#EDIT: I realize now that if you didn’t read my tags this could also be about snips and skyguy

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (04) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii I'm getting slower with editing and writing so please bear with me moving forward! Also pls remember, this is a slow burn haha. But anyway, been loving your replies (I see you) and messages, thank you. I hope you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The events of last weekend remain in your mind, as you approach Jungkook’s apartment the next Monday and feel like your heart will leap out of your chest. 

You remind yourself that he wasn���t angry at you; he’d even tried to apologize and didn’t make a fuss when you left the restaurant last Saturday. But still, the whole incident would make anyone feel agitated, and you know his capacity to feel and express that. He was inconvenienced and put on the spot, after all. 

You enter, and shortly after, Jungkook exits the gym then greets you with a nod when he sees you. He looks more tired than anything. He doesn’t have a hint of frustration in his eyes, and you could only hope that he’d forgotten about what happened or, like how he is when it comes to personal matters, he’d chosen not to acknowledge it. 

You bow in return, sneaking a glance as he walks towards his bedroom, with your throat drying up when he removes his shirt, briefly gracing you with a view of his glistening toned back right before disappearing inside. You wait half a minute before you follow him to prepare his clothes, giving yourself time to breathe before you have to face him again. You return to the kitchen and prepare his breakfast, looking up when you hear him walk in.

You approach him to do an act that’s become a routine for you, and for him as well, as he stands straight and unmoving while you tighten his tie and make sure he looks fine. Even when your fingers only graze his clothed chest, the memory from last Saturday becomes vivid, as you recall wiping his wine-soaked top, feeling the taut body underneath. 

You shake your head at the thought, realizing that there are more things about that night that you should not acknowledge at all, including the heat you felt at seeing him in the washroom, a little exposed and definitely sweaty. There was that tension and the dropping of formalities that felt too foreign and quite disorienting. You don’t know him as anything other than the ‘Mr. Jeon’ you assist; seeing him as just ‘Jungkook’ was different. But you suppose that that’s the man you help everyday, and you wonder how much of himself he leaves behind in the office and how much of him now is just… him. 

As you go about your routine during breakfast, you’re reminded that for Jungkook, there doesn’t seem to be a difference. How he is at work is the same as how he is elsewhere - serious, quiet, and detached. Except maybe when he’s with those women he meets at clubs, though. Perhaps the thrill and pleasure inject a bit of emotion and passion in him. You wouldn’t know, but at least it’s a way for him to take a break from the responsibilities he carries. 

You scold yourself internally again. You’re not supposed to be curious; you’re not supposed to care. So you shake all of them away and remind yourself of who you are and your own distance that you should observe.

You get to your senses and proceed accordingly. You go about as usual in the morning with his meetings, and then he shuts his office so he could focus in the afternoon. You see his furrowed brows from the window, as he works on what seems to be the Arts Center again, given his requests for financial and marketing reports of the company's non-residential projects from the last five years.  

You’re busy with organizing his Singapore trip and coordinating with the CEO’s office about the upcoming Appointment Dinner to formally introduce the new appointees, when he exits his room and looks through the folders lined on the shelf behind you.

“Where are the portfolios of our collaboration projects from 2017?” He asks. 

“They’re in the archive room,” you answer, standing up to head there. 

But he does it first, beating you to the corner area just off the hallway to the left. Your steps are obviously not at pace with his, and he’s tiptoeing to reach for a large folder by the time you get there. He’s able to retrieve it, laying it on the ledge as he goes through some pages. 

“I could’ve gotten that,” you say softly, and Jungkook turns to you and wishes he hadn’t, as your pout makes his insides melt. 

There’s something about your disappointment that you didn’t get to help him that makes his heart race a little, and while he knows it has everything to do with you thinking that he’d think you’re not doing your job properly, he still likes to keep the thought that you’d wanted to help him in the first place.

“It was heavy,” he explains. 

“I’ve carried and pulled and pushed things way heavier than that folder,” you scoff. 

“Really?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, trying not to show amusement on his face. “My cousin let you do all those things, huh?”

You frown at his attempt to catch you slipping. “I do many things in the background during events, Mr. Jeon, things that get everything functioning properly while Mr. Jung engages with the guests.”

Jungkook can only imagine how much work you put into getting those events hosted by the VP’s office running. Perhaps retrieving heavy folders is no big deal for you. But still, he doesn’t want to come across as a jerk for making you do something he can do on his own. He already was, he reminds himself, and you also definitely think he is;  he doesn’t want to add to that any more, not after everything that’s happened. 

So he just nods. “It’s a simple task I can do.”

Jungkook looks at the labeled boxes and folders. He’s got materials and design points to finalize by tonight. There are some more past projects he wants to go through to take inspiration from, and he finds another one he wants to look at, underestimating its weight, which is why he jerks in surprise when he feels how heavy it really is.

You’re there on cue, as if you knew it was gonna be too much. And if he’d asked you, you probably would’ve told him so. 

You’re standing much closer to him, your fingers grazing against his as you hold onto the folder. It’s almost familiar, only because you stood this close to him that night at the restaurant, too - when you cleaned him up, and then when you handed him his clothes in the washroom. You actually stand this close to him everyday when you fix his tie. Perhaps after all that, it’s only dawning on you just how little space between you two there are sometimes, and you’re suddenly hyper aware - of the distance, of his scent, of the way he’s looking back at you when you turn to look at him. 

“It was heavy,” he admits. 

And for some reason, you laugh. Maybe it’s the slightly embarrassed look on his face or it’s just your defense mechanism when you feel tense but you let out an amused sound, with it fading as the time goes by and you realize you’re actually laughing at your boss. 

“Making fun of me, Ms. Cho?”

“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you stammer, stepping away. 

You’re about to mentally curse yourself until you see his slight smirk, and the thought of him making fun at you by scaring you like that makes you feel better. He may have some sense of humor after all. 

Still, you bow in apology, and there’s a moment when you meet his eyes, with something not anger or frustration in them, that you both linger, as if there are things both of you feel that need to be said; you just don’t know what they are.

“Did the dry cleaners get to remove the wine stains?” You manage to get some words out, turning away now as you bring up last Saturday night. 

“Uh, yeah,” he responds. There’s a pause before he continues. “Did… did you get home okay?”

You’re too stunned to be able to answer right away but you eventually do. “Uh, yeah. Jimin, Soomin, and I just bought food and then went to my apartment. And you?”

“I did,” he nods.

“Did… did Hajoon bother you again after we left?”

“No. Well, he just kept giving me the death stare but he didn’t do anything else,” he says. 

“I really don’t know what got him so worked up,” you sigh, feeling bolder at having to share this much. “He’s not usually confrontational and he knows I hate it. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“People have their reasons for getting angry. They’re not always valid, though, and definitely not always warranted,” Jungkook replies, briefly looking away. “Whatever it is, at least he didn’t throw a punch.”

“Oh, if he did, that is it for me,” you chuckle, feeling unfamiliar with being able to talk to Jungkook so casually like this. “Goodbye, job; goodbye, Seoul. I will probably just work as a librarian somewhere.”

Jungkook wants to say he wouldn’t accept your resignation for that reason, that he doesn’t want you to go anywhere, actually. But that’s too much and probably inappropriate to say given the circumstances. So he just hums and turns back to the folder and looks through them. 

“I’ll need these back in my room,” he says, carrying one while you take the other. 

You appreciate the topic change, knowing you won’t know how to handle more if the conversation deepens. You both walk back quietly, as it dawns on you that the casual nature you both talked to each other is a little disorienting. 

You’re not used to him sounding concerned.

He’s not used to you being honest and open. 

Perhaps seeing a different side of him isn’t all that bad, you think. 

Jungkook wants to believe it’s your way of forgiving him, too, even if he hasn’t actually apologized for anything. 

The minute it takes to return to your respective desks ends, and Jungkook is back to focusing on his designs while you get back to making reservations. You peek inside his room every once in a while to check if he’s okay, if there’s anything else he needs, if there’s anything you can do for him. 

The frustrated look on his face isn’t new, but the fact that it isn’t directed at you, is. So is the worried feeling you have for him. You’re a mix of emotions from everything that’s happened this past month, so you can’t deny that the way he’s been acting towards you has left you confused, maybe even doubtful. You have to be cautious, you think, and not fall into a comfortable dynamic with him so easily. 

The next day, he’s back to being serious once again, as you sit to his right in the restaurant that will be catering the upcoming VP event. Jungkook decided for both of you to have the food tasting for lunch, and so a spread has been prepared for him to make the final decision on the menu. 

You’d like to think that you’ve developed quite a sophisticated palate, all thanks to the numerous events that Hoseok asked you to organize in your three years working under him. With this upcoming dinner party a sort of introduction of Jungkook and the project to the art world, he wants to make sure that he serves only the best to the guests, which is why he carefully tastes each dish, trying to determine the best combination that’s both delicious and creative. 

You give your comments, some of which he acknowledges, and you feel like you’re both making headway in terms of the menu, as well as with his disposition for the day, given that he’s looking more comfortable and relaxed than he was half an hour ago.

That is, until he sips his wine for the first time, and clears his throat.

“I believe I specifically said that lunch today is a work matter, Ms. Cho,” he says sternly. “You’re on the clock and this isn’t a break.”

“Y—yes, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, curious as to the reason for his statement.

“Then why is your boyfriend waiting outside the restaurant, trying to catch your attention?”

“What?” You exclaim, turning around and spotting Hajoon standing by the lamppost, his sullen eyes getting a bit of light in them once they meet yours. “I… I don’t know,” you respond. “I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday.”

“How did he know you’re here, then?”

“His restaurant is just up the street,” you sigh. “He must’ve seen me when he was walking there. This area is his usual route. Please just ignore him.”

“I can’t when he’s in my peripheral vision. He’s still the man who got in my face the other night. He clearly wants to speak to you and I don’t think he’ll go away,” Jungkook reasons. 

You look at him, waiting for his instructions. 

Jungkook doesn’t like that Hajoon is there and he also doesn’t want you to speak with him during work hours, especially if it’s going to affect you for the rest of the day. But the man seems desperate and persistent; he really doesn’t seem like he’ll just let this moment of seeing you pass.

“You have five minutes,” Jungkook says. 

You don’t exactly want to go out there; there’s a reason why you haven’t returned Hajoon’s texts or calls these past days. But you can imagine that it’s a worse look for him to be staying around; a distraction during this work matter that you know Jungkook would not appreciate one bit. So you stand up and tell him that you’ll be back shortly.

Jungkook returns to the dish in front of him, noting that the Japanese mushroom risotto is a good addition to the set menu. The event his office is planning includes a sit down dinner and then an offering of canapés and champagne while guests walk around the venue to see the presentation of the Arts Center in large boards and on screens. It will be a good way for him to socialize - something he’s incredibly nervous about because it’s not his strongest suit, nor is it something he enjoys, unlike his cousin. The primary goal, though, is to introduce the project. Jungkook needs important people on board so they can be involved in the launch and the succeeding special activities.

He tries to think about that night and how he wants to design the place. He tries to think of other things, too, like the music and decor, even if he’d said that’s for both of you to plan next week. He’s even thinking of a follow up already, even if his management support team is in charge of that and would be dependent on how this first one is gonna go. 

Jungkook tries to think of anything, really, just so he won’t constantly be glancing at you in his periphery, as you talk to the man from the other night and possibly make up. You did leave him at the restaurant last Saturday; you also did clarify that you’re not together. You just said you haven’t spoken since then, so it’s safe to say that both of you aren’t in good terms. 

Jungkook can only assume, though. He doesn’t know the story, nor would he ever; he reminds himself he shouldn’t be thinking about it in the first place. He was never one to be privy to his staff’s personal lives; he spent most of his time with Lucas but didn’t know more than his family's composition. Jungkook doesn’t even recall knowing if Lucas had a partner, or if his then-assistant even mentioned it. 

But clearly, Hoseok knows more about you than Jungkook would’ve expected. Perhaps it’s just how his cousin is, or maybe the time spent together just created that environment where it’s natural or normal. Maybe it’s the culture that his father encouraged; his old man is quite close with Mr. Ri - his former chauffeur and bodyguard - and Mrs. Myung - his executive assistant, after all. 

But it’s not what Jungkook is used to; it’s not how he spent his few years in the Singapore office because like always, all he did was work and party. His mentor in graduate school also advised him that professional lines are ones he shouldn’t cross. Though Jungkook never really knew what exactly those were, he just dared not get close to anyone or be remotely interested at all, and that never caused him any problem. He’s always been safe where he was, guarded and unbothered.

But ever since you walked through those doors at Hoseok’s office that first Friday, Jungkook has been finding himself skirting near the boundaries far too often, and it’s only been a month. It began with making sure you’re eating well and that you’re safe on the way to work; he convinces himself that’s human decency, although he never really bothered much before. 

And between wanting you to get proper rest before your trip to your hometown, to seeing you with that man from last weekend and being so bothered by it that it caused a scene, Jungkook’s internal alarm bells are ringing, telling him that he’s getting too interested, too close. It doesn’t help that he finds you attractive, something he doesn’t have control over. What he does have a say in is how he responds to it, and that has been incredibly tough, especially given the weekend he’s had. 

He’d spent the rest of it trying to keep his mind off you - the way you looked in that outfit, the way your touch sent shivers down his spine, the way you’d looked at him worriedly… And when you walked out of that restaurant, he wondered what you were thinking, how you were feeling, how you’d be spending the rest of the night, and if you were gonna be home okay. He hasn’t really stopped since.

Even now, as he stays in his seat and tightly grips his glass of wine at the scene unfolding outside. 

You’re standing with your arms crossed - setting the boundaries, and perhaps signaling your detachment, though he can’t see your face. The man, on the other hand, seems emotional, the tinge of sadness evident on his face. But there’s a mix of frustration and anger, too, as his arms flail around. He points at you, then at himself. His voice seems raised; Jungkook swears he can see the veins from the man’s neck popping out while you… you’ve got your head turned to the side, your body not eliciting much of the emotion the way the man’s is. 

Jungkook stops himself from making an excuse for you to come back inside, just so he can pull you away from a conversation that you don’t seem to be wanting to have. But he knows it’s not his place, and the man might make a scene again if Jungkook decides to step in. You know how to stand up for yourself; you’d done it to him, he reminds himself. You’ll do what you need to do, whatever it is.

The man heaves, as whatever monologue he was giving ends. He reaches out to you, perhaps making a final plea, but you step back, widening the distance. It’s what prompts him to bow his head and turn around, leaving you by the lamppost on your own. 

Jungkook sighs in relief now and he waits for you to return, but he’s surprised when you stay rooted in your spot, your arms wrapping around yourself despite the heat outside. He worries when you enter, your head bowed down and unable to look at him. 

He wants to ask how you are, but he’s unsure if he’s ready for your answer, knowing that there isn’t much he can do anyway. So he goes with what he knows - detachment. 

“I’ve chosen the last two dishes,” he says. “They’re serving the desserts soon.”

You turn to him immediately, your misty eyes painted with worry meeting his own.

“I didn’t think I was away that long,” you state, worried about the time you left your boss waiting while dealing with a personal matter that for the first time made you wish you were stuck with Jungkook instead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon.”

He didn’t expect you to look so upset. He’s terrible at comforting people, but even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t know if he’d manage to comfort you. So he just shrugs and says that they were straightforward dishes. 

You both try the desserts then the canapés, exchanging thoughts about all the options before shortlisting your chosen dishes. By the time the food tasting is over, you’re stuffed and set for the rest of the day. 

You try not to look at Jungkook. You don’t know if he’d seen how your conversation went with Hajoon, but if he had, he could probably tell what was going on even if he couldn’t hear anything. 

He’s had his moments, but you’ve never seen Hajoon look that upset and emotional, and you stood there, afraid to face all his feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, all those words that you didn’t know how to take. You’re usually one who’s able to let negative things said to you just go over your head, but something about what he’d said today hit you; you know it’ll take you until tomorrow to get over them.

But you try to get through the rest of the day the way you usually do - going through reports, organizing schedules, finalizing tomorrow’s presentation, and then working on the revised interdepartmental guidelines that Jungkook tasked you to do. 

There are draft letters you send to him, thinking that you’ll work on some administrative matters while he reviews them, but you’re surprised when he calls for you 10 minutes later, saying the letters are approved and you can send them in the morning. You’re left wondering, given that anything you submit to him usually goes through intense scrutiny. Perhaps you’re not used to this easy pass, but you try not to overthink it, given the day you’ve had.

“You can go home, Ms. Cho,” he says as he types away. 

It’s 5:30 PM. Usually this time, he’s still handing you things to review or instructing you on what else to do. 

He seems to pick up on your silence, as without looking at you, he clarifies. “I don’t need you to do things you can do tomorrow. We’ll have meetings all day so I understand if you want to stay behind but you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t seem like he’ll be finishing soon, and you’re really not in the best mood so you nod and bid him goodbye.

The conversation with Hajoon stays in your mind all night and lasts until the next day. You’re in Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning, preparing his breakfast while he takes a shower. 

With your phone snug under your neck, you relay to Soomin what happened yesterday. She was too busy last night for a call and she’s been bugging you since you got in the car - that you continue to ride as per your boss’ instructions - so you finally picked up, knowing how long it usually takes for Jungkook to finish.

“It started with him apologizing, then wondering why I haven’t been picking up his calls, then justifying his actions from last Saturday as him, standing up for me,” you narrate. “Obviously, I didn’t take those too kindly.  But he said he wanted to be with me, like, have an actual relationship. And I said I didn’t want to then he just… he kinda just said everything he’s been keeping in.”

“Which is what?” Soomin asks.

“That I’m selfish, that I don’t think about what my actions may mean to others, which is silly since I was clear from the start about what I wanted from him,” you sigh. “He said that I act independent but that’s just a front, that deep down I’m a lonely woman who’ll probably push away every person who’s shown me they care until I have no one left and that’s why I’ll be alone forever, which he says is a deep fear that I have because I apparently told him that when I was drunk. And even after all that, he said he still cares about me, that he wants to try to be something for real this time, that if I just let him, he’ll love me right and make me happy and I just backed away, like, why would you—”

The clearing of the throat cuts you off, and you nearly drop the expensive plate due to panic once you look up and see Jungkook standing by the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry for taking a personal call, Mr. Jeon,” you say immediately, putting away your phone. “It won’t happen again.”

You bow your head down in apology, which is why you don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes soften as he looks at you. Words like that hurt, and he can’t imagine what it must’ve felt like for you hearing them. Still, you went about yesterday with your accomplished tasks and completed deliverables like it didn’t happen, displaying a kind of strength that he could only hope to have.

“Yesterday was a tough, I suppose,” he states, choosing to ignore your apology. 

“It was a normal one,” you brush off, walking towards him to fix his tie, not meeting his gaze. 

Jungkook doesn’t reply, knowing you don’t want to acknowledge that he’d overheard your conversation, which he didn’t mean to walk in on. It did bother him, too; he suddenly wishes he’d fought back if that man was just going to speak to you that way. 

There’s a sadness in your eyes that he tries not to mind and which you try to trivialize. Perhaps the man matters that much to you for you to be feeling this bad; Jungkook doesn’t really know what to do with that thought. So he tries to brush it off, too, telling you instead to be ready for today’s meeting with his father. 

You ask if he’s checked the presentation you worked on, as you added things from the last time. He nods and says he only added minimal details that he came up with last night, and you check to find that he indeed just made minute changes, another thing that you’re thankful for yet wary of, especially given how critical he was about your work in the beginning. 

You continue with your morning routine of debriefing about yesterday’s meetings, then you finalize the Arts Center event’s menu in the car. When you arrive at the office, you wait patiently as he goes through some reports that you’ve checked, then he reviews some memos that he asked you to work on. 

The last one finishes faster than you expected. It seems now that his comments are what you look for, only because it reminds you that he hasn’t changed; somehow that seems like a better thought to have than him suddenly being lenient or lowering his standards for you for some unknown reason. He’s definitely witnessed some of your low moments; you don’t want to think those have anything to do with how he’s been lately.

The meeting with the management support team ends before lunch time, and you work on the minutes and the other things Jungkook had asked of you during the time that he meets with Yoongi in his office. That takes another half hour, and by the time they’re done, you’re done with your tasks, too, so you send those documents to Jungkook for checking in the afternoon.

Another one off the list, you think to yourself. At this point, you’re just going over all your deliverables with a focused mindset and waiting for the day’s end so you can spend time for yourself, just on the couch watching variety shows and movies until the weekend comes when you can do that for longer hours. 

Having your friends over or traveling to Daegu are the only other things you look forward to. You used to look forward to spending the night at Hajoon’s, too; you could at least feel something pleasurable - the closest you could get to any form of intimacy that didn’t require you to bare yourself other than your body. But that’s a thing of the past now - there’s that amazing life-changing toy that Soomin got you last Sunday that’s got you thinking that you’ll be fine being alone for the rest of your life.

“Long day, huh?” 

You look up and see Yoongi, his curious eyes scanning your desk full of papers, folders, and half-eaten biscuits.   

“It has been,” you sigh.

“I see. It’s also only just 12 noon,” he points out.

“What a shocking revelation, Min Yoongi,” you grunt. “I don’t need to be reminded that I have another six hours here.”

“Hmm, just like me. So, what are you looking forward to when you clock out?”

“My leftover stir-fry for dinner that I’m going to add beef to,” you respond. “And The Zone. I missed it last Monday.”

“You and your variety shows,” he chuckles.

“What other reason do I have to laugh, hmm?”

“I’d say me, but you don’t find me funny.”

“You aren’t, sorry,” you smile, your first of the day, and Yoongi smiles back, knowing you haven’t been doing it the past few weeks.

“So–”

“Ms. Cho,” Jungkook’s voice cuts Yoongi off, as your boss stands by his open door with curious eyes that flit from you to the man in front of you. He recovers though, as he instructs, “the minutes are fine. Send it to the team now so they can work on their tasks.”

“You’ve read it?” You speak too soon, realizing a second too late that the words didn’t stay in your head. Your widened eyes don’t help you though, as Jungkook scowls at you.

“Are you asking me if I’ve read the file that I just approved and instructed you to disseminate?”

Yoongi purses his lips to hold off a laugh, and you glare at him because his teasing isn’t really what you need right now. 

“I meant, uh, you’ve reviewed it already, sir? I… thought… you were going to prepare for the lunch meeting instead,” you reason, which isn’t even a lie. 

“I have. Father hasn’t called me up so I just reviewed the minutes while waiting.”

You look at the file and see that nothing has been added. “And? That’s it?”

“Ms. Cho, are you questioning my ability to review?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he starts to look displeased, although they seem harmless compared to his frustrated expressions from the past. 

“No, Mr. Jeon, I apologize,” you say. “I was wondering if you didn’t have anything more to add, that’s all.”

“There’s none,” he clarifies. “Just send it to the team and uh… get ready for the meeting.”

He glances at Yoongi before closing the door.

“Questioning your boss’ ability to review now, huh?” Yoongi teases.

“Shut up. He’s just been weird,” you pout.

“That’s new. How so?”

“He hasn’t been an asshole for a few days.”

“Well, that’s quite the standard but I get you, I guess,” Yoongi hums. “In what way has he been out of character?”

“He just… hasn’t been pointing things out and correcting my submissions or asking a lot of questions about the reports I review,” you say. “Or just… you know, he hasn’t been him. He makes Mr. Ri pick me up every morning, he doesn’t email on the weekend, I get to leave on time, I get to eat properly…”

“In short, he’s been a decent boss recently?”

“I guess… I mean, it’s been two weeks since my mishap. He’s been quite tolerable these past few days. Maybe he hit his head and some loose screws tightened. Maybe he had a bad dream and the ghost of the future me visited him. Maybe he had a change of heart… though that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he–”

“Realized he hasn’t been good to you and doesn’t want you to go through the horror of another Mrs. Byun,” Yoongi interjects. 

Your curious eyes prompt him to continue. “We had a meeting the other day and I saw a folder on his desk with her name on it. Formal complaints are only available in physical copies; other personnel files are stored in the server, so the only documents he’d have of her are the ones of her investigation. And he’d only be interested in that because of you. Those include your written statements.”

“As do you yours,” you point out.

“Yes, he’d totally be interested in how his design lead witnessed a manager’s abuse of power three years ago,” Yoongi sarcastically says.

You sigh to yourself. You’ve never told Jungkook about your experience with Mrs. Byun, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok or even Yoongi has mentioned it to him. It’s an experience you don’t like to think about; you were a young woman who had everything to prove, who had a lot to lose, and conceding to someone taking advantage of you seemed like the only way to survive. Not once did you put your foot down, and not once did you stand up for yourself. You experienced all those then went home to an empty house and found comfort in your own warmth and your own breathing. 

You don’t want that experience to determine how others would treat you after. Hoseok was all things gentle and warm and you know that whatever you went through wouldn’t have determined how he treated you. 

But Jungkook… Jungkook is different. This isn’t his default state. This isn’t how he normally is. This isn’t how you started. The last thing you want is for him to feel pity for all that you went through - in the past and recently - and then treat you differently because of it. He’s been less critical, less judgmental, and less doubtful of your capabilities. You only wish it isn’t for anything that he’d read or seen you experience. 

“I doubt it,” you shake your head. “A man that perpetually displeased doesn’t just decide one day that he’d give the bare minimum of decency to his assistant.”

“Look, ___. Jungkook is a lot of things. He has a lot of feelings that he doesn’t want to deal with, and a lot of emotions he doesn’t know how to express,” Yoongi tries to explain. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if I didn’t believe there’s an ounce of goodness in him. And there is. Maybe him showing it just isn't good timing. He’s terrible at that, too. In fact, he’s terrible at a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. It doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of kindness.”

“Kindness,” you huff. That’s quite a reach, but Yoongi’s always been a good judge of character. You do want to believe what he says about Jungkook; it’s just not an easy switch to flip. “I’m just trying not to care much at this point,” you sigh. “I come to work, focus on my tasks, do whatever I’m asked, go back home, rinse and repeat.”

“Is it satisfying, though?” 

“When was work ever satisfying, Yoongi?” You laugh bitterly. 

“Well, I could at least recall seeing you enjoy organizing those events for Hoseok and even joining him in some,” Yoongi points out. “I… I saw you smile a lot. There was a bit of satisfaction there, yeah?”

“Somehow, I guess. But I just had to make do. Hoseok was great, but this is also my job, really the only thing going for me.”

“What are you working towards, then?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe at 30 I should know but I really don’t.”

“Then why are you still here?” He asks, softly, desperately. “Why do you stay?”

“And find out who I am outside of all this?” You wonder out loud. “What if I don’t like her? What if she isn’t good?”

“Then this place hasn’t been good for you if you doubt who you are outside of what you’ve done here,” Yoongi says. “You’re just 30; there’s a whole world out there where you can learn who you are and be someone you actually like. I don’t know what’s stopping you.”

A lot of things, you think to yourself. But when you find comfort in discomfort, when you find security in chaos, and when you find companionship in loneliness, it’s not that easy to leave all this behind, even if deep down, you know it’s what you have to do.

“I don’t know, too,” you lie. “Maybe I’ll find a good enough reason one day and that would be it; I’ll be out of here and then I can find out if I like myself outside of everything I know.”

“I think you would.”

I did, Yoongi thinks to himself. He knows you’d laugh and agree; he’s moved on from you and things can’t be any better than how your friendship is right now, but he also knows you’re not the best at feelings, a similarity he realizes you have with the person you supposedly dislike. 

“I won’t know until then, I guess. So I just gotta bear with who I am now,” you say.

There’s so much of you that Yoongi doesn’t know. It’s why he wanted to, why he asked you out for coffee and why he felt a bit of a heartbreak when you turned him down. But there are parts of you that he does know, that you let him see, and sometimes he finds himself wishing you’d find someone you’d feel safe enough with to share everything else you keep to yourself. 

He keeps these things to himself, too. He’s learned that the only way to keep you close is to keep his distance; you’ll reach out if you need to, even if it’s something you rarely do. But what’s important is that he’ll be there just in case; what matters is you know that there’s a hand available when you need it. 

So he just nods and takes your word for it. You’ll find yourself somehow, in whatever way you will. And you’ll find a reason to leave, whenever that is. He could only hope it’s a decision you’d make on your own, one that you won’t regret, and one that’ll lead you to find whatever it is that you’re looking for.

“So what, they want to put a stop to the Arts Center? They’re not the ones working hard for it. And quite frankly, I don’t need their help in any way to make it happen.”

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, anger manifesting in the way he clenches his jaw and groans repeatedly. It’s a sight you’re familiar with by now, and for the first time, you feel for him. It feels as if with this project, he doesn’t seem to have anyone on his side, aside from Hoseok, who’s been encouraging and helpful in many ways. 

“They don’t want to stop it, son,” CEO Jeon says. “They’re merely questioning some of your decisions about the prices you’ve set out.”

“In short, they’re undermining me,” Jungkook groans. “This is my project. We’ve done the necessary research. If they read the report, they’d know. But clearly, they just want reasons to doubt all this, to doubt me.”

