sliding them up your thighs and grabbing onto your hips. He begins to roll you back onto the bed beneath him, but you place your free hand on his bicep, halting him before he can.

You pull away, slightly shoving him to lean back against the wall as you drag your tongue over your lips, plush from sleep and the force of the kiss. Maddeningly, you finished the motion by biting the corner of your bottom lip, right as you lift yourself up from his lap to tease the head of his cock against your entrance.

He can tell you’re still sore from the small sounds you make as you sink onto him, but his ability to acknowledge that quickly flies out the window because Maker you’re so fucking tight it’s nearly painful. He’s about to urge you off him, to insist on foreplay so he doesn’t hurt you--

And he’s left in an absolute daze because he realizes that you want it like this. Because with the first few rolls of your hips you’re already soaking his cock, mumbling incoherent phrases between heady little moans as you arch your spine. You throw your head back as you do, exposing the delicate expanse of your neck that he’d spend the rest of his living days marking if he could.

Din presses up into you to meet each thrust of your hips, the arm he had braced around you shifting up to press against the curve of your spine, coaxing your chest closer to his face. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, the hand that was resting against your leg moving up to press against your lower stomach.

His hands are so big against your body that his thumb is able to reach your clit from where his palm rests. Your hips stutter slightly at the new sensation and it takes far too much self-restraint to resist pinning you to the bed when he feels how you clench around him. He’s able to thrust into you a few times before you continue to ride him, one hand tangled in his hair, the other braced against his bicep.

You slam your hand against the wall for leverage, grinding down on him with a series of sharp gasps, rapidly increasing in pitch as his thumb steadily rubs circles onto your clit.

It’s quick but heated. He lowers the hand on your back and returns it to your hip in encouragement for you to keep going, burying his face in the crook of your neck. With the pace you’ve set, he feels his orgasm drawing up in his stomach far faster than he’d anticipated.

“F-fuck,” he’s able to choke out. “I’m—where should I—”

“Inside,” you pant. You’re holding your breath in that way you do when you’re about to come. “’s safe. Please, oh M—Din, please.”

Your words are more than enough to have him tumbling over the edge. It’s white-hot, then nearly blinding as he feels you quickly follow him, your hips jerking under his thumb. When he resurfaces, cock still pulsing inside you, he realizes he’s bitten down on the patch of skin where your shoulder meets your neck.

Din lets go of you immediately, mumbling an apology and kissing the salty spot before he settles his forehead against where the indentations of his teeth dug scores into the delicate flesh. You’ve already assumed the same position on his opposite shoulder, breathing hard. He holds you against him with both arms wrapped around your lower back.

The two of you stay like that, catching your breath, for what feels a long time. You eventually shift back, messily kissing him. Din grunts, placing a hand against the side of your head as his lips slide against yours.

Muscles still shaky, he lifts you off his lap and guides you back down on the mattress. Grunting, he rolls onto his side to grab his discarded shirt, using it to wipe you off and then himself. You give a sleepy moan as he does, immediately rolling onto your side and draping yourself over him again when he settles back down on the mattress.

“Pel kar’ta—” he begins a sentence he doesn’t know the ending of. You shake your head against his chest.

“Go to bed, Din Djarin,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder. There’s an unabashed intimacy in how you say it, already half-sleep, all potential barriers forgotten in the haze and heaviness of your eyes.

In a dream, a formless shape stands in the far distance.

It is supposed to be the skinless figure. He knows this because he is still kneeling, still crouched in the midst of some kind of red fog that is at once a whipping wind and a still solace. It depends on how hard he focuses on it.

He can’t look up at it, not where it stands. There are two blazing lights to the distant shape’s back, so strong it forces him to keep his eyes to the ground. But he knows it is there. He knows it is supposed to be the skinless figure, but it isn’t. She never approaches.

He vomits anyway. It’s leeches, this time. A thick, black mass of them, writhing in the hands—his hands—that catch them. He watches as they fall.

When Din opens his eyes again, it is morning.

It is morning and you are gone. So are most of your things. Your bed is stripped, its contents folded in neat piles. You leave the medkit and a note. He doesn’t read it.

taglist: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @walkingthegrounds @roseallisonparker @kaitlyn2907 @dinsbeskar @mandoandyodito @kyjoraven @ineffableloveforyou @hotsforrob @pointy-sharp @ironbabey @mufflerfluffler @pedropascalownsmysoul @carbonite-cruncher @daddydjarinxx @altarsw @sarahjkl82-blog @elfwoodfae

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #grogu #din and grogu #mando and grogu #the mandalorian x y/n #din djarin x y/n #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #i'll be here in the morning #i'll be here in the morning ch6

186 notes · View notes

angelanimedesaray · 3 years

Note

hey i saw your requests are open and i have the BIGGEST dad levi brainrot rn, can i request Levi and Reader in a long term relationship, reader’s sibling has a newborn kid and reader takes care of the kid and Levi sees how motherly reader is being, how would he react? i’m curious about what you think!

AN: Ohhhhhh I love some Dad!Levi, I’ve got at least two or three fic ideas with eventual Dad!Levi, so it’ll be good to dip my toe into the waters a little earlier than I otherwise would have :D I had these two little short scenes almost immediately come to mind when I read this and while I was at work, and its the first thing I started to do when I got home :D Thank you for the request--I don’t get many <3

Plus, I think everyone needs some happy fluff after the two story whammies I just delivered XD

Fanfic One-Shot Request is below the cut.

~*~Different Kinds of Gifts~*~

*Levi’s POV*

He was midway through his day, finished with his daily cleaning routine (besides his own room) and finished with helping with morning training. He was giving himself a bit of a break, and by break, he meant he was going to spend a few hours in his office doing paperwork.

When he opened the door to his office, he was met with an unexpected sight.

It wasn’t the same office that he used to have--once the two of you had solidified your relationship as a serious one and started practically living with one another, Erwin had moved the two of you into a larger space that was more like a small apartment than a simple office and bedroom. The main front room was still his office, but it doubled as a living room as well, with a couch, fireplace, bookshelves, and lounge chairs taking up a portion of the room off to the side, though Levi’s desk and workspace was still center, and a straight shot from the front door with nothing in the way. Instead of one branched off room there were three--the bedroom, of course, off to the right, as well as a washroom and a small private kitchen whose doorways were along the left wall.

Practically the lap of luxury by Scout standards.

However, right now the little sanctuary you two shared was occupied by more than just you.

Levi paused just in front of the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob and the door hovering open just a crack as he processed the sight in front of him.

You were sitting on your usual spot on the couch, somewhere he actually knew to look for you whenever he needed to find you. However, in your arms was a small, carefully wrapped bundle, tiny arms hanging free and moving involuntarily around in the air, coming to curious stops whenever they collided with your chest, neck, or chin, little fingers curling instinctively against the human being they found. A small face of soft and not-yet defined features was peeking out from the bundle, the cloth wrapped around its head like a snugly fitting cloak, and its eyes were open, staring widely at your face as you peered down at the babe with a soft smile, a mouth that could probably be covered by the pad of his finger working as if it was trying to copy the sounds you were making as you spoke softly to the little one.

For a moment, Levi was just...confused. What were you doing with a baby in his office? Where had the baby even come from? He was pretty sure that whole thing about storks coming to deliver swaddled babies to expecting parents was an out for parents who weren’t ready to have the babies talk.

He was pretty sure. The sudden appearance of a baby in your arms made him doubt for a couple of moments.

With the initial surprise passing, Levi shut the door behind him much more quietly than he initially would have, though you had already looked up by now to see him entering the room, that soft smile still on your face.

“Hey--didn’t expect to see you for a couple more hours, at least,” you said, as if it wasn’t noteworthy that you had a baby in your arms.

“Paperwork--what’s with the...”

Levi was dismissive about why /he/ was here, considering he was much more interested in why the /baby/ was here. You only chuckled at his confusion, though, one of your fingers brushing against the baby’s little cheek and making the baby try and look to see what touched them, eyes following the finger as it traced lazy circles in the air in front of the baby’s face.

“You know how my sister had her baby the other week?” you said pointedly, and the pieces clicked into his mind. Ah, /that’s/ what was going on. Babysitting.

“I thought their boy already had a reputation for his lungs,” Levi said wryly, moving over to his desk and taking off his jacket, draping it carefully over the back of the chair for the time being until he was ready to put it back on and get back to work /outside/ his office.

“Oh, believe me, he does--he came here screaming and crying and people kept checking in to see what the hell was going on,” you said with a chuckle. “But we got pretty well acquainted. He seems to like me, now. Don’t tell my sister, though--she’ll want to know what my secret is.”

“What is your secret? They were having a rough time getting him to quiet down,” Levi remarked as he took a seat, remembering the tired circles under your sisters eyes the last time he’d seen her and how she’d been running through an exhaustive list of what they’d already tried to calm their newborn son down.

You shrugged. “There is none. I guess I just have a gift for it,” you said with a twinkle in your eye, turning your attention back to the newborn as he seemed to be burying his face in your chest. “Hey, that’s not going to give you any food, I’m not your Momma! Where’s that bottle.”

“Hey, hands off, those are mine,” he grumbled at the baby as he pulled a stack of papers towards him. You shot him a look which he returned with the ghost of a smile flickering across his face, a bit of amusement in his eyes as he kept track of your movement through the office and apartment as you sought out the bottle to feed him.

Levi’s attention turned back to the paperwork he was planning on doing once his curiosity had been satiated, a relative silence falling over the room. For the most part. There was the occasional noise from the baby that got to eagerly suck on the warm milk after you’d disappeared briefly into the kitchen to heat up the milk. You walked in slow, directionless lines around the room, wandering around to keep the baby entertained and in motion while you fed him, and a few minutes afterwards when you burped him (Making sure there was no mess left behind, of course), and as you simply hummed or talked to him, finger brushing against his lips, or his ears, or his cheeks, just giving him little reassuring touches until one of his hands curled around your fingers. The smile you had when that happened was heart-melting, even if you had prompted it by letting your finger brush against the baby’s tiny hand, and it might have been a reflex more than anything else.

It wasn’t long before the baby was sleeping, but instead of laying him down on, say, the bed in the bedroom, you simply brought out a crescent moon pillow from the stash in the bedroom your sister had apparently given you while you were babysitting, and sat on the couch. There you cradled the baby closely to you, mostly laying him on the pillow so he was securely held to you and you wouldn’t have to keep a hold of him with your arms, though they rested around him along the rim of the pillow. Once he was safe and secure, you leaned your head back and closed your eyes, letting out a soft sigh and slipping off into a light sleep, something Levi could tell by the sound of your breathing.

The entire time, his attention kept getting drawn off the paperwork in front of him, watching you out of the corner of his eyes so you wouldn’t catch him, gaze following you as you paced around the room, watching how you interacted with the baby that seemed so content in your arms. Now that you were asleep, he gazed more openly, even putting the pen down for a few moments with his arms lying loosely in front of him on the table, a small smile curling across his lips as he watched you and the baby sleeping soundly, the peaceful silence in the room somehow warmer than the sun outside.

A few days later, and the sight of you with your sister’s baby still hadn’t left his mind.

Currently, the image was plaguing him as the two of you stole some time for yourselves, the door to the apartment/office locked, with you sitting properly on the couch and Levi stretched out along the couch, his head in your lap as you gently threaded your fingers through his hair in a relaxing, soothing manner, allowing him to relax and stew in his own thoughts as he gazed up at you.

He was thinking about that peaceful moment when he’d watched you after you’d fallen asleep with the baby situated securely within your arms on the pillow. He thought about that warm smile and the bright look in your eyes, how quickly the baby had taken a liking to you, how you’d said you had a gift for it. He was looking at you in the present, but his mind was projecting an image that had been slowly solidifying in his mind since that day, of what it would be like, what it would feel like.

“What if we had a baby?”

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden question as you looked down at him in your lap, your hand pausing halfway through his hair. “What?”

His cheeks colored with a light blush as he realized he’d just blurted that out loud without any context or explanation, just dropped it on you without warning. “Not right now, there’s too much risk, but...eventually. What if we had a baby? When this is over?”

Your eyes were wide with surprise, lips moving without words coming out as if you were seeking for the right thing to say. Suddenly, he got worried he’d somehow said the wrong thing, that he’d simply assumed, that he’d let his little fantasies run away with him without stopping to see what you thought about it.

“Unless...you don’t want kids,” he said, quickly trying to retreat and take back his blurted out question, already mentally kicking himself for springing this on you.

“No, I...I think I do, some day, I just...wasn’t expecting to be talking about it right now. Honestly, I thought I was going to be the one to bring it up, not you,” you said with a slight laugh, hand running much more tenderly and intentionally this time through his hair to soothe him and any worries your hesitation had caused him. “I do. I’d love to have a child with you one day, Levi,” you promised him quietly.

Levi took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes to conjure up that mental image of you holding a child you’d had with him, that same warm look in your eyes--no, warmer. Sparkling. Like they were right now as you promised to have a child with him.

“One day...” he agreed in a low murmur.

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea @hauntedhousecat @peaches-and-clouds

94 notes · View notes

hetacon · 3 years

Text

Prom Queen: Chapter 5

First || Previous || Next

______________________________

Word Count: 1,920

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: Swearing, mentions of p*rn, mentions of drugs and underage drug use, slight internal panic attack

______________________________

Summary: The popular kids were interesting for sure, they definitely weren’t exactly like Virgil had expected them to be but at the same time they kind of were.

(Make sure you read all the way to the end if you want to hear my thoughts on the chapter, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, my art, or writing! I hope you guys enjoy!)

______________________________

Music blared through Virgil’s headphones as he and Roman sat with the popular kids again. Virgil wasn’t feeling up to talking much with them today so he had out his sketchbook, mindlessly making marks on the page. He was totally spacing out, too occupied by his latest worry of the week.

He very nearly jumped out of his skin as one of his earbuds was pulled out of his ear and he scrambled to pause the My Chemical Romance song that he’d been playing to drown out his thoughts the best he could, putting his phone face down in his lap. Virgil registered the person next to him laughing loudly at his jumpiness and he looked over to see Nick nearly doubling over from how hard he laughed.

‘It really wasn’t that funny, you scared me asshole,’ Virgil thought bitterly to himself before mentally shaking his head. ‘He didn’t do anything rude.. Well, that rude, calm down Virgil, you’re overreacting again. These are Roman’s friends, they’re starting to like you.’

“Sorry dude but that was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen, holy crap,” Nick chuckled, leaning back as he crossed his arms. He looked over to Virgil finally and nodded. “So what was up with that? You looked like you were about to shit yourself.”

Virgil’s brows furrowed. “Force of habit, I guess,” he muttered out.

“Oh yeah? What were you doing, watching porn or some shit?” A grimace came over Virgil’s face as Nick asked but he tried to not look too disgusted.

Quick, what was the appropriate answer? How did people usually talk about that type of stuff? Should he take it seriously? Consider it a joke? Punch him in the arm like the jocks he saw all the time in his physics class?

Luckily, Roman cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, that’s not cool, he’s clearly not comfortable, Nicholas,” he said, giving Nick a leveling look.

Nick put his hands up and shrugged. “Only joking dude, what he does with his time is his business. Wouldn’t blame him if it was though!” Another laugh rang out as one of the other guys sitting next to Nick punched him in the arm, much to Virgil’s satisfaction. At least someone punched him.

“Gross, shut the hell up!” the person who punched Nick told him with an obnoxiously grating laugh. “You’re sick, dude.”

Virgil tried to ignore the conversation but as he tried to put his earbud back in, he noticed Nick had it in his ear. He just couldn’t get away from them could he? He signed up for this admittedly though.

“Sorry, anyways, Virge, why’d you jump like that, for real?” Nick finally asked as he and the other guy stopped spitting insults at each other.