“It’s just the first project of its kind,” his father reasons. “The arts institution from 2017 was a collaboration and it wasn’t this big. The Arts Center just isn’t the usual commercial establishment that the VP office undertakes. The Board just wants to be clear about the profits because it’s not as straightforward as the others. They want to know how the property will earn.”

“Exhibition entrance tickets, bookings, rent,” Jungkook replies. “What’s not straightforward about that? Might as well say they don’t understand or even value arts and culture because that makes money, and if done right and respectfully, it can make a lot of money. I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s not like I didn’t make those points, son. It’s your first big project. I think they just—”

“Don’t believe I can manage it on my own.”

“They don’t think you can make the necessary connections on your own,” CEO Jeon finally says. “We all know how important that is. They doubt you’d be able to forge good relationships with professionals in an industry we don’t really have strong connections to. And with a project this big, it’s the company’s resources and reputation on the line.”

There’s silence in the room, as Jungkook seems to process the core issue that the Board has with him. You can tell it’s affecting him so much, as the anger in his eyes slowly turns into resignation. 

It’s no secret that Jungkook’s way of engaging with others leaves a lot to be desired. From what you can see, he’s used to thinking more, envisioning, planning - the concepts and designs are amazing in his head and there are others tasked to sell that idea, to make it connect with people, to express why it matters, and to make sure it earns. That’s what Hoseok is good at; Jungkook never seemed like the type who enjoys that aspect of the work. 

“You should’ve thought about my outstanding interpersonal skills before appointing me as Vice President, then,” he says bitterly. “Clearly that’s what the Board and everyone else value more than anything.”

“Hey, Kook. We know you’re good for this role,” Hoseok comforts. “And we believe in your project, we really do. Just focus on that. Make sure you’re constantly adjusting and refining the plans, and remind the Board that your ideas are even better when they’ve come to life. You’ve done it with your other projects before. Eventually you’ll be able to show them that you’re more than capable of forging relationships, too. That’ll come naturally. But in the meantime, you just have to give them something to make them believe it’ll be good for the company and our image in the long-run. Make them envision it.”

“I have,” Jungkook argues. “And I’ll keep doing that. I just need father to be on my side. I just need him to back me up, to trust me and every single one of my decisions.”

You’ve never heard desperation in Jungkook’s voice until today and you’re surprised with how much it’s affecting you, not just because you know how much effort he’s put into conceptualizing the place but because you’ve come to believe in it, too.

“Ms. Cho.”

CEO Jeon’s voice pulls you away from Jungkook, and you turn to the older man and ask if there’s anything he needs.

“Your thoughts,” he responds. “What would the Arts Center mean for the company? Do you think it will yield profits?”

They’re not questions that are new to you. Hoseok would often ask you these things about the smaller projects that go through him. CEO Jeon has asked you the same things in informal situations before, not so much to gain new insight - although he claims that your thoughts are interesting to him - but to gauge your belief in the project. He has a good read on people; you’ve observed him ask questions and pick apart not what they said but how they said it. You suppose that’s what he’s doing now, too.

“You’ve mentioned a few times that you want to expand the company’s market, Mr. Jeon,” you start. “And if I remember correctly, the Board agreed. Efforts to cater to expats and the middle class have been successful, but perhaps another type of expansion is in engaging the field of the arts and culture and its creators and consumers. More people from all walks of life and all over the world are gaining interest in Korean art and culture in all forms and the company has the resources to create a space for it. Like what the Vice President said, there’s an opportunity to earn from it while, of course, respecting it.”

You see CEO Jeon and Hoseok nod, a sight you’ve seen before as well. But Jungkook looks at you with curiosity, with a look of anticipation, as if he’s hanging onto every word you’re saying. 

“The Arts Center was conceptualized and designed to be a hub for all things creative,” you continue. “Making general admission free makes the arts accessible to people, and once that appreciation grows, they’ll pay to see it, to experience it. Just go to any online forum and you’ll see that the public wants to experience art, not just observe it. They’d travel for it. The Center has spaces for that. I think that’s the ultimate goal - for anyone to be immersed in it. And that can happen through art pieces in a gallery or in a garden, through books, music, or spoken poetry, or even a photoshoot. Patrons can book rooms for private events, they can buy from the gift shop, they can do art themselves. It’s like a canvas and they can take part in creating meaning for the space. That’s what we’re selling. And that’s something people are willing to buy.”

“I see your point, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says, nodding satisfyingly at you. “And it’s a good one.”

“It’s what Mr. Jeon has been saying all this time,” you counter. “It’s easy to understand and to buy into the idea… if only the Board would listen to him. If only they’d open their mind to what he envisions.”

“Well, that’s one way to get through to them, then,” Hoseok voices out. “Invite them to the arts event, treat them like creators and consumers, not as Board members.”

“That’s a good idea,” CEO Jeon says. “Maybe then they can see how you engage with the guests, which I hope you’re working on. And while you’re at it, work on your relationship with them, too. That means initiating conversations, seeking them out… It's part of the job, son. The Board are our stakeholders, too, you know this.”

“Aren’t some of them based in Japan and Singapore?” You wonder aloud, hinting at another suggestion that you want would come from Jungkook himself, given his scheduled plans to fly there.  

“Yeah. Maybe I can meet them the next time I go,” he says, picking up on your thoughts.

Jungkook isn’t really fond of engaging with them. He always just left the socializing part to his uncle who used to head the Southeast Asian office. When Jungkook would be in Seoul, he let his father, Hoseok, and Ji-woo deal with them, with nothing but an acknowledgment on his end. He tends to stay at the bar on his own just to drown out the sounds. Yoongi sometimes joins him but most times, Jungkook finds himself alone even during such events; being with a lot of people is tiring, lonesome, isolating. With this new role, he’s started to accept that he has to do more. It doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy it though. 

“I’ll have that arranged for you,” you tell him. 

“Well then, that’s one way to revamp your image,” the older man smiles. “You just have to keep that up moving forward. That’s why Ms. Cho is there. She’s used to these events and these engagements with them. You’ll be fine.” 

You give a reassuring smile to Jungkook - a genuine one, as you see it’s what he needs, given all that you learned from today’s meeting. He merely nods, and you think that should be enough of an acknowledgment from his end.

Hoseok wraps it up, going through a few policy-related items and then reminding the other men about upcoming social gatherings that they all need to attend. He asks to briefly speak with Jungkook, whom he pulls aside, while the elder Mr. Jeon approaches you.

“Thank you for standing by Jungkook, Ms. Cho, especially since I haven’t been able to show my support the way I want to,” he says. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“It hasn’t, but he made me believe in his vision for the Center,” you respond. “I’m starting to see what he sees. And it’s quite beautiful.”

Jungkook overhears the exchange, as he zoned out on Hoseok once he heard his father address you. 

It’s something that his cousin picks up, as he repeats what he just said, totally unbothered by it. 

Hoseok, of all people, knows how important it is that you have Jungkook’s back. He also knows how difficult that must be for you, given how the man has been towards you all these weeks. 

But you’re unwavering. You’re able to withstand the challenges, and while Hoseok knows that you do have a tendency to also allow yourself to suffer through it, he also knows you’ve learned, and you’ll stand your ground if you need to; he’ll back you up, and he can only hope you know that.

You all exit the private room of the restaurant and head back to the office across the street. It’s 4PM by the time you return to your desk, given that Jungkook called for a meeting with the management support team after what transpired during lunch. 

You immediately work on the minutes and action points, finishing two hours later and then deciding that you’ll work on your next deliverable tomorrow. 

Jungkook exits his room, informing you that he’ll be leaving for an early dinner with Hoseok at a nearby restaurant, and that Mr. Ri can drop you off at your place. You’ve contested the service that was offered to you, and you and Jungkook settled on a compromise that you can go home on your own except for late nights.

“Mr. Ri will just be waiting for me anyway. No harm in driving you home tonight,” Jungkook says, knowing you were about to turn down the offer.

“Okay, sir,” you reply.

You do last minute things and pack up immediately to go home, taking this chance to get proper rest because you know the last two days of the week are going to be tiring. 

The next day, Jungkook does conference calls and closed-door meetings, leaving you to do summary reports and other administrative backlogs that have your eyebrows scrunched the entire day. If it wasn’t for Do-hyun reminding you about lunch that you promised to have with her, you would’ve totally forgotten. 

You’re in the zone as you go through the afternoon - two meetings straight that have Jungkook rubbing his temples constantly and you doing the same. But you pop in some aspirin and ginseng jelly next to his cup of tea, feeling satisfied when he takes them.

You go home on time, not wanting to be offered a ride for a consecutive night, and you get proper rest to face the final day of the week. 

It’s all going well, as you find a rhythm early on as you work on your deliverables while Jungkook remains focused on his own tasks. You’re the one who reminds him now to eat his lunch, and seeing the blueprints sprawled on his desk, you offer to buy him one yourself. 

He nods in appreciation as you state his usual order for confirmation, and you eat your sandwich while waiting for his curry rice bowl in the food hall. You get back to your tasks, thankful for the unusually quiet and uneventful Friday. 

You see now how hyper focused Jungkook could get. He’s got his blinds closed but you can tell that he’s immersed in his designs and proposals and plans. He’s not allowing calls or visitors, and he only rings you to ask for coffee, which you’ve given him four times so far. Towards the end of the day, you’re the one who asks to go in, informing him that the Board meeting has been moved to a week earlier than scheduled; it’s two Fridays from now, which means his team has to finalize everything soon.

It’s his first one since becoming Vice President, and given how he used to question you, you’re surprised when he asks your proposed timeline to prepare for the meeting. 

“Manager Lee is already consolidating all the departmental reports,” you respond. “You can instruct him to finalize the VP report with all those by Wednesday; the presentation can be due on Friday so you can go through all of them. We can submit the report for CEO review the Monday after that and then you can prepare for your run through until the meeting.”

“Sounds good,” he replies. “I’ll send them an email with the instructions shortly.”

“Noted, sir,” you say. “I’ve also submitted the minutes of the past two days’ meetings as well as the policy guidelines you asked for.”

“Oh, right,” he says, taking his iPad. “I’ve looked through them. The minutes are good; you can disseminate them accordingly. I’ve highlighted the parts for the condensed version you’ll send to the CEO and the President. I also have minimal corrections and remarks on the policy guidelines and I’ve edited them directly on the file. Just proofread again and then affix my signature once you’ve finished.”

“Y—you’re done?” You ask. You hope he doesn’t pick up the shock in your voice.

“Yes, and I’ve read them. Thoroughly,” he answers.

You smile in embarrassment after the other day. 

“Does that bother you?” He follows up. 

“N-no, sir,” you say, knowing he’s waiting for an answer. “I guess I was expecting you to take longer because, you know, more comments. And you’ve been busy all day, too.”

“More comments… Is that what you’re expecting?”

“Sort of,” you admit. “I mean… you made a lot of them before.”

You pout in reflex as you realize how you sound. You’re basically pointing out how critical he used to be, and if you’re being honest, you do wish he still was. At least that tells you that he’s still the same, that no knowledge of your past experience with your former boss has made him change his disposition towards you. 

Jungkook sees your pout, and he crosses his arms and legs to keep himself from doing something as stupid as wiping it off you. It’s a little disarming for him, if he’s being honest. 

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” you clarify.

Liar, you think to yourself.

“Well, if I used to do it a lot and I still do that after a month in, wouldn’t it reflect poorly on you and me if you still haven’t learned from all that?” He asks.

You think about it and eventually nod. He does have a point.

“You’ve adapted. I’d be worried if you continued to do things the way you used to,” he adds. 

You nod again, taking in all his words. Much as you appreciate them, there’s another thought still bugging you. 

“May I be honest, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, your heart beating fast now as he looks at you curiously. 

He nods anyway and asks you to continue. 

“I don’t think you’d lower your standards or anything when it comes to my work,” you start. “So I don’t want to believe that you pity me just because you know what I experienced in the past.”

He looks at you questioningly, as if to ask what you’re talking about.

“I spotted Mrs. Byun’s files on your table,” you lie. “I assume you’ve read about how she treated me. And I… I don’t want to be pitied, Mr. Jeon. If it’s that, please don’t. Please don’t let it affect how you’d treat me. It wasn’t even that bad—”

“It was,” he interjects. “This company doesn’t tolerate people who abuse their power. I only knew about your case because I’m thorough with my work. And that includes looking into my staff and their past. I did it for everyone,” he lies as well. 

Hoseok and Yoongi had mentioned something about a past experience and Jungkook did dig deep. It was so he could help you professionally, he convinced himself.

“You should also know that I don’t make compromises when it comes to the quality of work of my staff and that means I don’t pity people if they fail to meet my standards. But I suppose you think that I do because of how I was in the beginning,” he continues, surprising you. “I admit I was being too critical. And I don’t have an excuse, just that I absolutely hate change. I’m not good at managing it and I reacted in a way that I’m used to, which is not a good way at all. I know now that I was not fair to you.”

The apology doesn’t come, but you know that the admission means enough already. It’s definitely taken a huge burden off of you. You didn’t dream up all those incidents and it wasn’t entirely on you. That itself gives you relief. 

“My father and cousin were right. You’re a fast learner. You pick up on the comments, work on them immediately, and adjust accordingly. It’s a good trait to have, Ms. Cho.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Jeon.”

“May I be honest, too?” He asks, surprising you again.

You nod, anticipating what he’d say, knowing he’s never been this quiet nor looked this nervous in all these weeks you’ve known him.

“What you said to my father about the Arts Center the other day, I appreciate that, too,” he says. “I guess you could’ve said something general or basic but you didn’t.”

“Your father wouldn’t have minded what I said,” you reply. “What mattered was how I said it. I guess as the person who’s privy to a lot of things about the project, he sincerely wanted to know what I thought about it, if I genuinely believed in it.”

“Well, it was a good way to convince him. And it seemed like he believed you.”

“I’m not a good actor, Mr. Jeon,” you chuckle. “He believed it because I meant it. And he saw that I was on your side. As I should. I still meant it, though.”

“That’s… encouraging,” he huffs. “At least one person is.”

“I’m sure he does, too.”

“It’s ironic that people like Mr. Ri think that my father and I are so alike, yet we don’t see eye to eye most of the time.”

“It’s because you are alike. You both think you’re right all the time,” you joke, teetering on the edge and sighing in relief when he laughs, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard. 

“You make a good point,” he smiles a tiny bit, something you also don’t think you’ve ever seen him do. “But I’m still adjusting to working directly with him, and in a bigger role, too. We'll probably butt heads a lot.”

“You will. I already know it. In fact, I can already see it,” you laugh again. 

It’s a moment you share with him that you didn’t imagine you ever would. He’s being honest about his concerns and you’re giving comfort in the way you know how and neither of you seems to mind. 

“I’m… I’m gonna need your help, Ms. Cho,” he says so softly, his eyes turning away from you. “I’m gonna need your assistance. Not just in seeing the Arts Center through but in everything - navigating this role, dealing with my father, dealing with people. I… I know what I’m good at. So I don’t really focus on the things I don’t do well in but this position forces me to confront those and I… I’ll need help.” 

For someone who doesn’t seem to like being vulnerable in front of others, seeing this side of Jungkook makes you sympathetic. The soft tone of his voice, the lack of eye contact, the crossed arms… they’re familiar because it’s how you are, and you know it’s difficult to be this honest with another person, especially when it’s about what you need. 

More than wanting to help him because it’s your job, you find yourself wanting to see him succeed, too, to see him manage it all. That way, when you do eventually leave the company and search whatever it is you’re looking for, you can rest easy knowing that he’ll be okay, that the team will be okay, that the Arts Center will be all that he imagined it to be. 

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I’ll do my best to provide you with the assistance you need.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say those words with such sincerity to you, too.

You bow in acknowledgement and head out, leaving Jungkook in a haze, as he realizes that in your presence, he’d done what he's been trying to avoid ever since you walked in his life - be honest. He’d told you his concerns, his needs, and it seems that his honesty is something you appreciated as well. There was that acceptance that he wouldn’t have expected from you, not because you aren’t the type to give it but because he hasn’t given you a reason to. But you gave it regardless; you let him feel that it was okay. 

It’s another half hour before he’s packing up to head home. It’s been a tiring week and he just wants to have a long bath, watch sports, and drink a cold beer over grilled meat. He’ll probably get some work done but maybe he’ll drive to some resort out of town, have a good workout, get in a sauna, and have a massage. He’ll have a nice meal with his friends and then go to a club. Or maybe he’ll just stay in. There’s something about being honest that makes him want to keep to himself for a while. He’ll start with that tonight, as he turns down Taehyung’s invite to another one of his client’s party.

Jungkook walks out and sees your desk empty, but he does hear your voice coming from the management support team’s room, telling them about your weekend plans as well.

“I’m going to the film festival in Incheon,” you say. “And probably just stay at a hostel.”

“Are you going by yourself?” Do-hyun asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply. 

Hajoon was supposed to go with you. He invited himself, actually, and you should’ve read into the fact that he’d wanted to experience your interests with you. You hadn’t minded, and that’s clearly out of the picture now. 

“I usually go to them by myself,” you add.

“Well, if you decide you want to invite one of us or hang out, you can always let us know,” Chin-sun teases, knowing you probably won’t. 

“Let’s wait until we’re not too tired and busy, okay?” You chuckle. “That way, we can afford to do whatever we want on the weekends.”

“Yup, that’ll probably never happen,” Do-hyun pouts. “When are we not tired and busy? It’s probably worse this time because we don’t get to laugh and joke around like we used to. Are we even getting a holiday? Will we have an out-of-town team building? Or dinners and karaoke like how Mr. Jung used to treat us to?”

“The team-building is budgeted so yes, we’ll have it,” you tell them. “And dinners? I can maybe suggest that to Mr. Jeon. And come on, no one’s stopping you from laughing or joking around. You can still do all that.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to because it might seem like I’m not serious about my job because our boss is too serious and it doesn’t seem right,” Do-hyun whines. 

And for the first time, you feel genuinely bad for how they think about Jungkook. You don’t blame them though, but the man you saw earlier who broke into a small smile is definitely capable of laughter; you just don’t know how to elicit it from him again. 

“He’s just been under a lot of pressure, but he doesn’t prohibit you from finding joy in anything,” you say. “Just… give him some time, okay? He’ll come around. Let’s just focus on our work and then focus on ourselves when the weekend comes. So all of you, pack up now and go home to your families and your pets. We’ve got a long few weeks ahead.”

Jungkook hears a collective okay then heads out right away, the initial thought of saying goodbye to the team having dissipated. He can’t blame them for voicing out their frustrations over the change in how they’re being managed. Hoseok was loved. He built a competent team whose spirit Jungkook is afraid he’s now breaking. But he’s not like his cousin, and he doesn’t know how to reach out to them in a way that’s genuine. He let the pressure get to him too much early on and while he’s not the type to forge connections with his staff, he’s seeing now how important it is for him as Vice President to do that. 

But it’s too much to think about for today. He’ll let this affect him a little bit and then figure things out. Based on what he heard though, he’s not on his own. You were on his side again, even when you thought he wasn’t around. There’s something about the way you stand up to him and stand by him that’s refreshing. There’s honesty there, too, and he’s learning that it’s what he needs. 

He makes it to the elevator but then holds the door once he hears rapid footsteps. You mutter your thanks as you enter, and he feels the tension build as you’re together after the exchange earlier. He hasn’t gotten over that yet, so he’s unsure how to talk with you. 

It seems like so are you, as you drum your fingers on the strap of your bag and focus on the door while you both wait to make it to the ground floor. Jungkook is tempted to offer you a ride with him but he decides against it. Even then, he slows his steps so he could walk alongside you, as you both head out the main doors.

“Get some rest, Mr. Jeon,” you finally say. “And have a good weekend.”

You look at him with sincerity in your eyes, your smile soft and assuring, something he’s never seen you direct at him before. It’s even different from earlier. There’s more understanding, he thinks. Perhaps there’s care.

“You, too, Ms. Cho,” he replies before entering the car. “Get home safely.”

You bow to him and wave at Mr. Ri before walking down the pathway to the street that leads towards the bus stop. 

Jungkook lets himself be comfortable in the seat while he forces the image of your smile out of his head. The sun has set and it’s Seoul at its busiest on another hot Friday evening. There are more cars than usual and so movement is slow, but that’s how he sees you - walking down the sidewalk in the midst of all these people. And there you are, somehow looking at peace. There’s an air of isolation that surrounds you, but you don’t look lonely. Just… alone. There’s still that warmth in your eyes and your smile that he finds himself wanting to see more of.

This is when he realizes he might be in trouble. There’s a line he shouldn’t cross, but there’s this desire to get to know you, to know your thoughts and your feelings and your words. He reminds himself that he needs you, in a way that an authority figure needs support and assistance. He needs you to be focused and capable, and he needs to be the same. 

With his attraction that he can’t get over, he knows that the only way to make sure that he keeps things professional is to keep his distance - not just physically, but more so emotionally. You’ll definitely be spending more time together and he needs to constantly remind himself of who you are and who he is. That much as he feels safe and honest with you, he can’t go any further; he can’t let you get any closer. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but that’s one other thing he’ll figure out.

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook x oc #jungkook series #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #boss jungkook

[marigoldenblooms]

An Important Lesson - One-Shot

Pairing: Professor!Wanda x Fem!Reader (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Prompt: After years of rigorous study, you were nearing the end of your graduate program. Companionship had become a figment of your imagination, until your film professor caught your eye. Taking something from her desk, you hope you could catch hers- and you got more than you bargained for.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Who is Y/N I don’t know her, Dom!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Porn with plot, teasing, orgasm denial, vibrator use, thigh riding, Mommy kink, Professor kink (sparingly), no aftercare, slight dub-con, dumbification, praise, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance (professor/student), age gap (Reader is 26 while Wanda is 34), brat taming if you squint. 

A/N: Holy balls, I did not realize smut was so hard to write. Major kudos to all who seem to do it so effortlessly! I know I envy ‘em. This is my first foray into writing this kind of fic (my university’s spring break has brought a lot of writing firsts), so if you have any feedback I’d love to hear it! This is also vaguely proofread! Wanted to do some practice before the evental sex in Unica Sempter Avis (Because USA is certainly an Abbreviation of All Time), and other ideas I’ve got cooking up. I'd love to write another part to this, if y'all would be down! Thanks y'all again!  Edit: An Important Lesson is getting a second part! Read a teaser here! >:)

Word Count: 2.5k - Read length: 9 minutes, 5 seconds.  Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners! ~~~ 

The pen hadn’t been worth stealing, and yet here you were. 

Professor Maximoff’s classroom was overwhelmingly quiet, dark and empty with familiar rows of tables curved in a half arc around her desk, pushed off to the side. She’d always pace within the front few rows where you sat, and you’d have to crane your neck to keep her in view when you weren’t scribbling down paraphrases of what she said. She taught Advanced Film and Media Critique, which generally lended itself to analyzing the shit out of old TV shows. Maximoff was a difficult professor, but you weren’t looking for easy, especially in your graduate program. After a few years of working your ass off to make enough money, you’d wiped the floor with your bachelors and now you were vying for your masters, in your last few weeks of grad school. And you knew Professor Maximoff liked you, which didn’t make it so bad. 

You knew other things about her too - for instance, there was no way she wasn’t a lesbian. Whenever you’d raise your hand her eyes would snap to you, and you swear her face would curl into a smile that was beyond professional. You’d catch her staring in your direction during exams on multiple occasions (to be fair you did the same when she wasn’t looking, but that’s besides the point), and you swear up and down that she winked at you during your midterm. She’d hold onto your hand a little too long when you turned in papers, and always offered ‘tutoring’ sessions which you humbly declined in the beginning of the semester, your grade being nigh perfect in her course. Between that, the short nails, tailored suits, and the rings- oh, so many rings- there was no way your professor wasn’t gay, and possibly had the hots for you. Your studies had been your priority over companionship for so long,  And now, within a few weeks of your final, why not make a move?

Heist films had been the topic of last week’s lecture, and so nicking something small would be a good segway, right? You’d return it to her tomorrow after class, mention something flirty (perhaps about stealing her heart), and see where it went. If you were lucky, you’d have her number by the end of the course, and perhaps take the older woman to coffee after your final exam. You’d bring her to the movies, but that might turn into more of a lesson than a date. 

As you’d pluck a pen from one of her desk drawers, you notice that it was slightly heavier than most. You clicked it once, then a second time- and nothing happened, so it went into your pockets. You’d move to exit the dim room, before a plaque caught your eye- her degree. It was neatly pressed into its frame: Wanda Maximoff, Masters of Arts in Film and Media Studies. You remembered her mentioning she was working on her doctorate, a proud grin sparking at that. Perhaps you’d get to know more about her dissertation and herself shortly. ------------------------------------------

Class went by faster than most, although it didn’t help that you were anxiously awaiting the end of Professor Maximoff’s lecture. She had worn a trim fitted sleeveless blouse and buttoned pants, both beautiful shades of burgundy. A myriad of gold rings decorating her hands as she’d motion with them through her talk. You’d have to keep your eyes off her fingers, nose deep in notebooks as you’d scramble to collect her words before your incoming final exam. 

“And what is the significance of I Love Lucy’s laugh tracks?” Wanda would ponder aloud before your hand immediately shot up, the lone attempt out of your fifty or so classmates. She’d grin at you, “Yes, dear?” 

You almost forget what you were about to say, holding onto the vestiges of it as you’d sputter, “Oh, uhm- yes, well, I Love Lucy didn’t have laugh tracks, mostly- they were the first sitcom to have a live studio audience.” Her eyes would crinkle with mirth, and you could tell immediately that you had the right answer. You tuned out her words as your mind would swim, thinking back to the weighted pen in your jeans pocket. The pet names were new, settling a joyous fuzz both in your mind and between your legs. It was things like this that had you on the back foot- this was your chance to get her back.

------------------------------------------

“And I’ll see you all in two days,” Wanda would return to her desk, sitting atop it rather than in the chair behind it. One of your classmates had asked why in an icebreaker towards the beginning of the semester, and if you remembered correctly she said ‘Just like the view from up here,’ or the like. If you’d been on the same track mind as now, you probably would have noticed how she stared at you during her spiel, a detail only discovered in hindsight. Now, you had all the pieces. 

You pack up slowly, shimmying your belongings into your overly stuffed bag. Hanging back until there were few students left, you flag her gaze with a hand and an upturned smile, “Professor, I was wondering if I could..” Your words would halt in your throat, thoughts thickened and syrupy as she’d look down to you, head tilted a degree off kilter. Would it be embarrassing to admit you’d never been this close to her before? Her lips would be pursed, but would break into a wild grin, and you felt yourself melt right there. You weren’t a teen anymore goddamnit, focus- “Talk-” you’d squeak, clearing your throat hastily to camouflage the blunder, “Talk with you, after class. Professor.”

Her brows would raise, and you could almost see the cogs rotating in there. Her eyes would dart within the now-empty room, adjusting her position on the desk- and it’d become increasingly obvious (you can deny it no longer) that you were standing directly in between her slightly parted legs. This wasn’t how you were expecting it to go, but here you were. She’d start taking off her rings. “Of course, darling,” she’d tease again with a roughened lilt. Those damn pet names. “What do you need?”

“I think I have something of yours, Professor-” Your mouth would open a few seconds before you’d speak, and you swear she’d smirk at how she had you, devoid of any thought. Something about her had you smiling and kicking your feet, and boy did she know it. Without any further bravado, you’d pull out the pen, “I hate to say it, but I think you’ve stolen-”

“Oh,” She’d breathe, Wanda’s face tinting with a pinkish hue, yet her smile only grew larger. Her gaze would narrow, voice dripping with a sultry air that almost knocked you off balance, “I didn’t let you borrow that, did I?”

“No Professor,” you admit, beginning to launch into your story, before she’d shush you- shush you, words piling up into a lump in your throat. 

“And do you know what it does, darling?” She asks, her tone a breathy whisper now. You swallow, shaking your head no. She fucking giggles. She takes the pen from your hand, clicking it three times, and it’d start to buzz. Oh, my god. It was a fucking vibrator.

“Too dumb to even recognize what this is? And I thought you were so smart..” She’d tease, a flush forming on your face in tandem with a shiver down your body. You open your mouth to speak, and yet her warm, calloused fingers would clasp your jaw shut. “Shhh, don’t want your pretty little head to even think, darling. How about Mommy show you how it works, hm?” 

You’d nod immediately. She’d abandon the toy, clicking it off as her hands would slip beneath your shirt, and it felt like time had frozen. She was so soft, and your mind glazed over. Your breath hitched as she’d trail upward, palming your skin before running her fingers over your bare breasts. You’d watch as Wanda’s pupils would blow in seconds, a devious smile bubbling into view, “No bra?” She’d murmur lowly shaking her head as she’d start to knead your flesh, “Just couldn’t remember it, hm? My precious student, too busy thinking of me to get dressed, were you?” You nod again, a pitiful mewl escaping your throat. 

“Yes- Yes, Professor..” You arch into her touch, although that bliss was short-lived as you feel her dig her hands further into your tits, sharper than you’d like. She’d tsk at your reply, and you look up to meet her eyes- oh, that was the wrong answer. 

“Did you already forget my title, baby?” She’d ask almost tauntingly, her gaze sharpening as she’d shift her hands from your skin. You’d chase her warmth, dazed as your skin would flush and tremble, slotting yourself up against her. She’d run her thumb over your lips, crooning at your immediate submission. She could use that. 

“It seems Mommy has a lot to teach you, dear..” Her touch would ghost across your exposed forearms, her feather-light touches only stuttering your breath further. “And I think you’re ready for your first lesson. Think you can handle that, darling? Keep your eyes on me,” Her hands would dig into your jeans, rougher against the hem’s fabric, “Think you can take this off for Mommy?”

“Please..” You beg, raising your hips to strip yourself bare, your glance trained on her. You don’t miss how her eyes darted down to your bare cunt, having slid off your panties too, or how she licked her lips at the sight of your slick. Her hands would hold your legs open, the cold lecture hall’s air chilling your exposed skin. Still staring at Wanda, you’d discard your shirt in the same breath, her jaw clenching as all of you felt the cool air. Feeling exposed, the urge to flee ebbed away some of your arousal. Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom? Your focus was immediately drawn again as she’d capture your chin in her hand, pulling it harshly to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dilated, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow as she’d pant, both from your disobedience and your thighs rubbing against hers. “Look at me,” she’d hiss, taking your lips into a searing kiss. Your answer? Fuck. Yes.

Your cunt would grind against her leg as Wanda would pull your hips up and onto her thigh, grip bruising as your lips would crash together. You could smell her vanilla perfume as she’d tug at your bottom lip with her teeth, a familiar buzzing sound heard but not registered before you felt it on your clit. “Mommy- yes, Fuckin’ christ, there-” You’d keen, lurching back as Wanda’s hand would rest on your hip, keeping you from escaping her touch.

Wanda would groan at your words, voice a little breathier as her hips would stutter against yours, “There’s my good girl..” Teasingly, she’d circle your clit with the pen-shaped toy, gasping herself as she’d feel the aftershocks of its pulse on her clothed cunt. “Taking Mommy’s toy so well..such a sweet girl for your Professor-” 

You’d rock your hips against her, the friction from her dress slacks and the vibrator’s pulse bringing you to the edge embarrassingly quick. Wanda wouldn’t notice your frenzied breathing or how you lost your rhythm, but she would hear your words; drawn between husky whines, “Mommy, please, I’m so close, fuck-” Your face would flush, legs beginning to tremble before the whole feeling was ripped away from you, Wanda’s grip leaving as the buzz would click off. With shaky breaths, your eyes would rise to meet hers- only to see a teasing grin. She’d pat your arms, gently coaxing you off of her thigh, the few sparks of friction from that not enough to bring you anywhere close to your release. You’d blink, thoughts thickened and reeling, brow furrowed ever so slightly for her- and Wanda loved it. 

“You did so well for your first lesson, dear..” She’d croon, brushing herself off as she’d rise to her feet, leaving you on her cluttered desk. “But, Professor, I didn’t-” You’d begin and she’d silence you right there, hand rising to close your jaw shut again. 

“And you won’t come unless you call me by my title, darling. You’ve received your correction for your first mistake- and for stealing from me,” You nodded slowly, absorbing her words as though they were molasses, and her smile only widened at how dazed she’d made you. “And if you disobey again when you’re with me, alone- then I’ll lower your grade by five points. Understand?” 

If you were in any kind of fog before, you cleared it from your thoughts immediately. “Yes, very clear- uhm,” You pause, noticing the stain on her pant leg where your pussy had ground into the fabric, and you feel your face warm. Wanda would shift her stance and you’d look up- she leaned above you, a single brow raised. You’d swallow, keeping your eyes on her completely, “Yes, Mommy- I understand.”

“Good girl.” That was the right answer. She’d smile at you, her praise going straight to your cunt. Could she not have given you a few more seconds? Maybe you could’ve gotten off without her noticing. She’d interrupt your mind with a quick peck on the lips, and you felt your wits slow, swimming with thoughts of her mouth. Oh, that was why- couldn’t get away with anything if you didn’t think anything at all. Wanda’s grin would only intensify as she’d watch you dress, clothing rumpled from the haste it had been taken off. After a few minutes, you were back to prim and proper..besides your racing heart and flush whenever Wanda so much as moved. “This was great..” You’d murmur, pressing the wrinkles from your shirt, gaze flicking back up to Wanda’s- your professor still watching you with a smooth, secretive smirk. 

“Of course it was, dear..but it’s still nice to hear you say that. Anything for my best student,” She’d wink at you and you’d fold, feeling your palms clam up. Since when were you this weak in the knees? She’d settle at her desk again, her hands clasped together on its wooden grain. You’d be taller than her now, with her sitting down- and yet there was an aura she commanded that you couldn’t outdo. You turn to leave without any further fanfare but her voice would seize you again, just as warm as her touch. “I’ll be expecting you after tomorrow’s classes, then? I think some…after-hours remedial work for my course would do you well.” 

Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom, again? You’d leave her hall with a bright smile, a reply, and a secret. Your answer? The same as before - Fuck. Yes. 

And your secret?

You’d stolen the ‘pen’ again.

#bearrrwrites #minors dni #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda smut #dom!wanda #sub!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #college au #one shot #smut fic #wlw ns/fw #god why was this so hard #once again #fuck it we ball

[dustofthedailylife]

A Gift For You

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Pairing: Alhaitham, Cyno, Heizou x (gn!) Reader

Summary: They plan to give you something for White Day (Info: White Day is the counterpart to Valentine's Day where you usually get the person who got you something, something in return.)

Tags: Fluff, best friends to lovers, pining, mild cursing, very slight angst for Heizou and Cyno at first but also not really, they have good intentions haha!

A/N: This is my White Day gift for @feeblescholarmyass! I hope you like it :3

ALHAITHAM

Two knocks on the door of your office snapped you out of your work-induced haze. 

You’ve been working non-stop on this project for the Akademiya for months now and have only been allowing yourself breaks to eat or sleep. Well, to be fair, sleep was negligible too, seeing as you only got around three hours of it per night for a couple of weeks now. 

What didn’t help was that you just couldn’t get a hold of a super rare edition of a book that was practically essential for this paper. However, the physical copy was lost to the void of the library as it was never returned. And since the Akasha terminal no longer worked you also couldn’t fall back on that.

“Come in.” you answer, rubbing your eyes quickly in a futile attempt to make yourself look less tired. But deep down you knew there was nothing that could hide the deep purple eye bags you’d been carrying around like a designer accessory the past couple of weeks.

You continued to read through one of the many books on your desk as the door was opened quietly and you heard long strides approach your desk.

“Are you seriously still working on this?” a familiar voice asked reprimandingly.

You looked up into the face of Alhaitham who looked down at you in a less than amused and almost accusatory way. You genuinely didn’t have time for this now, as much as you would rather spend every free minute you had with him instead.

“Well yes, I am. Things have been going slower than I had planned and the deadline is breathing down my neck.” you sighed burying your head into the book you had been skimming through prior. “What did you want?”

“You are going to take a break.” Alhaitham remarks. This wasn’t a plea, he was leaving no room for protest. He snatched the book out of your hand and placed it on a table out of your reach.

“Hey! Alhaitham! You can’t do that. I need to finish this.”

“Yes, I can. And I will.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “When was the last time you ate?”

Well, damn. There was nothing you could hide from him, was there? He always saw right through you. Always had. One of the perks of being friends with a genius, you thought to yourself. And your silence following his question seemed to confirm his suspicions once again.

“Come on. Let’s go to the Tavern, I’ll treat you to lunch.”

You knew there was no point in resisting so you tagged along and unsurprisingly as always, he was right. Getting out of your cramped office and breathing in some fresh air was balm for your soul.

You sat down outside of the Tavern, both ordering a meal and talking about some recent research you both were interested in. Well, it was mostly just you ranting about your project and the sheer stress the lack of one certain book was causing you, but he listened to everything attentively. 

You once again came to realize what an incredibly calming effect talking to him had on you. Despite how fast your heart started drumming inside of your chest every single time without fail. You suspected that he likely would never be interested in you beyond the friendly relationship you had with him and you didn’t mean to destroy what you both had by laying your feelings for him bare. So you simply kept them locked within your heart and simply basked in his presence whenever you could.

“Oh, since we’re on the topic. I bought something the other day. This is for you.” Alhaitham suddenly pulled a book out of his bag and slid it across the table. You only had to glance at the cover briefly before you realized what it was and your eyes became as wide as saucers.

“Th-this is… the super rare copy of Ancient Nomad Language and Symbolism! How did you–?”

You were awestruck. You had no idea how he managed to get his hands on a copy. It was as if this book had vanished from the face of the earth. Aside from the fact that you could no longer buy it either or just for an extremely inflated price. How in the world did he get his hands on this?

“Let’s just say, I have my methods.” he replied with a hint of a smug smile painted across his lips.

“How much did you pay for this? I promise I’m going to pay it back–”

“No need.” he shook his head to deny your offer. “Consider it a gift.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much! You have no idea how happy this makes me.” you blurt out, almost brought to tears by this act of kindness. With this, your project was saved, and after so long you could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Well, in fact, I do. Considering that you didn’t shut up about this book for the better half of a month now and everyone you spoke to knew how much you wanted it.” he stated factually.

“Hey! No need to get all snarky with me now, when I just want to express my gratitude!” you chuckle and playfully roll your eyes, prompting him to smile smugly in a barely noticeable way once more.

“It was my pleasure. Besides, today is White Day, so it was only logical to get you something.” he remarks and he continued to drink his coffee entirely unbothered as if he didn’t just insinuate the most unbelievable thing you had ever heard. He surely misunderstood something here, right?

“Uhh–” you pause. “You know what this day is for right?”

“Naturally.”

You felt like your heart was about to jump right out of your chest any second. What did he mean naturally?! Was what you deemed impossible actually true and…

“Do you… like me?” you whisper, too scared and unable to speak any louder because it felt like all air had been knocked out of your lungs.

“Looks like you’ve finally caught on as well. I thought you’d never realize.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I repeatedly asked you out for lunch or dinner? Or why do you think I keep returning your books for you if you’re very capable of doing so yourself? Amongst other things.” he enumerated.

“Well yes, but that’s what friends do.” you retorted confusedly.

“Then let me spell it out for you.”

He put his cup down on the table and leaned forward. He stared deeply into your eyes before ushering three words you’ve always, deep down, longed to hear from his lips.

“I love you.”

CYNO

Three Matra ringing on your door at 10 in the morning was not what you had expected to see today, but here you were nonetheless. They had arrived just as you were about to head to the Akademiya for work but effectually canceled all plans you had made.

“Good morning?” you questioningly asked, raising an eyebrow at them. “Can I help you?”

“We would like to ask you to accompany us back to the Akademiya.”, they plainly stated, signaling you to follow them.

You quickly grabbed your keys and tracked behind them with unease pooling at the pit of your stomach and a violently beating heart. 

What could the Matra possibly want from you? Did you conduct some illegal research? Did someone turn you in for plagiarism to save their own skin? Or did it have something to do with academic funds? As far as you were aware, the answers to all of these questions were no.

You didn't commit any serious academic offense to your knowledge and never planned to do so in the first place. But being called in by the Matra always had something to do with that, so naturally, you had a very bad feeling about this and couldn’t help but desperately try to find the answer to it in your head before you’d arrive.

You knew your best and long-time friend Cyno, was the General Mahamatra but even he wouldn’t show mercy if you seriously screwed something up. You knew he didn’t take academic offenses lightly - it didn’t matter who it was who committed them. He dealt out punishment equally.

The way to the office seemed like it was taking forever and many people along the way to the Akademiya threw you pitiful glances and were whispering as you were escorted by the Matra.

Once you arrived at your destination you were led into the General Mahamatra’s office. The Matra who had escorted you were bowing their head down once before they left you and Cyno, who was standing behind his desk, alone.

“There you are!” he stated, sounding surprisingly cheerful. Well, at least compared to usual anyway. He certainly didn’t seem sinister or as if he was out for your head.

He walked around his desk and came to a halt just in front of you. You slightly twitched as he put one hand on your shoulder and looked right into your eyes. This entire situation was odd, to say the least.

What didn’t help was that the warmth that radiated off his hand on your shoulder was entirely distracting to you right now and made the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart skitter in your chest.

“U-uhhh…” you stammered, unsure what to say or do.

“Do you still remember the special animated Genius Invokation card of Tighnari you got me last month?”

What? Was something wrong with it?

“Uhm… yes, of course, I do.” you reply, uncertain as to where this was leading.

He nodded as his lips curved into a small smile. “Follow me.”

You trailed behind him out of the Akademiya and along the streets towards the outskirts of Sumeru city. You remained silent the entire way, intimidated and unsure about his intentions. You couldn’t help but wonder where he was taking you and whether he was intending to exercise his judgment where no one was able to bear witness to it.

He came to a halt next to a small, run-down house at the border of the city and leaned against the fence there, crossing his arms over his chest and gazing below himself. You cautiously came to a halt as well, making sure you maintained some distance from him.

“So… w-what did I do?” you carefully inquired.

“Well,” Cyno cleared his throat as if he was struggling to find the right words. He stepped a little closer to you once again, taking your slightly trembling hands in his. “You stole something.”

“What? I did n–”

“You stole my heart.” he interrupted both your words and ability to form clear thoughts.

You parted your lips with the intention to say something but every word seemed to have died in your throat. You knew he was one to often speak cryptically so you were uncertain about the true meaning behind his words.

“What?”

He took a deep breath as if he was preparing to say something impacting before pointing toward the fence he had been leaning on with a dead-serious face.

“I fence-y you!”

At this point, you couldn’t help but chuckle. The hilarity of this entire situation was unbelievable. Not only did he have you worried sick he also chose to confess to you after years of pining with some stupid pun.

“Did you seriously lead me here just because there is a fence here?”

“Curses. I feared you would not understand… see fence-y sounds like fancy which means I–”

You quickly pulled him in by his neck and pressed your lips softly against his, successfully stopping him from explaining his joke. The feeling of his lips on yours was something you had dreamed of for so long. When he slung his arms around your waist the endorphins rushing through your bloodstream made your head swim and you felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest. You wondered if he felt the same.

“That was supposed to be my gift to you,” he remarked with a smile, leaning his forehead against yours. “but you beat me to it.”

You playfully punched his chest with a chuckle. “Idiot. You have no idea how much you had me scared to death with this entire scheme of yours. I fence-y you, too”

“Allow me to make it up to you again. Do you like raisins?”

You questioningly raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he was up to this time.

“No? How about a date, then?”

Someone seriously needed to remind you again why you fell for this guy.

HEIZOU

You were walking through the streets of Hanamizaka to run some errands when you bumped into your long-time friend aka. the best detective in town. Or maybe even in the entirety of Inazuma.

“Would you look who it is!” you perceived the familiar voice coming from your right.

You turned your head only to spot the familiar tuft of auburn locks and the pair of mischievous green eyes that always made their owner look like he was up to no good.

“Heizou!” you cheered, hugging him tightly.

“It’s a good thing I run into you actually. I’m onto something and you’re just the person who could help me out.” he remarked.

“Oh, is that so?” you asked stemming your hands on your hips proudly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Indeed.”

“So, what do you need from me, Mr. Detective?” you tease.

“Alright. So, as you may or may not know it’s White Day. I’m looking for a present for someone since I’m going on a date, and I want to get something for them.” he explained. 

You had to try your hardest to not drop your smile. It almost faltered just now, but you couldn’t let your disappointment show. He didn’t know you had feelings for him, so to him, you were still nothing more than his best friend. Obviously, he would come to you with something like this. It’s also on you for not telling him about your feelings for him, too.

As much as your heart ached while thinking about it, you simply had to try to be a supportive friend in this situation. Even if it would most likely prove to be a challenge. Both for your heart and also to hide your dislike about this from him, since he was generally very perceptive. It was in the job description after all and he was one of the best in his field.

“So what do you say?” he interrupted your train of thought. “Will you help me?”

“Sure!” you agree, faking a smile. 

You followed him through the streets of Inazuma City walking past several restaurants and storefronts continually catching yourself getting lost in your own thoughts while he was talking. 

Your mind was way too occupied with reproaching yourself for not opening up about your feelings. Would you still be able to look him in the eyes when you soon saw him with someone else by his side? Or would you be strong enough to still be as close to him as you are now, despite your aching heart? These were questions the future you would have to eventually find answers to, but for now, you decided you should focus on helping him.

“Which restaurant would be a good option for a dinner date?” he pondered tapping his chin with his index finger.

“Well, I do like Uyuu Restaurant just across the bridge from here. But then again, it tends to be rather crowded on holidays. So maybe Kiminami Restaurant instead? And quite honestly, the food is also better there in my opinion.” you advised.

“I see. Great!” Heizou cheered writing some things down in his notebook.

“So…” he began again after he was done taking notes. “Now for the present. I have no clue what to get them, yet.”

“Well, what a lousy detective you are if you can’t even sneakily ask them about what they would want.” you teased.

He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of his chest, acting playfully offended at your remark.

“Hey now! No need to get personal! Besides, that would only be the last resort! Anyway, hypothetically speaking. Imagine I’d get you something for White Day. What present would you want?”

For Archon’s sake, did he really have to have you imagine that? Getting a present from him on White Day would be a dream come true so he could practically get you anything and you would be head over heels for him all over again. But naturally, you couldn’t just outright say that.

“I don’t think this should be about what I would want. You should consider what they could want instead.”

“Hmm. I see your point. I could just ask them directly, I suppose?” he proposed tapping his chin as if deep in thought.

“No numbnuts! That’s not something you just ask them. It’s supposed to be a surprise, you know?”

“But then it may be even more important if you could give me an idea knowing what you would want. To gather some… inspiration, basically. I have to consider all possibilities after all.” he lightly bumped his finger on your forehead and smirked slyly. “So what would you want… jewelry? books? something to decorate your home with perhaps? Or maybe–”

“I fear I may not be of much help. I genuinely wouldn’t know what I would want.” you quickly interrupted.

Aside from wishing to be the object of affection of the man in front of you. But it was probably better if you buried that hope alongside your feelings for him once and for all.

What you were dying to say to him for a long time, had died in your throat the moment he told you he was going on a date. And as much as you honestly wanted to help him with this, you couldn’t recommend him something in good faith when it made your heart painfully throb the way it did right now.

“Hmmm.” he pondered looking at the ground with crossed arms. “That’s a shame, I’d immediately know what I’d want.”

“Oh? And what would that be, Detective?” you replied cheekily, quickly trying to distract yourself from the aching feeling in your chest.

“You.”

“What?” you falter.

“Do you happen to be free later?”

“Y-you–?”, you stammered.

“I set you up? Hmm, I suppose you could say I did. Sorry about that, but I had to find something out first.” he hummed, leaning in a little closer with a smug smile before whispering in your ear. “And I’m pretty sure I connected all the dots by now, did I not, sweetheart?”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #giwhiteday2023 #genshin fanfic #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #heizou x reader #genshin x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin fluff #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x gn reader #genshin x female reader #🍁 dust writes

[yikesmary]

THREE: HE FALLS FIRST — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: seungcheol finds himself falling in love with you, slowly but surely, and it hits him all at once.

notes: i’ve been loving the reception this series has been getting lately! i appreciate everyone who has been reading and interacting with the series.

also, i'm going to start a taglist for this? someone asked to be on it if this series had one, and i didn't realize i could've been doing that the entire time LMAO. anyways, to get on the taglist, just comment on this or send an ask. i'll try to tag everyone i see.

JUNE 13 2023 EDIT: i've created a taglist, so instead of commenting to be on the taglist, click the link!

warnings: mentions of puking (doesn't actually happen), drunk shenanigans, it's very cliché and i don't regret it

join my taglist!

previous / next

“Cheol, can you come help me?”

When Seungcheol enters your room, he could feel himself getting slack jaw. Both of you were getting ready to go out to the club with your friends, and with the 14 of you, he could only expect chaos.

What he didn’t expect, though, was you in a beautiful dress that almost made his heart stop when he saw you. Call him cliché, but he'd never felt that way before about anyone.

Oblivious to reaction and how he was feeling at the moment, you were trying to make sure your dress wasn't in a disarray when you asked, "Can you help me zip up the dress? I can't reach it,"

Seungcheol didn't realize he was staring and unresponsive until you turned around in confusion and waved your hand in his face. "Hello, Earth to Cheol? You okay?" you said.

He, thankfully, had snapped out of his trance before it could be considered really weird. "Uh, sure. Turn around," he instructed.

Looking at him weird, you obliged and felt your dress being zipped up. You turned around and said, "How do I look? I wanted to dress somewhat nice since this is the first time we're all hanging out. It's like my little friend group combining with the frat friend group of yours,"

"You look good. Like, really good," Seungcheol replied, clearing his throat when he realized he might've overdone it.

You gave him a smile and then a thought occurred to you. "Oh, when are we ordering the Uber?" you questioned.

"Uber? Why are we ubering when we have a car?" He asked.

"Well, we're both going to a club, so I'm assuming we're both going to drink," you replied.

"I'll drive," Seungcheol immediately said, not liking the thought of the both of you drunk out of your minds and he wasn't able to take care of you.

"Are you sure, Cheol? We can split—"

"No worries, I'll be the sober one so we can get home safely,"

"Alright, but don't get mad at me when I'm stood over a toilet puking my body weight out and you're not drunk,"

"As long as you're not like Soonyoung pretending to be a tiger, I think I can handle whatever you do,"

You and Seungcheol had barely entered the club when Seungkwan and Seokmin had somehow already located the both of you then proceeded to drag you to take a shot. And it wasn't long after the shot until they had dragged you to the dance floor.

After he had made sure you were surrounded by his and your friends who had decided to dance, he made a beeline to the bar, where the rest of his friends were. Wonwoo, who had made a wise decision to stay sober, had tried to offer him a drink.

"Not drinking tonight," Seungcheol declined the drink.

The boys had given him a look at his decline. "Why aren't you drinking? Usually, you'd take a beer at least by now," Jeonghan asked.

"I just don't feel like it," he replied, looking at you from afar, who was currently dancing to I Am the Best by 2NE1. He had wondered why 2NE1 was playing until he looked at the DJ Booth and saw that Soonyoung and Seokmin had somehow convinced the DJ to takeover for a bit.

Once he said that, the boys had made a look once more, this time exchanging it to each other. Seungcheol had noticed and asked, "What's those looks for?"

"It's because you don't realize it," this time it was Jihoon who said it.

"Realize what?"

"Cheol, how long have we known you? We've known you long enough to know how you drink. And you don't deny a drink when it's offered to you. But this time, you're not drinking. Do you know why that is?" Jeonghan asked.

"You guys are overanalyzing this. What if I just don't want to drink?"

"Because you would be looking at us and not your girlfriend this entire conversation," Wonwoo told him.

Part of Seungcheol knew this was true, but the other part of him didn't want to believe it. To his friends, his behavior might make sense since he was in a relationship. But to him, it didn't since he knew better than to develop feelings for someone he was fake dating.

He had figured in the beginning that it would be easy to not develop any feelings during the relationship since the basis of the relationship was built on a poorly made rumor and a deal. But what he didn't know at the time was how easy it was being with you.

While Seungcheol was trying to reevaluate how he was acting lately, a loud "CHEOL!" was heard and a body had practically slammed into him. The force was so unexpected, you and him had nearly fell to the ground.

"Oh, sorry bro," you drunkenly said, oblivious to the fact that Seungcheol was shocked you called him bro and your friends were laughing at his reaction.

"Bro?" He incredulously said.

"Bro, Cheol, same difference," you shrugged.

"How drunk are you?" He asked.

"Well, Soonyoung gave me something he called 'Tiger's Blood' and I have no idea what that contained but it tasted good and it made me feel warm inside," you giggled.

When Seungcheol looked to where the aforementioned Tiger was, he saw that Soonyoung and Seokmin was trying to jump on a table with Jun encouraging them to, Minghao filming it, and Vernon trying to convince Soonyoung and Seokmin to get down.

Meanwhile, Jihoon had left during Seungcheol's conversation with you and joined Seungkwan and Chan (who had replaced Soonyoung) on the DJ Booth. Wonwoo had left as well, but he was helping out Mingyu who could barely get on his feet because of how clumsy he was (Mingyu's not even that drunk, he's just that clumsy).

Joshua and Jeonghan were the only ones who remained with you and Seungcheol, but they were observing the both of you.

Suddenly feeling sleepy, you laid your head on Seungcheol's chest and said, "Cheol, I wanna go home,"

Seungcheol knew that if he didn't do something to wake you up, he was going to have to carry your sleeping body out of the club. "Can I have a bottle of water?" He asked the bartender, who was quick to give the bottle.

He had managed to pay the bartender however much it costs for the water bottle while you were still in your arms. He opened the cold bottle before giving it to you saying, "Here. Drink this before we go home,"

You took the bottle of water and drank a couple of gulps, feeling more thirsty than you realized. Once you drank half of the bottle, you showed Seungcheol, who had nodded in approval. "We're gonna go," he told Jeonghan and Joshua, who said their goodbyes.

You and Seungcheol had to maneuver through the crowd of people, but he made sure that you were near him the entire time. And once you both were out, he realized that you were shivering a little, so he took off his jacket to cover you.

He was about to guide you back to the car, and then he realized you wore the heels that looked obscenely painful but said it made your legs look good. "Give me your heels," he told you, and you shook your head no.

"I'll be barefoot!" you exclaimed.

"Fine, just wear my shoes," he replied, taking off his shoes and handing them to you.

"But then you'll be barefoot!"

"I have socks on, I'll be okay," Seungcheol said, nudging the shoes to you.

You grumbled but put the shoes on, feeling slightly more sober than you were when you were inside the club.

Once you guys got in the car, it was barely two minutes before you fell asleep, using Seungcheol's jacket like a blanket. When he took a quick look at you while driving, he smiled when he saw the sight.

Maybe he was falling for you, after all.

taglist: @geniejunn

#seventeen fluff #seungcheol fluff #choi seungchol fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #choi seungchol x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #scoups scenario #scoups imagines #seventeen scoups

[bidisastersanji]

Thanks to everyone who screamed in the tags and asked for a part two of the Roronoa “I learned French just to overhear if my crush likes men” Zoro” story. 🤡 Part one here. And a million thanks to @inoreuct for the help 🙏 You can also read it on AO3 here if you prefer. Edit: Part three here, part four here

---

"WHY ARE SWORDS WOMEN!???"  

"Calm down, Roronoa. They’re not women, they’re just a feminine word."

Zoro digs the palm of his hands into his eyes, hunching over the big dinner table in this godforsaken mansion on this godforsaken island. How had it come to this? He was supposed to be training to become the world’s greatest swordsman … and here he was. Stuck learning inanimate objects’ stupid imaginary gender and whatever the hell kind of tense “ plus-que-parfait ” (more-than-perfect) is.  

Scattered around him are French grammar, spelling and exercise books, loose papers and empty glasses of wine. Sadly, not his own. His stupid dad mentor had decided that he was banned from drinking from his private cellars until daily lessons had ended.   

Dracule Mihawk. Hawkeye. Renowned monster powerhouse, the world’s greatest swordsman, a feared warlord…is sat in reading glasses, correcting his pronunciation and teaching him the most vexing language on the planet: French.  

“Are you quite finished making a scene? I’ve stopped talking exclusively French to you for many months now. Be grateful.”   

Zoro presses his lips together tightly to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret. It wouldn’t do him or his crew any good to lose this opportunity to learn from the best. After the salt-shaker incident, Mihawk, quickly followed by Perona-who only wishes misery upon him- only responded to him if he spoke his broken French to them and would only speak to him in that tongue in return. His already impossibly difficult swords lessons… challenges? Whatever one would call the hellish training regimens the warlord put him through became even more impossible now that he couldn’t even understand the instructions. After a few too many close calls and instances of French being shouted at him louder and louder (saying it louder won’t make him magically understand), Mihawk changed tactics and decided to teach him the academic way instead, in the evenings after supper. Suppers which definitely didn’t leave him longing for someone else’s cooking.   

Supposedly surprised at his silence (with this man, there’s no way to really tell for sure what could be going through his mind), Mihawk lowers his glasses and takes a long look at him. “And how is your reading coming along?”  

Seated across from him and eating her dessert, Perona gives a loud snort, choking a bit on her strawberry shortcake. Her ever-present floating ghosts laugh a little louder, covering her badly stifled laughter as she purses her lips.   

Zoro glares daggers at her, neck and ears flushing intensely. “It’s going… fine .”  

In reality, his reading isn’t going “fine”. The Manor’s entire west wing is filled to the brim with the most boring, coma-inducing, self-aggrandising books on philosophy, French cuisine, land management, architecture and theology, all written in chicken scratch, old timey French. Zoro had tried his hand at reading one that seemed perhaps less bad than the others, but on his tenth try at staying awake on reading the third page describing the gothic stone arches of a church- he gave up. It felt more painstaking to spend one more second looking at another page of that book than getting sliced open by Mihawk so many months ago.   