“I have strict parents, they don’t like anything remotely mature. They always call my stuff out if it has language in it so I just don’t let them see any music I listen to anymore,” Virgil found himself explaining, opening his phone to play a popular song that had been making the rounds around school rather than continuing through “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” like he desperately wanted to. Just one more thing Virgil had to be careful of. No more of his own music at school from now on, got it.

“Fuck, strict parents suck! Like, seriously, let me live my fucking life!” Nick scoffed out. “I just want to vape in fucking peace, they don’t need to get all pissy about it. It’s my fucking life right?”

Virgil looked up to Roman for a possible escape from the conversation, Roman knew he wasn’t a huge fan of people even talking about drugs, but Roman was staring down at his phone, texting someone. He looked upset anyways, Virgil probably shouldn’t make him feel worse.

“I mean, I don’t know, my parents aren’t the worst. I know they love me even if they aren’t good at showing it.”

“Nah, parents are assholes, adults are assholes really. They act like they can control you, it blows!” Nick complained.

Virgil only half-listened to the conversation, the other half of his attention going to trying to not have a panic attack. He took a look at the time and put away his sketchbook after making a mental note that he didn’t get very far into the sketch.

“Hey Virge, mind getting something with me real quick?” Roman asked and Virgil’s head snapped up as he nodded quickly.

The two started to walk off in the direction of their classes, Roman letting out a sigh when they were far enough.

“That wasn’t nice of him, sorry for not really... Doing much. I know you don’t like attention being drawn to you, I didn’t know if you wanted me to step in or not.”

“No, it’s fine! I’m just, you know, getting to know your friends I guess!” Virgil laughed out a little too brightly for his usual attitude. He’d been acting more like that around Roman though lately, Roman barely seemed to notice from what he saw.

“Are you sure..? I know you really don’t like those topics and he was practically steamrolling over any chance for you to stop him. I should’ve stepped in, I’m sorry,” Roman said with a hand rubbing his temple. Virgil watched him closely, noticing the way his shoulders locked up. He clearly looked beyond displeased.

“If it’s just for my comfort, I’m fine. I’d tell you if anything was happening, yeah? It’s what best friends do,” Virgil hummed out with a smile, bumping Roman’s shoulder with his own as they continued walking.

Roman glanced over wearily, a small smile on his face as the bell finally rung, signifying the start of class. “Yeah,” he merely replied, before the two parted ways.

The popular kids were interesting for sure, they definitely weren’t exactly like Virgil had expected them to be but at the same time they kind of were. The group was a bit fluid, some of the people that Virgil and Roman sat with tended to stay every day while others came and went. There wasn’t a super strict clique structure that was upheld but there didn’t seem to be a lot of the nerdier groups represented by the group, it mostly consisted of jocks, preps, and random drifters who tended to throw good parties. All of them had some sense of social standing in the school, many people knew them, and they were generally liked outside of the some of the people in the “lower” social statuses. Virgil definitely fit into at least one of these lower statuses but he seemed to be getting a pass due to being Roman’s friends. Luckily the theater kids were essentially accepted as popular kids even if some would be inclined to disagree.

Most of the conversations they got into wasn’t anything that interested Virgil, it mainly consisted of them complaining over homework and “strict” teachers (Seriously, why the hell would teachers actually let someone vape in the middle of class?) and their parents as well as a shit ton of gossip. There was literally so much gossip. So and so cheated on her boyfriend when he was cheating on her too, someone ended up getting in trouble for a tip-off about drugs in their backpack, these two kids got in a fight over some pointless drama and one ended up shoving off a teacher when they’d attempted to break off the fight. It was way more than Virgil thought was even going on at his school as he tended to stay away from pretty much everyone possible but regardless, it all was just as stupid as he expected. Virgil had no idea how they found any excitement out of talking about how people messed up or were fucked over by someone else. He wasn't sure what he was doing anymore but if nothing else, high school was supposed to be confusing right? That's what everyone always said, no one said anything different.

A sign of progress, if Virgil could even call it that was when one of them decided to sit next to him in his English class. The two of them would chat though Virgil barely managed to understand or be engaged in the conversation half of the time. Virgil definitely hated him when he asked Virgil to make up an excuse for him while he vaped in the bathroom and Virgil barely managed to sputter out that he told Virgil he felt a little nauseous but would be ok. It was insane to see the guy come back and roll with the excuse when the teacher asked if he needed to go to the nurse when he got back. Virgil felt his stomach curl when he shot him a wink with a click of his tongue.

"So hey, I was thinking you guys, we've all been pretty busy lately," Patton said as Logan was driving them out for lunch after school.

"Yeah? What's up Pat?" Roman asked, leaning against Virgil in the backseat. Virgil very slightly leaned in, finally relieved to have it just be the three of his closest friends surrounding him as Dodie played on the radio. This was nice, it seemed more simple like this, Virgil almost forgot all his worries as the conversation started up.

"I was thinking about us doing something over fall break and whatnot! Unless there are family plans and whatnot which is cool but I'm free and so is Logan so we wanted to see if you and Virgil would want to!" Patton grinned to Virgil.

"I dunno, it sounds good to me if you wanted to," Virgil told him, before looking over to Roman. "You in?"

Roman sighed and groaned loudly, running a hand over his face. "I so want to but it might be tricky scheduling, the theater teacher is being a bit of a bitch about rehearsing over break. I can't very well miss it and I don't want to promise I'll be there. But even if I can't find a way around it, you guys can absolutely do so and send me lots of pictures!" He gently nudged Virgil's shoulder and despite the heaviness Virgil felt in his gut, he nudged back, giving a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, it's cool. Pat and Logan and I will hang out, no problem. We'll make sure to make plans for the four of us sometime soon ok?" Virgil told him, the weight coming off of him slightly as Roman let out a relaxed laugh, hugging Virgil close. Virgil felt his face grow exceedingly hot but he tried to push down the feeling.

"Yeah, that sounds awesome, I love you guys so much!"

"Oh, are you guys going to need anyone to paint sets? You know I'm always down," Virgil offered, glad to hear the excitement in Roman's answer.

The conversation kept going, they meandered from that to a new show Roman and Patton had both started watching, Logan gave them some of the details of a new robot he was helping to code. Virgil even showed Roman some of his newly finished sketches in the leather bound book (which was now getting a fair amount of use) even if Roman had already seen them halfway done. It felt easy, it felt nice, and Virgil felt like he could breathe. And that scared him a little.

______________________________

It is absolutely so strange to write popular kids, I don’t think it’s going to be the easiest for me! Luckily the next chapter is going to be very popular kid free so I don’t have to worry about that! Honestly, their dialogue is the reason the chapters take so long! I don’t find things like gossip and whatnot interesting, it doesn’t make sense since I’m neurodivergent. I’m trying to not make it too stale, I really hope it’s not stale...

Interestingly enough, I’ve had people mess with me or my friends more than once in regards to stuff like hentai (considering I’m an anime fan) so I actually do have at least two experiences where stuff p*rn-related has been brought up as a way to make fun of the groups I was hanging with.

High school is wild and of the behavior I saw from people much further up on the social ladder than I ever was, they do some really weird stuff. I didn’t even see a whole lot, I just know I definitely didn’t like it.

Be prepared for some Patton and Logan time next chapter, I think Virgil deserves it after all of this!

#sanders sides #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #multichapter #prom queen #stan writing

30 notes · View notes

httphopewrld · 4 years

Text

control me (pt. 2) | (f/m)

↳ part of the ‘lyrics series’

Jimin was just a guy who modeled for your art class, and someone you found attractive, nothing else. You didn’t think anything would evolve from that. But then you asked him to model for your practice sketches, causing you to see him more. That feeling towards him became more apparent as you realized he occupied your thoughts. But there’ll never be anything between us. You convinced yourself. However, that changed when Jimin asked, “What am I to you?” Maybe there was more to your relationship than you realized.

[p.1]

Pairing: model!jimin x reader

Genre: fluff, smut, and angst

Rating: 16+ because there’s some smuuuuuutttt and swearing

Warnings: smut, foul language, dom/sub!jimin, dom/sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), protected sex, fingering, thigh riding, handjob (kinda), dirty talk, body praising, self-doubt (discouraging one’s looks compared to others), pretty soft sex? Nothing too rough, I think, but it’s detailed.

Word Count: 9k+

A/N: it’s a lot more words compared to pt.1, but I thought that it would better to just give you guys the whole thing instead of making you guys wait any longer. I hope you guys enjoy!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The nosiness of the café bothers you. Sure, it’s a public place, where people can choose their own volume of speech; but boy did it grind your gears when people spoke above a comfortable tone.

Despite the cozy warmth of the café, the cold found its ways underneath the wool sleeves of your sweater. You put your coat back on and sat back in your seat.

He said he’d be on time, but you didn’t want to count on it. He was busy, probably, modeling for other students in your human anatomy class. It was the middle of the week, so what else did you expect? He barely knew you, yet he was your “knight in shining armour” on that fateful night.

About a few days after his rescuing, you called to meet him at a café. To pay him back, you’d buy him any beverage and pastry he wanted, and hopefully, amuse him with your social skills. However, you’d be kidding yourself if you weren’t absolutely horrified to talk to him and were about to pee yourself because you were currently waiting in a pool of anxiety and self-doubt.

If only talking to astonishingly attractive people wasn’t complete social suicide, things wouldn’t be so scary. And if Rachel hadn’t pressured you to go out for coffee with him.

You felt your leg jittering underneath the table, and your bottom lip in your teeth. God, I wish he’d be on time.

As if on cue, Jimin jogged into the café, chest rising and falling rapidly. When his eyes connected with yours, his whole body seemed relieved.

He sped-walked to your table, taking off his jacket and running a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. There was traffic, and the bus didn’t arrive on time,” he sat down with a tired exhale.

“You took the bus? Where did you come from?”

“I had a model casting across town. Didn’t get anything though.” He pouted briefly before gently smiling. “I’m sorry for being late.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You chuckled, finding his numerous apologies adorable.

A quick pause in your conversation made you rive with panic.

“Oh, what do you want to drink? It’s cold outside and you appear to have run for a bit.” You gestured towards the chalk menu to your right.

He read the menu before asking, “could I actually get an iced americano and a croissant?”

“Sure,” you replied as you got up from your seat.

You went up to the cashier and ordered your drinks. As you waited for them, you scanned the crowded café. Some were seated on tables or in the leather couches. Others appeared to only be using the space as shelter from the weather as they sent out a quick text or call.

You realized that your gaze always fell back on Jimin as you observed the café. It rested on his clenched jawline as he read something off his phone, and how his leg shook with, what you assumed was anxiousness.

Maybe he was nervous too? You wondered as your name was called.

You picked up the tray with your pastries and drinks and carefully walked back to your table.

Jimin’s eyes lit up when you set the tray down on the table. He grabbed his iced-americano and took a couple of desperate gulps.

You watched in amazement as you put his croissant, your muffin and hot chocolate, and extra water on the table. When you can back from returning the tray back to the main counter, he had finished his drink and was half-way through his croissant.

“I think you can breath, now,” you chuckled as he let out an embarrassed laugh and put down his snack.

“Sorry about that,” he awkwardly smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured as you sipped your hot chocolate, “you came from a modeling job in the pouring rain. Do what you gotta do.”

He nodded and began eating his croissant again.

It was a few painful beats of silence before you thought of a conversation starter. “What is it like being a model?” You took a small bite of your muffin, “It must be a lot emotionally and physically.”

He leaned his elbows on the table, “Yeah, to be honest. It’s tougher than people realize. It’s a ‘no’-type-of-world, really.” He made air-quotes with his hands.

“But I love it. Most of the time I get gigs that I enjoy, and the other models and staff are supportive and friendly.” Jimin described, smiling.

He took a quick sip of his iced-americano, “Enough about me. You’re doing alright, Y/N? After the whole party?”

You told him about how you didn’t remember much about the night of the party. He helped you fill in the gaps of what you missed. Both of you chatted about yourselves, even sharing dumb things you guys believed as kids.

Despite some brief pauses in your conversation, you both were able to laugh and enjoy each other’s company.

“Oh, how’s your anatomy class going? Last time I was there, you guys were starting a sculpting unit?” He remembered, finishing his croissant.

“It’s going well! A lot of sketching and sculpting on my time.”

“Aaah,” he understood.

You took the last sip of your hot chocolate, “Oh, speaking of the project, could you model for some of my sketches? You seem to be the perfect candidate.”

Jimin feigned an honoured expression, putting a hand to his chest then saluting you. “It would be my pleasure.”

You giggled and cheered, “Awesome! What day would work best for you?”

He took his phone out and scrolled through, what you assumed to be, his calendar. “This Saturday, so in a couple of days?”

You checked your schedule on your phone. To your relief, you were free Saturday. “Sounds great! I think my friend, Rachel, is going out that night, so we’ll have a peaceful apartment for ourselves.”

You felt your phone buzz in your hands. When you glanced down, you saw numerous texts from Rachel appear on your screen.

Rachel [4:30 pm]: hey, Kaleb’s over. He’s crying and he seems drunk. Could you come back to the apartment?

Rachel [4:30 pm]: I can’t handle him alone

Y/N [4:30 pm]: I’m out rn. You can handle Joey. He’s pretty docile when he’s drunk

Rachel [4:31 pm]: could you PLS come? You’re better at the emotional stuff

You looked up at a concern Jimin. He pointed at his own cell, indicating that he was wondering what was happening on your phone that caused your debating expression.

“Rachel is asking me to go back to the apartment because a friend is crying,” you sighed, “she thinks I’m ‘better at the emotional stuff’.”

“You should go,” he suggested, “you seemed quite worried about your friend.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he smiled. “And we’ve been here since two o’clock. I think we’ve had enough of each other.”

You both chuckled as you let Rachel know you were heading back to your apartment.

Jimin gave you a gentle hug before you left and insisted on putting both of your dishes away.

As you exited the café, you couldn’t help but savour the warm that his arms left around your waist when he hugged you. Maybe it was just the feeling of the embrace that made you blush? Or was it because Jimin was the one doing it?

Saturday came quicker than you expected. You weren’t sure if you were excited or nervous to have him over at your apartment, but you knew that your project needed sketches, and you were the only one who could do it for you.

Jimin came over around dinner time, bringing a glass of red merlot and two plastic wine glasses. You had a pre-made pizza heating up in the oven.

You both chatted for a bit before actually starting the sketching process. If it weren’t for Jimin reminding you of why he was at your apartment in the first place, who knows how long you’d two talk for.

Now, you sat on the couch, while Jimin sat on a chair in front of you.

“Tilt your head to the left—you’re left,” you chuckled as you marked the dimensions of Jimin’s face on your sketchbook.

“I’m sorry,” he giggled, “I promise that I am trying.”

You closed your sketchbook and grasped your glass of ruby wine, “Let’s take a break, shall we?”

“Thank you,” he sighed as if he’d been holding his breath for the entire half an hour you were sketching him.

You swallowed the unexpected large gulp of wine you drank, “Oh before I forget, I need to pay you…” You took out your wallet, “…how does thirty-five dollars sound?”

“You don’t need to pay me, Y/N,” Jimin said while taking a sip of his wine, “you’re giving me dinner. That’s more than enough.”

You put the money back in your wallet and shrugged, “Whatever you say.”

He chuckled as the oven chimed, letting you both know the pizza was ready.

“I’ll get that,” you said as while getting off the couch.

As you were slicing up the pizza, Jimin sat at the kitchen island attentively. You handed him a slice, that he took with great pleasure.

“So,” he began with a mouthful of pepperoni, “why sculpting? Not many people do it nowadays.”

You took a bite of your own slice, chewing on the question. “Well, I like studying the human body—” You stopped mid-sentence when you saw his cheeky smirk.

“Hey, get your mind out of the gutter!” You blushed, jokingly punching at him. Your embarrassment made him laugh.

“Anyways,” you resumed, taking a sip of your wine, “I wanted to learn more about the anatomy and workings of the human body, so I could get better at sculpting. Then, I could hopefully teach a class someday.” You waved your glass in the air, “You know, become an art teacher.”

Jimin’s slow clap made you roll your eyes and give a sly smirk.

“Thank you, but you can stop with the patronizing claps.” You bowed, holding up your glass in a makeshift cheer.

When he stopped clapping you took another slice of pizza. “So, Mr. Model, what’s it like being in the industry?”

“Well, when you say it like that, you make it sound like I’m a porn star,” he chuckled while finishing his second slice of pizza.

You chuckled with him, “Your words, not mine.”

Jimin gave you a playful smirk, “You’d be the first one to watch.”

You put your hands up in a mock-surrender, “No comment.”

You both shared a moment of laughter before Jimin let a sigh.

“It’s good. I’ve learned to build up my confidence. It’s tough making friends, but you find the small pockets of gold, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s a bitch to date though. There’s always someone who’s prettier than you, and they don’t mind letting you know.”

“I feel that,” you held a fist to your chest, “on a spiritual level.”

Jimin laughed at your joke, finishing his glass of wine. You went to refill it, but he covered it with his hand. “I’m all good, thanks.”

You gave a shy grin before putting the bottle down on the counter.

“I’m sorry about the whole relationship thing.” You made brief eye contact with him before continuing, “Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong place?”

“I guess so,” he shrugged, not seeming to want further the subject.

“We should get back to the sketching,” Jimin proposed, getting off the kitchen stool, “you’ll need more for your project, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed, following him back to the living room.

It had been a couple of months since you and Jimin started talking. It had become a regular occurrence for him to come over to your apartment. Sometimes, for the sketches, you needed for your project, but it was usually to chat over wine.

You eventually introduced Jimin to the rest of your friends. Rachel wasn’t shocked that you two got along well; Joey went into ‘dad-mode’ where he sat between you two whenever the opportunity arose; Kaleb and Jimin were the becoming best buds, and Jason was just happy to have another guy around.

Nonetheless, your whole friend group enjoyed Jimin’s company. So much so, that Rachel proposed that Jimin tag-a-long on the group’s ‘Friday Friend Day’; where you guys go out for food, drinks or have a game’s night.

For this ‘Friday Friend Day’, your group was going bowling. You weren’t too sure if Jimin would want to tag along, because you know how competitive Joey and Rachel can be; but he was overjoyed with the invite.

“I can’t believe Rachel and the others couldn’t come with us,” You chuckled while you and Jimin moved to the side to wait for your food, “the McDonald’s is only a block, how hard is it to walk!”

“Well, I think Rachel is still calling Joey a ‘sore winner’ after last game,” Jimin suggested, leaning against the wall.

“He is!”

“We won fair and square! We beat you guys by a mile!” Jimin defended.

“You three boys suggested guys vs. girls, knowing we were way outnumbered.” You retorted, moving a step closer.

“Because girls are tougher than they look, so we thought you and Rachel would’ve knocked us out of the park.”

You looked him up and down before smiling, “Good answer.”

“But you two still lost,” Jimin playfully jabbed.

You jokingly punched him, making him feign a painful expression.

Both of you waited for the takeout, talking about Jimin’s upcoming modeling jobs and how your sculpting project was going.

You could feel butterflies rising from the bottom of your stomach as you two walked back to the bowling place; the paper takeout McDonald’s bag swinging at your side as Jimin reminisced about his childhood.

You felt at utter peace with yourself walking with Jimin by your side. The smell of deep-fried chicken nuggets, and the after taste of Oreos from the McFlurry Jimin fed you every now and then. You watched as steam left his mouth as he talked. Both of you laughed as you two pretended to smoke like two children.

“Hey,” you said, struggling to swallow that mouthful of Oreo McFlurry Jimin just gave you, “I know when we talked about this before, you changed the subject, but—”

You swallowed. “Is it tough dating while being a model?”

His eyes darted between you and the sidewalk in front of both of you. He appeared to still be hesitant about the subject.

Did someone hurt him? You hypothesized. A person on the job? Another model?

“We don’t have to talk—”

“It’s like I said before,” he gentle spoke, “it’s just people are more focused on looks, or who’s the most famous.”

You two stopped at the lights, waiting for the crossing signal to appear.

“I dated this person. They seemed to like me—a lot, actually.” He sighed. “And then I found out that they cheated on me. With a new upcoming model. And I broke up with them.”

The crossing sign beamed brightly, and the chime let you two know to start crossing the intersection.

“So now I’m doing jobs here and there, and sticking to people outside of the modeling industry,” he glanced at you and then smiled, “and look where it’s gotten me. In-in a good way, of course.”

You couldn’t help but smiled as he continued, “And I guess I haven’t found the right person to date.”

You turned your head towards him, “Yet.”

His eyes raced to yours. “Hm?”

“Yet,” you repeated, “You haven’t found the right person to date yet.”

He nodded, “Yeah. I guess so.”

You were pulling an all-nighter at your school’s studio, trying to finalize your sculpture of a head. You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t frustrated beyond belief. The proportions looked off, the sculpture was supposed to resemble Jimin but looked nothing like him, and you felt like you were cramming a project that needed more time.

Music blasted through your headphones. Thee familiar burning sensation behind your eyes made you scoff at yourself. A hot tear fell down your cheek, and you used the back of your hand to wipe it.

“Fuck,” you muttered, getting up to wash your hands.

The water and soap against your hands burned slightly, but you didn’t care. The sponge against your skin felt like sandpaper, but you took the pain as if you deserved it. You were mad and ashamed of yourself, for how long it was taking you to even start your sculpture.

The art exhibit, for the sculptures created in Mr. Heinz’s class, was in a month. The pressure was on, and boy could you feel it.

And you weren’t the only one feeling it. You separated yourself from your group slowly to work on your clay model—the one that started off as Jimin’s head but was now a grey mushy pile. Rachel had invited you to ‘Friday Friend Day’ countless times; even saying that she didn’t tell Jimin, because she thought he was the reason why you suddenly ditched the group.

But it wasn’t. It was deeper than that. It was the fact you didn’t feel you could accomplish anything creatively, despite the three-month work timeline Mr. Heinz gave you and the class. No matter how many sketches of Jimin you drew, or the nights you spent molding clay to just destroy it.

You leaned against the counter, facing the grey pile of mush on the table. You wanted to throw the clay against the wall, flip tables, and scream at the top of your lungs. But you just stood there, wiping your hands with paper towels, staring at your ruined sculpture.

You heard your phone chime across the room. You tossed your used paper towels in the rubbish and check your cell.

Jimin [1:06 am]: how tf do you open this door?

Y/N [1:06 am]: ???

Jimin [1:07 am]: the door into the art building? Am I at the wrong place?

Y/N [1:07 am]: what?

Jimin [1:09 am]: I think it’s the art building? There’s a massive mural of a forest on the side?

Y/N [1:10 am]: wtf??! Why are you at my school?

Jimin [1:12 am]: can you just let me in? I’ll explain when I’m out of the cold

You tucked your phone into your back pocket and grabbed Mr. Heinz’s keys to the studio and school doors.

When you reached the front doors, you were surprised to see Jimin waiting with a pizza box and one litre of Sprite. A smile appeared on his face as you approached.

You unlocked and opened the retractable gate with a confused expression and opened the front door. You continued to look confused and laughed in astonishment as you closed the door and the gate.

“Why are you here?” You chuckled and check your phone, “At 1:25 am?”

Jimin followed you back to the studio. “I haven’t seen you for a while.” He admitted. “And I know you like pizza when working.”

“How did you know that I was here?” You asked as you two turned the corner to the studio.

Jimin sighed, as if disappointed in himself, “Rachel told me.”

“She wasn’t supposed to say anything,” you muttered opening the door to the studio.

“What?” Jimin was behind you, pizza and Sprite still in hand.

You made a ‘tsk’ sound. “We can’t have food in the studio, we’ll have to eat in the hallway.”

You pointed to the spot beside the door, “Just wait here while I get some paper towels.”

“Okay,” he said with a mock surrender.

When you came back, Jimin was promptly sitting on the flow with the pizza and soda in front of him. With him looking up at you, for a change, he seemed so-so—soft.

“Here,” you passed Jimin a couple of paper towels and sat down beside him.

You two ate in silence. The only sound was the chewing of pizza, and one of you sipping from the bottle of Sprite. It was like both of you were waiting for someone to start the conversation.

“Why did you stop hanging out with the crew?”

“Excuse me?”

“You,” Jimin finished of his slice of pizza, “stopped coming to ‘Friday Friend Day’ all of sudden and spending all your time here,” he waved his arms in the air, gesturing to the entirety of the art building.

“Well, here,” you mimicked his previous actions, “is where I’m trying to finish my sculpture due next month.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it done—”

“Well, I haven’t so far—”

“I think you just need a break—”

“I don’t have time for a break!” You exclaimed, immediately regretting the volume of your voice.

Jimin took a gulp of the Sprite, leaving a bit for you to finish. He held it out to you, and you gladly took it. Both of you sat in quiet for five minutes. You needed to calm down, and Jimin, seemed, to be thinking something good to say.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” Jimin assured.

You nodded, not saying anything. Until now, you could feel his shoulder against yours, and your knee against his thigh. His hands were just close enough for you to reach.

“I’m just stressed about the sculpture,” you sighed as if letting a one hundred pounds off your chest. “And I don’t know if I’m going to get it finished. I haven’t had any progress with what I’ve gotten done—and it always ends up getting tossed out and restarted.”

“I know, it takes time,” he sympathized, turning his body towards you.

“But you don’t know,” you deflected, feeling your eyes burn, “you don’t know what it feels like to not know if you’re going into a dying industry, and not feeling good enough to keep it alive.”

Jimin pursed his lips and tried to speak, but you continued.

“E-Every time I go into that studio—” You stuttered, trying your best to wipe the tears starting to fall down your face. “I get reminded of how much of a failure I am.”

“Hey,” Jimin pulled you into his side, wrapping a hand around your frame.

Your head rested against his chest. You could smell his oaky cologne on his clothes.

“I-I am sorry—” You apologized, feeling guilty and attempted to pull away from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he soothed, gently nudging you back to rest on his chest, “you don’t have to move.”

You nodded and leaned on Jimin’s shoulder. His arm shifted to your waist.

Jimin wiped one of your tears with the sleeve of his sweater. You lifted your head to face his.

When his eyes met yours, you realized how close he was to you. You couldn’t help but dart your eyes to his lips before looking back at him.

Then, without a second thought, you moved in closer and kissed his lips. You could taste the saltness of your tears and his lip balm.

Jimin seemed to be surprised at first, but then his hand rested gently against the back of your head; pulling your face even closer this his. The kisses turned into a sort of urgency, and you could feel the hot air from each other’s noses on your faces.

When you both pulled away from each other, exchanging heavy breaths, you giggled. Jimin had your lipstick on his swollen lips. You tried to rub some of it off with a swipe of your thumb, but it made no difference.

“Fuck,” Jimin breathed, smirking slightly.

You woke up in the morning, next to Jimin. At first, you gazed at his face as he rested.

When his eyes fluttered awake, you quickly closing your eyes and pretending to be asleep.

You heard him sigh, “Wow, that sucked.”

Your eyes shot open and he laughed, “I knew you were faking it!”

Both you laughed as you slapped his shoulder.

He brought you into a warm embrace, and you two chatted into each other’s arms.

The events of last night were like the after taste of wine in your mind. The way he opened the door and pushed your against it to close it, kissing your lips and chuckling. How he complimented every flaw on your body as he slipped off your clothing.

The feeling of his lips tracing your frame. How he made you cum against his mouth, screaming his name. You could remember the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear as he rolled his hips against yours.

All his movements were tender and gentle as if he was afraid to break you.

The aftercare was the best part, though. While you laid on the bed, exhausted from the supposed ‘third round’, Jimin wiped your core with a damp cloth and heated up the shower for you. In the shower, you two giggled as you gave each other feedback about the sex you two had. Of course, soap got into Jimin’s eye and you suppressed your laughter as he cursed and tried to get the shampoo out of his eyes.

Before getting into bed, he had given you one of his shirts to sleep in. When he saw that the end of his shirt fell midway down your thigh, he smiled. His arms opened up and you excitingly ran into them. You remembered cuddling with him until you both fell asleep to each other’s calm breaths.

Despite this romantic, almost special, the time you spent together, nothing arose from it. After you got ready the next day and left his loft, you both didn’t mention what happened.

Jimin treated you normally and you reciprocated the same attitude.

Rachel knew something was odd, but you didn’t want to talk to her about the sex you and Jimin had. You were private about it and felt like it wasn’t too serious. You didn’t want to create drama within your friend group, and just wanted things to be back to what they were.

You and your friend group still hung out on Fridays, and you and Jimin didn’t ignore each other. However, whenever the opportunity of completing your figure came about, you took it.

Eventually, you finished your sculpture for the art exhibit. It was a flexed torso, slightly bent forward to show the spine restricting against the back’s skin. When you were sanding it, you realized it was Jimin’s torso that you had subconsciously sculptured.

From memory, and feeling, you had recreated his torso through clay. As you set it on the cart to be taking to the show, you deeply hoped that no one would recognize it was his; and that he wouldn’t point it out.

“You didn’t have to come over, Rach,” you sighed, opening the door to see Rachel with a bottle of red wine.

Rachel rolled her eyes, “Of course I would come over. You need all the support you can get.” She walked in and took off her heels.

She wore a white suit with matching shoes. Under the suit jacket was only a vest, which plunged to about enough to show off her breast. Her hair was put into a slick ponytail, which swung as she strutted to your kitchen and opened the bottle of wine.

“So, where’s the dress?” Rachel asked while pouring two glasses of wine.

You scratched the back of your neck, “I don’t know, Rach, I’m not one for tight dresses…”

Rachel shook her head. “Just put on the dress and the shoes and come back out here.”

“Okay,” you sighed, retreating to your bedroom.

The dress was a dark raven, with off the shoulder sleeves and a figure-fitting silhouette. The neckline plunged to the tops of your breasts. You wore gold jewelry, matching black stilettos, and a clutch. Your hair was pinned back by two clips on the sides of your forehead.

When you came out of your room, Rachel hollered. You blushed as you gave a little twirl for her, holding your arms out like a ‘T’. She whistled as you walked towards her.

She held out your glass of wine. “That deserves a cheers.”

You grasped the glass and clinked it against hers. “Cheers, Rach.”

You two downed your red liquor, winced because you’re not supposed to drink wine in one go, and headed to the art exhibit like the stunning women you two were.

The exhibit was filled with students and guests. Everyone was dressed formally, with girls wearing striking dresses and boys in tuxedos. Everyone was sipping on non-alcoholic beverages and bite-sized snacks while observing the beautiful works by talented students.

Rachel was a sculpture of her head with snacks coming out of it.

“Medusa?” You asked, pleased.

She nodded and fist-bumped you. “Yes! You like it?”

“I love it,” you replied, finishing off your mini cucumber sandwich.

Joey, Kaleb, and Jason came to support you and Rachel, in black tuxedos. They were surprised by how well your sculptures turned out.

Joy, the ‘dad’ of the group, pointed out the torso you sculpted.

“Who’s that?”

You looked at him confused. “Hm?”

“The torso.” He leaned closer to the sculpture, crossing the barrier around it with his head.