In the pits of his désespoir, his guard was down, and his alarm bells didn’t ring when Perona innocently approached him and handed him a book that looked markedly different from the rest of Mihawk’s collection. At a second glance, he realized that he’d seen that book on Sanji’s hammock-side barrel before, recognizing the distinctive lettering of “Harlequin editions” on the spine.  

“Here. I’m taking pity on you. Mihawk has a secret stash of these in his personal library. They’re easier to read and will get the job done. You need to meet a quota of one a week, right?”  

Out of options, Zoro silently accepted the book and retreated to his quarters. If it was good enough for the cook (and Perona?), it would be good enough for him.   

His suspicions should have risen from the moment he recognised it was a work of fiction- unlike every single book he’d come across here. But no , studious mindset activated and with a dictionary on hand for any word he might not know, it took him longer than he’d care to admit to realise this was a romance book. And not just any romance book- a ludicrously explicit book detailing many, many scandalous trysts between a dark, mysterious, broody vampire and his parade of beautiful, lithe and oh-so-flirtatious nobles of all genders. He had to stop and put the book down several times, too flustered from explicit descriptions of passionately taking people against cold stone walls, bending them over various pieces of antique furniture and even tying them to extravagant four poster beds. It was too much for the poor swordsman to handle.  

It was mainly the thought of the pervy cook reading this… it stirred something low within him, his thoughts running wild at the natural implication that the scenarios held within the worn pages- the rough, possessive, teasing, kinky and playful sexual acts- were all things that Sanji had read. And enjoyed. Multiple times if his memory served him right. Sanji owned this book, which meant that this was something that… aroused him. Face like a furnace and heart beating wildly, Zoro tugged at his hair, unable to cope with this new information nor the inappropriate thoughts and images his mind was conjuring involving a certain sharp-tongued blonde, his powerful thighs and unfairly biteable neck. He could almost see his fiery blue eye boring adversarially into his own, a cheeky smirk that was just begging to be kissed off-   

Zoro snapped the book shut.  

Fuck .  

After an uncomfortably sweaty night and a glacial shower, it was only at breakfast that further implications finally clicked for the rattled swordsman. The lewd book had come, as Perona had put it, from Mihawk’s secret stash .   

One: the book was Mihawk’s. That dawning realisation alone froze Zoro mid-chew, and he decided then and there that he would never be able to look the older man in the eye ever again. At least not in the same way.   

I know what you are   

It wasn’t difficult to make the connection between the book’s owner, a pale, recluse, wine drinking man in a manor and the book’s main vampire. Two: this was from a stash . Meaning there would be many, many more of these books in the manor. Three, because of the nature of his mentor’s “official” library (unreadable), he will de facto have to keep reading bodice-rippers for well over a year and inevitably assimilate the raunchiest, most useless lexicon known to man, in what some people call the language of love. Wonderful. Despite himself, Zoro knew he’d already memorized at least three different ways to refer to male genitalia, and that was just from reading one of those little fuckers.  

Weeks, months pass, and boy had Zoro been right. And annoyingly, so had Mihawk, on how reading would drastically improve his French. (If Robin could see him now…) The smutty books came and went, courtesy of Perona, and his reliance on his dictionary diminished. As the books’ premises plunged deeper and deeper into unspeakable domains, Zoro made the firm decision to stop asking questions. For the sake of his sanity. He never again wanted Perona to share her thoughts on the "thematic beauty of the monster fucker genre". He would never fully recover from the hour-long exposé she made him on ABO dynamics. Nor could he ever recover from the knowledge that all these novels came from Dracule Mihawk’s private library .   

He now knew way too much about Mihawk's kinks and sexual tastes in men, and he wished to believe in a god so he could pray to never have to address this with the man within his life. Ever.  

Which is why he's currently sweating bullets at Mihawk's inquiry into his latest reads, and why Perona is looking at him like the cat that ate the canary.   

Eyes darting between his two guests, the warlord's lips tug at their corners in something resembling a smile.   

"I take it you haven't found the sword fighting books yet then?"  

The what.   

Zoro promptly chokes on his saliva, coughing aggressively into his fist, his remaining eye bulging in surprise.  

"Yes, did Perona not tell you? All the baking books in the French cuisine section actually hold sword forms and techniques. My boy, what have you been reading?"   

—/

Sanji had maybe had just a few too many drinks tonight. His face feels warm, his limbs are nice and relaxed- if still a bit sore from the battle- and his tongue is a little loose. He knows it's one too many when it takes him a couple of sentences to realise he and Robin are speaking French together, and he's grateful for the unconscious switch when he faintly registers that Zoro is sat not very far, by himself, just across the campfire.  

That was a close one.   

Robin prods him for more information on his one-night stands, and who is he to deny a lady, really? He feels the words spill from his mouth like boiling water overflowing from a pot. He hears his voice confess a truth he's not let himself face for years and blames the wine.  

"En vrai ce n'est pas qu'ils ne sont pas satisfaisants... c'est qu'ils ne sont jamais...assez. "   

The cook swims in half-forgotten memories of one night stands he sought out on lonely evenings at random ports. Of fumbling hands and desperate kisses, of leaving before the sun has even risen, of cold sheets and empty beds in the morning... Sanji doesn't like the bitter taste his admittance leaves in his mouth, nor the way his chest feels just a little tighter. He knows what his love-starved self really wants, what he craves most of all... is the stupidly perfect man sitting across the fire. Like a moth to a flame, he yearns to know what it would feel like. To matter . To be seen in all his flawed, weak existence, and not be thrown aside like the mistake he is. To be loved , cared for, cherished tenderly by someone as earnest and devoted as he knows the swordsman to be. It's with a bleeding heart that he finally voices his love, answering Robin on what would be enough.  

"Lui. "  

His finger taps the ash off his cigarette before taking another long, long drag. Forlorn, he tears his gaze away from Zoro and nearly startles at the sincere warmth he sees dancing in the archeologist's eyes.  

"Tu devrais lui dire ."  

(You should tell him.)  

Sanji laughs at that. "Mais bien sûr. J'vais me lever, me planter devant lui et tout lui avouer. "  

(But of course. I'll get up, walk right up to him and confess everything.)  

A beat. Robin impassively stares back at him. Sanji knows being a devil fruit eater isn't the only similarity between her and their captain. Their stubbornness is something he knows not to underestimate. He sighs and gulps the rest of his drink down. He must be out of his goddamn mind. And maybe a little drunker than he thought he was.   

"Je ne sais pas te dire non, ma chère Robin." She smiles. "Mais saches que tu n'as pas précisé dans quelle langue je devais lui parler. "  

(I don't know how to say no to you, my dear Robin. But please note that you didn't specify the language I should speak to him in.)  

Before she can charm him into switching to a language the Marimo understands, the cook is already skirting around the fire with slightly wobbly steps. If he can just keep his tone right, tinged with a bit of anger, then he can probably pull this off, he thinks.   

“You.” He points at Zoro accusingly.  

The mosshead turns to face him, an unreadable expression on his face. “Me?”   

Sanji doesn’t linger on it, all his mental capacity concentrating on making sure he uses French at the right moments.   

“Yes, you fucking ange tombé du ciel , I have some words for you. Some mots doux if you will, so just sit tight and listen. You owe me after I saved your ass earlier.”   

(Angel fallen from heaven; sweet words)  

Surprised that Zoro doesn’t contradict him on the “saving his ass” part, he doesn’t stop to think and squashes the little voice inside him that questions why he’s going through with this.  

Sanji fully planned on a heartfelt rant about all the idiot swordsman’s qualities- how unfair it is that he has it all. He really did. but he also feels a sudden shyness overtake him now that he’s standing in front of the idiot in question. To look Zoro in the eyes while saying such embarrassing, emotional shit won't do, and Sanji’s eyes make the mistake of looking down- only to be met with the tantalising sight of a broad, scarred chest and crossed arms that do nothing to hide the strong, corded muscle underneath. Oh, f uck me. His fake annoyance becomes partially real.  

"Enfoiré! comment jsuis supposé te résister, hein? "  He indignantly waves his cigarette around.  

(You bastard! How am I supposed to resist you, huh?)  

"Non mais vraiment- est ce que t’as la moindre idée de l’effet que t’as quand tu te balades torse nu sur le pont, tout dégoulinant de sueur? Ou de l’effet que les bruits que tu fait durant tes entraînements ont sur moi? J’ai qu’à fermer mes yeux et c’est- je…” he can feel his ears burning. Fuck it. Why not let it all out, he’ll feel better afterwards.  

( No, but really- do you have any idea of the effect you have when you walk shirtless on deck, dripping with sweat? Or how the noises you make during your workouts affect me? All I have to do is close my eyes and it's- I...)  

“Tu me rends fou. Après nos combats c’est si facile d’imaginer tes mains calleuses m’aggrippant possessivement, ta peau salée sur ma langue, ton torse haletant d’effort, ton regard enflammé -”   

( You drive me crazy. After our fights it's so easy to imagine your calloused hands gripping me possessively, your salty skin on my tongue, your torso panting with effort, your fiery gaze -)  

Still sat in front of Sanji, Zoro’s face is turning red and he’s shooting Sanji a heated look, no doubt irritated about being ranted at in French. Tough shit. Sanji wasn’t done.  

“T’es si favorisé par les dieux, je suis même sûr que ta bite est énorme. Et puis si tu savais ce que je te laisserais me faire- ” he rolls his eyes and snorts, hoping the exasperation part of his rant is convincingly coming through.  

(You're so favoured by the gods, I'm pretty sure you even have a huge dick. And if you knew what I'd let you do to me-)  

Zoro’s mouth parts in shock, and a small anxious thought crosses Sanji’s mind- but there’s absolutely no way in hell the shitty mosshead knows French. He would sooner know his left from his right.  

“Dis moi.” (Tell me.)  

“Tell you what, stupid marimo-” it takes a couple of seconds for the cook to comprehend what just happened, and a strangled noise crawls its way out of his throat. Everything comes to a halt, his world crumbles down. Oh no. Oh no .  

Zoro rises to his feet and steps into his space, a dangerously sinful grin across his face. At this point Sanji’s brain has fully stopped working, and it’s all he can do to gape stupidly back at him, face redder than it’s ever been.  

“Dis moi. ” he repeats, voice low and so foreign sounding as it tries to replicate the right intonation of Sanji’s mother tongue. “Ou si tu préfères je peux te dire ce que je voudrais bien te faire, moi.”   

( Tell me. Or if you prefer, I can tell you what I'd like to do to you.)  

Warm blood bursts forth from Sanji’s nose, and his world turns black. 

#zosan fic #zoro x sanji #zoro learns french story #zoro learns french #sanji x zoro #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #writing the mihawk part was just so fun #as requested Zoro speaks french to sanji and oh boi #one piece zosan #please let me know if you liked it! im so self conscious of my french haha

[gyunglitter]

i'll always choose you ⚘ choi beomgyu

-for the days being alive seems too hard, you're so happy to have your boyfriend

warnings: none really, just beomgyu being a simp—also, not edited

tags: established relationship, angst, fluff, hurt to comfort

notes: this is the first time i’ve ever finished a story (even if it is just a one shot), but i’m so happy it was this one. i wrote this during a couple of my bad days, so i hope it can help you on yours <3

Beomgyu was just barely getting out of his post-practice shower when he heard his special ringtone he had set just for you go off. You hadn’t talked to each other all day, your last interaction being a quick facetime and good night texts. And while the other members teased him for being clingy, he admitted with his full chest that he missed you. Tiredly wiping a towel through his damp hair, Beomgyu looked at his phone to see a new text message from you.

From: bubs <3

are you busy?

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow at the simple message; typically, you were a pretty energetic texter. It was something he liked about you since he was the same way with people he cared about. Your relationship was still fairly new, but he didn’t think it felt that way with you– the two of you seemed to just get one another, clicking instantly right off the bat and your connection getting deeper with every interaction. So to see a quick text like that surprised him a little bit, but with the thought of getting to facetime you, Beomgyu texted you back immediately.

To: bubs <3

hey, just got out of the shower! practice went a little long today🙃

Beomgyu set his phone down for a moment to throw on some clothes, thinking you would take a bit longer to respond since you typically send longer texts once you knew he was free to talk. However, he was proven wrong when he heard your ringtone go off not even ten seconds later.

From: bubs <3

can i see you?

Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a little worried as he glanced at the message, throwing his shirt on to get his hands back on his phone. Call him dramatic, but the simple sentence made the worst possible scenarios run through his mind.

To: bubs <3

is everything okay?

what happened?

From: bubs <3

it’s fine

nothing happened

sorry, didn’t mean to worry you

A sigh left Beomgyu’s mouth as he read your last text, confusion and worry only building up even more. Though you assured him nothing had happened, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. Not only were your texts incredibly bland, but you also weren’t elaborating much of anything, something you supremely hated. Communication was key to you, and he was just now starting to realize why.

To: bubs <3

are you at your dorm right now?

From: bubs <3

yeah

To: bubs <3

okay, did you want any food or anything?? i can drop by the dumpling place or tteokbokki stand on the way to yours! 

From: bubs <3

its fine, see you soon?

To: bubs <3

yeah, i’ll be there in 15

just gotta let the guys know!

Beomgyu waited for any other texts from you to come through, but was left with the same screen. No “thanks”, no “stay safe” text, not even one emoji that could possibly express some form of affection. At first he thought you got into an accident of some disastrous sort, spiking his worries. Now, he can feel the worry levels rising again, this time for himself.

What if you wanted to break up with him?

He thought your two a half months of being together had been perfect so far, he hadn’t messed up once. Sure, he teased you about the way you sang his songs sometimes, or the times you needed his help with your perilla leaf, or even when you couldn’t beat Hueningkai in arm wrestling. But he thought it was cute! He thought you liked him annoying you since you dished it back much worse than he did–BUT WHAT IF YOU DIDN’T?

Oh no. 

He had to beg you to not leave him, he was not ready to let you go, he hadn’t even taken you to meet Toto yet.

You sat by your front door, resting your head beside the door frame as you waited for Beomgyu to show up. You had no idea how much time had passed since you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at your phone after his last message got through to you. You’d left your phone on your bed and used your remaining energy to trudge your way to the front door. You were tired.

True to your texts to your boyfriend, nothing had happened. And it was okay. You weren’t, but the vague subject of “it” very much was. Sort of.

Nothing inherently bad happened to you: no one spilt their coffee on you, no mean people at work, not even a long red light while driving home. It had just been one of those days where the world felt a little heavier on you. You honestly haven't felt this way in a while. Not since before meeting Beomgyu, who made you smile more than you thought was possible. But alas, mental illness isn’t cured so easily.

You’d gotten home from work less than thirty minutes ago, but you had yet to feel any relief yet. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to be alone, you reached out to the boy who makes you feel lighter effortlessly. You’ve only been together for two and a half months, but they have been the happiest two and a half months you’ve experienced–cheesiness be damned.

Frantic knocks on the front door motivated you to get up for your boyfriend, the tightness in your chest already getting ready to loosen at the thought of Beomgyu standing on the other side. 

You could see your boyfriend’s startled face when you opened the door, most likely from the fact that he had barely taken his fist off the wood when you’d whipped it open.

“Y-Y/n! I got here as fast as I could! I know what you’re gonna say, and I just wanna say first that I’m so sorry for teasing you so much–you just make the cutest facial expressions when you get annoyed and I didn’t realize you might have actually cared that I said Hyuka’s arms are bigger than your mom–”

You stared at the boy rambling in front of you, waving one arm in the air as chaotically as his words. However, you also saw in his other hand was a small bunch of flowers–flowers that looked suspiciously like the ones planted in your main lobby’s centerpieces. The poor things still had clumps of dirt on their ends and were staining your boyfriend’s fingers, but he didn’t show any indication of caring as he was still staring at you intently, unshed tears lining his eyes.

This was your boyfriend. Your sweet, loud, silly boyfriend who never failed to make you feel lighter. Effortlessly.

Quickly, you wrapped your arms around Beomgyu’s waist and held him tightly. You felt his arms secure themselves around you automatically. You only realized he’d done it without thinking when he stopped talking and could feel his heart rate suddenly pick up after a few seconds in each other’s arms.

“I don’t wanna break up with you, you loser,” you muttered into his neck and chest.

Beomgyu breathed out. “You don’t?”

“No, I just…really wanted to see you.”

All you could manage was burying yourself even deeper into your boyfriend’s embrace. For the first time today, you felt like you could finally trust someone enough to take hold of the weight from the world and bear it with you. As a result, you slowly leaned against Beomgyu even more and let him really hold you, feeling as if you didn’t have to hold yourself up now that you knew help was here.

Beomgyu tightened his grip on you, when he felt you sigh into his neck. His mind flashed back to the messages you sent. Sure he was relieved that you weren’t trying to leave him, but now he was back to square one: worrying about you.

“Y/n?” He whispered into your hair.

“Hm?”

“I…I really like you, y/n…” Beomgyu admitted quietly. “You said nothing happened, but I know you’re not okay. I don’t know what’s wrong, but please tell me so I can fix it.”

He felt your head burrow even further into him for a second and was about to say…well he doesn’t quite know what to say, he’s just so damn worried about you. But he ended up not needing to say anything. Because you had instead pushed yourself away from his embrace and grabbed his hands, not minding the dirt gathering on your fingers from his pathetic flowers.

“Let’s head inside, Gyu.” 

And you led him through, not letting go of his hand once. Not even when he reached to take off his shoes. You instead stuck to him, as if you couldn’t bear to be physically apart from him for one second. He didn’t mind. He felt the same way.

When you both made it to your room, Beomgyu placed the crushed flowers on your bedside table and laid down on your bed. It only took him a second to open his arms for you to snuggle into him once again, shrinking yourself even more than you had before. He massaged the back of your neck under your hair, a habit he randomly developed with you to soothe both you and himself, and felt you release another big sigh.

Though this felt really nice, Beomgyu couldn’t feel at ease. This was completely new territory for the both of you. Sure, you had many quiet moments together. But your silences together were more so ones of peace. This one felt more like…an absence. As if he was missing something and just waiting for you to fill it in again.

“Thanks for the flowers. I’m sorry I worried you so much,” you whispered, your voice so low he wouldn’t have been able to hear had it not been for the lack of space between you. You sounded so, well, small.

And as much as Beomgyu wanted to tell you it was okay, he knew he couldn’t. Because if he said it was, you’d think you could do it again. And he really did not want to go through feeling like this again. Others would call him dramatic, but he calls it his Y/n Intuition. You may be the light in his life, but he knows all about hiding your real feelings behind a smile.

“I just…I don’t think about what I’m saying or doing sometimes when I get…like this…”

He can practically hear the struggle you’re going through as you try to communicate with him.

“What is this, bubs?” Beomgyu asked patiently, prompting you to keep trying.

Taking a breath, you took the time to sort out your thoughts before saying, “Somedays I just wake up…duller I guess.”

“Duller?”

You nodded hesitantly. “Like the colors are fading, my days all become the same, and even though I just woke up I’m so tired. And I just…don’t get the point anymore.”

Beomgyu tried his hardest to not flinch at your confession. 

“I’m so tired, Beomgyu, I can’t bring myself to do anything. And I can’t want to do anything either. Just the thought of it….” You shook your head back and forth, as if to erase what you’d just said. “Agh, I hate myself sometimes. I’m sorry, that’s so lazy. I’m not like this most of the time, I promise, Gyu. Some days are just harder than others.”

Beomgyu frowned deeply at your denial to yourself. He didn’t like hearing the things you thought about unconsciously, but even more, he didn’t like the way you talked about yourself.

“Why do you talk about yourself like that?” He asked, hands still.

You raised your head to look up at him. “Like what?”

“‘Lazy’. You’re not lazy, y/n.”

“That’s what being lazy is, dude,” you scoffed, letting out a light laugh.

But Beomgyu shook his head. “That’s not the root of the issue–there’s a difference between being lazy and overwhelmed. It happens to me too, you can’t help that sometimes. But you’re. Not. Lazy, y/n. You just need help.”

He watched as your eyes widened at him, before you frowned and scoffed, mostly aimed toward yourself. “I’m, uh, not very good at asking for help.”

“You did a good job of getting me here,” Beomgyu smiled.

You shook your head at him. “But I wasn’t trying to get you here for help. I…” you sighed out, laying your head back in Beomgyu’s neck. “I just wanted you.”

With a new soft feeling taking over, Beomgyu nearly burst into tears for the second time that night. He felt things in his heart and stomach he had never felt before, and he didn’t want it to ever go away. God, he couldn’t put a proper name to how he felt, but he wanted you too.

“I missed you today, “ he whispered into the quiet room.

“Yeah?” you whispered back.

“Mhm. Practice went long today, but it felt even longer because I couldn’t focus on anything but that goodnight text you sent me last night.”

“It wasn’t anything special, Gyu,” you said, but he could tell that you were blushing, which made him let out a soft chuckle.

“I swear, you have such a way with words, bubs, I think you chose the wrong profession,” he joked lightly, feeling the way your lips curved against his neck. “But it’s not always the words you say that matter to me, it’s the fact that you say anything at all.”

Beomgyu’s hand that had been rubbing the back of your neck moved down to squeeze your waist again.

He said softly, “I know it’s hard for you to see what the point is some days, I feel like that sometimes too. But I just have to remind myself of the things that keep me happy.”

“Like Toto?” you chimed in, a small smile creeping up your lips as Beomgyu snorted at your lame joke to stop your tears from coming.

“I was thinking more about you, but yes, I guess he counts too.”

You gasped playfully, “Wow, some pet owner you are.”

He just shrugged in response. “It was either that or a being a good boyfriend, bubs.”

“Well,” you sighed heavily, “Even though I feel bad for your bird, I have to say I am grateful you chose the second option. I mean, look at these beautiful flowers you got me. They’re so authentic, they still have the dirt from my lobby on them.”

Beomgyu merely smiled, before saying, “It’s not that hard of a decision—I’ll always choose you, bubs.”

He felt a groan reverberate off of his neck from your whining form and tried to stop the laugh from bubbling out of his chest, knowing it would distract you from his point. Meanwhile you were too busy trying to fight off your embarrassment.

“Oh my god, Gyu, you’re so cheesy!” You try and nestle into your boyfriend further to hide from him, but fail as you’re already as close as can be. And with the fact that Beomgyu does not put up with it this time.

“No y/n, I mean it!” Your boyfriend pushed you away gently but firmly to make you see his gaze that was filled with determination and sincerity. “I know it’s only been a couple of months, but you need to know this because I can’t see myself not being with you anytime in the near future. Meaning there are going to be more days like this, whether it’s you feeling off, or me! While I try to let you know just how much I care about you everyday, I want you to remember especially on the hard days that you are so important; to the people you call family, to the people you work with, to the people you smile at, to our friends, to my family, to me. God, y/n, you mean the world to me.”

You could feel tears start to build up on your lash line. Usually you’d try and hide away when you started to get emotional, but between Beomgyu’s firm hands holding you and his own watery eyes staring intently into yours, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“While I want you to be the happiest person everyday of your life and never have to cry, I know personally how that isn’t healthy or fair of me to put on you,” Beomgyu said, his voice starting to become wobbly, “So whenever you feel like this, I want you to know that I understand. And if you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

The tears were already falling, from both your eyes and his, but you didn’t care. All you could feel was Beomgyu’s heart beating under your hand as you slowly moved it to rest on his chest. Your heart rate matched his easily, speeding up just the tiniest bit as Beomgyu moved his hand to rest on top of yours.

“Gyu…”

“Please have me, Y/n. I really, really like you. And I want to be here, no matter what kind of day it is,” he whispered now, the words slowly getting lower the closer you inched to him.

You let out the smallest laugh, as if the peaceful feeling filling your stomach was floating through your lungs to now fill the small space between you and your boyfriend's lips. The laugh was a tinkly, kind sound that seemed to have reached Beomgyu, because the tears running down his cheeks were overtaken by his dimples you so famously adored. Your laugh sounded out, but the smile on your face remained as you started to cup his cheek and lightly trace over his dimple.

“God…you mean the world to me too, Beomgyu,” you whispered.

Your voice sent shivers down Beomgyu’s spine, and the way he sighed in awe at your words made you lean forward to close the space between you two, your lips finally connecting after what felt like too long.

His hands shifted to tugging you even closer as he sighed in the kiss. You hummed against his lips as well, relishing in the way he deepened the kiss, a bit desperately as if he couldn’t possibly get enough of you. You couldn’t complain, as you felt the exact same. And as you felt the connection between you both deepen, you could also feel the tightness in your chest melt away.

While you knew your problems/feelings weren’t something Beomgyu could kiss away, you knew he would understand. You knew he would be there. And you knew he would care. 

And for now, that was enough to get you out of bed the next morning with a smile, ready to take on another day.

(additional) notes: just wanted to say that while this beomgyu isn’t real, i hope y’all know that everything this one said is still true. if y’all need anything, message me or any of the ones mentioned and watch some to do :)

#tomorrow x tomorrow #txt #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu #choi beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu #beomgyu imagines #txt fluff #beomgyu fluff

[mamayan]

Don’t Cry: Part 2

Yandere Giyuu Tomioka x Fem! Reader

I love him so much~

Don’t Cry: Part 1

TW: Yandere themes•NSFW•Lying Giyuu•Slight Violence•Vanilla Sex•Sweet Submissive Giyuu•Fem! Reader•Implied Virginity Loss

I’ve been spelling his damn name wrong and I only realized when I read it in Hiragana and was like “cool cool, I gotta edit my other works of him now!”

Tags: @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi @sunandflame @giyuuzas

Once you’d bathed, courtesy of the sweet little girls who aided you earlier, you were promptly put to bed in clean clothes. Your swordsman sitting beside the bed, staring off into space but it was having a human presence which comforted you. The small bed didn’t allow for more than one body, but inwardly you cringed at the urge to drag him into it with you despite how close you’d need to be with him. It might also be because you’d need to be so close. Confusion and embarrassment swirled within you, your mind racing despite your body beginning to give into fatigue. Your eyes were heavy, struggling to stay awake long enough to sort the complicated emotions waring inside of you.

“Giyuu…” your voice was a little hoarse as you whispered his name.

“Yes?” His head turned and looked over at you, demeanor relaxed and confident, his eyes speaking more words than his lips.

Are you alright? You imagined him wanting to ask, but he likely already knew the answer was no. You didn’t ask the multitude of questions you had, because now you weren’t sure you even truly wanted to know. Instead, you asked for something simple.

“Will you hold my hand?” and he watched as your own soft one slipped from beneath the blanket. His eyes were darker in the dimly lit room, cast over by the red glow of the lamp and making his gaze nearly like the bottom of the sea. Black. His skin even paler in contrast.

His hand gingerly moved before it enveloped yours. Larger, warmer, and much rougher than your own. It was like you could safely breathe again with the contact, your tense muscles and knotting insides loosening as you squeezed his hand. He gave one back, looking at you with a half lidded gaze, and for a moment you were struck with envy because how had you never noticed his lashes were so long and thick? He was prettier than he ought to be, but it certainly didn’t lessen the masculine appeal. You briefly remembered, before he’d become twisted and abducted you, a time you’d seen him like a friend. You were more outgoing than him, more willing to speak up and initiate, and in this subtle moment of stillness, you asked a question which seemed both probable and ridiculous.

“Do you like me?” it felt wrong to speak too loudly.

You carefully observed his impassive expression. Giyuu didn’t tell you much nor did his face show how he felt, but his actions were pages in a story itself. He told you through weeks of bringing your favorite foods to you. He told you through small gifts and trinkets. He told you through acts of service and time spent beside you. It just didn’t make any sense. You were certainly the most horrendous creature when he’d taken you prisoner, snide and cruel with your tongue and even cruder with your disdainful actions of dumping hard prepared meals to the ground and stomping them. He was patient though, and while the weeks of isolation occasionally drove you to the brink of madness, you realize it must’ve not been intentional if he’d left to perform his obligations to the people. His burden so heavy and lifted alone.

“Hn,” he nodded, a noise of affirmation which shocked you silly. You truly didn’t expect an actual answer. Possibly just a look, which would leave you micro-analyzing it until you could somewhat satisfy yourself with an answer which proved plausible.

“Why…?” This wasn’t a self deprecating question, you weren’t asking as if you didn’t know your own lovability, but because you never let yourself be as such. Even when you’d first met and the relationship was forming, you’d never left any question that you’d not been looking for a lover. Your actions and words keeping a firm divide between you and everyone else. Especially Giyuu.

So why? Why form the attachment? Why look closer? Why want?

Why save me…? But those words were left unspoken.

His grip tightened around your hand, not painfully, but enough that you realized you weren’t looking at him anymore. Your eyes focused on the edge of the bed. You glanced back up, into those vast pools you wondered if someday might drown you in the sorrow they held.