“That ain’t mine,” He looked at Kaleb and Jason, “and definitely not theirs. None of us have defined washboard abs…”

Joey’s expression turned into one of horror, “Who did you fuck?!”

You shushed him, covering his mouth with your hand. His eyes were wide as if he just walked on his child.

“None of your business!” You hissed, looking around at the faces who gave both of you judgemental looks.

“Y/N—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You snapped, walking away from Joey and heading to the snack bar.

You took some small sandwiches and stood in a corner somewhere, far away from the crowd of people in the exhibit. You could hear your heavy breaths as you shoved the sandwiches into your mouth, trying to calm yourself down and forget about the night you had with Jimin.

It shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You had nothing established with Jimin. You liked him, that was for sure, but nothing could’ve escalated from that. The two of you were friends and would stay like that.

But you couldn’t help but think of how needy his kisses were. Like, as if he had been waiting for you to kiss him, to make a move. How happy he seemed the morning after. You couldn’t fake the affection you two exchanged.

You looked up at the ceiling, thinking of how ridiculous you must’ve looked alone in the corner stuffing your mouth with mini cucumber sandwiches.

“I think you can breathe, now,”

You turned around to see Jimin with his hands in his suit’s pockets. His hair was parted on the side, effortlessly voluminous and stylish. He had a dangling earring in his right and a stud in his left. He looked luxurious. And you were slightly annoyed.

You swallowed your mouthful, “You look great.”

“I would say the same for you, but I think that would be an understatement.” He approached you and appeared to look you up and down briefly.

You looked at the sandwich in your hand. “You want the last one?”

He shrugged, “Sure.”

As he ate the sandwich in one bite, you wiped the crumbs off your mouth and reapplied your lipstick.

Jimin dusted the crumbs off his hands and held out his arm. “M’lady?”

You blushed and took his arm.

You showed him the art in the exhibit, giving little details about the students who had created the sculptures. Jimin seemed to be taking it all in, nodding and stepping closer to look at the art.

It felt normal. You two chatted normally, like before. But you’d be lying if everyone ounce of your body wanted to scream at him and ask why nothing happened after that morning.

Don’t create drama. You ordered yourself. He probably doesn’t want to talk about it anyways.

“Is that-?” Jimin pointed at your sculpture. “Me?”

You chuckled and rubbed the back of your neck. “Y-yeah.”

He stayed silent, and you jumped to fill it.

“I-I should’ve probably asked you about it, to be honest. It’s probably not the best to sculpt someone’s bare torso and display it in front of the public—”

“It’s amazing,” he awed.

You looked at him ins shock, the thought of him being stunned by your work suddenly washed away the thought and anger towards that night.

“Thank you,” you smiled, “that actually means more than you realize.”

You two smiled at each other for a moment, drinking in each other’s faces.

“I know we haven’t talked about that night,” he began.

The rest of his sentence was muffled by the rushing back of irritation and hurt from before. The self-doubt and realization of the difference between you two.

“I’m going to get Rachel,” you started walking away, but he grabbed your arm.

“Why?”

You looked at his grip on your arm and then at his face. “S-so she could show you her sculpture.”

You ripped your arm out of his grasp and walked towards Rachel, leaving Jimin confused.

When you approached Rachel, who was chatting with Joey, she looked concerned. “Y/N? What’s up?”

“I ate too many of those sandwiches, I’m feeling sick.”

Her face grew more worried. “Oh my God, do you need us to come back with you?”

You shoed that idea with your hand, “It’s alright. Stay here,” you feigned a convincing smile, “you deserve it! Your sculpture is amazing.”

She rubbed your arm sympathetically. “Thank you, Y/N. Are you sure, though?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Are you sure, sure Y/N?” Joey interjected, his eyes examining your face for any sign of you lying.

You rolled your eyes and playfully pushed his shoulder, “Yes, father. I’m fine.”

He pouted at your response, “I’m not your father.”

“Then stop acting like it,” you giggled, walking away and out of the exhibit.

You took the bus home, holding back tears of frustration towards yourself and Jimin.

To be honest, you didn’t know why you really wanted to cry or why you were mad at Jimin anymore. Maybe you were madder at yourself, at this point?

When you opened your front door, the tear burst from your eyes and sobs stormed out of your mouth in desperate cries of pain. As you leaned against the door, you felt your body struggle to gain propositional breaths and the taste of salt from your tears in your mouth.

You threw your clutch against the closet across from you and took off your stilettos. You didn’t care if the neighbours heard your frustrated screams and sobs. It had been forever since you cried your frustration and exhaustion out of your body.

You felt the cold tile against your feet as you walked to the bathroom to take off your makeup. You looked at yourself in the mirror, ashamed to see your mascara running down your face and mixing with your satin lipstick. It looked like someone had dumped a bucket of water on your face.

Your limbs felt heavy with sadness as you washed your face of makeup. You hated crying. It made you feel weak and vulnerable. The last thing you wanted was to be the girl who cried about everything.

Before leaving the bathroom you looked into your puffy red eyes using the mirror and gave yourself a peace-sign. You chuckled at yourself. Jesus, I look like a mess.

You changed out of your dress and into a baggy shirt and shorts. Your bed felt like a safe haven around you. Whatever had bothered you felt more like a hum as you wrapped the blankets around your body and quickly sobbed.

You retrieved your laptop from your bedside table and opened Netflix; the solution to all your problems.

In the middle of one of your favourite TV shows, your telephone rang.

The displayed showed that buzzer to the apartment building was paging your apartment. You answered the call, thinking it was Joey checking on you.

“Y/N?” Jimin’s voice echoed on the other end of the line.

Shit.

You sniffled and cleared your throat, “Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You left all of a sudden.” You could hear the genuine worry in his tone.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

A quick pause, then him making a ‘tsk’ sound. “Is it because of me mentioning the night we had sex?”

You held the bridge of your nose, “Jimin, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is this why you’ve been upset for the past month?”

An uncomfortable tension sat between you two.

“What am I to you?”

“Jimin—”

“Are we just friends? Are we friends who just have sex? Are we more than friends? Do you want to be more than friends?”

“Jimin, I don’t want to—”

“We need to talk about this, Y/N.” Jimin insisted. “Either through this intercom or in person.”

“I don’t know why we need to talk about this, “ you huffed, sitting up in your bed, “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” He suddenly exclaimed. “You’re clearly bothered by it and I want to know why! It may not matter at all to you, but it does to me! So at least give me a moment to ask you what the hell is up and why we didn’t talk about it for a month.”

You stayed silent, stunned by his unexpected outburst.

“Okay,” you meekly replied, pressing ‘one’ on your keypad. The call ended with a loud beep, letting you know that he was allowed into the apartment building.

You two sat across from each other at the dining table, fiddling with the stems of your wine glasses. When you let Jimin, who was still in his tuxedo, into the apartment, you two exchanged quick greetings and you gestured to the table for both of you to sit down and chat.

Now, it was a game of chicken, to see who would start the conversation.

“I enjoyed that night, by the way,” Jimin broke the silence, looking at his wine glass.

You cleared your throat. “I did too.”

“Then why didn’t we talk about it?” He glanced at you before looking back at his glass and chuckling. “Like, if we both enjoyed it so much, shouldn’t we at least mention it?”

“I thought you didn’t enjoy it,” you replied.

He made eye contact with you. “Why?”

You shrugged, “I was waiting for you to say something about it, I don’t know.”

Jimin took a sip of his wine before admitting, “I was waiting for you to say something.”

You both kind of chuckled at each other’s misunderstanding.

“But it’s deeper than that, isn’t it?” He proposed, furrowing his eyebrows. You didn’t answer, so he continued, “I see it when we hang out. Like—something is holding you back. Like something is telling you that what we’re doing is wrong, even if it’s just talking about why curly fries are better than regular ones.”

You giggled at the last part of his sentence, remembering that conversation that you two had.

“So what is it?” Jimin peered into your face.

You found your throat was closing up, and your eyes were burning. You quickly looked up at the ceiling to prevent yourself from crying, but it came to no avail.

“I like you, Jimin,” you breathed. “I like you a lot, but I know we can’t be together.”

“What do you mean—”

“You’re hot!” You held out your arms, gesturing to his figure. “You’re a model, in fact. And me? I’m a struggling art student who isn’t pretty enough to date a model. You can’t be interested in me. It physically doesn’t make any sense.”

You were almost sobbing. “And I hate how I keep falling for you! It’s impossible not to! You’re beautiful on the inside and out, and I don’t even know how that’s possible.” You both chuckled at you complimenting at him while you cry your heart out.

“I just—”

“Can I say something?” He asked, and you nodded gratefully because you were embarrassed about the amount of crying you were doing in front of him.

“First of all, thank you,” he said, making you laugh, “also, I don’t care what you think about your looks. The reason why like you is that you’re a whole different person compared to all those arrogant good-looking models I work with—thank God.”

Jimin got up and sat next to you, grasping your hands in his. “When I hang out with, and your friends, it’s refreshing. I love every single moment of it.”

He wiped the tears on your cheek. “And I love every moment I spend with you. I was ecstatic when you kissed me that night. Not only was it hot that you made the first move, but I had been waiting to do it myself.”

He rested his forehead against yours, making you giggle. “And most of all, you need to not be afraid to talk to me. In order for this, or anything to work, you need to speak your mind and let people know how you’re feeling.”

Jimin chuckled as he pulled away to face you. “Of course, with reason. Don’t call people ‘shits’ even if they deserve it.”

You laughed, again, and wiped your tears as he continued, “There are people, including myself, who would want to hear what’s up with you. Why you’re upset, why you’re crying, because we care.”

He grasped your face. “And as some people say, ‘be your first cheerleader’. You’re more amazing than you think. I know it, Rachel knows it, Joey, Jason, and Kaleb know it. It’s your turn to know, too.”

You leaned against his hand, holding it with your own. “Have you ever thought of being an inspirational counselor?”

You both laughed and Jimin brought you into a hug.

“But you registered what I said, right?” He confirmed.

You nodded against his shoulder. “Yes.”

He pulled away from you, only to kiss you passionately on the lips.

“Can I take you out on a date?” He mumbled against your mouth.

You only hummed in response, unbuttoning his suit jacket, which he hastily took off. His hands traveled up your shirt and found their way to your breast.

“Fuck, no bra?”

“I’m in my home, of course, I took off my bra,” you murmured against his lips, helping him take off his button-up shirt.

“Touché,” he replied, running his thumb over your nipple, which made you shiver with pleasure.

Jimin helped you take off your top, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He kissed down your neck, leaving specks of purple, before sucking on one of your nipples.

You moaned at the feeling and arched your back, leaning into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your nipple before taking it in your mouth again.

“Jimin—”

“Yes, kitten?”

The new nickname made arousal pool in your underwear.

He looked up at you, waiting for your answer.

You bit your lip. “Don’t stop,” you sighed.

He smirked before resuming his action while messaging your other breast. You grasp the back of his head, enjoying the feeling of his face against your breast.

His hand moved up your thigh, reaching the edge of your shorts. His fingertips skimmed your sides before grazing your clothed core. Your body flinched into his hand before pushing against it, urging him to do more.

“You like that?” He asked coyly, apply pressure on your clothed clit.

You gently rubbed yourself against his hand and moaned.

Jimin grasped your face and kissed your lips hungrily while circling your core with his index and middle finger. You moaned against his mouth as his fingers and your hips slowing heated up your core.

You felt almost come undone, but he pulled his hand and lips away from you.

He must’ve realized your annoyed expression because he was chuckling.

“Can I carry you to your room?” Jimin glanced at your bedroom’s door then back at you.

You kissed him lovingly on the lips before opening your arms, allowing him to grasp anywhere on your body to lift you.

Jimin smiled and hosted you up against his torso with his hands under your thighs. You wrapped your arms the back of his neck, reconnecting your lips with his gently. You felt him slightly struggling to get up from your seat, and you softly pulled away from his face.

You giggled, “I can walk to my own room,”

He made a ‘psssh’ noise, “You’re light as a feather. There’s no need,”

You shrugged and began kissing him again, making you both chuckle against each other’s lips.

When Jimin enters your room with you in his arms, he closed the door by pushing your back against it. You let out a surprised gasp as he kissed your neck, before twirling you around to your bed.

He placed you softly on your bed, placing his hands on either side of your head and peering at you. Jimin just gently smiled at you for a moment, his eye looking into yours.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he sighed.

You burst into laughter, curling onto your side for a moment before looking back at his offended face.

“What?” He laughed.

“That is about the cheesiest thing you could say right now!” You exclaimed, propping yourself up with your elbows.

“Well, sorry if I was trying to make it a moment.” Jimin rolled his eyes, standing up taller putting hands on his hips.

“Hey, hey,” you got up on your knees to meet him face to face, “it was cute.”

You kissed him, hoping to resume the atmosphere from before. He was stiff at first but melted and began moving his lips rhythmically against yours.

Jimin gently pushed you away from him, causing you to bounce back on the bed.

He started unbuckling his belt, “I think I’ll have to punish you for making fun of me, kitten,”

“What are you doing to do, daddy?” You sarcastically moaned, imitating the pornstars.

Jimin paused for second as he was about to take off his pants. “That was kind of hot.”

You rolled your eyes, “Just fuck me already.”

He winked at you before removing his pants and crawling on top of you. He left open-mouthed kisses down your neck and the valley of your breast, before stopping at the brim of your underwear. He looked up at you as he hooked his fingers around the sides of your underwear.

“Please,” you quietly pleaded.

Jimin smirked before pulling down your underwear to reveal your pussy dripping with arousal.

He blew a gust of air against your core, making you flinch with pleasure. “So wet for me,” he observed, “I bet I could just fill you up right now.”

You urged your core closer to his face, but he only left kisses on your thigh. His hands massage the inner parts of your upper leg but never touching where you need it most.

When you let out a desperate whine, he kissed your clit. Your hips jutted forward as he began kitten lick your clit.

Jimin lavishes at your core, laying his flat tongue against you. He slowly pushes a finger into you, and you feel yourself clench around it. You feel him groan against you, send a vibration through your pelvis. You look down and make eye contact with him.

All you see is from his nose up, from how buried he is against you. Every now and then, you see his tongue work against your clit, and his finger disappears in you. He’s drinking you up like wine and savouring every single moan you make underneath him.

One finger turns into two, and you find yourself almost shaking. Your hands are a mixture of pulling him close and pushing him away. His hands grip your thighs, preventing you from closing them.

“J-Jimin,” you choke, feeling your fluids rush out of you.

When he’s done licking you dry, he looks up at you and wipes his mouth.

“Thank you,” he simply says before connecting his lips with yours.

You can taste your arousal on his tongue while you kiss him.

You begin to pull down his boxers and flip him over onto the bed. You’re straddling him, now, and your hand moves languidly up and down his shaft. He hisses at the feeling and puts a hand on yours.

“Tonight’s about you,” he took your hand off of his penis and kissed it tenderly.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you purred, taking your hand out of his grasp and putting it back where it was.

He sighed as if he let you do something he didn’t want you to do, “Alright,”

You rolled your eyes and shifted your position. You straddled one of his thighs and began rubbing his cock. You moaned at the sensation of his thigh against your naked core. You could see your clear fluid on his leg as you moved at the filthy sounds it made in the air.

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered with blushed cheeks, “you look so hot right now.”

“T-thanks,” you mustered, about to come undone again.

Jimin stopped your hand from moving, making you stop your movements. You slowed down your breaths and looked at him with confusion.

“I’m really enjoying this—” He tried to catch his breath. “—but, to be honest, I’d rather cum inside you.”

Your eyes widen at the word ‘cum’ leaving his mouth. You felt a sudden wave of stimulation awake in your core, making you lean forward slightly.