His lips parted, pausing for a moment, but his brows furrowed and he seemed to have to force the words out.

“Because it’s you,” he murmured, somber tone not letting you become irritated at his vague response, letting him finish instead. “It’s you who reached your hand out first… who was there for me even if you didn’t notice I was suffering…” you hung on every word like a hook to keep you tethered to world around you.

“It was you who told me to live.” His expression changed, looking much like the tragedy he sealed within those dark blue orbs, and it was filled with a kind of loathing.

“Even though I’m weak—,” you wanted to tell him he’s wrong, “-and the people closest to me died while I lived on,” it’s not your fault but the words died in your throat, “—you told me to live.” His eyes were harder, more convicted and less overflowing with the loathing you realized was towards himself.

You didn’t remember telling him such words, maybe it was when you’d found him injured, marks adorning him with what you now realized marked his path on an endless journey of pain and loneliness.

You’d go crazy too. You’d do reckless and self destructive things as well.

You weren’t sure where it came from, fear perhaps? A desperation to believe in him with finally enough evidence to convince yourself it’s not wrong? Whatever the case, carefully you lifted your torso up, the blanket falling off your shoulders as you used your grip on him as leverage to pull him close. Your free hand dug into the fabric of his clothes, clean despite a battle that shook your entire world, as you tugged until he relented and leaned close so you could kiss him.

You should feel wrong. You don’t.

His lips are thin but soft, and he’s pliant as you essentially manhandle him to lean completely over you. His elbows now braced on either side of you as you snake your arms around his neck and let the scary world fade away. You weren’t the sort to hide behind a man and cower, and tomorrow you’d put up a brave front despite the cowardice and fear that has beholden you, but for now you let him drape over you. His presence such a comfort you can’t seem to recall a time it hadn’t been. There was a time, but it wasn’t rising to ruin the moment.

Neither was Giyuu, who was albeit visibly startled, but obediently giving you control as you tested different pressure with your lips.

He seemed to finally find his bearing though, as he broke the kiss and pulled up just enough to connect your eyes again. He was flushed, cheeks warm as he shyly regarded you.

“Is this for comfort or…?” he was hesitant and a look of guilt perhaps flashed through his gaze, but it warmed you further and caused the itch in your chest to spread as you tightened your hold on him to prevent escape.

Not like he was making even the barest attempt.

“Because…” he looked at you with his full attention.

“Because it’s you…” and it was enough. His eyes widening a fraction before you leaned up again to kiss him, this time with more passion. Giyuu didn’t speak or express himself much, but his actions did. This time, your actions spoke, as your fingers moved up his neck and into his hair. He made a noise, deep in his throat, but you were too focused on the softness of his hair. The fluffy thick strands easily allowing you a grip as you gently tugged.

He kissed you back harder, and while it felt a bit awkward, you felt even more desperate to touch him. You’d heard hushed gossip before, the acts between lovers, and you experimented as you licked his bottom lip. The shiver which wracked his body not slipping from your notice as you did it again, and then nipped.

“You…” he sounded slightly breathless, but his narrowing gaze telling as you teased him. You were merciful, as you finally slipped your tongue into his willing mouth, and this time he moaned. The shiver went up your spine this time, the noises he made going straight to your core as your grip in his hair and around his neck increased fractionally. It was odd and sensational all at once. His tongue not as aggressive or dominant as yours but still responsive and eager as he kissed you back, his hands still perfectly where he left them.

It was you exploring him. Hands softly trailing down his back, before moving over his shoulders and chest, the hard plains of his body undeniable.

This was not cold and stoic Giyuu, cruelly leaving you all alone. This was warm and responsive Giyuu relinquishing to your desires as you eagerly arched your back to press closer to him even as a zap of pain shot up your ankle.

It was easy to ignore as your body heated up, fingers gripping and tugging as you pushed his haori off his shoulders.

He pulled back fully, having partially fallen out of his chair and onto you at this point, taking his haori off completely and setting it gently in the chair as he fully climbed above you to settle. Silent and balmy, his eyes without a single ripple in the sea they held in their depths. His black uniform, one which you realized matched everyone else’s, was rumpled and creased from your pulling at the fabric.

You let your hands wander, up his forearms, over his collarbone where his hair was spilling out of the tie he used to keep it back, and around his neck. He didn’t stop you or pull away, as you let his pulse beat beneath your hands and for a moment, you felt like you held his heart between your fingers.

“I hated you…” you confessed softly, and while you felt more than saw him flinch, he didn’t move or speak besides that.

“I thought you were crazy, cruel for taking me without permission and even crueler when you’d leave me alone for so long but…” your eyes flicked up to meet his, pooling with guilt and sadness. “Giyuu, do you think we could start over differently?” Your hands roamed the smooth skin of his neck up to to cup his jaw. His lips were set into a firm line, dark gaze serious as it locks with your own.

He seems to melt in your hands, his eyes nearly closing completely as he leans a little weight into you. He resembled a cat momentarily, those upturned eyes a bit sharper when not fully open.

“I would be grateful… to love you not so shamefully.” Your heart nearly stopped at such a confession.

He said love… not like.

Did you love him? It felt difficult to breathe, as you answered yourself easily.

No. You didn’t love him. In truth, there was a deeper part of you terrified of him, because he possessed strength and skills which rendered you pathetically at his mercy. If he were weaker, you’d have escaped him long ago. No, you didn’t love him, but when he let you do as you pleased with him… well, you certainly liked him like this. Pretty and obedient to what you wanted. Relaxed and languid like a juggle cat, silent and graceful but watching.

As you pressed yourself up against him, whispering in his ear your request, he didn’t hesitate with you. Gentle as always, he switched your positions, careful of your injured foot as he settled you atop of him. You got to look down on him now, the light shifting to brighten his features and ease the sharp lines and shadows which cast him in a dangerous atmosphere.

He looked… harmless like this. As if he hadn’t slaughtered a demon like one might swat a fly.

You knew logically you shouldn’t be doing this. As your hands move over his chest, more intent on removing clothing than anything else though. Deftly popping buttons and opening up his top, a smooth pale chest revealing itself to your eyes.

Your brain cried that you were simply touch starved, shocked and slightly traumatized from the events of the last day, and completely run by hormones and pent up frustration.

You were not thinking with your brain tonight though, not as your eyes drank in the sight of the beautiful male beneath you. His flushed skin, heavy breathing and somewhat shy gaze was enough to have you feeling ravenous.

“Sit up,” you murmur softly, pleased as he listens, letting you remove his top and push him back down, climbing a bit higher to return your lips to his. He’s littered in old scars, some more silvery and healed than others, his body refined by tightly corded muscles which had no give. He was harder than steel yet incredibly soft where he wasn’t marred by either training or demons. You kissed him deeper and with more meaning now, and as you cupped his cheek to turn his head, you delighted in the husky groan he released as you licked and sucked at his neck. His shiver leading you to an especially sensitive area, where you mercilessly left your mark.

As you sat back on him more fully, aware of the dull throb of your ankle and grateful for the extra medicine you’d been given, you take him in. He’s more covered in softly sucked bruises and little bite marks than scars anymore, unable to hide the reddened skin as he looks up at you patiently, docile gaze betrayed by the death grip he has on the bed sheet. Visibly struggling not to touch you too.

It wound you up tighter.

“You can’t touch me until I tell you to.” He hadn’t and likely would not even if you didn’t vocalize it, but he didn’t miss the teasing glint in your eyes. His smile indulgent and contagious as he nods, staying perfectly still as you loosen your robes and allow the top to slip away and reveal your upper body. Giyuu took a sharp intake of breath, lips parting as you allow him to take you in.

Less embarrassed by his reverent eyes.

“So pretty…” his praise further emboldened you, as you teased him further by touching yourself. Your hands dragging up your stomach and to your breasts, where you lightly rolled your nipples as they hardened. He wasn’t blinking. The once cool room becoming much, much warmer with you both radiating heat and unrepressed lust. You moved gently down his body, cautious with your own as you settled your center directly over his erection still covered by his pants.

“Ngh,” he huffs, his head digging into the pillow as you grind down, clothes and friction your ally as you murmur in pleasure.

“Feel good Giyuu?” You’d abandoned your teasing show in favor of chasing the ache building inside you. You could tease him later, maybe tie his wrists and see how confident you became as you made him beg for you, but you wanted more now.

“It does, you do,” he quickly affirmed, his eyes a bit hazy as they look up at you. Your image reflected almost like a mirror through his glassy eyes. He couldn’t help bucking up from beneath you, putting a little more pressure and it earned him the gift of hearing you moan.

The first trickles of pleasure addicting as he did it again.

“Stop.” He stilled, looking a bit startled and cautious before you smiled in reassurance. Although it wasn’t comfortable and your muscles were stiff and achy, you held your weight off of him so you could work at the tie keeping his pants up. “I’ll do it.” You assured as you caught his hand move to help out of the corner of your eye.

“Hn,” he quickly set his hand back where it was, though his punishing grip on the sheet returned.

You didn’t love him, but if he stayed like this beneath you, it wasn’t difficult to imagine such a day would come sooner rather than later.

Your previous interactions always wrong because you never took lead and it was painfully obvious now that he was waiting on that. The only lead he ever took was taking you, and the reason being your safety above all else was difficult to hate.

He took your nonverbal cue to lift his hips, letting you drag his opened pants down along with his undergarment.

His cock was just about as pretty as him you noted. Your body slightly trembling as your arousal spiked, hand confidently gripping him in your fist as he jolted and choked on a moan.

“Ah,” he grit his teeth, your grip not very tight but it was the sensitivity of his cock which heightened the sensation of having you touch him.

“So pretty Giyuu, am I hurting you?” Your tone nearly purred as he takes you in.

He didn’t say it out aloud. He didn’t say a lot of things out loud, but this was the most animated he’d ever seen you. Gaze hungry and full of want and it was directed at him. Your teasing smile and soft hands were all for him in this moment. He felt like he was floating, as you began a steady pump, plump little tongue darting out to wet your lips and he felt mildly shameful as a whine left him. The image in his mind filthy as he struggled to stay still like you’d told him. To not touch you even though you looked so soft and he was damned because he wanted to hold you close.

You’d never been so forward with him, and it solidified every action he took as right, because this felt too wonderful to be wrong.

He was sweating, struggling to think and if he wasn’t so good at controlling his breathing, he would’ve came already.

His lips quivered but his watery gaze would not look away as you slid your fingers up his cock, following the velvety skin and slight curve of it, and only dancing the tips over the head of his cock before falling down over a vein which had his muscles locking painfully to stay still.

His face was even redder holding the noises in.

“Do you like when I touch you Giyuu?” You whispered to him like lovers might exchange secrets.

He shook, stoic facade gone and replaced by a young man terribly desperate for more and entirely unsure how to get it.

“Hn, y-yes, but—,” he couldn’t speak and not let out the moans and loud puffs of air escaping his lungs. He truly couldn’t look away at you smeared his precum over his cock and used it as lubricant to better stroke him.

“But…?” You drawled, head tilted cutely and he was mildly baffled by how calm and steady you looked now. Like the roles were entirely reversed, and it set his heart pounding aggressively within the confines of his chest. He felt nervous but excited, because despite all else, your eyes were on him. Your hands were on him. You were quite literally on top of him. He couldn’t want for much else.

Your hand stopped moving, and he could care less of shame or embarrassment as he whined pathetically. He was nearly tearing holes into the mattress.

“Please,” he choked, nearly dying in relief when your hand once again moved only to stop again. His heels dug into the bed.

“Please what Giyuu? You need to use your words right now.” He felt this might’ve been revenge, for all the times he’d been unable to answer you in the past, but now if he didn’t answer then there were consequences. Like your hands not being on him.

Words seemed a lot easier when given an ultimatum.

“Please don’t stop touching my cock and please don’t stop touching me,” it was said in pure desperation and with such conviction it startled you. Your pretty eyes widening, and Giyuu felt flooded with emotion as you became even more vibrant above him. Your smile so lovely it would’ve dropped him to his knees if he were standing.

The smile he was always so desperate to protect and keep entirely to himself. He’d given up long ago on the notion of letting you go. He couldn’t. Not then and especially not now as you tightened your grip and began stoking him again.

He truly lost it when you lewdly spit down onto him, slicking his cock up further until an audible squelch filled the small medical room as you pumped him closer to his finish.

“Such a pretty cock, it really matches you Giyuu. Look, your face is as red as the tip,” he couldn’t stop himself.

“Please let me cum, I need—fuck, ah, please,” his scrunched up features lovely, and you couldn’t help tightening your grip as you grinned.

“Okay Giyuu, go ahead, make a mess.”

Your permission and actions had his hot cum flooding from the tip and coating your hand and himself. The raw pleasure leaving him shaking and lost as he moaned and panted, eyes widening almost panicked because your hand was still moving.

“—!, wait, please—,” he almost broke and touched you, to grip your wrist and remove it from him as the pleasure became borderline painful.

“No, you can come again.” The firm way you spoke made him squirm, gritting his teeth as his face twisted and he really did come again because it was too much. His hiss of pleasure and pain delirious as his eyes shut to block any further stimuli. He came less, but still his seed seeped out and over, you released his cock and watched a pearly bead slide slowly down his shaft as it lay against his abdomen now. Smearing his own release on his stomach.

His eyes were teary, tired, and so precious.

“You did so good,” your praise and sugary tone filled him with warmth.

His answer filled you similarly, “Thank you.” His voice a little hoarse. His gratitude open and honest as you leaned over him to kiss him again. Softer and sweeter than your earlier teasing and overstimulation.

You could feel him hardening again beneath you, twitching as you swirled your tongue languidly with his own, pulling back occasionally and adoring how quickly he followed.

It made your subconscious relax, to have this man submitting for you.

You didn’t touch him, instead carefully leaning on one arm and using the free one to untie your robes completely and let them slip off your waist. Leaving you as naked as him.

You didn’t let him look, too lost in exploring his mouth and breathing him in. His minty scent more muted after mixing with his sweat and making him have a deeper woodsy quality to it.

Your hand, still sticky with his cum, moved to lightly trace over your clit. The spark of pleasure sharper as you moaned into the kiss, Giyuu’s own groan following as he realized what you were doing.

He broke the kiss this time, but his face was so desperate and eager as he begged.

“Let me, please, I want to touch you too—,” you cut him off.

“No.” You smirked, loving how enthralled he looked as he watched you touch and tease yourself. You were already so wet, just from making him feel good and fall apart for you. The low wet noises of you running your fingers through your folds and testing a finger inside your hole clearly audible thanks to his good hearing. Watching was different though, as you stuffed yourself with two fingers, despite his own being wider and longer.

It took him a moment to realize which hand you used.

“Fuck,” he nearly snarled, face scrunched in a look of both agony and euphoria.

“Do you like seeing me use your cum to finger myself?” Your throat felt tight, the lewd act turning you on further as he seemed to struggle.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck, I need to touch you please,” he didn’t say aloud that he also wanted to cum inside you too. A small part of him nervous it’d drive you into denying him to further to make him beg more. “I want to feel you now, so use me…please,” your steady movements inside your pussy stopping as you considered his offer. An idea formed.

“Give me your hand,” you ordered, and his right was in your awaiting palm in an instant. You gripped his wrist, drawing his hand to your wet heat and smiling even as you moaned and shivered, his gaze too focused on your directions.

You let him slip in one finger, and then another, sighing into the stretch and rocking your hips forward.

“Can you stay still?” You asked.

He nodded, though most of his focus was elsewhere as he relished the feeling of your tight hot walls pulsing around his fingers and squeezing.

You less bounced and more rolled, letting his long fingers touch and reach where you previously could not, as your free hand moved to your clit. You moaned freely, not mindful in the least because your room was so far removed from the the rest of the mansion it hardly mattered. It felt so good, and when his fingers shifted just a little to curl more comfortably, they hit the perfect spot that had your toes curling on your uninjured foot. “Oh, Giyuu, don’t move,” you felt close, your own fingers playing with your clit and hastening your release.

You came hard, your head thrown back as your hips shook.

Giyuu’s hand was soaked in your release, fingers still obediently inside you and still as you came down from your high.

The pleasure slightly washed by pain, your ankle throbbing but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Not when everything felt right like this. Giyuu was similarly mesmerized, your figure above him riding through your orgasm and the way your cunt clamped and spasmed around his fingers making him even hotter. He wanted to feel that around his cock too.

“My love,” his saccharine words caught your focus, heavy eyes tiredly but kindly regarding him. That was everything to him, the festering wound in his heart from all your previous rejections seeming to heal with just that look. “May I…? Please, I want to be inside—ah,” you either took mercy or lost patience, not entirely sure. You wrapped a hand around his cock and easily lined yourself up, his blue eyes widening as you let yourself sink down.

Giyuu doesn’t have a cock which instills fear or disappointment. Though much thicker than than he is impressively long, he still stretched you almost painfully as you took him inside of you. You panted, taking each inch slowly as your sweat slid down the curve of your spine and cooled. Despite the pinch and mild initial discomfort, the image of Giyuu beneath you looking ruined made it all worth it. He seemed to be both suffering and ascending, muscles taunt and he finally did tear the sheet.

“Fuck so tight, ngh,” he nearly bit his tongue when his tip touched the farthest point inside of you, kissing your cervix gently. His voice pitched higher than normal, almost boyish in quality as he fought to keep his eyes open and on you. He didn’t want to look away, to miss the way your own face scrunched and struggled for a moment. Then you settled and stilled, gooey walls encasing his cock like a hot vice and driving him wild.

“Please please, I need—,” he would’ve given you his damn life if you asked for it at this point. When a few warm tears finally escaped their pools, you chuckled and reached out to wipe them away.

“Okay, you can—mm, you can touch me now.” It was nearly amusing how relieved he appeared. His normally impassive expression so far removed from this man now. He was extremely expressive it seemed, when he was being overwhelmed with pleasure.

His hands were tentative as they ghosted over your outer thighs, the clammy feel of his palms adorable when he finally used pressure to hold on to your hips.

He didn’t do anything further than let his hands slide over your skin, over your stomach and up to your breasts where he mimicked how you touched yourself earlier. It had you bearing down and making him moan and twitch beneath you. It felt better, the sensation of being so full no longer as alien as you tested with a roll of your hips.

It earned you both a shock of pleasure, your moan deeper than his own.

You did it again, before finally using what little strength you hand in your legs to lift and sink down onto him.

“You’re so deep Giyuu,” you still had energy to look victorious though. Pride sparkling on your face as you grinned, looking too cheeky and lovely for your own good.

You set a very slow rhythm, not out of choice but more because it was all you could offer. Giyuu didn’t seem to mind, his flushed cheeks and reddened eyes looking directly up at you as you moved. The sticky and warm wet mess coating you both from your releases making the glide smooth and painless.

It dried a bit on your inner thighs and cooled on his heavy balls as you moaned and used his chest as leverage to lean your weight onto him. Your shaky movements slowing further as you lost your breath. It felt amazing now, but frustration mounted the harder it seemed to become to chase your release. Your body too exhausted and weakened to contribute as you liked.

You shouldn’t have been as shocked as you were when he spoke. “Can I move too please my love?” He wasn’t looking for control, but to ease the furrow in your brow as you trembled from muscle failure. You nodded in relief, moaning happily as his hips shifted to hit even deeper and began to buck beneath you. He didn’t ground you further to him though, despite being tempted to do so. His hands on your hips shifted to lightly rest on your ass and no more. He still kept the languid pace you’d originally set, and you cried out as the tension inside of you grew higher. You did your best to move with him, expressing how pleased you were with small kisses across his chest and neck, moving to finally take his lips as one hand tangled in his hair again.

The light wet noises of your bodies moving echoed, the sloppy kiss you shared matching in intensity as you breathed and relished in his choked whines and gasps.

“You feel so good…” he murmured against your lips, cock twitching and aching to spill inside you, barely holding off release to feel you tighten and come apart too. “Please, I’m close, may I…?” His voice husky.

“Giyuu too, your cock is so warm and thick. Do you want to cum inside me?” He moaned, burying his face in your neck as you giggled and gasped when his tip hit a new spot inside you. “Oh yes, right there—,” you ground down to force him harder into the spongey area, his breathing getting deeper and more strained as he worked to move his cock in that spot exactly how you wanted it. “Fuck, love, I can’t— please let me cum,” he was close to crying again, really and truly ready to sob because it hurt to hold off.

“Harder, so good for me Giyuu, not yet—I’m close,” your praise made his head dizzy, but when you said you were close and finally did come, he nearly passed out because he forgot to breathe. Hot tears spilling again as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Yes,” you moaned long and loud, “—go ahead and cum, that’s it, fill me up baby,” you weren’t sure where this side of you came from. Whether it was innate or because he seemed to crave it, it hardly mattered. You encouraged him as you came apart, feeling his cock twitch and pulse as he whined and let go at last.

White hot pleasure flooded you both, but you more literally as he came inside and his hips stuttered up into you even deeper. His pubic bone and hair digging into the sensitive skin of your clit and driving your pleasure higher.

You collapsed against him, limp on his chest as he caught his breath and came back to earth.

Giyuu noted you were completely asleep. Breathing even and your features relaxed.

He allowed himself to hold you close for a few minutes, basking in the heaven of having you willingly in his arms.

His hand coming up to trace your jaw and cheek, then your nose and lips. His smile so real and genuine as he looked at you.

You were cleaned up thoroughly, a warm clean cloth used to get you both semi-decent as he redressed you carefully. You didn’t even stir.

He felt mildly guilty he kept you awake like this, but too happy with what occurred to feel much else. Once he’d cleaned up, ignoring the holes he created in the fabric of the bed, he placed you once more on his chest to sleep, his hand moving over your head to pet your hair down as listen and feel your heart beat against his own.

He’d done something terrible to you again, but really, he couldn’t muster up the same feelings of guilt he once felt in the past.

Your ankle would heal, and the priest was a necessary evil. You were safe in his arms now, weren’t you?

#Demon Slayer #Giyuu Tomioka smut #KNY Giyuu smut #18+ #Yandere Giyuu Tomioka #Sub! Giyuu Tomioka #Fem! Reader x Giyuu Tomioka #yandere Giyuu x reader #x reader #kimestu no yaiba #kny Giyuu Tomioka #kny yandere #water hashira #part 2 #I finally spelled his name right

[midnightsnyx]

what if i told you (i love you) part 2 - joel miller

pairing: joel miller!fem reader

chapter summary: when joel and ellie's stay turns out to be longer than expected, you have to figure out how you're going to deal with having him around. word count: 1.9k warnings: insinuated smut, angst, mentions of death, mentions of abortion, little bit of fluff(?), and ellie being a cool big sister! let me know if i missed anything please. also this isn't edited lol sorry authors note: GUYS!!!! WHAT THE HECK! thank you all so so so much from the very bottom of my heart for all the love on the story. comments, reblogs, and likes feed my angsty writing soul <3 y'all are the best! please take caution to the warnings for this chapter and read safely <3 if anyone wants to send thoughts, suggestions ect, here is my ask box. and lastly, if you want to be added to my tag list please fill out this super short form here <3 oh one more thing! I know last chapter was in past tense but I hate writing that unless I’m doing flashbacks so from now on, it’s all present tense unless I do a flashback

masterlist what i write series masterpost

Boston 2018

The first time you could blame it on the bad liquor. The second time, you could say it was the adrenaline from nearly getting killed by a pack of clickers but the third time you found yourself underneath Joel Miller, there was nobody to blame but yourself. You’d been working with him and Tess for a couple years and always thought the two of them were together. However, while on a supply run with just Tess about a year after you met them, you discovered that while there was an initial attraction, things were strictly business between them. You really had no plans to deal with the man further than supply runs and trades but after you had a taste of what could be, you didn’t want to go without. 

You knew that things weren’t exclusive and never would be. It was simply a way for the both of you to blow off steam in this shitty world so after you missed your period not once, but twice, you realized that things might be more complicated than you had planned. Approaching Joel about the situation was not something you were looking forward to so you confided in Tess, who after scolding you, said you had two options. She knew a person who “took care of these problems” and could get your situation resolved with little to no damage or you could do what she thought was unfair, and bring a new life into the world that had become so cruel, most didn’t want to live anyway. You weighed your options for about a week, avoiding Joel whenever he tried to get you alone because all you wanted to do was blurt out that you were pregnant to get it off your chest but somehow, you knew how he would react. 

Everybody had lost someone during the outbreak and although it was never confirmed by Joel, you knew he’d lost a child. Somewhere inside you, there was a small hope that maybe this tiny little life inside you could help fill some of the void but it was smashed when you eventually told him.

His cold expression and cold words were hurtful but not unexpected. 

“How could you be so careless?” 

You’d argued with him for over an hour, the whole “it takes two to tangle” argument but eventually you had enough and told him if he wanted nothing to do with it, this was the time because you weren’t going to wait around forever. So when his last words to you were “leave”, you decided then and there that you were done with Joel Miller. You’d waited a few weeks after Tess asked you to even though you knew that he wouldn’t come around. The day you left, you said goodbye to Tess, telling her where you planned to go and told her if Joel asked about you, not to tell him anything. If you could help it, you planned to never see Joel again.

Jackson, Wyoming 2023

Much to your dismay, Joel is at the dining hall the next morning. He’s sitting with Tommy and Ellie but you can feel his eyes on you while you watch Jack eat his breakfast. It’s like a repeat of yesterday, only this time you’re worried that Hazel may have actually poisned his food. She grumbled when he walked in the doors but didn’t say much. 

Ellie eventually makes her way over to where you and Jack are sitting, shyly asking if she can sit with you and play with Jack. You hesitate but Jack gives you puppy eyes and you can never say no to him. Some of his facial expressions always reminded you of Joel but with the man actually being here now, you’re noticing it much more. You look over at him and his eyes are locked on the three of you sitting together so you look back at Ellie.

“So…” you begin, waiting for her to look up at you and when she does, you can see the mischievous look in her eyes. 

“You’re gonna ask me about Joel,” she grins, “y’know, he was talking to Tommy about you last night. They thought I was asleep but there was a lot of yelling.” 

“What exactly were they saying?” you ask, and she looks back at Jack, taking the piece of food he offers her. 

“I dunno, Joel was grumpy that Tommy didn’t tell him that you were here but Tommy told Joel that you didn’t want him to know,” she says, “he’s always grumpy though, so that’s nothing new.” 

You weren’t planning on asking her but you’re dying to know how exactly Joel ended up dragging a teenager all the way to Wyoming. 

“What’s the deal with you and Joel?” you ask, “not a long lost kid, are you?” 

She just laughs and shakes her head, “nah, I mean he acts like a dad but he’s just fulfilling a request from someone. I’m just cargo.” 

She says it non-chalantly but something in her expression changes, so small you barely notice. It’s there though but before you can question her further, she turns the tables back to you.

“What the deal with you and Joel? I mean, clearly the kid is his… did he-”

“Ellie,” a voice cuts in and you both jump, not noticing that Joel somehow snuck up on the both of you. Before either of you can answer, a little voice speaks up.

“Hi,” Jack says, waving at Joel who once again, looks shocked that there’s a child there. The boy offers him a handful of mushed up fruit and you watch as Joel hesitantly accepts it. 

You’ve watched Joel take down countless clickers and raiders so it amuses you that a toddler scares him. 

Jack takes a loud slurp of his water and tries to hand it to Joel before you take it from him, rolling your eyes. Ellie is watching the interaction with amusement and you can even see Tommy from across the hall, watching closely. 

“Who’re you?” Jack asks, trying to pass Joel more food. You take his plate, ignoring his grumbling. Another thing that Jack does that reminds you of Joel are his mood swings. Some days he is a chatterbox and others, you can barely get a peep out of him. Those days, he reminds you of Joel. 

When Joel looks at you, this time with panic written across his face, you shrug. You’re beginning to find this amusing because who knew all it would take is a toddler to break the big Joel Miller.

“Ellie, I have to go with Tommy for a bit. Don’t leave the four walls of this town,” he points at her when she raises her hands in defense, “I told Maria to keep an eye on you.”

“Don’t worry old man, I think I’ll hang out with these two,” she tells him but then shyly looks at you, “if that's alright.” 

You nod and watch as her face lights up. She goes back to talking to the little boy sitting next to her and you look at Joel who is shifting uncomfortably. 

“Uh, thanks,” he mumbles without looking at you before quickly walking back to Tommy. You watch the two of them leave, the older man casting one more glance you way before his brother pats him on the back firmly.

“He’s got it bad for you,” Ellie says absently, “like real bad. Were you two like, together?”

You stare at her for a solid minute, wondering where the hell this kid came from. Was she this blunt before? Or has Joel corrupted her?

“It’s complicated, and a long story.”

“Is it longer than a week? ‘Cause I think that’s how long we’re staying,” she says and you hide a frown. You’re still trying to find out exactly why they’re here and now you find out they’re only staying a week? You can’t decide if you are relieved or disappointed. 

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You offer, wanting to get out of this conversation because talking about your non existent relationship with Joel to a 14 year old is at the bottom of your to-do list. “Jack likes seeing the sheep and horses.”