Jimin smirked, recognizing that you were being turned on. “Would you like that?” He leaned to your ear, and whispered, “For me to cum inside you?”

You whimpered at his words, nodding your head.

He suddenly flipped your over onto your back. His body was close enough for you to feel his warmth, but his body was touching yours.

His hands grazed against the sides of your thighs, opening your legs so he hips could fit between them.

As Jimin was about to thrust into you, you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Condom,” you realized, pointing to your bedside table, “the second drawer.”

“Right,” he nodded, agreeing with you.

“Wait,” you got up from underneath him, opening the drawer yourself and fetching the condom, “can I put it on you?”

“Sure,” Jimin smiled.

You opened the small square package carefully and unwrapped the condom onto Jimin’s hard member. He slightly flinched at your feathery touches, probably from being aroused.

“You want to do this?” You asked.

“More than anything,” he assured.

“You?”

“More than anything,” you replied, leaning on your back.

Jimin hovered over you. You two made heartfelt eye-contact.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed as he spread your legs gently.

“I love,” he began as he sunk into you, “the way you feel around me.”

You could feel yourself clench around his thick cock. He fit perfectly inside you, filling up every crevice you had.

Jimin pulled out of you, letting his tip stay inside of you, then snapped his hips against you. His thrusts were slow, making sure to fill you up every time. The heels of your feet rested on his lower back, almost pushing him back into you.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

“F-faster, please,” you requested as he began to pound into you.

“You. Feel. So. Good.” He emphasized with each thrust.

“Same to you,” you choked.

Jimin lifted your legs so your knees were closer to the sides of your head. The new position made each of his thrusts hit your g-spot. You became a moaning mess as he plowed into you, and the room was filled with the filthy noises of your core.

“I’m close—” You mumbled.

“Same—” Jimin replied.

In a matter of seconds, you felt your arousal come out of you, dripping onto the sheets. You could feel his spirits of warm cum in the condom inside you.

Jimin fell onto his side to prevent himself from collapsing onto you.

“Fuck,” you said out of breath.

He chuckled and got out of bed. You propped yourself onto your elbow to see where he was going.

Jimin went to your bathroom and dumped the spoiled condom in the rubbish bin. He grabbed a hand towel from your bathroom counter and dampened it with water. When he came back to the bed, he wiped you core softly, smirking at your flinches from oversensitivity.

“Thank you,” you sighed as Jimin tossed the towel into your sink and laid next to you.

He pulled the covers over your naked bodies and pulled your body against his. Your head rested on his chest, and his head was atop yours.

“That was better than the other night,” you admitted, making you both giggle.

“It sure was,” he agreed, chuckling.

You snuggled into the warmth of his chest, and you felt his strong arms wrap around your body.

Your eyes began to feel heavy, and Jimin must’ve been looking at you because he gently pulled away from you.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“Hm?” You sluggishly looked at him and wiped your eyes. “Maybe.”

He giggled, “You’re adorable.”

You only hummed at began closing your eyes again.

“Before you nod off,” he kissed your lips to wake you up, “are you alright to go on a date this coming Friday?”

“I’d love to,” you grinned, connecting both of you lips in a tender kiss.

He smiled, his eyes turning into sideways crescents, “Okay, now you can sleep.”

You cuddled back into him again, and you felt his head rest on top of yours.

Just as you felt sleep start settle into your body, you heard the front door open.

“Y/N!” Rachel’s voice echoed through the apartment.

“Oh my God,” you heard Joey’s voice whisper in shock, “is Jimin here?!”

You pulled away from Jimin and looked him in the eyes with slight fear.

“Do I say anything?” He whispered.

“No!” You shouted back.

“This shirt looks awfully familiar!” Joey responded.

“Calm down, Joey. Let them be.” Rachel hissed.

She cleared her throat, “Thank you, Joey, for walking me home. I’ll see you later.”

“Wait—” You heard Joey begin and then the front door shutting.

“I’m happy for you, Y/N!” Rachel cheered. “But, next time, don’t leave your clothes everywhere.”

You looked at Jimin and you both laughed.

Eventually, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms. And you couldn’t be happier.

#park jimin #BTS jimin #bts park jimin #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jimin scenario #ficswithluv

237 notes · View notes

amphxtrite · 3 years

Note

Hii!! I’m bella I’m a slytherin and 17

I have amber eyes, long light brown hair (which always manages to match my eyes in every lighting slsjsks) about 5’4 I’d say. I tend to be intimidating and seem closed off even though I’m very social and don’t have a problem with being charming or straight up starting a fight if needed. I’m definitely the sweetest and soft to my closest friends but just manage to seem unavailable (?) to most people??

I like astrology (aquarius sun,libra rising 🧘‍♀️) MUSIC (lots of beach house and lana rn) nature especially the beaches in winter haha

i ship you with...

George Weasley.

how you meet

When George first saw you in his astronomy class, he felt there was something different about you. He couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was the way your amber eyes seemed to outshine every star in the sky, or maybe how whenever you flipped your hair back it had his stomach erupt in butterflies.

He watched as your curious eyes peered into the telescope and how suddenly the look of a reserved, closed girl turned into a look of happiness and awe. At that moment, he didn’t care about the colour of your tie. All he saw was the girl of his dreams gazing through a telescope in wonder of the stars in the sky that would never match her beauty.

He never worked up the courage to talk to you that class, though you’d occupied his thoughts for every moment since. The way your light brown hair flowed down your shoulders or the look of happiness dancing in your eyes seemed like something out of a fairy tale, and he wanted nothing more than to meet the princess.

“George, snap out of it and come look, I think someone fell into my prank!” Fred chuckles, pulling his twin over to see a girl completely covered in glitter and feathers.

“Not bad huh? I just whipped it up.” Fred smirks, puffing his chest in pride. George turns to nod, but his eyes come to meet the pair of amber ones that had entranced his mind for the last few days and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but rush over to see if you were okay.

“Fred you nitwit! I’m so sorry about my brother. H-He was just trying to play a prank. I had no say in this!” He rushes out, cursing his brother for potentially ruining his first encounter with the girl.

Your face goes from a deep scowl to trying to hold back a laugh at the red head’s desperate attempt to clear his case. You pull your wand from your pocket and with a flick of your wrist the mess is gone.

“Thought I’d learn some cleaning charms after I learned there were gryffindors roaming the halls dropping little surprises on people.” You roll your eyes with a small smirk.

“Well have you got something else to say? You’re staring at me like you do.” You smirk, noticing the redheads slightly agape mouth.

“N-No, I-I’m George by the way.” He chuckles nervously.

“I’m Bella.” You smile, reaching out to shake the gryffindor’s hand.

George apologizes nonstop after that, but you constantly remind him it’s okay

to make it up to you he takes you a drink at Hogsmeade and smiles contently as your eyes seem to flash happily every way you turned

you let him listen to your music through muggle headphones and he gets so excited, telling you about how his father had always wanted one of these.

He falls in love with your favourite artists and often he’ll sneak over to you at the slithering table to steal one of your headphones and sit beside you

He adores your height difference, whether it be hugging, walking next to each other or talking in class he finds it so adorable you have to tilt your chin up to come eye to eye with him

he doesn’t say anything though cuz he knows you’d probably kick his ass

despite that he loves how you’re willing to stand up for your friends and will start a fight if it’s necessary

He loves seeing the look on the idiot who picked a fight with you’s face after you win and he does a cocky little wave as you walk away seething

“Tata idiots.”

“George.”

“What? they deserve it.”

He doesn’t push you to be social if you don’t want to be. He’s perfectly content being quiet beside you as you stare off into space or are studying with him.

He loves when you get all soft on him and hug him close after a stressful day

“Aw look who decided to show up.”

“shush George.” You sigh as your head makes contact with his chest.

“Alright, alright. what happened darling?”

Your smile drives him crazy. He loves seeing it when you laugh, especially when it’s him who caused it

He loves how excited you get when you see your close friends coming and your smile when you run up to hug them

When you’re outside in the day time and your eye colour perfectly matches your hair and George just stares in awe at you

One day after astronomy class he accidentally lets it slip while you’re talking to him.

“Georgie look, I found Aquarius! Isn’t it beautiful?” You sigh looking out at the night sky.

“Darling you outshine every star in the galaxy. None of them hold a candle to your beauty.” George sighs, not realizing he just said that aloud.

His cheeks go red as your head swivels to meet his.

“G-George?”

George sighs and scratches the back of his head

“Godric, I didn’t want it to go like this.”

He stands and takes your hands in his

“I’ve got a crush on you Bella, and I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day I saw you.”

You pause just to look up at him and George begins furiously apologizing.

“I-I’m so sorry. I understand if you don’t feel the same way I-”

“shush George, I like you too!” You exclaim, wrapping your arms around George’s shoulders and pressing your lips to his

George’s eyes close as you deepen the kiss, your lips moulding together perfectly and moving in sync as butterflies flood your stomach and heat blossoms through your veins. George pulls back to breathe only to pull you closer to him again, cupping you cheeks in his palms as your hand finds their way into his soft ginger locks.

A low groan emits from the back of George’s throat as your lips finally pull apart and he rests his forehead against yours and nuzzles his nose to yours

“remind me to ramble more often.” George sigh in content, pressing a chasté kiss to your lips again.

Hope you like it!!🤍🤍

4 notes · View notes

preface2adreamplay · 4 years

Text

Under Your Spell (Part 14) - Morning After You

Summary: A Jared Padalecki/OFC/Oscar Isaac fiction.

Stef is a musician, recently gone solo. Happy with her life as a forever single person until Jared makes it his mission to get close to her. Her ex, Oscar isn’t sure what to make of her new relationship. Should he step in or leave her be? (For the purpose of this fiction, I have liberated some lyrics from various artists and their videos. This is fiction, with real people mentioned.) Married Jared, single Oscar!

Chapter warnings: Cursing

Chapter WC: 1,928

You doubt and you're desperate, you wear both your cross and your hammer.

Reactions to Twin Flames had been better than she could have ever imagined. The distraction of Jared visiting kept her away from the anxieties of releasing another new song. He had left an hour before the bus pulled away, holding her face in his hands, kissing her like he would never see her again. She missed him already. Already pining for him. He felt the same.

As she made her way across state lines, texts were coming through from everybody she knew.

Jared: I miss you so much. I keep watching this video, wishing we were making it all over again.

Stef: Making the video or making love

Jared: Both :)

Claire: My god, that video is hawt. Brendan misses you, he’s being a douche rn.

Darius: Mom, that video is amazing, I’m glad I didn’t have to see dad doing those things to you though. Warn me if the next one will be that graphic pls.

Oscar: I was not expecting the video to be like that. It’s both beautiful and confusing.

Stef rolled her eyes. She could just imagine Oscar’s brows furrowed, thinking over the video.

Stef: It’s past demons coming for me. I’m allowing them to devour me so I am reborn. I thought you’d be happy for me. Growing up and moving on.

Oscar: So happy for you. x

Several messages popped up from Jared while she drank her third coffee that morning.

Fuck

In trouble

They were Paps

Gen angry.

HELP ME

Stef snorted with laughter. He was really panicking.

Chill. I’ll put something up on my twitter about us hanging out, it should take some heat off.

Sure enough, it did. Stef had posted a short tweet about Jared coming to NY to celebrate the release of the song. She tagged her bandmates too. Mentioning that she would see her fans at the next show in Pittsburgh.

Two more shows in Canada, then home.

Just before she stepped on stage that night, she shot off a text to Jared.

Stef: Everything ok now?

It was hours before he replied.

Jared: Still in trouble, will call you later.

They were travelling again, hitting the road as soon as the show was finished. They all stank of sweat and beer. Luckily, they were staying in a hotel the next day. Her phone, on silent, flashed with Jared’s name across the screen. Keeping her voice low while the guys slept, she answered, her heart hammering in her chest.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey you,’ his voice just as low as hers.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Oh, just, Gen not happy we got caught. Photos of us on some gossip website. Did you see?’

‘Nah, I don’t care much for them. I didn’t have food on my shirt did I?’

Jared snorted, the tension easing as he laughed. ‘No. Gen showed me the photos but I told her not to look. We were just having lunch.’

‘Well, don’t look at comments on anything right now, it might upset you.’

Jared sighed heavily. ‘I hate that I’m getting in trouble over this. Can’t I just see my girl without someone else putting it out there for everyone to see?’

‘That’s kind of part of the agreement, honey.’ Stef yawned. She couldn’t help herself, her mind and body were achingly tired.

‘Yeah, but I broke the rules by going to see you.’

‘What rules?’

‘Well, we date other people when I’m away working. And I’m not working right now, I will be in a week or two but yeah, I may not get to see you all too soon. I’m sorry.’

‘What does that mean for us?’ Stef swallowed a lump in her throat.

‘Nothing baby, I just have to put my energy into my family right now. The kids missed me and I missed them. They’ll be back at school soon...’

‘So, I’ll be put on the back burner.’

‘Nah not like that. Come on.’ He pleaded.

‘It is like that. It’s what we signed up for. It’s not like you’re leaving your wife for me, you have to work between the two of us.’

Jared was silent on his end of the phone, it made Stef feel uncomfortable, she really didn’t know how to move forward in the conversation.

‘If that’s what you still want,’ Stef said, her voice lower that before. Her fingers winding into her hair nervously.

‘I always want you. Never think that I don’t.’

‘But you want to take a break from us for a while?’

‘I don’t want to, but it looks like we have to.’

It wasn’t final, but it felt like a kick in the gut.

Stef couldn’t agree to it, couldn’t say yes or no or fight with him.

‘Stef?’ His voice came through, she could hear his longing.

‘Yeah, it’s fine.’

‘No, it’s not. It’s not what you wanted. You told me you didn’t want this to be for everyone else, it was just for us and I promised you that. I said it was just for us. I fucked it up.’

‘I wouldn’t take it back though.’ Feeling as though she couldn’t punish him for everyone else’s reaction to it. It seemed so simple all of a sudden.

‘No I don’t regret a single thing. Maybe I just need to be a little more careful.’

‘We need to be more careful. I don’t want to talk about shit I know nothing about but I hope your wife isn’t too upset about this.’

‘Yeah well. I’ll have to work to get back in the good books.’

‘Good luck with that!’

Jared hummed on the other side of the phone. ‘You know what will get me through the next few days? A picture of my girl.’

Stef smiled. ‘Of me now? I look horrid after the show.’

Jared chuckled, ‘Impossible. And send one to me tomorrow too. I need my fix.’

‘Are we talking kinky pictures or...’

‘Well, now that you mention it, the idea is in my head.’

Stef bit her lip, curiosity taking over. ‘Maybe I’ll take a sexy picture. You’ll have to wait and see.’

‘Oh, baby don’t make me wait.’

‘He complains! After having me several ways yesterday.’

Jared whimpered. ‘I’m touching myself through my pants right now.’

‘Behave,’ she scolded playfully.

‘I can’t! You make me feel desired.’

‘Hey, can you not quote my lyrics to me!’

Jared started laughing then, feeling the funk of the last few hours draining away. ‘You make me feel so much better about this whole situation.’

‘It’s nothing, Jared. You can move past this. And I’m here until we decide otherwise.’

‘You mean if we decide to break up? Which we’re not.’ Jared pressed, ‘we’re not are we?’

‘No.’ Stef said with finality.

There was a voice in the background, she heard Jared pulling the phone away from his face.

‘I gotta go.’

‘Ok, good luck.’ Was all she could say before she heard his weak ‘goodbye.’

***

‘Brendan! My little douchebag, you miss me?’ Stef was kneeling on the floor of Claire’s hallway. Brendan was rubbing himself against her legs, annoyed that she had left him and happy that she was back. He couldn’t decide to be excited or just ignore her completely.