Ellie grins and you can’t help but smile when she offers her hand to Jack who accepts it eagerly. You can tell she’s trying to fill a void and you’re beginning not to mind.

. . .

Later that night after Jack is long asleep, you sit outside on your porch wrapped up in a winter jacket and blanket. It’s cold but you need some fresh air to try and get your thoughts straightened out. Ellie tried to bring up yours and Joel’s history multiple times but eventually gave up on it once she realized you weren’t going to say anything. You haven’t seen Joel since this morning, spending the day with Ellie and Jack, then eating dinner and dropping the girl off at the house she and Joel are staying at before going back to your own and putting your kid to bed.

Joel showing up out of the blue is bringing back too many memories, some good but some bad. 

Suddenly, a voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you curse Joel Miller again for sneaking up on you. Being in Jackson so long is making you let your guard down too much.

“Hey,” he says, standing at the bottom of your porch steps awkwardly, “the kid gone to bed?” 

Small talk. He is trying to make small talk. 

“What do you want, Joel?” You ask shortly, half wanting to leave before he says anything else but if he is seeking you out, you want to know what he is looking for from you.

“I, uh, I wanted to say thanks,” he says stumbling over his words, “for entertaining Ellie today. She was real pleased-”

“I didn’t do it for you,” you snap, “she’s a good kid.”

He just nods, staring at the ground and scuffing his boots on the dirt. You watch as he clears his throat and looks up at you, a sadness in his eyes that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen.

“Tess is gone,” he says, and even though you had your suspicions since she’s not with him and he travelling all the way here, his words feel like a punch in the stomach. 

“How?” 

“She got bit on our way here,” he tells you and you just nod, swallowing back tears. Six years ago, you might’ve let him comfort you but all you want now is to yell or scream at him. Ellie wouldn’t tell you why they were here or why she was with Joel and you know you won’t get anything out of him. You know the only reason for his late night visit is to break the news about Tess.

When you stand up, his mouth opens to protest but he just offers you the closest thing he has to a smile. It’s pitiful. 

You turn to walk inside but his voice stops you. Refusing to look at him, you pause but stay facing the door.

“He seems like a good kid,” he says quietly and you know he’s referring to Jack.

There’s a million things you can say to him, you can turn around and yell or scream at him. You could ask him why? Why did you push me away when I needed you? Why didn’t you want Jack? What hurt you so bad, that you couldn’t accept him?

Instead, you walk inside your house and close the door behind you.

. . .  

tag list: @sloanexx @wandering-poetess @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibii

@chiogarza @jellybeanxc @iranispunk @imonmykneessir @wakaladjarin @sleepylunarwolf @pedropascalfan221 @abovenyx

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if i didn't tag you & you asked to be, it's cause you didn't show up when i tried! if it didn't work, msg me & we'll figure it out :)

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #joel miller reader insert #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #allies writing

[sashi-ya]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑮𝒀 byakuya kuchiki x f! reader

synergy /ˈsɪnədʒi/ the interaction or cooperation of two or more organizations, substances, or other agents to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects.

a/n: I suddenly remember I had this scenario in my byakuya folder from some months ago when I only posted one piece fics, so I re read it and said "why not posting it?" and so here it is. tw: trying for a baby with kuchiki taicho. impregnation and pregnancy alert. byakuya and reader try for a baby. a little bit of angst cause there is too much drama we can't forget. totally self indulging. slow love making. wc: 1.9K tagging: @byakuyasbabe cause I'm sure you will love to read this one

“When will you bring us the next successor, Byakuya?” they ask him. But he only wants to have fun with her. He really wants to enjoy her, for him, only and just for him.

“Cherry blossom uncle… I want a cousin!” Ichika asks, while playing with her limited edition Chappy plushie Byakuya got for her…

Day and night, he is always so busy, cold bed, cold kisses in between sleepy nights. Avoiding his lover, because he knows, because he can tell she wants it.

It’s so late, the water runs, and he splash his perfect countenance with it. In the privacy of his bathroom, Byakuya watches his reflection. He is paler than ever, he is tired, he is worried.

Does he really want a baby? Does he really want to share you with a new life?

“What a selfish behaviour, Byakuya” he repeats to himself, while tying his long hair up in a ponytail. Since the Quincy invasion, he hasn’t cut his hair, because he knows how much you love it. But because he also has to leave it long; he is a married man, the Kuchiki clan leader that’s becoming older and “mature”.  

You close your book. Something is wrong with your love. He has been acting a lot more distant -than always-. Colder. Byakuya hasn’t been tangling in your sheets like he did every night, and the mornings are as quiet as dead.

It has started to snow. There are two things you like about the gardens outside, one is when they are covered in pure white and the other is when they are bathed by that pink mantle of sakura flowers.

You realize that Byakuya is taking too long inside the bathroom, and after taking a swift look outside, you take his haori to cover your body. Wearing just a fine silk gown outside bed isn’t very proper for winter.

Knocking softly on the wooden door that separates you from him, you wait for him to answer. But he doesn’t. You panic… is he alright?

“Byakuya? Are you in there? Are you ok, love?” you ask. You could open the door, but you respect his privacy more than anyone else.

You can hear some sounds inside, and then, the door opening. “Sorry, you needed to use the bathroom?” he asks, coming out and letting you space to pass.

But you stay in place; your hand reaches his wrist. You know something isn’t ok with him. Frowning in pure worry, you take a look at his deep blue eyes.

“No. I’m worried about you. You know you can tell me, perhaps I can’t help you solve the problem, but I can support you” you whisper, being really serious about it.

Byakuya loves your resolve, and he also loves the way your words are like a sweet balsam to any pain in his heart.

He takes a deep breath and pulls you towards his chest. As always, his hot embrace is enough for your soul to feel sparkles fly. Where there was a pressure that wouldn’t let you breath, now, there is an aura of pure protection and fresh air.

“Should we… be parents?” he asks, grazing your back and unable to look into your eyes.

You smile, with your cheek pressed against his chest. That’s the problem, after all… “Problem”.

“You wanna be a daddy, Bya?” you ask, pushing him softly away so that you could see his face.

His look softens; a daddy… he has heard Ichika call Renji “daddy” so many times, when he held her in his arms, when Rukia told her “daddy was home”.

He had imagined this before. But it didn’t go as planned… what if… what if he isn’t here to protect his baby? What if… you leave him and his baby?

“You are scared, aren’t you?” you ask, aware of him unable to speak, but telling you everything with his eyes.

He looks down at your hands; and slowly nods. Byakuya has learnt some years ago that being afraid of losing is what kept him alive, human, remembering that he indeed has a heart.

“I am. But… I don’t wanna be a father because of the rest pushing me to it… I want it because I-” he murmurs.

You are sure, however, that his real intentions aren’t to please anyone else, but his own heart demanding to bond his soul to yours with the fruit of your love.

You smile again. A beam that’s bright as the sun. Your hand reaches for his chubby cheek, a soft caress on his beardless face and a look that can only a person who loves the other can give.

“I’d love to become a mother, but only if the father is named Kuchiki Byakuya…” you whisper, pulling him closer to you as you walk backwards.

He grins. Oh, caro mio, what a beautiful miracle is to see you smile…

Your legs hit the mattress behind, and you fall back. He follows you; both lay on the bed, looking at each other’s eyes. Lust? perhaps. But it’s tinted with so much profound love, it should be call purity.

“Can I make love to you, all night long?” he asks, with the tip of his nose grazing yours. His lips dancing so delicately over your crimson, needy ones. Your lover’s warm breathe mixing with yours, anticipating what you are about to do…

Joining bodies. Fingers interlocked. It’s cold outside, and the soft flakes dance in a dark night. But inside, the heat of your beating hearts, of your sensitive bodies…

Byakuya helps you lay your head on the pillow. The mellow orange tint of a candle dances and creates beautiful shadows against the wall. A shadow formed by two lovers kissing, by Byakuya’s soft hands undressing the woman underneath him.

His pale pink lips land on your forehead, on your lips, on your neck. He takes some time to inhale the spicy vanilla scent your skin has. Little grunts as a primal reaction when he does, he shivers, there is no woman in any of the worlds that could make him feel this way.

Byakuya’s delighted expression, is like a work of art for you. His frown softens, it looks like melting. His sharp eyes become the kindest. His lips barely separate, letting just a little bit of his front teeth to show. Long eyelashes create shadows on his cheeks.

“How can someone be so perfect…?” you ask, amazed, even after so long, at his angelical features.

The captain’s cheeks become blushed, hot even. The tip of his nose, too.

His lips barely tremble; and even if he wishes for you not to notice, you do. You play with a tuft of hair that’s been left outside of his low ponytail, curling it around your index. Even if the two of you were burning in desire, you didn’t want to rush things. It was all night long, right? There is plenty of time to enjoy every and each thing that you two will remember forever…

“Let me… please” you ask, slowly helping him free his body from the soft bamboula pants he is wearing. You enjoy the parts of his body you love the most, the kissable hip dips, the milky white skin so tight on his pelvic bones, the little scar that’s been there since his own petals cut him, what’s under the tiny happy trail that goes from his belly button down…

You are tempted to grab his sex, and you do with pure delicacy, making his muscles spasm and him to moan so seductively.

He reacts to it. Nothing should be received if it’s not given. Byakuya’s hand goes down, down to your sin. He takes it slow; nothing rushes him to enjoy the wetness forming in between your folds.

You begin to pump; you can feel his inner thighs tremble. He begins to trace circles on your core, making your toes to curl and your back to slightly arch in consequence.

Both give each other love, pleasure. Open mouths and pleading eyes fixed into the other’s. You can’t speak, neither does he. Why is it that you search for relief with only just your hands? Why don’t you melt into just one body already?

On the verge of climax, and with his lips around your nipples, you both stop for a brief second. “Do I?” he asks, when he wouldn’t normally do, he does now.

You bite your lip, you want this. He does too. Both ache for it, and yet still, even if it’s natural… you were scared. How could you not?

Byakuya stands up, he simply kneels in between your legs. Legs that rest on top of his thighs, spread so that he finally buries into you.

“I love you…” he murmurs, passing his hand underneath your waist. He helps you sit on his lap, leaving space just for your sexes to join whenever you are ready.

“I love you, too” you whisper, crossing your arms behind his neck. You can feel his hardness touching your entrance. But it’s not eagerly searching to enter, it’s just as if it was so natural, a feeling you never felt before even after so many times… why does it feel like the first time?

Byakuya’s hands hang over the small of your back. Yours in between his shoulder blades. Soft pecks given with pouting lips, and perhaps some little tears pooling in your eyes. You weren’t sad, no… It’s just that emotions were big enough to overflow your heart.

When, and only after some time, his hips begin to move in and out of you, he traps your moans in his mouth. You pull from his hair, he moves your body to accompany his thrusts.

Everything seems to go slow, so slow. You can feel each and every time his sex twitches inside of you. He can feel the way your walls spasm, clench to his length.

Your nails carve on his back, his teeth on your shoulder.

What a mystery it is the way the flame of desire gets feed by love, the way it grows so big, consuming all the air around, allowing bodies to succumb to nonsense and be only slaves of pleasure…

Words that turn to whimpers, emotions only expressed with physical reactions. Skin that sweats, skin that shivers, that turns hot and red. Lips bitten, pupils dilated.

Byakuya stops hitting you with steady thrusts that have become faster now. He blinks twice, he knows that he is about to finish. And you know it too.

The captain can’t speak, and can’t barely hold himself still… tell him to do it, tell him to finally seal this deal called eternal love.

You smile, blinking slowly and nod. You can’t speak, either. But, you just told him everything he needed.

His lips crash against yours. It’s not soft, not slow, not delicate. Now it hits you with the violence, the need, the passion, everything his soul is and that he usually keeps it locked in. Byakuya, and his impulses, everything he is, his true self and the part of him you love the most… the rush and the force of his love, filling you up, making you shiver, making you climax…

“Whatever the outcome of this it is… don’t you ever leave my side. I love you more than words can express” he grunts, once he thinks has finished but still some spasms invade his body.

You rest your forehead on his shoulder, still connected, feeling the warm pressure in your insides… “As long as your light keeps shining in the middle of my nights, I will be always here… I love you; I love you so much”

#byakuya kuchiki x reader #kuchiki byakuya x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya kuchiki imagine #byakuya x you #kuchiki byakuya #byakuya kuchiki x you #kuchiki byakuya x you #byakuya #kuchiki byakuya imagine #byakuya kuchiki #bleach #bleach headcanons #bleach imagines #bleach byakuya #bleach x reader #bleach anime #bleach fanart

[hellhound5925]

HERE IT IS 🙌🏻 THE MOMENT LONG AWAITED

Cyare Verd

*OC Raven x Hunter

A/N: Welcome back! I apologize for taking so long but ☝🏼 I edited my original story up to the fourth chapter only to decide I still didn’t like it so guess what I edited the same four chapters again 😅

I’ll start by saying, yes it still follows the season two storyline of The Bad Batch (unoriginal I know) but I did change it up quite a bit. If your looking for Omega (lol) shes gone 👋🏼 I was never a huge fan of her so I wrote her out 🫣 otherwise, I hope you enjoy the new version of my fic. I will be taking it off Wattpad and AO3 in the meantime so I can finish making edits.

Oh, one last thing. If you would like to be tagged please drop a comment or send me a message ☺️ Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking time out of your day to read this. It means the world to me.

Anyways. Without further ado 🤲🏻 I present to you my updated fic 💖

Prologue/Background

Raven (If you see this. It’s the Pov for the following)

​Before order 66 went down, I spent my time on Kamino training new batches of clones for the Grand Army of the Republic. I met many of the troopers who lived there during the time including Sargent Hunter of the infamous Clone Force 99. Our interactions were usually quite brief but there was a certain charm about him I enjoyed from our very first encounter. However, I was there to perform my duty to my clan and that always came first.

​It was an honor to continue the legacy my father - Kal Skirata - left behind. He and my brothers - the Null ARC’s - have been off trying to thwart a plot they didn’t realize would lead to order 66.

​During that time, Kal’Buir had asked that I stay on Kamino not only for intel but also to get out any defecting troopers.

A friend of mine, who is another Mandalorian by the name of Aspen, posed as a supply ship for myself. She would drop off supplies or bring me an array of random items I asked for to validate her being there. Aspen would then smuggle troopers to Mandalore where they were to live out their days as they wished. A part of our clan. Clan Skirata.

When order 66 did finally happen, my brother Ordo had warned me to prepare for something big that would be happening soon. Whether or not he knew exactly what I’ll never know.

For the first few days, I lingered on Kamino waiting for any one of my brothers or Kal’Buir to contact me but it didn’t come. About a week later a droid appeared in my quarters with a message. ‘Get out now. You’re in danger Sen’ika (little bird).’ Kal’Buir was the only one who ever called me Sen’ika - mostly because I hated it but he could get away with anything.

Shortly thereafter, I packed my things discreetly and called for Aspen. She came within a rotation claiming the usual - that she was here to deliver supplies for me - and to my surprise they let her in.

The minute I was on her ship, the two of us left. We ended up on the planet in the mid rim. Where Ord Mantell became our temporary home.

Chapter One: Cid’s Parlor

Raven

Standing out in the busy streets of Ord Mantell, the sun beats down on my beskar fighting the darkness that rests on my shoulders. I will my feet to move it’s as if this weight is too much for them to carry.

My irritation radiates off me as the thunderous pitter patter pounds in my head each time a citizen passes by - must be nice to live so carefree - I think to myself. Yet they pay me no mind, even though the very nature of my armor is intimidating.

The dull black shein of a well-worn helmet that sits upon my head, with the infamous T shaped visor. The rest of the plates are the same color with a few iridescent feathers poking out from underneath. Ironic right.

This armor is my pride and joy. It was a coming of age gift - if that's what you want to call it - from my father. Kal’Buir was by far one of the greatest Mandalorians in the history of our people - though my opinion might be biased.

A wave of sadness washes over me at the thought of him, my family, my brothers, and my best friend Aspen. Shaking the thoughts from my mind I tell myself they wouldn’t want me to sulk. Aspen would smack me if she were here. Unfortunately, the two of us had to go our separate ways after getting into some trouble. What else is new?

Aspen has always been the friend I can count on for anything. We met as kids on Mandalore and practically grew up together. Once we were old enough, the two of us would drink - a little too much - and run our mouths. Sometimes I’d come home with a black eye and Kal’Buir would say ‘I hope the other guy looks worse’. With a osik (shit) eating grin he knew I could handle myself.

Eventually that trouble caught up to us. When I had been on Ord Mantell before, she and I got into it with a group of merc’s and Cid saved our skin. Usually I didn’t pick fights we couldn’t win but that time I did.

That was just after our home was bombed by the Empire. My family. My clan was there as far as I know. Rumor has it the surface is no longer safe. The blast destroyed everything and killed everyone. Grief does funny things to people.

Since then Cid feels we owe her every time she calls. Aspen was smart enough to ignore her but I can’t leave business unfinished. I don’t like owing people anything.

Bitterness courses through my veins and I find my feet moving through the doorway.

Hunter

Cid's Parlor is loud and crowded - as usual. Which for enhanced senses is why I prefer the solitude of the ship. Let’s not even get into the stench of hot bodies and alcohol might put me over the edge.

I take a deep breath to steady myself and push out the overwhelming sounds and smells, in an attempt to tune back into my brother's conversation. Echo and I were discussing whether or not the Marauder needs maintenance. Which is true it does. However, we don’t have the credits.

One glance over at Wrecker and its obvious Tech is beating him - again - at dejarik.

With a sigh and a gentle swirl of the pint in my hand, I watch as the amber liquid spins like a world pool. The sickly-sweet smell of blood orange and yeast reaches my nose. I let myself get lost in it for a moment, the scent totally washing over me.

The weight of the things we have had to endure begins creeping in. My men. Their safety and well-being are my responsibility. Crosshair.

Before I’m sucked too far into the void, my senses pick up something that wasn’t there a moment ago. Dark, sweet raspberry, rose. I’d recognize that scent anywhere after the hours I’d spent committing it to memory.

Lifting my gaze from my glass, it’s pulled like a force of gravity as a Mandalorian female enters the parlor. A warmth washes over me mixed with a little relief at seeing that all too familiar T-visor. I can’t contain the shock that creeps on my face at her presence or the memory—

‘Alright everyone, today we go over the basics.’ Her voice is crisp but not cold, giving orders and yet…silky smooth. I could listen to her speak to the regs all day.

She continues barking out orders which I recognize as the basics for hand-to-hand combat. I stop listening about half way through just to commit her to memory.

Covered head to toe in dark black beskar, her visor drifts over the group of men before her. The small frame is quite a contrast to the 6ft Clone troopers in formation. She has such a commanding presence, exuding confidence. My eyes roam over her curves and stop at the dual westar -35’s attached to either side of her thighs. For a moment I swear my heart might leap out of my chest—

Raven Skirata.

My trousers suddenly become constricting forcing me to shift uncomfortably. We only ever ran into one another a few times on Kamino. Mostly casual conversation about war efforts. The sound of her laugh when I told her about some of the things we’d improvised on missions, is one my brain never lets me forget. I never did get the courage to ask her about herself.

Raven crosses over to the bar and my eyes follow her every move. It’s only now that I notice she’s skinnier than I remember. Her complexion is quite pale in comparison to the dark circles under her eyes. The sight causes my chest to tighten. What the hell happened?

"Long time no see. I was starting to think you wised up" the Twi-lek bartender says by way of greeting. There's a long pause as the Raven drops her shoulders considerably.

"Unfortunately, I'm a little low on rations to be wise" she shoots back, that silky smooth voice taking on a sarcastic tone.

Having caught the attention of a rather large man - whose been talking loud enough for everyone in here to hear - he leans over to speak to her.

"Wow, that must be real beskar.......Wonder what kind of price someone would pay for th-that...." He slurs a little at the end.

In one smooth motion, Raven ejects her vibro-blade from her vambrace - the steel practically sings - slamming his head into the bar top with the other hand. A loud thud follows. Some of the patrons stop talking to stare while the Twi-lek laughs.

Pressing her blade to his throat she leans in close she sneers, "Try to take it from me and I'll find out how much someone will pay for your head.”

The man proceeds to mumble and she cocks her head at the bar tender as if in annoyance. Letting go of the man he slumps to his knees before getting up and stumbling away, hand pressed to his temple.

I have to work had to suppress the smile that threatens to creep onto my face, the corner of my mouth twitches anyways.

"Don't mess with Mandalorians" Echo chuckles, drawing attention. Raven glances our way tensing. Mentally I command myself to look away but I can’t. For a moment I swear, even through her visor we make eye contact.

Raven

After I’m satisfied I’ve put this man in his place, I let go and he slumps to the floor. Comments fly from over my shoulder but there’s that voice I’ve heard thousands of times that stands out.

I can’t help but turn and that when I see them. The red and white plastoid. Thanking my ancestors for the helmet, I roll my eyes at just how ironic it is they are here. Sargent Hunter and the Bad Batch. He and I have spoken a few times on Kamino but the others I’ve never officially met.

Frozen in place, I stare for a second. The Sargent doesn’t take his eyes off me with an unreadable expression. If I’m lucky he won’t recognize me - I think to myself. Forcing myself to move, I turn back to the bartender with a finger in the air, signaling I’d like a shot.

My gloved hands make their way to my helmet and gently slide it off, letting my messy blonde braid at the back of my head fall. Lately I find myself caring less and less about what I look like.

Placing my helmet on the bar top, I take a breath to steady myself before taking the shot. The burning liquid a welcomed punishment if nothing else.

The bartender nods over my shoulder and I sign knowing what's coming.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes" Cid says, throwing an arm over me like we are old pals.

I roll my hazel eyes "I'm not here because I want to be. Lets get on with it" I grumble.

"No 'Hi Cid, how are you?'" She asks.

"Nar'sheb (shove it)" I say in my native tongue with a polite smile on my face. She has no idea what I said to her but there's a snicker from someone close by.

————

"Remember what happened last time you threw your attitude around like that? " Cid scolds me as we enter her office.

Picking dust off my flight suit I sass, "I'm not here to discuss my 'attitude'. What's the mission?"

Cid moves behind her desk and crosses her arms "Fine, I need you to help out a group of fine gentlemen." She starts to explain, her tone a little too...chipper.

I raise a brow, shifting my weight and hum my dissatisfaction.

Cid immediately gets defensive, “Look it’s not my fault you mandos like to find trouble. You’re just lucky I was there to bail you out. Besides, these guys could really use someone with your skills. Dooku's private stash is being relocated by the Empire and I want you to help them get as much as possible".

The fact that she said Empire had my attention and attitude immediately shifts.

"I thought you might like that and I promise I'll give you 20%" she continues noticing my mood lighten.

"30 and it's a deal" I counter.

"Hey! I gotta pay those other guys too. I feel I'm being quite generous.”

I guess for considering who I’m speaking with… "Fine 20%, Now who are these guys?"

"They call themselves the Bad Batch. Wait here I'll go get them" she doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she heads out the door.

For a moment I stay where she left me and contemplate my next move. I can either play it like I don’t know them and take the chance their Sargent will recognize me or…

With an annoyed sigh, I stride over to her desk and set my helmet down before scanning the book shelves. Most of these I’ve read during my ‘spare time’ when Cid let me crash here before. Not surprisingly, there’s nothing new.

Leaning my back against one I take my gloves off and unbraid my hair. The blonde waves fall loosely over one shoulder ending just below my breast. It’s a wonder I ever let it get this long but a part of me just can’t bring myself to cut it.

I make myself comfortable at her desk, leaning back and kicking my boots up on it, When Cid flings the door open and scowls at me. My stomach ties itself into knots but I try to seem disinterested by playing with my hair.

There’s a chance these guys decided like the others to side with the Empire. But the odds they did and they are here? Slim but not zero.

Pushing off the desk I stand and stroll around to the front, leaning against it. A few golden strands fall into my face with the movement. My hands naturally side down towards my blasters holstered at my sides. A defense position that’s become muscle memory. The Sargent eyes follow my every move.

"Take it easy there Mando these are the good guys."

Cid rolls her eyes after seeing my body language. Once again in typical Cid fashion she hid this from me, likely knowing I wouldn’t come.

The largest one of the 4 pushes past.

"I'm Wrecker! I like to blow stuff up!" He says very loudly, sticking out his hand. My body is further tensing.

I hesitantly shake his hand, which compared to mine - even with gloves on - looks like it could easily crush it.

"Wrecker, I feel that last part was not necessary" says the one holding a datapad.

"I am Tech by the way.”

Nodding by way of greeting, I quickly glance over at their Sargent. Had I blinked I would have missed the split second of recognition before the mask of a leader slid into place.

The one with a socket arm glances over at him. Probably from the tension radiating off of me. Those amber eyes see me for exactly who I am.

My breathing picks up, but I quickly get it back under control. The former doesn’t seem to notice, not taking his eyes off me.

I decide to meet his gaze with a challenging one. Hoping to hide whatever it is he sees.

Shaking his head like he’s having a difficult time dragging himself from thought, introduces himself.

“I'm their Sargent-well was their Sargent...Hunter and this is Echo" he gestures to socket arm.

Echo waves at me with his socket and a soft smile. I nod slowly and clear my throat.

“I know who you are.”

Tech lifts his eyes from his datapad to look at me once again. Before he or anyone else can I say anything I continue,

“Raven. Raven Skirata.”

————

When I start towards my ship - alright so it's not really my ship, I stole it - I was so deep in thought I almost didn’t hear someone call out to me.

"Wouldn't it just be easier if we all went together?"

I stop not bothering to turn around "How do I know you won't leave me behind?"

If these are the clones I’ve heard so much about, there’s a good chance I can trust them. However, my instincts are telling me not to. Echo, almost like he is reading my mind says,

"You can trust us, we aren't like the others".

The sorrow in his voice fills the space between us, making me uncomfortable. I roll my shoulders, hands flexing at my sides.

Without saying anything I head up the ramp to my ship, gather a few things in my pack, and come back out to see Echo standing where I left him. The rest of the group must have gone to their ship. With a small nod he leads the way.

As we approach, I stop for a moment before heading up the ramp to admire the hull before me. An Omicron class attack shuttle but it’s been modified. It’s just as impressive if not more so in person. My brothers - specifically Mereel and Jaing - would have loved this thing, I can practically hear them fighting with even Ordo for who would pilot.

With a few steps up the ramp, I peer inside and it’s notably clean. Briefly I take in the surroundings noting the others up front in the cockpit area. Echo glances back at me sensing my hesitation.

“I’ll show you around”

I tip my visor towards him appreciatively, without saying a word.

————

Echo finishes the tour with the bunks, two on the left and two on the right. He gestures to the right, showing me which one is mine and offers me a gentle smile. With a quick glance I realize there are only 4 of them.

“Hunter usually stays up in the cockpit. You get his bunk.”

Great.

I nod my appreciation again and take my pack off my shoulder. The only things in it are a couple changes of regular clothes and some rations. I've not got much to lose that isn't my beskar these days.

Placing my pack on the lower bunk, the mythosaur skull on the back of my gloves stare back at me with hollow eyes. It’s almost like they know. Our people are gone. For a moment I wonder if anyone will even remember what it means.

I forgot Echo was still standing there until his throat clears. He says carefully, “Your father is Kal Skirata.”

My heart starts to thunder in my chest at the mention of his name. I finish settling my pack before I turn to face him. A part of me wants to answer but it feels like my mouth is full of cotton. I mentally thank my ancestors for the visor between us.

“He was one of my instructors. In my early days I mean. He was always really good to us. I heard about what he did...he got some of us out.”

Silence fills the space. I slide my helmet off, tucking it under an arm. Unable to look him in the eye, my boots seemingly interesting all the sudden.

“He’s gone.” My voice almost doesn’t sound like my own. Distant.

“Too many good people have been lost because of the war. I’m sorry to hear that.”

In his kind words, the galaxy feels a little less lonely. I finally lift my head and meet his gaze, seeing the loss there.

“I’m sorry for your loss too.”

Echo only offers me a somber smile in response. My walls go back up and I decide to change the subject. It comes out a little sassier than I had intended.

“So, you all have enhanced something or other right? I mean I was on Kamino and spoke to your Sargent a few times but mostly what I know is what I’ve heard.”

”Each of us had a unique quality. Wrecker is brute strength, Hunter has enhanced senses, and Tech is really smart.”

”Wasn’t there another member? Crosshair?”

Another sad look from him, “He chose the Empire.”

“Ah” I nod my understanding. “How do you fit in here?”

He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles.

“I was originally with the 501st under General Skywalker. We were on Skako minor and I was blown up. Captured by the Techno union and they made me mostly a machine.” Echo lifts his socket arm as a reference.

“My Captain. Rex. He and the Bad Batch rescued me. I owe them everything.”

That name. Captain Rex. It sounds familiar. ”No offense but you just met me and you trust me enough to tell me all this?” My sass once more evident.

He smiles and says “Your father spoke highly of you.”