‘He was good for most of the time, but he destroyed some shit, as usual!’ Claire spoke to the cat, not Stef.

Sitting on her back porch in the bright autumn evening, hands around a strong mug of green tea, Stef gagged with each sip. She hated the stuff, but it was all Claire had.

‘So you hear from Richard at all?’ Stef didn’t want to the conversation to get on to Jared. They hadn’t spoken in three days and she missed him desperately.

‘Yes! Oh my god, we went out last week, that guy is sooooo funny!’ Claire exclaimed.

‘So, have you fucked him yet?’ Stef asked, remembering Claire asked her the same question about Jared.

‘I did, actually.’

‘And?’

Claire was beaming, ‘that guy is amazing in the sack. He’s amazing anyway.’

‘Woah, Claire. This is starting to sound like love.’

Claire rolled her eyes, ‘maybe. Oh my god. Listen to me.’

‘You’re gushing about a man!’ Stef couldn’t disguise how happy she was for Claire.

‘I’m seeing him next week too, he’s working on Supernatural so I get to see him and go on set.’

Stef’s heart sank a little, thinking of Claire on set meeting everyone again. Meeting Jared.

Claire nudged her, ‘You’re coming too, you know! I’m not walking on set by myself.’

‘Am I going? Jared hasn’t asked me.’

‘Shush, Richard said he would arrange it with Jared so we can go for dinner. All of us. All the cast, so it won’t look too suspicious for you guys.’

‘That’s nice of him. So he knows about me and Jared?’

‘Yes. And he’s totally cool with it. He said it’s also cool if you want to join us for a threesome.’

‘Oh tell him yes, right now. Tell him I’m ready and waiting.’

Claire clapped gleefully, ‘Oh he will be so happy. He’s always wanted to have a brunette and a redhead at the same time.’

‘You know, if I weren’t seeing Jared, I might even consider it.’ Stef imagined herself rolling around in the sheets with Richard, she bet that guy could fuck.

‘You’re not exclusive are you? It’s more of an open thing, right?’

Stef considered it for a moment, ‘I guess it is. But, I don’t think Jared would be too happy with the thoughts of me and Richard. And you!’

Claire shrugged, ‘As if he’s not sleeping with is wife too.’

‘Please stop, I don’t want to think about it!’ Stef put her head into her hands.

‘Sorry, but he does. That man has a good thing going. Two women on the go.’

‘Am I foolish, Claire? Tell me truthfully.’

Claire reached over and placed her hand in Stef’s. ‘We have been friends for so long, I would tell you if I thought you were being an idiot, in an instant you know I would.’

Stef nodded, agreeing.

‘To anyone on the outside looking in, yeah you could be a little foolish. But this is what you want and it’s what he wants. It suits you both. You’re enjoying it now.’

Claire kissed Stef’s hand. ‘So stop thinking too much on it. Just enjoy the love and attention of a good man with a good heart.’

‘You’re right.’

��Of course I’m right.’

They fell into silence, thinking of the men currently occupying their mental space.

‘He has a huge dick doesn’t he?’ Claire mused.

‘Totally. And Rich?’

Claire sighed happily, ‘it’s as big as his personality. God, that man is made for me.’

‘Oh I told Jared I would send him a selfie.’ Stef pulled her phone from her pocket.

‘No, let me take it. Pose sexy,’ Claire grabbed the phone and typed in the pin code.

Stef leaned back against the rail on the porch, her hand in her hair. licking her lips. her gaze cast down.

‘Pull your tits out a bit, perfect.’ Claire showed Stef the photo before whipping it away and texting it to Jared.

‘Bitch, I can send my own messages!’

‘Yeah but you’ll put something boring. Let me.’

Stef laughed, covering her face with embarrassment seeing the picture that was sent to Jared with the tag line. ‘This pussy is so wet thinking of you.’

Brendan was in the lower half of the picture drinking water from a flower pot.

CHAPTER 15

8 notes · View notes

kookadoodle · 6 years

Text

Laundromat Boy

PLOT: Doing your laundry at an odd timing ends up having its perks, when you meet a tall dimpled college boy with a white laundry basket that looks like yours.

PAIRING: Namjoon x reader GENRE: fluff, S2L!AU WARNINGS: none WORDCOUNT: 5.2k A/N: my heart is super soft rn x

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

You carry your basket down the steps, hoping to God that you will not fall over from not being able to see your own feet. Your grip is tight around the white plastic of the carrier that holds the week’s load of dirty laundry. Dirty might be a little extreme of a word, since you barely do anything to really get your clothes to that state, but either way, the clothes need to be washed. Due to the late hour, the hallways of your dorm are empty and quiet, which is why you are not listening to music at the moment. Normally, you and your earphones are inseparable, but once every week, when you make your way across campus to do your personal chore, you find yourself leaving them behind. You enjoy the sound of the peaceful silence of the night.

You lean against the door and push it upon, revealing the dark sky and empty campus to yourself. Stepping outside, you let the door slide closed behind you as you are embraced by the slightly cool wind of the autumn air. You breathe it in as you watch the stars lighting up the dark blue canvas on your way to the laundromat. You wonder how it would be if you were able to hang up stars yourself or even take one down to hold for safe keeping. It seems as such a cliché thought, always to mention the stars, but they just seem so vibrant to you on your weekly stroll. There is no one in sight, which should be odd at a college, yet it seems that Monday night is the perfect time to do laundry, since everyone else is in bed early, trying to catch up with the lack of sleep from the night before. That is why you do it after all - to not be bothered by other students trying to hog your machine or steal your detergent. You simply want to do your laundry in peace, and so far, you have managed to do so. You reach the laundromat and step inside, still carrying your basket in your hands. It is entirely quiet in here and all you hear is the sound of your own steps as you enter the empty space. The machines are lined up side by side, and the long table in the middle of the room is perfect for folding newly washed clothes that still carries warmth from the drying-session. You place down your basket on top of the table as you pick out the machines. That is the privilege you get, when you choose an odd timing for doing your chores - you get first pick. All the machines are empty and ready to be chosen by you, which makes you feel in control. You must admit that your perfectionistic brain likes the sight before you, even if it sounds like a weird kink or something. You choose the first and second machine, since 12 is your favorite number and you open them up, before getting your basket. You place the carrier down on the floor below the open lid of the first washer as you start filling it up with your color-sorted laundry. You start with the whites, placing them inside and closing the lid before sliding the basket to the next machine. As you bend down to pick up some of your darker clothes, you hear the door to the laundromat being opened from behind you. You straighten up and look to see who is entering your quiet space. A tall silver-haired boy walks in and closes the door behind him. There he is. It does not surprise you to see him again, since he has been coming here the last couple of Mondays to wash his own clothes. Maybe he had cracked the code to a stress-free zone like you, enjoying the chillness of the late laundromat trips. Unlike you, he does not leave his earphones at home as he always listens to music during his whole time being here, proving he does not come here for the silence like you do, but for something else. He carries his own white plastic basket with him and looks up to meet your eyes as he enters the space. As he sees you, a kind smile spreads on his lips, showing off his cute dimples. He gives you a small nod, greeting you, and you smile back before you both look away to mind your own business. You do not know who he is. You have seen him once or twice outside the laundromat, but you do not even know his name or share a single class with him. He has, however, captured your attention. He makes his way to the opposite end of the machines, presumably wanting to give you your space, which you quietly appreciate. Not that you would mind him being closer, but you like the respect it shows. It seems to be a favorable character trait of his. He is always wearing a pair of sweats and a loose-fitted t-shirt that accentuates his lean, yet toned shape. You look away after finding yourself staring a bit too long at him, but he does not seem to have noticed as he is in deep thought. His music is not loud enough for you to make out what it is he listens to, but you imagine that he likes rap or some sort of pop-genre. It would not surprise you, though, if he had his own unique type of taste. You guess it is in the way he carries himself. He seems relaxed and somewhat content even with doing a boring chore like this one. You shake your head a little, trying to snap out of your trance. Maybe the late hour does play tricks on your sleepy mind, making you daydream about cute dimpled college boys and their taste in music. You tease a smile at yourself as you continue with filling up the second machine. When your basket is empty, you close the lids and fill in the detergent and fabric softener. The lids click as they are locked in place, and you lift a hand to set the settings of the usual wash. Suddenly, you hear a deep sigh from the other end of the line, making you turn your head in his direction. He has filled up his machines, yet something seems to be bothering him, since his gaze has fallen to his feet. He lifts his head up, and you quickly look away, returning your panicked eyes to the small numbers on the screen of the washer. You sense him looking at you, and you just hope he did not notice your odd flinch at his casual movements or your prying eyes on him. You press the green button on each of the machines, starting them off, and soon the clothes start spinning around behind the glass lid as water and soap dances along with it. The familiar sound of the rhythmical circulation soothes you. “Uhm, excuse me?” you then hear a soft voice say from beside you. You turn your head and meet his eyes as he holds his earphones in the palm of his right hand. They no longer occupy his ears, which means now, he is actually able to hear you - which he is currently waiting to do. “Y-yes?” you stutter, immediately feeling a bit embarrassed by your silly shyness. It has got to be the time and the place that make you so self-conscious, since normally, you would not mind talking to a stranger. Of course, it is not every stranger you meet that has such endearing features as his. “I don’t wanna bother you, but I forgot my soaps at my dorm, and I wondered if you could maybe let me borrow some of yours?” he asks politely with a soft expression. Hearing his voice for the first time startles you a little, since it is deeper than you had initially thought, yet so pleasant and calming to listen to. “Of course,” you say, taking your soaps and handing them to him. He sighs with a relieved smile. “Thank you so much,” he says as he receives it. Your fingers graze in the exchange, making you both chuckle a bit nervously. Your eyes meet, and his dimples show again from his smiling expression, and you study them a bit closer this time without being too obvious. He then steps back to his machines and fills in the soaps, seemingly trying to use as little as possible of your stuff. He turns them both on, pressing the green buttons and making them begin swirling around like yours do. He returns to you and hands it back, immediately thanking you again. “I owe you one,” he says. “Don’t worry about it,” you say, shrugging as you place down the soaps in your empty basket on the floor. “I’m Namjoon, by the way,” he then says, reaching out his palm towards you. You meet his, and your soft skins touch as you shake each other’s hands. “I’m Y/N,” you say back, earning a slowly growing smile from him by the sound. “Y/N…” he repeats softly as if storing it in his memory for later use. His grip on you is gentle, and it lingers a few more seconds than what would be considered natural. You do not mind, though. You like the way his warmth embraces you. He slides his hands in the pockets of his sweat as he leans back to rest against the table behind you, suggesting that he is not planning on retreating to his own side of the room again. “Can I ask you something, Y/N?” he says, running a hand through his silver locks that actually look more like a matte grey up close and definitely soft. You ponder on how it would feel to run your own hand through it, but quickly discard the thought, realizing it is a little strange to be wondering about. You nod at his question as you sit yourself on the table next to him, yet still keeping a comfortable distance. “I don’t want it to sound like a line or anything, but what are you doing here so late at night?” he asks, shyness slightly evident in his voice as his eyes study his feet. You sigh as you think of what to say. “Well, I like the quiet here at night. It makes it so peaceful here for some reason,” you explain, hoping not to sound too edgy for his liking. He seems to be captured by what you say, though, since his gaze his back on you, studying your face as you talk. He listens intently as you speak of the calming effect the night and the quiet sounds have on you, and how you like to bring a book sometimes to read, while you wait for your clothes to get done. “What about you?” you ask, hoping to switch the focus onto him for a bit. “I don’t come here for the quiet, exactly, but I do like how peaceful it is, since there is no one around. Except you, of course,” he smiles, sitting back on the table beside you, slouching his shoulders to show comfort in his position. “I like talking to you, though, don’t get me wrong,” he adds, hoping he has not offended you. You chuckle at that, letting him know that you know what he means. “I like talking to you to,” you say. “What were you listening to?” you ask, gesturing to the earphones that still rest in his palms. He looks down at them as if he had forgotten they were even there. “Right, I was just listening to a few tracks of my own, actually,” he says as he fiddles with them between his fingers. “Really?” you ask, surprised at how it suddenly changes your image of him just a bit. It is not that he does not seem as the creative type, but more that it actually fits his personality extremely well now that you think about it. At least from what you can tell from your first impression of him. “Can I hear it?” you then ask boldly, hoping it will not scare him off. You blame the time and the place yet again for your actions, but still want them to pay off for you. He turns his head to look at you, meeting your eyes yet again as if he is considering it. Can he really show something so personal to a girl he has just met? he thinks to himself as he takes in your awaiting features. Your eyes are so calm and inviting, and you seem patient but also hopeful that he will share it with you. It kind of makes him want to do so. He sighs. He cannot believe he is about to do this. “On one condition,” he says, holding up one of the white earphones towards you without giving it to you just yet. “Yes?” you say, scooting a bit closer and turning to face him a bit better. “You have to be completely honest about what you think of it,” he then states, which surprises you a little. You thought he was making you promise not to laugh, since that would be the typical thing to say, but then again, this boy does not seem typical at all. You nod acceptingly of his term, taking the earphone from his hand and placing it in your right ear. “Okay,” he says as he pulls out his phone from his pocket. He opens up his recordings and scrolls through them to choose one that he deems good enough to share with you. He cannot just pick any song at this point, since a part of him is dying a little to impress the cute girl from the laundromat. He had thought about you a few times over the last few weeks, and sitting next to you now, about to show you something he has never showed anyone, makes his heart beat a little faster. He finally picks one. “Ready?” he asks, trying to make sure that you are actually interested in his stuff. “Ready,” you say, leaning in a tad, failing to hide the casual excitement you feel. He takes his last breath. He presses play and lets the sounds seep through the white plugs, revealing his personal thoughts to you through carefully written lyrics and composed melodies of his own. You listen to it intently, focusing on the words and the way his voice is even deeper when he is rapping. It is such a soothing sensation to listen to as the music carries the vocals, complementing his voice just right. He looks at you, studying your features in hopes of reading your thoughts. He was not kidding on it being his last breath, since he feels as if he might actually die if you do not like his song, which is why he finds himself holding his breath while you listen. However, he does not let it show. He is calm and collected, which allows you the room to think. Before you know it, the song ends and Namjoon pauses it before you are handing him back the earphone. “So?” he asks. He wraps the white strings around his phone as he waits to hear your thoughts. “That was really great, honestly. How do you do that?” you state almost dumbfounded at his obvious talent, making him grin with humble pride. “You really like it?” he asks, not wanting to bore you with the actual process of making a track. You nod immediately. “I love it,” you say genuinely, earning a shy smile from him. You catch a glint of his pearly whites just before they are covered by his hand in a flustered giggle. It warms you how easily he melts under your compliments - how easily his confident exterior is replaced by a shyer version of himself. “Thank you,” he says as he collects himself, smile still evident in his features. “It means a lot,” he adds. It surprises him how open he is being towards you, considering he has been trying to gather courage for weeks just to say hi, when your eyes would meet. It seems silly now that you are talking, since everything comes so naturally. He blames the time and place for that. You continue talking about music, both his and what kind you like to listen to. Surprisingly, you know a lot of the same artists and have a few of your favorites in common. The laundromat is suddenly not as quiet as it usually is, but neither of you mind. The atmosphere is nicer this way.

The dryer dings as it comes to an end, making both of you snap out of the bubble you have created around the two of you. Reality starts to sink in. You hop down from the table and make your way towards it with your basket in hand. “I’m getting really tired now,” Namjoon exhales, rubbing his eyes at the sudden realization. He had not spared it a single thought during your talk, but now it is prominent in his body. “Yeah, me too,” you say as you open up the dryer and pull out the clothing to place down into your basket. Namjoon’s clothes are then done as well, and he mimics your actions with his own clothing. You place the white baskets next to each other on the table and start folding the clothes. Usually, Namjoon would just throw it in and leave, but folding it means getting to spend more time with you, so he picks up a shirt and mirror your movements. “Do you have early classes tomorrow?” he asks as he lifts a hand to cover the tired yawn. “Yeah, unfortunately,” you say, earning an understanding nod from him. It does not take long before all the clothing is folded neatly and placed in each of your basket. You step back to check the machines one last time for any disappearing socks, making Namjoon think to do the same. Suddenly, the quiet is interrupted by a ding from his phone. He pulls it out and reads the words of the message from his friend. His brows furrow, making you wonder what it says. “Uhm, I have to go, my friend needs me,” he states as he meets your eyes. “Oh, okay,” you say slightly worried. He steps back and grabs a basket as he types out his reply for his friend. You run a hand on the inside of the machine to find a single sock lying around. You pull it out and wonder how you always seem to miss it the first time you check. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says as he locks his phone and slides it into his pocket. You meet his eyes from across the room and smile at him. “See you around, Namjoon,” you say, and your gazes lock for a second too long before he smiles kindly and steps back, making his way out of the laundromat. You turn back to the dryer, picking up the sock and holding it in your hand. You fiddle the fabric between your fingers as you think about him. His music really was good, but you had not expected anything different after hearing his comforting voice. Deep and raspy, yet slightly fragile at times when he grows shy in your company. You wonder if he is like that with everybody, or if maybe, just maybe, he might feel more comfortable in your presence as you do in his. You sigh to yourself, realizing you are now alone once again, and the room seems more painfully quiet than it did when you first came here. You step back towards your basket to find the sock’s partner, yet something surprises you. Looking down into the white plastic carrier on the table, you notice t-shirts and sweats that do not belong to you. It is not your basket. It is his. Your eyes dart up at the realization, looking towards the door for him, but finding him gone. “Namjoon!” you call out as you run towards the door and pull it open to step outside. You look back and forth for him, but he is long gone by now. You can only see the dark sky and the prominent stars, but not the tall dimpled college boy that accidentally took your basket instead of his own.

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

You take a sip of your coffee, tasting its caffeinated flavor, hoping it will help your tired state. It is 8 AM, and you are sitting in your morning class, waiting for the professor to walk in and present what he has prepared for today’s lesson. You hate having to be here so early, but at least the subject is one of your favorites. It helps to actually be somewhat interested in what is being said, even though lectures typically end with you almost falling asleep with your head resting on your palm. You pull on the sleeves of your hoodie, covering your hands and crossing your arms as you rest back against the chair. It is probably the third day that you are wearing this shirt, but since the laundromat boy basically stole your clothing, you have no choice but to reuse your last clean outfit, which soon will turn dirty as well. You have not seen him for three days, and you are slowly starting to panic, realizing you probably will not be able to wear this again tomorrow. Being a college student means that you cannot just go out and buy a new set of clothes - at least if you still want to eat that is. “Morning everyone,” the teacher says as he enters the room, receiving a few greetings back. You sigh, knowing you are now going to be locked in here for the next hour and a half. Not that you were planning on leaving, but it felt nice to actually have a choice until he showed up. Oh, well, you think to yourself, pulling up your hood and determining that you will only take mental notes for this time. “Morning, Y/N,” you hear a low voice say from beside you, making you turn to look in their direction. “Morning, Taehyung,” you say back at your best friend as you let out a yawn. His eyes are bright and full of energy, which makes you wonder if he is on some drug or something, since he manages to always be so energetic in the morning even when he never drinks coffee. He told you once that he does not like the taste of it and it made you laugh. As if you drink it for the taste, you had thought. “Still haven’t found your mystery man?” he asks, pulling at the hoodie he has seen you in more than enough days in a row. You shake your head. “I know his name, but I have no idea where to find him,” you explain, taking a quick glance around to find that he is not in this class either. Taehyung furrows his brows as he ponders. “He is into music, right? He might be in that one music class,” he then suggests, making your mind toss and turn. “Yeah, maybe,” you say. Tae could be right. Maybe you would be able to find him there, but it seems as a bit of a reach. “You could try,” he adds before leaning back again as the teacher is starting the lesson. You nod at that, deciding that you will check it out later.

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

After what has felt as the longest day ever, you finally make your way to your dorm and step inside, being embraced by its hominess. This is the stuff, you think to yourself as you plop down on your bed, letting the softness of the mattress sink you into itself. A deep sigh of relief and relaxation escapes you. You have spent a lot of your day, running around to find Namjoon to no avail. He was nowhere, not even in the music room. It disappoints you, since you had really hoped to have your problems solved today. You have even been to the laundromat again, praying to find him there waiting for you, but of course he was not. He only does his laundry on Mondays. The thought makes you sigh with annoyance, realizing you might have to wait another five days before getting your clothes back. You look down at yourself, noticing that you have a stain on your shirt. You gotta be kidding me? you think to yourself, sitting up and rubbing at the stain that will not be coming off anytime soon. You do not even know what it is from, but you know that it will have to be washed before you can use it again. This is not what you needed right now. “Argh!” you say out loud as you pull off the hoodie, not wanting to wear it any longer. You throw it to the floor and huff, sitting on your bed with your arms crossed and a pout on your lips. However, it does not take long before you realize that your room is way to cold for you to sit there in just a bra. You look over at the white plastic basket by your desk, studying the neatly folded pieces of clean clothes that are practically just lying there and watching you. Before you know it, you are standing above it and going through the pieces, finding a t-shirt and pulling it over your head. It feels a little odd to be wearing a stranger’s t-shirt, but is he really a stranger after all? You know his name and he borrowed your detergent. He even let you hear his music. That would qualify us as friends, right? you defend to yourself, trying to make it less uncomfortable to be wearing his shirt. Thinking about it, it actually feels rather nice. It is soft and warm and most importantly - clean. It also smells like him, and you do not know what to do with that information. You try not to think about it too deeply, knowing it will make you feel like a creep if you do. Suddenly, there is a knock on the door, and you gather it must be your best friend, since he has made it a habit to show up unannounced. Tae always comes over to eat your snacks and hog your bed until he falls asleep and you have to pull out your spare mattress for yourself. You do not mind though, since he is always good company to have around, hence why he is your best friend. You open up the door, but you are not met with a set of familiar energetic eyes. You are met with the sight of a white laundry basket and a tall dimpled college boy, whose expression softens with relief when he sees your face. “Finally!” Namjoon says, slouching his back and smiling widely. “I have been looking all over for you,” he adds with a chuckle. You smile relieved yourself, feeling ecstatic to see him again. Even your heart starts beating faster at the mere sight of him and his matte grey locks. “Come in,” you say, stepping back and leading him inside. He places down the basket on the floor and makes his way to your bed. “Can I?” he asks, gesturing to the mattress, and you nod, causing him to take a seat. “First of all, I am so sorry I took your basket. I swear, it was an accident!” Namjoon immediately starts, hoping with all of his being that you believe him. “As soon as I noticed I ran back to the laundromat, but you were not there anymore, so I didn’t know what to do,” he explains. You sit down beside him, grinning at his nervous and apologetic state. “It’s okay,” you say to calm him down a bit. “No, it’s really not. I should have checked which basket I took. It was so stupid,” he then says, rubbing his face in his hands. “I really hope you don’t hate me,” he adds, peeking out between his fingers, trying to shield his embarrassed features. “Namjoon, it’s fine. I’m just glad that you found me,” you say, pulling at his hands. You do not know why the skinship feels so natural, but neither of you seem bothered by it. It only ignites a spark. “It wasn’t easy, though. I must have knocked on every single door,” he says, grinning as he closes his eyes shut, thinking about it. It makes you laugh. “Well, you get an A for effort,” you say, making him laugh as well. He then sighs, standing up again as he starts to wonder if he might be imposing on you. He takes the basket and places it on your bed next to you as you look up at him. “So, here’s your clothes back, and once again, I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “Thank you,” you say back with a smile, causing him to smile too. It shows off his adorable dimples, and you feel your heart flutter. “I should go, now,” he states, yet you feel it to be slightly forced, wondering if he might actually want to stay. “Sure,” you say politely, deciding to save the offer for another time if it comes around. You make your way towards the door once again, and he opens it up to step outside. “Don’t forget your own,” you say and grab his basket, handing it to him. “Right,” he chuckles, receiving it from your grip. His gaze falters slightly and lands on a familiar print before him, causing him to grin. “Are you wearing my shirt?” he asks, and you realize that you had just put on one of his t-shirts before he came. You look down at yourself and soon feel your cheeks blush at the realization. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t have any clean shirts left, so…” you start, trying to explain your way out of your embarrassment, but he interrupts you. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he says, smiling at you genuinely. You pull your hair behind your ears, feeling a bit awkward before him without knowing that he finds it extremely cute. Now, it is his heart that flutters. “Oh, you probably want it back,” you say, raising your brows, but he declines. “No, keep it. It looks better on you, anyways,” he says confidently, making your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. You only manage to nod back, not trusting your voice to carry your words. “I’ll see you Monday, Y/N,” Namjoon says, and you smile at the thought. “See you Monday,” you say back. He sighs as he breathes in the last gaze at you before he decides to step back. You close the door behind him, and lean against the door, already looking forward to seeing him again.

155 notes · View notes

renegade-diamonds · 6 years

Text

So I wrote an angsty idea I’ve had in my head for some time. This universe follows the idea that White Diamond accidentally shattered Pink when she tried to attack Rose Quartz and the shield reflected her power. So White might seem really subdued compared to other versions I’ve written. Everything else should be explained in the prompt, and in any future ones if you guys are interested in a continuation.

I’ll post another prompt later on, probably something angsty cause I’m kinda feeling like writing some sad shit rn.

Homeworld was a desolate place.

Ever since Pink Diamond’s return and the pact with Earth, gems had fled from the center of their empire like birds fleeing a fire.

Until the only ones remaining consisted of those still loyal to the disgraced White Diamond.

Pessimistically, White knew she deserved this. Everything, absolutely everything, that had happened was technically her fault.

Pink, her dear sweet Pink, flat out refused to see or talk to her- she was furious and felt like White had betrayed her, like she had meant for Pink to be shattered.

Blue, ever the loyal one, followed Pink’s wishes- completely distancing herself from White and removing her presence from Homeworld.

That left Yellow as the only diamond still willing to talk with her. But even then it was only through messages and status reports. The golden leader of the Gem Empire could not risk putting her relationship with Blue Diamond in danger, so she too kept her distance.

And White was left utterly alone.

She sat on the bridge of her command ship, watching as her crew ran about the controls and prepared for the test of the newly designed hydro-atomic nuclear fusion drive. The other Diamond flagships already had theirs installed and tested, and White’s ship was the only one left to be outfitted with the technology.

Her pearl, ever faithful, stood by her diamonds’ side, and White thought herself grateful for the presence of at least one gem she knew that actually wanted to be around her.

Most pearls had left the service of Homeworld and moved to Earth; but hers, for some reason, decided she wanted to stay.

With a sigh, the diamond ran a hand over her face, the sharp edges of her gem a familiar sensation.

The door behind them slid open, and a group of Peridots entered the bridge.

They handed a report to White’s captain, a particularly high-ranking Emerald, and quickly retreated back out the door they’d came from.

The Emerald looked over the report with a pleased smile, before standing from her chair and approaching White, “My Diamond, the new drive has been successfully installed. The engineers say all that remains is to do a practice hyperspace jump to ensure everything is working as it should.”

White Diamond waved a hand in agreement, “Very well. Power up the nova thrusters. Once we clear Homeworld’s atmosphere you may jump to hyperspace when ready.”

The Emerald saluted, arms upturning in a Diamond-shape, before swinging around and barking out launch orders.

White Diamond jumped when she felt a tugging on her pant leg, before relaxing when she looked down and realized it was only her pearl.

Already knowing what she wanted, the Diamond reached down and lifted the smaller gem off the ground, setting her on the arm of her chair.

The Pearl gratefully sat down, preferring to watch from a higher elevation as the gems rushed around, “Do you think the drive cores are as powerful as the reports say, my diamond?”

White inclined her head to the side, one hand pulling up a handful of reports onto the screens built into her chair, “The readings from the other flagships all seem to confirm it. Yellow’s status report on her own ship shows increased fuel productivity.” The diamond hesitated for a moment, “As do the summaries she sent of Blue and Pink’s ships.”

Pearl nodded her head thoughtfully, before bracing her hands onto the arm of the chair as the ship jolted with lift off. The flagship was larger than any other ship Homeworld possessed, and as a result, the shaking that came with launch was never able to be worked around.

White watched from the large window as Homeworld’s sky turned dark as they broke through the atmosphere, the thousands of stars twinkling in the distance were always a beautiful sight to behold.

“We’re clear for hyperspace jump,” Emerald announced, before looking to her diamond. “Coordinates?”

“Epsilon Two will suffice,” White stated, pulled up a map of the colony. “I have some business there anyway. Send a message ahead to quadrant one’s landing bay so they know we’re expected.”

“As you wish, my diamond,” the Emerald turned and instructed one of her assistants to send the message, before pulling up the desired colony’s coordinates. “Began the countdown!”

White listened boredly as one of her gems counted down from ten, feeling the tension of the ship increasing as the drive core prepared for jump.

As the countdown ended, the stars themselves seemed to elongate, the fabric of the space-time continuum bending around the ship as it blasted towards its destination.

For a few minutes, everything was going perfectly. The flight felt smoother than ever before, and no errors or mistakes could be found as they monitored the readings from the nuclear-core.

A harsh jolt suddenly brought the crew out of their victorious mood, and the flagship exited hyperspace as dozens of warning lights began flashing throughout the massive vessel.

White Diamond was thrown out of her seat with tremendous force, crashing into the main control panel before she could right herself.

All around her gems ran about in a panic, trying to figure out what was causing the sudden change.

White shot to her feet, “REPORT!”

“My diamond!” The Emerald appeared, “The fission in the nuclear-core is collapsing! The peridots aren’t responding to any of our hails, and levels two through forty-three have gone dark! None of our communications are working either! We can’t send a distress beacon out!”

Panic immediately set into her mind. If the fission was collapsing, the resulting chain-reaction of explosions would take out anything within nearly half a million light years of the ship, “Where are we?! Where did we exit hyperspace!?”

“The gamma crossing, my diamond!” Emerald furiously typed on one of the last working screens, “The only thing around us is the asteroid field 200,000 light years away, other than that it’s just open space for three million light years.”

White relaxed when she heard no colonies were in danger, but not completely, “Evacuate the ship! Code Zero, Level Omega! Everyone gets in an escape pod and heads for the nearest gem-occupied base!”

Emerald sprang to action as soon as she heard the orders, activating the evacuation order before following the rest of the gems out of the bridge and towards the main bay to assist with loading the escape pods.

White turned towards her chair, where Pearl had managed to hang on to the now damaged piece of furniture, “Pearl, with me.”

She walked briskly over to the gem and lifted her up, placing the pearl onto her left shoulder pad before taking off into a run for the engine room, “I need you in case I can’t contain the explosion. If the energy becomes too much for me to absorb, I’ll send you directly to help.”

“By bubble?” The pearl held on nervously as the diamond sprinted down the halls.

White only nodded in response, reaching an elevator shaft and yanking open the doors, “I need to hold off the fission-collapse long enough for all escape pods to jump to hyperspace.”

With that said, she jumped into the elevator shaft, free-falling hundreds of meters.

When they approached the floor where the engine room was located, White veered her body to the side and kicked off the wall violently, breaking through the lift doors and rolling several times before jumping to her feet and breaking into a run once more.