My throat closes up at the same time pride washes over me. When I don’t respond he continues.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in” and with that he turns and heads toward the cockpit.

I watch as he reaches the others and takes a seat. Unable to do anything else other than process what he just said.

————

It takes me a while to recover from the conversation. A part of me hesitates to comm Aspen but I can’t risk compromising her.

Instead, I take my time to check my weapons (two blasters at my hip, vibro blade in my vambrace, and the various blades stashed in my boots and under my back plate). No one bothers to check on me, which is just as well. Finally, I end with checking the HUD in my helmet - which seems to be functioning fine.

Discarding my helmet on the bunk, I head for the cockpit where the others are chatting quietly. The hushed tones likely to prevent me from overhearing. Hunter stiffens as I approach which only confirms my thought.

The four seats at the front were taken up by each of the members. Leaning against the doorway I cross my arms over my chest plate.

"We don't have a reason to trust each other but once this mission is over and I'm paid, I'm gone. You won't have to worry after that.” The annoyance plastered on my face is visible to all.

They all glance at one another except Hunter, his eyes fixed on my face like he’s trying not to look anywhere else. He almost looks hurt at my comment.

"That seems reasonable" Tech says very matter of factly.

”Great. So, what's the plan?”

“Get to Serenno and scout the area." Hunter says turning his attention to space zooming by at light speed.

I sigh, "That's not much of a plan but I can improvise."

Wrecker chimes in, ”Ahaha you’ll fit right in!” Awkward silence fills the space before I break it.

“Right. Well I guess we should all rest up so let me know when we land.” Spinning on a heel, I head for the bunks.

Next Chapter here.

Taglist: @cloneloverrrrr @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @idoubleswearimawriter @savebytheodore @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @jediknightjana @techs-goggles9902 @clonethirstingisreal

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[nickfowlerrr]

same page

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!avenger!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY. pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess). SMUT (fingering, breast play, unprotected penetrative sex). public sex? friends to lover-ish?. fluff, too ig. if i’m missing anything please let me know.

words: 4.5k

notes: idk what this is and i didn’t know how to end it so i kinda didn’t lmao. also i’m too tired to reread it and edit it, so sorry for any mistakes in advance. i feel bad about taking so long with my dark!soulmate au fics so this is at least something to read in the meantime. it’s been sitting in my google docs for a hot minute so i figured now is as good a time as any to share it. also - reader isn’t necessarily explicitly described as curvy/chubby/plus size in this - i don’t think 🤔- but i’m tagging it that way bc that’s just how i imagine all my readers in my fics, whether i state it or not.😙 as always - feedback is more than welcome. :) thank you for reading 🥰 and if you enjoy it please give it a reblog. 💘

“I love when you moan my name,” Bucky whispered in your ear as he hovered above you, both of you covered in sweat and panting.

“I’m not moaning, I’m groaning you jackass,” you grumbled as you shoved him off of you, trying to keep your composure despite his teasing and the feeling of his weight on top of you. “We’ve been at this for over two hours, I can’t keep up anymore.”

“It’s called endurance training for a reason, princess,” he said as he moved to his feet, rising to stand above you while you stayed down on the mat, thoroughly exhausted. It’d been round after round of HIIT before Bucky had you moving on to hand to hand combat - which is why you were now sprawled out on the floor after he finally managed to take you down to the mat, landing his body on top of yours.

“I hate this,” you huffed as you stared up at him. “So much. In fact, I hate it so much, it’s actually starting to make me hate you.” You complained before getting distracted by Bucky pulling his shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the side while he still towered over you.

“Hm, well, I can’t have that now can I,” he started as you moved to sit up so you could bring yourself back to your feet. “Wait,” he said huskily as he shoved you back down on the mat before you could even start to stand. “I think I know a workout you might actually enjoy,” he smirked. “We can switch from combat to a different form of cardio, how’s that sound?” he asked as he moved down to be on his knees, straddling you. All you could do was stare up at him dumbly. You were sure you were making a fool out of yourself while you stared at him almost awestruck, big eyed, lying beneath him with your mouth parted open while you were still working on leveling out your breathing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough about how embarrassing it was to stop.

“Cardio? On the floor? How exactly is that supposed to work?” You asked breathily, chest heaving up and down. Bucky’s eyes fell to the swells of your breasts that were still perfectly on display thanks to your tight black sports bra.

Had you purposely worn it to your one on one training with him after the way he couldn’t stop staring at you and ogling your chest the last time you had it on? Absolutely. But you didn’t think it’d lead to anything. It never had before, despite what you may have wanted. This was like, your guys’ thing.

You and Bucky had always picked up on the way you looked at one another and every time you noticed a more… heated look from one another, you would each take it as an opportunity to tempt and perhaps even fluster the other. And he flustered you so easily.

For instance, you were completely distracted by him anytime he had his tight black t-shirt on, and once he realized, it quickly became a staple in his wardrobe.

And he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you anytime you were in the gym. Though your typical gym attire was high waisted workout leggings and either a windbreaker over a sports bra or a long sleeve tee, on the occasion you wore quad shorts, hello leg day, or would forgo anything over your top at all, it was like his eyes would be glued to your every movement.

And it’s not like you could blame him. You looked amazing. Particularly last week when you were sparring with Natasha. You were wearing the very same sports bra you had on now. It was new and held your girls up perfectly. Simple, black, and well fitted. It made you feel confident. You hadn’t expected Bucky to be in the gym when you arrived, but there he was. And when he saw you waiting by the entrance doors for Nat, he met your eye and sent a smile your way before his eyes drifted down and zeroed in on your chest.

It was almost funny to watch his abrupt change in demeanor as his only focus was suddenly all on you. You and that new bra you were wearing. It had to be new, he thought. He hadn’t seen it before, he was sure he would have remembered if he had..but maybe you just hadn’t worn it around him before.. That thought then got him thinking of all of your other bras he hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing before. And that thought then turned into thoughts of him being lucky enough to have the opportunity to see you in one you’d wear specially for him and then being able to get you out of it. God, your skin looked so soft. He just wanted to touch you. Well, that wasn’t all he wanted. He really wanted to get his mouth on you. You’d look so cute with his love bites all over you. Just imagining you walking into the gym, his marks on full display on your supple flesh and the gorgeous swells of your breasts. Fuck, he was getting himself worked up again, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted you so badly.

He didn’t even really notice his mouth parting open and his tongue quickly slipping out past his devilish lips, wetting them before grazing them with his teeth. And all the while, staring intently at you.

Now, had it been anyone else ogling at you like that (not that they would have), you would’ve been annoyed and probably would have immediately thrown on your jacket. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Bucky. And you couldn’t deny that you liked the way he was looking at you. You always liked when he looked at you.

Though nothing had come of it, he always made you feel like you were the only person in the room. No matter where you were or who was around. It made you feel special. Wanted. And that was nice.

You scoffed at his obvious staring, though, and that’s when Steve turned around and saw you, too. He smiled and gave a wave and then turned to Bucky. Then with a raised brow, back to you. And then again back to Bucky before he realized where his friend’s gaze was set on you and why it was there.

Steve’s eyes went big and he immediately got red in the face as he caught himself staring at your cleavage, too. He didn’t mean to, he’d never purposely make anyone feel uncomfortable or like he was staring at them, but he was curious as to what Bucky was looking at, so really, it was his fault he was staring. He coughed, pretending to clear his throat as he looked away, trying to be nonchalant. Then he moved to not so subtly elbow Bucky in his ribs. “What the fuck, man?” he tried to whisper as he turned around. “You can’t just keep staring at her like that, you’re gonna make her uncomfortable. She’s gonna think you’re a pervert.” Bucky finally broke his stare and looked to Steve as he spoke. He knew he probably should have at least looked a little embarrassed at being so obvious, but it’s not like either of you could read his thoughts, so getting caught staring wasn’t the worst thing. And it’s not like he hadn’t been called out on it before. Hell, it’s not like you hadn’t done the same thing to him before, either.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s plenty comfortable with my staring, ain’t that right, princess,” you rolled your eyes as Bucky called to you with a boyish grin.

“Hmm, no,” you said, shaking your head after pretending to think about it for a second. “Steve’s right, I do think you’re a pervert,” you taunted with a slight tilt of your head as you met his gaze.

“Then maybe I am, but only for you, doll,” he smirked.

You laughed a smile at his words and as Natasha walked through the door of the gym to meet you, you hoped you didn’t look as affected by them as you felt while you shook your head again.

“Really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you, Barnes?” You joked over your shoulder as you sauntered off with Nat to the ring.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” She asked.

“By you? Any day.” You kidded as you bumped shoulders with her.

“Oh, and don’t worry, Barnes, I’ll try not to wear her out too badly for you ,” she winked as she turned around to tease him, his eyes still trained on you while he smirked at her comments. Your face felt like it was on fire, but you ignored it as you needed to focus on your sparring with Nat, though not before hitting her with an elbow of your own as you got closer to the ring.

Though he was across the expansive gym, Bucky’s gaze still found you any chance he got before him and Steve finally finished their workout and headed to their rooms to shower, bidding you both a “see ya later” on their way out.

So yeah. It was evident he liked the bra. And when you saw you had endurance training scheduled for today with Bucky, you knew exactly what you were going to wear.

When you entered the gym, Bucky’s eyes when he saw you walking toward him were dark and heady and you felt a thrill of excitement shoot through you knowing you could make him feel that way. You were equally affected by him. The way his arms were bulging in that damn black tee… and his thighs in those joggers, god. You wanted him. Of course you did. But not just for his looks. Bucky was an amazing guy. He was caring and protective and funny and so sweet to you. But he could also be mischievous; he loved to tease you and play around. You guys could so easily be yourselves around one another and you could spend hours with him and not get bored. You weren’t the most social person, but around Bucky, you could talk about anything. You never felt like you were being weird or awkward around him, it always felt so natural. It was like you had known each other for ages. And if you were being honest, you knew you wanted more. You wanted to be his. You wanted to be able to call him yours. But you couldn’t bring yourself to make the first move. If he didn’t feel the same, you wouldn’t be able to stand it. You were completely terrified of rejection. And from him it would really fucking sting. So teasing was enough for you if it had to be.

When you had first started your training session, there were a couple of people in the gym with you, but after that second hour passed it was just you and Bucky. And he took notice of the emptiness of the gym right away, deciding to use it to his advantage.

It was just you and him and he was finally going to make his move. He had been wanting to for a while now, but didn’t want to ruin your friendship if you didn’t want him the way he wanted you. After talking to Steve, he was reassured that it was obvious, apparently to everyone but him, that you were both completely taken with one another.

And when he had you pinned under him, he couldn’t help but tease you. He wanted to see what your reaction would be before he really made his move onto you. He loved how flustered you sounded when you shoved him off of you. And by the way you stared at him as he threw his shirt off, he knew you were both on the same page.

When he shoved you back down on the mat as you tried to get up and your breath hitched in your throat, he felt even more excited. He moved to straddle you and was happy to see that your wide eyes staring up at him as you tried to catch your breath were as lust filled as he was sure his were.

His hands fell to your wide hips and moved with perfect sensual pressure up your waist, being sure your body was laid completely down onto the mat, before his hands found your breasts. He squeezed them as you moaned lightly at the contact.

“God,” he breathed with a smile, “you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He said, looking into your eyes before leaning his head back down, softly kissing the exposed tops of your breasts. You mewled at the feeling, hands instinctively finding his hair. You let your head fall to the side and when you saw the door to the gym, you were suddenly reminded that you were still in public.

“Bucky,” you panted, “What if someone comes in?” you said, worriedly. He picked his head up and grabbed your face to look at him.

“Then I’ll tell them to get the fuck out,” he said matter of factly as he looked at you like you were his whole world before slowly leaning down to finally catch your lips in a kiss. It was gentle as you savored the taste of him on your lips, a feeling you had been dying to experience for nearly as long as you had known him. And it was needy, too. You couldn’t get enough of him. As you pulled his hair, wanting him closer, the kiss became more heated. When you finally had to pull away to breathe, Bucky dropped his head and spoke into your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he breathed before placing light kisses down your neck.

“How long I’ve wanted to kiss you - to touch you like this,” he continued as his hands found the straps to your bra, pulling them down your arms as you wiggled to get your arms free. He pushed the bra up over your chest and you moved to take it off completely over your head.

His hands instantly found your breasts, holding and squeezing, massaging them as his lips attacked your sensitive flesh. His licking and nibbling, teasing your skin with his teeth and tongue, had you writhing underneath him. As you moved your hips up subconsciously searching for some kind of friction, you felt his hard cock against you. Instantly you became more needy, hands fervently trying to pull him closer.

You gasped loudly as he bit down on your pert nipple, suckling gently before soothing the sting with his wet tongue. You felt like you were going to implode if he didn’t give you what you needed. And what you needed was him. After all the games, the flirting, the teasing, the lustful stares, and stolen glances… you couldn’t hold it back - couldn’t wait any longer.

“Bucky,” you pleaded, hugging him more tightly against you in your wanton state.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he murmured against your skin.

“Need you. Please,” you said as you tried to move your still clothed hips against him once again.

“Yeah? Ya need me?” he began, smirking with heated cheeks, moving in to kiss you. “Where do you need me, baby? Tell me.” He spoke in your ear as he broke away from your lips, moving to trail kisses down your neck - causing you to whine softly.

“Need you inside me,” you nearly cried. You were growing more desperate with each passing second. “Please. I want you. I need to feel you inside me, Bucky, please,”

“Mm,” he hummed before moving back up to kiss your lips again. ”Knew you’d beg so pretty for me,” he smiled before he sat up in between your legs on his haunches, and his hands moved to rid you of your leggings.

You raised your hips to help him get them down your thick thighs before you completely kicked them off along with your shoes as Bucky stood and did the same. He now seemed almost as impatient as you were as he worked quickly to rid himself of his clothing. The sight of his thick cock had you swallowing hard before you let your eyes wander the rest of his incredible body. He didn’t seem to notice your gaze as you took in every inch of him as he wasted no time moving to get on top of you once again. Your hands found his waist as you needily wrapped your arms around him again. You moved your hands sensually up and down his back, luring him closer as he lavished your near completely exposed body with kisses. Your eyes closed shut in bliss.

His hands gently slipped down to your hips once again where he pulled down the waistband of your thong. After pulling it the rest of the way down your legs, one at a time, he threw it to lie on top of the pile of his clothes next to you as you pulled your knees up around him. Pushing your legs further apart as he kneeled in between them, he moved his hands up and down your thighs before he started to tease you with his metal fingers rubbing through your wet folds. You spread your legs even wider for him as he gently slipped one of his fingers into you. He played with you for a little bit, changing speeds, and motions and slipping his finger out only to push two back in, all while placing cheeky kisses anywhere he could on you as you mewled and moaned, laid completely spread out beneath him, losing yourself in his touch.

When neither of you could take the teasing any longer, he took his cock in his hand, hissing as he pumped himself a few times before he ran the tip up and down your slit, smearing his precum on you and mixing it with your arousal, sending tingles of pleasure through you. He moved from your dripping hole up to your sensitive clit and back down again while you were mewling at the sensations and growing ever more aroused.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned at the sight. “Think you’re ready for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded your head dumbly as you writhed around him, desperately waiting for him to finally put his cock inside of you.

At the first push of his tip into your tight entrance as he slowly entered into you, you gasped loudly, grabbing onto him as Bucky nearly growled out at the feel of you. He had tried to help you ease open with his fingers, but the size of his length was still stretching you more than you thought you could take and it stung but, god, it also felt so brutally good as he inched in. Your hands reached out for him as he continued to enter you a bit at a time, wanting to give you time to adjust to him. You found his hands on your hips and you gripped his forearms as he started to gently thrust into you.

“You okay, princess?” he asked headily. “Tell me if you want to stop and I’ll stop,” he assured you after you nodded your head and breathed out a “yes” to his question.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you moaned as he pulled out of you and pushed back in just a little harder.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. Knew you would,” he grunted in his pleasure before leaning down to kiss you deeply.

You wrapped your legs around him as he started to move faster, hitting you deeper, right where you needed him. “Fuck, Bucky…, god you feel so good. Oh,” you breathed out as you were turned into a mewling and moaning mess beneath him, making sounds you’d never heard come out of your mouth before, but you weren’t embarrassed. Not when Bucky was grunting and groaning, too. Praising you for how well you were taking him, every sound out of his mouth and every praise he showered on you was making you more and more slick for him as he moved his cock in and out of you deliciously.

“So you weren’t moaning before, but you’re moaning now, aren’t you, princess?” You chuckled breathlessly beneath him as he looked at you with a crooked smile on his face as he continued to thrust deep and deeper inside of you. You pulled his face down to yours and crashed your lips into his. It wasn’t nearly as gentle as it was previously, but it was hot and just as needy. You grabbed at him as he pistoned even harder into you, making you gasp as you felt your walls tighten around his cock, your breath getting caught in your throat. You could feel yourself getting closer with every move he made and he could feel it, too.

“You gonna come, sweetheart? Gonna come around my cock?” He panted out as he thrust deeper and faster into your heat.

“Yes, yes, I-I’m gonna come. Please, Bucky, I need to come,” you babbled out as best you could. He stroked up and down your waist almost soothingly with his right hand as his other held a bruising grip on your hip.

“I know, just hold it, pretty girl. You can hold it just a little longer for me now, can’t you?”

“Agh, yes. Fuck. I can hold it.. I can hold it,” you wanted to cry at the overwhelming sensations going through your body. It was too much but still not enough as waves of pleasure were surging through you with each drag of his thick cock along your velvety walls.

Bucky’s flesh hand moved to grip your other hip just as tightly as he spoke through grit teeth, like he was trying to stave off his own impending orgasm, too.

“You wanna be my princess, huh, sweetheart? Tell me who you belong to,” he spoke gruffly.

“You, Bucky, you. I belong to you. ’M your princess. I’m yours. All yours, only yours,” you rambled, though you meant every word. “Buck, please,” you moaned as your nails dug into his skin.

“Yeah you are,” he moaned back. “You’re mine. Come for me, princess. Wanna feel you come around my cock, squeeze me, baby. Oh, fuck,” he grunted the expletive through clenched teeth, his neck straining and his veins bulging.. His words and the look of absolute rapture on his beautiful face sent you falling off of the edge - head first into the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced. You swore you saw white as you came hard around him, legs shaking as you trembled beneath him.

“Just like that, princess. Fuck you’re such a good girl,” he praised you as you came around him, talking you through your orgasm as your tight walls squeezed him, working to keep him inside of you, desperately wanting to be filled, triggering his own release. You felt him coat your walls as he came inside of you, his hips stuttering and slowing but not stopping completely as he rode out both of your highs. And you’d never felt so full or satisfied.

You gingerly dropped your shaky legs from around him and he rested himself fully on top of you as he stayed between your legs. His arms wrapped around you as he rested his head on your chest. You wrapped your own arms around him and you stayed embraced like that for a moment, trying to catch your breath as you held each other.

“I could stay like this forever, but seeing as how we’re still in the very public gym, maybe we should move things to my room?” He suggested lightly as he kept his head on your chest, arms still protective around you.

“Yeah, that’s…That’s a really good idea,” you breathed a laugh.

A couple hours (and an amazing round of shower sex) later found you wearing nothing but one of Bucky’s shirts, wrapped up in his sheets, and laying in his arms.

Your head was resting on his chest as you ran your nails up and down his skin, lightly tickling him as you did. “So…” you said quietly, though you knew he could hear you.

“So,” he hummed as his eyes began to fall shut from your soothing touch and warm embrace.

You suddenly felt unsure. Did this actually mean to him what it meant to you? You were nervous but you knew you had to ask. You needed to know one way or the other.

“I, uhm. I don’t really know how to ask this,” you breathed out with a nervous laugh.

“Ask what,” he said, sounding more alert now as he moved his left hand to hold yours against him.

“What.. hm. What does, this - I mean, what - what did this,” you tried to wrangle your nerves as you fought to actually ask him what you were trying to, but you just kept rambling until Bucky cut you off.

“What does this mean for us?” he said, looking down at you as you nodded your head still on his chest.

“Well, I mean, I thought I made my intentions pretty clear. I want to be with you, y/n,” he said seriously as he tilted your chin to meet your eye. “Like, really be with you. I want a relationship with you. I want you to be mine,” he whispered as he caressed your cheek. “But if you don’t want anything more than this, I - I’d understand. You just gotta let me know, because, I-”

“No!” you almost shouted as you shot up on his bed, turning to face him completely as you shook your head, reaching for his hand to hold again. “No, Bucky, no. That’s not at all what I meant by asking that. I just… I wanted to be sure that we were on the same page. Because I do, I want this,” you assured him. “I want this and more. I want… I want everything with you,” you confessed as you squeezed his hand and stared lovingly into his bright blue eyes shining back at you as his face lit up with that boyish grin he wore so well.

“Then that’s what you’ll get, princess,” he smiled as he pulled you down to meet his lips.

“And, you know, I am yours, Bucky,” you mumbled against his lips between kisses. “Always have been.” He pulled you closer and kissed you deeper at your words.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that,” he mumbled back, holding your face in his hands before letting you go and returning to your previous resting positions, an even more at ease, comforting energy engulfing the two of you as you just enjoyed one another’s presence.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x chubby!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky x chubby!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x plus size reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky smut #friends to lovers #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky fluff #bucky x curvy!avenger!reader #bucky barnes x curvy!avenger!reader

[dutifullylazybread]

WIP Whenever ✨

Thank you @lemonsrosesandlavender for tagging me!! If you haven't gone and read their work--go do it! The way that they write Rolan is delightful!

And, absolutely no pressure, but if you'd like (and you haven't been tagged already!), @jessfromouterspace, @underdark-dreams, and @my-favourite-zhent. Also, if you see this post and weren't tagged but you want to share something you've written too, consider yourself tagged (the no pressure caveat applies to you as well)!!

So the section below is a bit rough, because I haven't edited it yet, but it is also a part that I am SO EXCITED to share.

OKAY HERE YOU GO--An excerpt from Deeply and Immovably So!

“Wasn’t this supposed to be my celebration?” Tav asked, her lips quirking into a smile.

“The piper needs to pay her dues,” Alfira sang.

Tav looked to Rolan. His eyes glowed in the candlelight, flickering as the fire danced across his irises. “Well, shall we give them a show?”

“One for the ages,” she said.

And they did, much to everyone’s delight. If not for the clangor raised by the tavern patrons below, Tav suspected that Lia’s and Cal’s cheers would have given them away.

Tav didn’t realize that Rolan was so familiar with the choreographing for the magic shows that ran every two hours outside of Sorcerous Sundries, but for each time that she cast prestidigitation or minor illusion, he joined her efforts with his own, and the effect was nothing short of magnificent. And she hoped that she managed the same for his spells.

When Tav cast dancing lights, Rolan would use prestidigitation to change their colors. When Rolan created the illusion of an owlbear, Tav cast her own to give the creature a voice.

Tav’s blue butterflies were swept into the air, surrounded by petals and dancing lights. One of them, she couldn’t recall whom, filled the space with the scent of roses. Perhaps it was her, since Cal appeared shocked that prestidigitation could have that effect. They immediately followed that spell up by shooting bolts of ice into the night sky that, with some modification, exploded like fireworks.

And, for their finale, when Rolan lit the sky with a flash of colors, Tav illuminated his spell with starlight.

Over the sounds of their cheering audience, she looked at him, grinning. And, perhaps caught up in that excitement, he smiled back, glowing with delight.

And they held each other’s stare. The light above them illuminated Rolan, silvering his hair and his horns, and the starlight dripped onto his shoulders.

Despite herself, Tav was lost in the moment. Lost in him.

To think that she had never noticed his freckles before, and now, underneath the glow of their magic, she saw them all. Laugh lines curved around his mouth. Suddenly, it was Tav’s mission to deepen those lines. No matter how long it took.

#it took EVERYTHING in me not to share an even bigger spoiler #i am so AMPED to share this chapter #thank you for tagging me #darcy writes #deeply and immovably so #bg3 #rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav

[galvanizedfriend]

List your nine most favorite books

Tagged by @jinxedwood

It was so hard to keep this to nine. I feel like this is a list that changes a lot, depending on my mood (with a few exceptions). Like jinxedwood, I feel I must add a disclaimer: some of these books are great, some of these books are great to me. I like what I like.

Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. I've lost count of how many times I've read this. It's totally nonsensical and hilarious and I absolutely love it. I collect Alice in Wonderland editions, and I have read every single one of them at least once. Don't feel the same way about Through the Looking Glass though. Wonderland is very uniquely insane, which is what makes it great.

1984 by George Orwell. I fully realize this book is much more impressive when you're 18 and reading it for the first time, but I will absolutely fight anyone who trashes it. It stands the test of time to an eerie (and somewhat depressing) degree. I remember getting to the end of this and being so completely disheartened by the way it ends that I was upset for a week. I was 18, but still. It's a great book.

Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton. I am OBSESSED with Jurassic Park, ok? It's my favorite movie ever. And precisely because of that, I postponed reading this book forever because I was fully convinced it would suck and I didn’t want to live with the source material of my favorite movie letting me down. But then these really really beautiful editions of the series came out and I just had to buy them, and so eventually I had to read them as well. AND LO AND BEHOLD! The book is actually great! Not better than the movies, mind you, but really good. It's different enough that it's surprising even to someone who's seen the movies 30 times like me. And it's also very philosophical, whereas the movie focuses more on the adventure and the T-rex (for obvious reasons, to great success). 10/10.

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. First time I read this I was 13 and it was this 1936 edition written in Portugal Portuguese, maybe even the first translation of this work into the language, and I hated it. Then many years later I found this stunning Barnes and Noble edition in English and decided to give it a second try. Instantly obsessed. It's a huge exposition in vanity, hedonism, ego and the human nature, monologues can last for pages and pages, but it's so interesting, so insightful and the dialogues are so good.

Epitaph of a Small Winner (Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas), by Machado de Assis. This is a masterpiece of Brazilian literature and probably my favorite thing I've read by Machado de Assis, who's one of, if not the most revered writer of all time in my country. Brás Cubas is a wealthy 19th century dead man and the narrator of this book, in which he makes reflections and digresses on many chapters of his life - after his death. It's a basically a fictional autobiography written by someone by a dead man. I just googled to see what the first paragraph was like in English, because it's one of my favorites ever, and it's still great. "I am a deceased writer not in the sense of one who has written and is now deceased, but in the sense of one who has died and is now writing." He dedicates the book to the first worm to eat his flesh. Brilliant.

Vicious by V.E. Schwab. I love Victoria Schwab so much, have read almost everything she's ever written. If writing talent was something you could buy at a supermarket, I’d get myself doses of hers. I love her style. Even the things that I objectively don't like, I still enjoy for the writing alone. This is probably my favorite thing she's ever written. I love the duality between Eli and Victor, I love their rivalry, I love the ideological war between and how ruthless they are, how far they are both willing to go just to prove a point. Neither of them is a good guy or a hero, and I love that about this story. It's not really that original, you can see where she drew inspiration from, but still. I love it.

Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann. The moment I finished reading this, years ago, I wondered how the hell this hadn't been turned into a movie yet. Thank you, Martin Scorsese, for listening to me. Please, don’t fuck this up. It's not fiction, which is not something I read very often because I’m easily bored, but this is amazingly written. And the story is so crazy. Maybe Americans are more familiar with it, but I wasn't, and it stunned me from start to finish. If you don’t know what it’s about, at some point in the history of the USA, the members of the Osage Nation were the richest people in the country, and then they started dying, one by one. The investigation into those murders was crappy because of racism, but it also led to the foundation of the FBI as it is known today. David Grann is a genius. I've read other books by him, all of them non-fiction, and it's always an unbelievable true story that's just shocking. His investigation into the topics is fantastic. He has one about the lost city of Z that is WILD. I’ve told everyone I know about that book.

The Heart's Invisible Furies by John Boyne. I know John Boyne has some controversial books (which I have tried to stay away from), but this is so good. His writing is amazing. It's such a heartbreaking story, but the way it's narrated is so light that instead of being depressive, it just made me so hopeful. The main character is probably one of the most naturally likable MC I've ever read, too. Every other character in the story is either insane or absurd, sometimes both. Probably the best dialogues I’ve ever read in a book.

The Conqueror's Wife by Stephanie Thornton. Listen, this is one of those books that I'm sure not everyone will like. But it's almost like it was written for me. It's a historical romance, it has multiple narrators, it’s based in real people that existed and it's about Alexander the Great. I have an inexplicable obsession with Alexander the Great, don't ask. I’ve read tons of stuff on him, so the fact this draws a lot from the real stuff makes it even better. The title is a little misleading, makes you believe it's about Alexander's wife (or one of them anyway), but it's not. The four narrators are two of his wives, his younger sister and Hephaestion. It paints a very gruesome and realistic picture of Alexander, beyond the myth. 10/10 for me.

Honorable mentions: The Song of Aquiles by Madelline Miller, Battle Royale by Koushun Takani.