The ship rattled and rumbled around them, piece by piece breaking off as small explosions popped up all over the structure.

However, the diamond could only focus on the task at hand, slowing to a jog as they reached their destination.

The engine room was completely deserted when they entered, an eerie feeling settling over White Diamond’s conscious as they walked through the area.

Something cracked under her foot, and the pale gem looked down in shock.

The shards of all the Peridots assigned to the room were scattered among the ground.

“This wasn’t a malfunction,” Pearl’s voice was tight with worry.

“No,” White’s eyes narrowed in anger. “It wasn’t.”

They entered the drive-core room, and the diamond immediately approached the collapsing fission chamber.

Sparks and bolts of nuclear power were coursing around it, giving the entire area an ominous look.

She slammed her hands against the large panel beside it, typing in commands faster than the human eye could see.

Two large conduction rods rose from the ground, and the Diamond turned and set her Pearl behind her, “Once I grab hold of the rods, the power will be absorbed by me. The projections tell me I can hold off the explosion for a millicycle, how long until the ship is completely evacuated?”

“All crew-members have been accounted for, my diamond.” The Pearl spoke quickly as she looked over her personal communicator. “They say it will be half a millicycle until the last pod jumps to hyperspace.”

“Good,” White Diamond stepped up to the conduction rods. “Once I send you to get help, that should give me enough time to get far enough away from the initial explosion.”

Pearl nodded uneasily, “As you say, my diamond.”

White’s hands shoke with nerves, but she took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the conduction rods before she could change her mind.

Pain immediately tore through her gem like a bolt of lightning, and the mightest of the diamond matriarchs fell to one knee as her form flickered and torturous spasms wracked through every part of her.

“My Diamond!” Her Pearl cried out in alarm, stepping forward as if to help.

“Don’t!” Her voice shook with strain, chest constricting as White bit down a scream, “If you get hit by one of the bolts, it could shatter you!”

“I…” Her pearl looked on helplessly, “I…”

“Focus on the evacuation!” White snapped, patience non-existent as a burning sensation grabbed hold of her gem. “Has the last pod launched yet!?”

Pearl checked her messenger once more, stepping back nervously as the bolts started lashing out farther and farther, “Yes, my diamond! It’s powering up for hyperspace jump as we speak!”

If White could sigh in relief, she would have. However, her attention was completely taken up by the overwhelming power coursing through her gem. Even if all four diamonds tried to absorb the energy, it would still not be enough, and White knew she was only delaying the inevitable, “Pearl, I need you to-” A chime sounded from the panel next to her, and White turned to look as a message popped up.

Down with the shatterer! For Pink Diamond!

A chill ran down White’s spine at the words. Some gem sabotaged the core on purpose, and it looked like they were about to succeed in their ultimate goal.

A bolt lashed pass her face, and the sound of her pearl’s cry of pain reached the diamond’s ears.

White watched as the fission chamber started to expand, and knew she only had a second to act before the whole place was eradicated.

Faster than she’d ever moved before, White turned and scooped up the Pearl, a clear bubble popping into existence around the small gem.

The small pearl had one hand over the gem on her forehead, tears running down her face as she covered the crack that ran across it.

Pearl screamed in alarm as White felt heat tear at her back, but the diamond only closed her eyes as she reached for the top of the bubble, ready to send her loyal servant to safety.

“Thank you Pearl.”

Then reality warped around the Pearl, and the last thing she saw of her diamond was the fusion core go supernova directly behind her, eyes closed as the elder gem prepared to meet her seemingly inevitable fate.

When her vision cleared, all the Pearl could see was water. It surrounded her bubble like she was in a reverse aquarium.

Tears and agonized cries were tearing out of her throat, despair sitting in her heart like it was designed to be there.

The water warped around her without warning, and the Pearl went shock-still as large hands made of water popped the bubble and pulled her to the surface.

The feeling of wet sand clinging to her hands and knees was the first thing she recognized as the pearl was pulled onto shore.

Her gem ached viciously, the large crack stretching across the smooth surface of the precious stone. Before she could even speak, there were people surrounding her. And a hand gently rubbed over her gem with careful consideration.

Immediately, she felt better. Her vision clearing, but chest still shaking with pained cries.

The temple of the crystal gems stood before her, and the gems themselves were standing around her in a crescent moon formation.

“Are you alright?” The voice of Steven Universe, the young ambassador between Earth and Homeworld, was the first sound she heard. “Garnet saw you appear in the ocean. So we had Lapis pull you up from the depths.”

She looked off to the side, where a Lapis Lazuli gave a lazy peace-sign as she stood next to a Peridot without limb-enhancers.

“Why did White Diamond send you here?!” A familiar voice spoke up, and the pearl looked up into the eyes of the famous renegade pearl. “What happened to your gem? That was a horrendous crack on it.”

“The new hydro-atomic fusion core,” White’s pearl looked around- spotting the flagships of Yellow and Blue Diamond in the distance, parked over the ocean. “Someone sabotaged it.” She tried to stand, but her legs felt weak. “My Diamond, she refused to let the explosion occur and held it off long enough for the crew to evacuate.”

“What!?” The Peridot yelped, “That amount of power would shatter a hundred diamonds! You’re telling me she held it off!?”

Fresh tears came to her eyes, that hollow feeling in her chest expanding, “No. She sent me away before it exploded. There… there was a message on the panel. Someone… someone tried too…”

The homeworld Pearl was too shaken to keep speaking, the last moment she saw her diamond kept replaying in her mind, too horrifying to ever forget.

Loud footsteps came from down the beach, and everyone turned as the remaining three Diamonds approached.

Blue and Pink, the more friendlier of the two, spoke first- their eyes frozen on White’s pearl. Pink’s voice was suspicious, “Why is her pearl here?”

No one knew what to say. The story they’d just heard too shocking to comprehend.

The only possible response they could offer came in the form of the pearl’s quiet heart-broken sobs.

Yellow pushed her way past the other two diamonds, more used to being around White’s pearl, “Pearl. You need to tell us what happened. Why did White send you here!?”

The small gem took a deep breath and looked up at the Diamonds with wide tear-filled eyes, “The fission core was sabotaged during the test run.” She gulped as the other matriarchs went stone-still in complete shock, “I fear... I fear my diamond has been destroyed.”

#white diamond #yellow diamond #pink diamond #blue diamond #su fanfiction #probably gonna be a whink thing #just a lot of angst before we get to the good stuff #bellow too cause I love them lol

66 notes · View notes

1jamessantacruz1-blog · 6 years

Text

growing pains.

this is different for me bc ever since i joined i had never expressed my feelings like before. i had kept everything bottled up and never took anything serious. i didn’t do it on purpose tbh i didn’t even realize i was holding everything in. looking at what i’m surrounded by knowing that if i ever acted how i used to they would either roast me or just say “suck that sh*t up quit being a little punk b*tch.” now it’s just spewing out. i’m not looking for attention. i’m just looking for another way to vent. also i feel if i ever catch myself falling back again i can reread my journal entries to remember the pain and never let myself get that deep again.

-day 1 (dec 18, 2017) since everything had went down

i could barely eat. i stayed up the whole night last night. i was drained the whole day and i get back to my room where i’m alone and left w/ my thoughts and now i can’t help but stay up (currently 11:12pm). i can’t sleep, breathe, etc etc. this is the most cliche heartbreak hahahah. *dying laugh turns into slow cry* i’ve stayed up for the past 2 or 3 nights just thinking about each and every chance i had w/ her. each and every argument we’ve had. each time i had just straight disrespected her in the way i had treated her anything less of great. realizing that she was so pure and every “flaw” she felt she had i always highlighted more bc the way i viewed her she was unmatched and anyone else there was no competition for me. knowing deep down that no matter who i talk to, she was the one that knew me the most. she was the one that cared the most. she was the first one to ever show me real love on a consistent basis and she showed me the definition of sacrifice countless times again and again and i break down strictly bc i was not able to do the same for her. as time went on and my head got bigger i was never able to give her something real and genuine. something that was classified as real love and making her feel cared for. i am not depressed. i am able to carry out the plan of the day and still do my job. it is only when i get left alone w/ myself. i am not mad at her. i am mad at all the wrong doings i have committed and how i really had brought this on myself bad this time. sorry does not express how i feel towards her. all the mental abuse i had brought unto her i am only feeling the beginning stages of them. i wish she let me devote myself to her. i wish she let me be the one she comes to for everything. i wish she was in my arms and not anyone else’s. i want to say i will get past this but the severity of this life lesson and watching something that was once you’re “everything” slip right through your fingertips and you can’t do anything about it is tough on anyone regardless how mentally strong they proclaim themselves to be. i once loved and cared for her. i still love and care for her. i will always love and care for her.

lesson learned of the day: realize the efforts (big or small) that anyone may give to you and be appreciative of them.

this one was rough and my mind is going everywhere rn so i left things out.

-day 2 (dec 19, 2019) since everything went down

i have already maxed out the tears that come from my eyes and it’s only been a couple of days. today i was occupied but at the same time i tried my hardest to still keep in contact w/ her. i would rather talk to her in some sort of way than to lose all sort of communication w/ her. my days seems fine and i am somewhat busy but i get back to my room and my thought just yell!! i can’t sleep if i wanted to. i wish you knew how much i am sorry. i wish you knew that i really am aware of what i put you through. i wish you knew how much i care. i wish i had you in my arms just one more time. i wish you knew the pain i’m going through now. then i remember that you do. i know you know the pain bc i was the one who put you through it first. my mom told me that after we broke up you visited them and my dad sat you down and asked “did james ever hurt you?” and you just looked away and smiled and looked back at him and said “i’ll be fine tito.” she told me she could see all the pain and hardship in your face. i am filled w/ so much rage towards myself. talking to people today and them telling me that i am just getting unbrainwashed from bootcamp and coming back to my old self and that it just takes some time. what we had was real and genuine when i didn’t lose sight. i see the difference in how i acted. i just know it was genuine. it was real it was real it was real ines please believe me!! please please i need you to know. my thoughts and feelings are jumbled all over the place but what is clear is that it’s you. it’s always been you. the reason i say i just need one more time to have you in my arms is bc this time i’m not letting go.

lesson learned: never let go

-day 3 (dec 20, 2017)

i am slowly grasping these life lessons day by day. slowly accepting what i have to do to move on from this. i just need to fallback and let you run your own life. i can’t think that i can act a certain way and get you back. i need to let you come back to me on your own. i realize that i have to fall back in order to take several leaps forward. problem is this fallback feels never ending. even worst is the big chance that you won’t come back. how many more nights am i gonna spend staying up over you? how many nights am i gonna stay up begging you not to take your love away from me w/o you even knowing?the 3 types of people you meet in life are the one you’re not supposed to be with, the one you lose, and the one you’re destined for. staying up wondering which one you are. i am so empty maxine. i miss the fights. i miss the arguments. i want you to yell at me. scream at me. fight with me. anything to have your attention one last time. bc if i ever get that i will make sure of it that i never lose it again. i think i really will be strict on myself and back off like i said. i need to give you your space but it’s not easy. i just want you to see this james. the james you fell in love with. the james who actually lives everyday w/ a meaning. w/ a purpose. the purpose to progress and be a man for myself and for you. for us. the james that has that mentality from on top of everything he has accomplished and learned now. what do i want? i want to be the one who cares for you like you had cared for me even when i didn’t ask for it. i want to treat you how i should’ve been this whole time. the biggest thing is knowing that’s not whats best for you right now. but is it not best for you just for right now though or at all and this had all this just ended and fallen apart. that’s what keeps me up at night. i was lost in the thrill of it all. feeling immortalized like i’m able to do whatever and not worry about the consequences. little did i know i was nothing but achilles and was struck in my heel. who can i fight to help regain some confidence? problem is looking in the mirror and seeing i was the one that struck myself. i caused this pain and suffering. i am the reason for my own downfall.

lessons learned: acceptance. knowing what i have to do but will i actually be strict on myself and carry that plan out? that’s what i am working on.

-day 4 (dec 21, 2017)

asdfghjkl; at this point idk if i’m still sad or just tired bc i haven’t slept this whole week. we ft’d today. believe it or not even though our convos are so dry i am still happy to hear from you. i don’t have much to say today as i am just drained and defeated.

lesson learned: be grateful for those victories in the small battles

-day 5 (dec 22, 2017)

i actually slept this is crazy. from last night to now i feel better but i already know i’m not gonna fully heal overnight. i can feel the changes in me already. i just feel so full of hurt obviously but having the urge to give myself up to anyone or anybody in need of help. i’m sure this mini high will be gone soon and i will find myself really low once again and then i’ll be writing chapters on chapters of this stuff but for now. even though i’m still so hurt i’ll be alright.

lesson learned: appreciate yourself and see the good in you even if you don’t want to.

-day 6 (dec 23, 2017)

i just think you don’t know how i really feel. you think that i’m trying to play tricks on you. that i just treat you like that one girl you always compared yourself to. you think i don’t care for you anymore. you think that i don’t hate myself every day because you won’t see how i am now. you don’t think i go everyday just wishing i get your attention again even in the smallest way .you think i don’t stay up trying to find a way to win you back. you don’t think i wish so much how i can just be the one to give you everything and let you know that you’re cared for like the old times? well i do. can i be mad at you? when’s the last time i had made you feel all of those things. what did i expect for you to just stay there forever? it’s not just bc you moved on. i had turned away from how i was months ago. i don’t just miss the memories. i don’t just want someone or anyone. i don’t just want that feeling. i want you. you were the one who was w/ me through it all. i remember the heartbreaks you went through and all the insecurities you had. i remember all the motivation i had in myself to make sure you never felt anything negative from me. to make sure that the standard was set that you wouldn’t be treated like anything else but royalty. eventually i lost of it all and i turned into the person that i despised for so long. self centered prick who felt he deserved everything. well i’m suffering now and it sucks knowing i can’t blame anyone else. what’s even worse is i know at this point i only have 2 options, either sit back and just be a spectator and live my life just waiting for a “ooh he messed yay i can prove myself now” which is just miserable OR just move on and try to get better from this even though knowing that if i move on now this is it. we really are done. either way i’m gonna be so miserable but it’s only fair since i had put you through way worst for months. if i could tell you one last thing it would be “PLEASE. JUST LISTEN. this is not the james who was going through that shit. this is not that james that was just being dumb. this is the old me. this is the one that you first fell for. i am really not trying to play games w/ you or your mind. it’s you. it’s always been. i would take you back whole heartedly w/ no regrets. i would take back the fights, the arguments, the yelling. anything to have you back. i know you still care for me. it would be so different if i was there standing in front of you i just know it would. i’m not though. but doesn’t that make you wonder like why is it so different bc i’m not there? i know you still care. i keep saying this but i just wish for one more time that you were in my arms. bc if i get that one chance i’m not letting go. i still love you. please just take that leap. this isn’t an empty promise i swear i will catch you.” it’s a little too late bud. everything i just said i had already did. i had already pushed you away one too many times. i know that the cycle will always continue. i know that eventually i will move on then one of us will go back. we will not be far from each other for too long. we were just way too good. but then again maybe this really is it. i just wish i could tell you but i know it would be the most selfish thing and i couldn’t just drop this whole mess on you for my own good. road to recovery is long as shit smh. (edit at 6am: i’m okay. i feel i just want you to know how i really feel so bad regardless if it triggers anything or if you just move so i know deep down you get me and i didn’t end things on a sour taste but i can’t send this to you bc i know that this is just too much to drop this bomb. i need to bite my tongue hard af but i know it’s what’s best bc i know that i can’t just take my feelings into consideration. you’re already with someone else). i’m sorry i realized so late. you know that timing was always our worst enemy.

lesson learned: never get too comfortable w/ the position you’re in. always strive for a greater you.

0 notes