Tagging: @definedareasofuncertainty, @misssophiachase, @amandakc, @austennerdita2533, @purplesigebert, @sekretny and anyone else who might want to do this. :) Tag me back so I can see your book list, I love that!

#tag game #book recs

[lahooozaherr]

I Will Always Find You

Chapter 4

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: angst, fluff, yearning, pining, shooting a blaster with Mando (aaaaaay) vague description of dress on reader (listen, I said it was “traditional Naboo” dress but I don’t know if such thing exists I just love that dress Padme wears by the lake lol but I’m leaving it as vague as I can incase y’all want to imagine something else, I only describe having an open back) (wanted to give Mando some skin, ok), reader runs hand through hair and has strand brushed away but no actual description of hair, Din tries to not have sexy thoughts lol

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

My tag list (instructions & requirements)

Summary: You and the Mandalorian spend part of your “hooky” day relaxing in a place special to you. Later, he helps you get ready for the festival. Both of you are full of conflicting emotions as realizations surface and the end of the week looms.

A/N: Welp, this is getting done later than I intended. I recently visited my grandpa who is in the dying process. I had a good weekend with him and my family and tbh I thought I would be writing/reading in my spare time then but it didn’t end up happening, but that’s ok! I was able to come up with more things I wanted to add to it before so I hope everyone enjoys it. I promise we’re getting close to the smut lol I just have story building I gotta do. Also, I realized I already messed up the timeline I was trying to work with so look forward to me fixing that when it becomes more relevant. And by timeline I mean, it def takes more than a week between this and the flashback opening of the first chapter, so I’ll edit that. I’ve also been doing my best to leave reader and some other things as vague as I can but if that starts to sound weird pls tell me, I just want anyone reading to be able to see themselves in this. I also fixed the series master list banner since I kept have nagging feelings about the pictures I originally chose lol.

Song Inspo: Unfair by The Neighborhood

Inspo Playlist

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Read it on AO3

Din only really has himself to blame for getting himself in this position, he tells himself.

He was almost immediately mesmerized by you, and he let his heart and not his mind take the reins. That was mistake number one.

He went from experiencing loss, trying (and failing) to cope with that grief, to here. With you. He knows he has to face his feelings, because meeting you has flipped his inner world upside down. 

Every night he leaves you, images of you replay at the forefront of his mind’s eye. At first he’d brushed it off, chalking this up to some playful banter with a bored princess. But then he entertained it, learned more about you, watched you, and found himself enchanted by you. 

Somehow you had made your way through the cracks of his armor. Not exactly his Beskar, but the one he built around his heart. 

He hasn’t slept much tonight, opting to use this time to reflect and at least try to gather himself. He can no longer ignore what you do to him. How the sound of your voice has become music to his ears. How your touch sends electricity throughout his body from your delicate squeezes in the spaces of his arm that are not covered in Beskar. The way your eyes almost always find his own, despite the helm covering.

When he saw you help that lost child, when you opened up to him about your own mourning and conflicted emotions about your position, he almost snapped. Something possessive, or maybe more so protective, wanted to wrap himself around you. Prevent you from having to do this anymore. He could tell you didn’t want this. Maybe you wouldn’t say it, and he couldn’t out loud, but he could feel it.

He doesn’t know what to do with his own life and hasn’t for a really long time. Now, he’s coming to terms with his feelings, and desire, for you. 

But the life he leads isn’t a life for you. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. This life is dangerous…..and lonely. He knows he couldn’t ask you to become his just as much as you can’t, or won’t, abandon your position. It’s easier to accept that answer over the latter.

He’s let this go too far, but he can’t help it. You bring something out in him that he tried to forget he had. It’s like he simultaneously knows he can’t make you his, and that’s he’s too scared to. Which is saying a lot; a Mandalorian afraid? But not just over anything. Over experiencing that kind of love and then losing it. He can’t go through that, on top of the rest, it’s too much. 

Yet Din ignores his instincts and indulges in you. He wishes your affectionate glances were reserved for only him, and no one else. 

Catching you yesterday was almost the final straw, taking every fiber of his being to not rip away the garment bag that separated your bodies. His helmet picked up on the wild thrum of your heartbeat; and maybe he wasn’t certain how you felt but it had to mean something, right? Even if neither of you can say it. 

For now, he will force himself to settle for what he has with you until this job is done. 

—————————————————————————

“Mando?”

Din is wrenched out of his head, coming back to himself. Both of you are on a small boat steered by a droid, him across from you. He must have been lost in his thoughts on the short sail to the area you spoke of. 

You wave a hand across his helmet’s eye-line, “hey, are you in there?”

He cocks his helmet, turning back to you, “where else would I be?”

You let out an amused huff but your eyes search his helmet, concerned but observing. Returning your hand back to your lap, “is something wrong?”

“No, Cyare.”

Your face heats up, looking away quickly thinking he wouldn’t notice. It brings him instant satisfaction, the way he flusters you sometimes. The boat comes to a stop as you stand to gather the basket you brought with you. 

“One of these days, I’m going to find out what those names mean.”

Din carefully stands in the boat, stepping over the side to the dock as it approaches, “you can sure try.”

Although, the thought of you finding out has Din’s face heated, another moment to be thankful for the helmet. 

He steps up onto the dock, connected to the other side of the lake you departed from. An expansive field full of greenery and flowers, surrounded by a forest in the short distance. It was tranquil and private, just like you had described to him. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You remark, maneuvering your way out of the boat until his hand drops in front of you, offering help. You stop first, looking up to him to smile before taking it. His strong arm helps lift you out of the boat, effortlessly.

“I would come here to just be alone,” you continued on as you adjusted the basket and yourself. You decided on wearing a simple set of a tunic and leggings for this portion of the day, saying you’ll change later. The combination hugged your body’s curves in a way the dresses didn’t and Din certainly didn’t mind. 

He mentally scolds himself for wandering towards such thoughts. 

He follows you as you trek through the field, heading deeper towards trees that provide shade. Picking a spot, you drop the basket and plop down next to it. Sighing and stretching your legs before settling to lean against a tree, you close your eyes and inhale. Din lowers into the spot next to you, facing the view. 

Several quiet moments pass before you speak up again, “my mother found this place.” This caused Din to look at you, waiting for you to say more. You look into the sky, tightening your lips, not quite smiling and not frowning either.  

“It means a lot to you,” Din states. At this point he could tell how sentimental certain things were to you, he has very few things like that for himself. 

“It’s special to me, there’s a lot of good memories here. Time spent with her, many books….the first place I learned how to shoot a blaster.”

Din snorts before he realizes he’s even done it, you smile, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You? You can shoot a blaster?” He teases, emphasizing the first ‘you’.

“Are you underestimating me, Mandalorian?” Batting your lashes at Din. He can hear his heartbeat in his helmet while trying to conjure an image of you, aiming a blaster in hand.

“No….” He trails off. Your eyes trained on him with a determined expression. “I just don’t expect a princess to know how to shoot.”

“Well Mando, it looks like there’s even more for you to discover about me.”

“Alright, prove it,” he shifts to stand. He offers his hand again and you take it, firmly. When you completely stand, you're closer than he had originally intended and he can feel the tense air between you. He brushes a thumb across your knuckles before letting go. 

You give him a sly grin while motioning your hand towards him, “alright, hand it over.”

“Hold on, let’s find a better spot.”

The two of you don’t stray too far, walking into the small forest behind the tree you were previously leaned up against. Din stops and points to a different tree just a few feet away, “hit the middle of that one.”

Usually, Din wouldn’t be so keen as to just hand anyone his weapons. But, you weren’t just anyone, were you? He sets the blaster in your hand, switching off the safety. 

“Thank you,” you mutter, situating the blaster in your dominant hand, with the other coming up to steady it. 

Raising your shoulders, you assume your stance and level the blaster for aiming. He watches from behind, arms folded and observant. So far he could say you’re doing everything you’re supposed to and is already impressed, not that that shows. 

Taking a deep breath through your mouth and out your nose, your supporting hand drops and your finger twitches on the trigger. In a split second, the blaster fire perfectly hits the middle of the tree. Lowering the blaster, you let out a “Hah!” You puff your chest with pride, looking back at Din for his reaction. 

If Din didn't think he was in trouble before, he definitely is now. He hadn’t realized just how attracted he would be to a trait like that in YOU, and suddenly the armor is too hot for him.

He almost can’t bring himself to say anything in response, it feels like his heart jumped into his throat. A self-satisfied look on your face as you set your other hand on your hip, “you seem…speechless? Hard to tell.”

You were right, and that was saying a lot for Din, considering he’s not much with words to begin with. He quietly clears his throat and reaches to take the blaster from your outstretched arm, “Count me impressed.”

You beamed, but this time it’s shy as you try to look away from him as he takes the blaster. He’d tell you that was cute if that wasn’t so out-of-character for him. 

“What made you take this up?” Din asks as you return to your spot on the grass. 

“Father said ‘pick a form of self defense’ and that was my choice,” you mimic your father’s voice and shrug. “I just happened to hit it off with blasters, and now I prefer them.” 

“But have you ever actually had to use one?”

“No. I guess, fortunately?”

A silence falls, you fidget with your hands as he settles next to you, once again. 

“I know that part isn’t impressive,” you add, dejectedly.

“It’s not bad. I’m glad you haven’t had to yet,” Din then turns his head towards you. “Any more surprises?”

Your lips curl at the edges, biting your lip and stifling a giggle, “for now.” You wink at him and turn to dig through the basket you brought with, setting out various fruits. 

Din’s eyes focus on the food but says nothing. 

“Don’t worry,” you assure him, while taking a bite out of one you’d chosen. “It’s just in case you want it. I felt rude not at least trying, I can give you privacy if needed.”

Din mulls the thought in his head for minutes, considering the setting. He feels a twinge in his stomach, anxiety coming up as he shoves it back down. He’s grateful for how understanding you are when it comes to his boundaries. He hasn’t been given a lot of that when it comes to his helmet and his creed. The galaxy so far has insistently been against him when it comes to those. 

“I appreciate it,” he says. 

—————————————————————————

You choose for today, and just today, you’ll pretend. Pretend your obligations don’t exist, that you’re not a princess. That you’re just you, someone capable of being so much more than what she’s just been slated in life. Capable of being more with Mando. 

That’s when the realization finally sets in, just how deeply you’ve found yourself in love with him. You realize it’s only been several days since you’ve met him, you haven’t even seen his face! But that didn’t matter to you, you have never felt so drawn to and comfortable with someone before in your life. 

You also can’t say you didn’t let it happen, and it’s tragic almost. It didn’t help that the two of you had almost immediately fell into a rhythm together. Two stars in sync with each other’s gravitational pull, becoming a careful dance.

You can’t be with him, and he can’t be with you. But that’s assuming he feels the same way, and that you’re not really sure of. It might be better to not know. You can’t abandon your life, and he shouldn’t have to worry about you.

It hurts immensely. 

“Here, I’ll do this,” you say, shifting your body to sit back to back with him. “I can’t see you this way, and I won’t look.” 

Mando says nothing at first, visor trained on the spread you’d set out. His lack of response causes you to feel insecure. 

“I’m sorry, maybe that’s too much-“

“No. You’re fine. It works.”

You give him a small nod before turning back to face away from him. You focus your eyes on anything else; trees, hills, the sky. You hear a hiss escape from where you feel him shift to lift his helmet and your heart stops. How would it be to see that face? But you would never betray that trust he’s just displayed. 

Mando doesn’t completely remove the helmet, just lifting it enough to take bites of the fruit you’ve laid out. Fair enough, though. Whatever works for him and makes him feel most comfortable is more important to you. 

Moment’s of peaceful silence pass as you take in the sounds and scenery around you while partaking in some of the fruit you snagged. Beautiful, lush green forest and fields, a clear and beautiful sky, the silent chewing from your armored companion. You wish you could live in this moment forever.

Reality finds ways to drift back into your thoughts though, always somewhat present and hard to escape. You let out a quiet sigh, leaning your back against his. You feel him tense up, subtly. But before you can think twice about it, he relaxes back into it, giving you a small amount of physical contact. You’re relieved he allows you this.

‘I’m glad we did this,” you break the silence. “I needed a break, as brief as it may be.”

“Thank you for including me,” he says in his unfiltered voice, helmet still lifted. Your heart in your chest speeds up from hearing it. As much as you love his voice with the modulator, the actual, naked sound is music to your ears. His voice is still low but with a rich timbre. 

Worrying your bottom lip, you lean your head back onto his shoulder. He allows for that as well, maybe indulging you. It’s comforting, but also sad. 

“There’s a chance I could not become a senator, like my father.”

Mando stills, “Is that so?”

“Sort of,” you begin to explain. “We still have democratic elections. There’s a possibility of me not being elected.”

Mando gives a low hum, “What would you do then?”

A million ideas including him run through your mind at that question, but you don’t say. “Technically I’d still be serving in some capacity, it’s how our family has always worked.” Part of you had hoped he'd have something to offer, more to say to that.

It’s quiet again, this time more somber. You’d been thinking about this detail for a while, and it still felt like no way out, and you feel ashamed for even trying to look for one. Mando doesn’t respond yet, replacing his helmet to its normal position. 

You sit up and turn back to him, looking into his visor. Helmet already trained on you. 

“Thank you,” he all but whispers, barely picked up by the modulator. You give him a gentle smile in response, “Of course.”

After the afternoon had worn on some more, and some comfortable quiet moments had passed as the two of you relaxed together, you signaled it was time to go. 

Your heart tightens in your chest at the thought of every minute passing, becoming less and less time with him. You’ve tried hard to not focus on that, nor show that emotion. You want to enjoy the time you have left.

—————————————————————————

You and Din return to your suite at the palace, stopping just before the door. He assumes his regular place in front, waiting to watch you disappear inside for the time being. 

But you don’t go inside, you stop just at the threshold. You stop in your tracks, seemingly contemplating something. You turn back to him, avoiding his gaze but also not as you start to run a hand through your hair. 

“You can come in to wait for me…..if you want.” 

It’s silent again, but tense. Din can feel his heart in his throat now, mouth dry as he tries to swallow it back down. His resolve crumbles enough for him to step forward, towards you. In his usual fashion, saying nothing, he strides past you into your living space. You step to the side to allow him in and he nods to you on the way. 

Upon entering your temporary living space, he takes in the details of proof that you’ve been there. One side of the room is a luxurious, wide bed with accompanying side tables, a couch sits at the end of the bed. Across the room from there is a table with books, a rack of clothing, a vanity and dressing screen for your privacy. 

“The couch is probably the most comfortable,” you mention as you saunter past him. “Make yourself at home.”

Din does so, looking out-of-place as he cautiously sits in the middle of the soft couch. Posture straight and gaited, he looks as stiff as he feels. He is painfully aware of the effect of the whole situation on the inside of his flight suit. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable, he just never expected to be in such a private setting with you.

It’s been too long since he’s felt this kind of need and genuine desire, and that also scares him. He feels like a doomed man, mentally cursing to himself that if only you had met under different circumstances. 

You press a button on a panel on the wall near the dressing screen and all lighting in the room fades to a softer, yellow hue. You step behind the screen, bending to start removing your shoes. 

Din has to suppress the almost audible gulping sound that leaves him when he realizes he can see your silhouette through the dressing screen. He doesn’t know if you know he can see you like this and is too stunned to even say. 

“I’m happy we happen to be here right as this festival is happening,” you state. “I haven’t been to it since I was a teenager.”

He watches your shadow begin to undress, slowly peeling off your layers one by one until you’re in your underwear. Your hands move to undo the clasp on your chest band, causing an audible ‘snap’ noise. You move sideways, emphasizing a perfect outline of your front and back. He imagines your breasts must be as soft and enticing from their outline in the shadow. 

He feels a twitch in his flight suit pants then immediately seeks to contain that by resting his ankle on his knee, bouncing it repetitively to keep himself ‘busy’. He almost jumps out of his skin as you walk to the edge of the screen, only to stop just before the end and reach your hand and naked arm to the rack where the garment bag you picked up yesterday hung, plucking it.

It’s certainly not out of place for him to have nothing to say, because at the moment he can’t even muster a word. He’s way too distracted now and hopes you’re not looking for a response.

You maneuver yourself into the dress, swaying your hips side to side to slide the fabric over your body. Din unconsciously flexes his hands, imagining how those hips would feel beneath them. 

When you finish fitting the dress onto yourself, you emerge from behind the screen. When you notice him, your expression is curious and he fears he’s been caught until you ask, “are you ok?”

Din crosses his arms and stands abruptly, guarding the subtle expressions of his body language as much as he can. Give offers a curt, “Yes.” He immediately notices how flattering the dress is on you, laying perfectly with your back being the most exposed. 

You narrow your eyes at him briefly and turn to seat yourself at your vanity. Din takes the opportunity to roam the small space, observing the table of books and reading material from the event that had been unceremoniously placed there. 

You adjust yourself in the mirror of your vanity, fixing your hair. You look back at yourself with a determined look, twisting your arms to place your hair where you need it. Din watches your meticulous routine from behind, eyes flitting between your actions and yourself in the mirror. You can see him in the reflection as you work. 

“It won't be too long, but it’s a process,” you murmur, moving to grab various pieces of makeup to apply. 

Din can barely manage to offer any words as he imagines what it would be like to casually approach you, placing reverent kisses on the back of your neck and shoulders. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he finally says. 

You shoot him a questioning look where you see him in the reflection of the mirror, “are you sure you’re alright?”

Din forces himself to visibly relax, it’s uncanny how well you’ve been able to pick up on his mannerisms since you’ve met, “everything is good with me.” He feels like he sounds unconvincing and your lingering eyes in the mirror don’t help. You shrug and return to your tasks.

That companionable silence has returned as Din watches you apply your makeup, you mutter to yourself absentmindedly here and there as you move to each next piece. Some time passes before you set down your items and pat your lap, giving yourself a last look over in the mirror before standing. 

The way you look takes his breath away. He was almost shocked when he first saw how casual you’d chosen to be today but loved it all the same. He loved seeing another side of you and right now is no exception either. He felt domestic just from being allowed to watch you put yourself together. 

He wants to take you apart. 

—————————————————————————

“Well?” You query Mando as you turn side to side to get a good look over yourself in the mirror. “Do I look alright?”

He’s paused then steps closer behind you, looming over your shoulder at your reflection, you look at him. You feel your heart rate quicken under what feels like his eyes raking over you. It takes everything in you to resist the urge to turn into him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Beautiful,” he offers the one-worded response, but that's all that needs to be said. 

You turn to him, smiling, staving off a heat that threatens to take over your cheeks, “thank you.” He cocks his helm to the side in response. 

You stride past him, noticing his helmet visibly follow. You sway your hips ever so slightly as his visor scans you up and down. Getting closer to your door, you look back and flash him a grin and gesture with a nod, “I saw that.”

“No you didn’t,” he throws back at you, sarcastically. You snicker in response, “Come on, shiny man.”

Mando stalks towards you and stifles a chuckle, “I get a nickname too?”

“I tried, not sure how I feel about that one.”

“Not as fun as mine, mesh’la.”

—————————————————————————

The festival is bustling, vendors sell their wares and trinkets while others offer delicious and exotic street foods. There are large displays of flowers and accompanying decorations across the town and performers scattered entertaining the masses. 

You point out these things to Mando as you stroll through, your hand back in its place in the crook of his elbow. He doesn’t have much to say but you know he’s invested in your excitement and what you say. 

Here and there you'd explain the meaning behind certain displays and performances to educate him. You figure you can do the same for him as he’s done for you when he’d allowed you to poke at him about Mandalorian customs. You’d share similar traditions from your own planet and how they coincide with each other. 

You tried your best to be in the present and stop worrying about tomorrow, when you’ll inevitably have to say goodbye to the Mandalorian. You’re going to miss the camaraderie the two of you had unknowingly built together in the short amount of days. You’ve never found someone so in sync with you. 

Regardless if he has similar feelings, it’s heartbreaking all the same. It’s too scary at this point to ask. If you’ve learned anything about him this past week, it’s that his actions speak louder than his words. Although it seems he reserves many of those words and actions just for you. A self-indulgent thought you keep tucked in your heart. 

Day slowly turns into night, the sun giving way to a beautiful, pink setting in the sky. You finish up a snack you’d bought earlier as you nod at Mando, “fireworks should be soon, we should find a good spot.”

“Fireworks, huh? They really go all-out here.”

“It’s Naboo,” you laugh. “What do you expect?” 

“Do you have a spot for that too?”

You scoff in response, “of course I do.”

And that you did. It’s a bold move, but you offer him your hand, “follow me.” He takes your smaller hand in his gloved one, and it feels warm. Safe. 

You lead him along, navigating through other festival-goers until you find yourself in front of part of the forest that lines the city. He doesn’t question it though, and you bring yourselves to a small path in. When you’ve arrived, you’re at a small clearing on the side of the larger lake the show will display over. 

“I never doubted you,” he proclaims. You feel like you can ‘hear’ a smile in his tone. You turn your nose up with a ‘hmm!’. You hear a faint chuckle that barely escapes his helmet’s modulator. 

The sun is finally set, giving way to a beautiful, clear night sky. You take in a deep breath of air and admire it, smiling to yourself. You look down and notice he’s still holding your hand. You don’t say anything or move it, for fear of ending the small contact. He doesn’t try to break it up either. 

One by one, lights lift into the sky and explode. The fireworks are bright and loud and your spot is the perfect and more private place to view them. You instantly become entranced in them, their reflections flash in your eyes.

You suddenly feel a familiar shift in energy, one that you’ve been feeling all week. From the times you feel his eyes on you for long periods of time. Sometimes even when his helmet isn’t exactly pointed towards you. A feeling almost hard to explain, you just know. But you don’t turn to face him just yet, preening under what feels like his warm gaze, while you can. These last few moments are difficult to approach, no matter how hard you shove back the emotions.  

What will it be like after tomorrow? Will you feel a hole in your chest? A part of your heart that knows and wishes to know him that will forever be empty? Will you always spend the rest of your life asking “what if”?

You finally turn to him and he does the same. But there are no words. You’re both silent, save for the sounds of fireworks in the background. You look into his visor and admire the reflection of the bright, colorful explosions that play out on his helmet. It’s beautiful. 

A tension builds between you, again. But what could be said? It’s too painful to say out loud. You’ll have to speak through your actions, just as he does. 

You slowly lift the hand you’re still holding, cautiously bringing it to place over your chest where your heart pounds. You fear it might be too much when his hand stills, but then relaxes in place underneath yours. You just want him to feel your heartbeat, and he acquiesces. 

But he surprises you again, after a moment passes, holding his hand over your heart. He brings his other hand up to remove his glove, carefully plucking from his fore and middle finger, sliding it off then placing it in his pocket. 

With his now bare hand, he gently tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Instead of bringing his hand back, he caresses the side of your face. You can feel him hesitate at first, hovering slightly above your cheek, seeking silent permission. You oblige by nuzzling into his palm, relishing the feeling of his bare skin on yours.

The setting is calm but the storm in your chest is otherwise and you wish you could remain like this. Tomorrow is coming too soon, it’s too much. But you know, and he knows. 

When the show ends, the two of you remain that way for a short while after. You can’t bring yourself to end it any sooner but after some time, you decide to rip off the bandaid. When you slightly move from his hand, he returns it to himself but without putting the glove back on. 

When you return to your room, after a solemn and quiet walk back, you swear you can still feel the warmth of his skin on yours. It’s all he can give right now and you’ll hold it dear to you. 

—————————————————————————

Settling down for the night, you walk around the room to fade the lights back to the yellow hue. You sit on the couch as you read the last of a book you’ve had your nose in for the last hour. You glance up, down, then quickly back up again when you notice the silhouetted shape of something from behind your dressing screen. 

Hurriedly putting the book down, you set for the screen to investigate. Behind it is the pile of clothes and one of your suitcases that had made up the shape. You realize, to your mortification, that anything behind casts a shadow than can be seen.

That means. That earlier. That he could. He could see- Oh MAKER. 

Mando'a Translated:

Mesh'la = Beautiful

Cyare = Sweetheart

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#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x fem!reader #bodyguard!Din x Princess!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x fem!reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x female reader

[funnylittlelad]

A Touch of Humanity - Din Djarin x gn!reader

re-edited (Feb. 2023)

Read on AO3 - Masterlist

Part II: Endor

Part I | Part III

summary: Din takes you to plenty of places, but there's something about Endor. Something that pushes the two of you closer together than ever. As you begin to accept your voluntary role as Grogu's second parent, Din makes some hefty realizations. You just wish you didn't have to leave Endor. Especially when you find what's waiting for you on the other side.

word count: 11.2k

tags/warnings: fluff, Dad of the year Din, my love for Ewoks prevails, Grogu the menace but also Grogu the matchmaker, domestic bliss, co-parenting, the helmet comes OFF (technically), gift giving is Din's love language, I used canonical places and history until there was no more to go off of and then made up my own to flesh it out, description of anxiety/panic attack

“I need you to breathe,” Din’s voice comes in distant and urgent.

Breathe, right. You need to breathe. 

“C’mon, in one, two, three. Out one, two, three,” Din helps you count your breaths.

When the heaving of your chest comes to a stop, the Razor Crest ceases spinning around you. Everything is steady. Grogu looks up at you from your lap worriedly. Panic dies down to anxiety, allowing thoughts to once again process.

“Are you okay?” Din asks with his hands on your shoulders. 

You didn’t notice him get out of his seat and kneel in front of you. His firm grasp anchors you in the Crest.

“Yeah, I’m good- I’m okay,” you nod.

Din is relieved to see your eyes focus again. One moment you were talking about how striking Nabu looks from space. The next you were hyperventilating. 

“What happened?” 

He doesn’t remove his hands. You don’t intend to ask him to. Not right now at least. For a second time, you wish you could see Din’s face. You wonder what his eyes look like, what color they are. Are they round, or almond-shaped? Are his eyelids hooded? Would their gaze cradle you in tenderness and convince you that everything will be okay the way his hands are? The Corellian silk cools the top of your head, grounding you further. 

“Home is so far away,” you answer quietly.

Guilt strikes through Din’s chest. Maybe asking you to come was selfish. He took a fish out of the water and wondered why it couldn’t breathe. 

“I can take you back. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he tells you gently.

You’re immediately shaking your head.

“Are you joking? This is everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s just… a lot. I think I need some time to adjust.”

Din nods.

“All you have to do is ask and you’ll be home.”

You give Din a warm smile. One of your hands comes up to cover his gloved one. 

“Thank you, Din. For everything.”

Once again, he nods. Then his hands are gone leaving you to miss their weight. He’s back in the pilot’s seat in a blink. Grogu coos in your lap and gives you a tiny embrace. You hug him back, scratching behind his ears. He purrs at the feeling, eyes falling shut. It makes you chuckle. Din takes the sound as a final signal that you’re okay and begins the journey away from Naboo.

***

Tatooine is so much hotter than you expected. The Corellian silk on your head does an excellent job of keeping you from sweating into your eyes, but you still feel like you’re in an oven.

“I understand why you called this place a boiling Sarlacc pit,” you tell Din as you follow him through the streets of Mos Eisley. 

“We won’t be here long,” he assures you.

Grogu is on your back. You fastened the leather pouch Din puts him in to act as a sort of backpack. The kid’s head is all that’s visible over your shoulder. He coos in your ear when you turn down a street with a stunning view of the Mos Eisley market. It’s a burst of color in an otherwise drab setting. Pigmented cloth awnings, bright fruits and veggies, and all sorts of curiosities to look at. Not to mention the wide array of people. You’ve never seen so many people in one place. Din halts when he notices you have.

“You think so?” you ask Grogu. 

Another little coo. You nod and look back at Din.

“We’re going to camp out here while you get your next job,” you smile.

“Are you sure?” He asks, sounding extremely uncertain.

You pull out your spiral-bound sketchbook that had been looped through the straps against your back. The pencil slides out of the spiral spine into your hand and you hold it up.

“My muse is telling me this is the spot.”

Grogu gurgles in confirmation. Din hesitates. He glances over his shoulder at the market. Surveying the bustling crowd, he sighs. Mos Eisley is a strange new land for you, but you’re an adult. He trusts you in Dee’ja Peak. He has to trust you in Mos Eisley until you give him a reason not to. 

“Keep an eye on things. Any sign of trouble go back to the Crest,” he orders.

“I can handle myself.”

“I was talking to him,” he nods toward Grogu.

Your mouth snaps shut. An indignant pout takes over your face. 

“You’re really telling the kid to keep an eye on things?” 

Din shrugs.

“He’s older than you.”

You scoff and cross your arms.

“He’s still a kid, though,” you argue.

Din looks to Grogu over your shoulder again.

“Watch this one,” his helmet tilts back so you know he’s looking at you, “respect your elders.”

Then he treks away to the sound of your laughter. You find a spot out of the way beside one of the many tan buildings. Grogu makes curious sounds as he watches you sketch out the scenery. As you begin to make everything more solid, you explain the different techniques you’re using to Grogu. You’ve decided to make an artist out of the tiny menace. Maybe then he’ll have an outlet for all that energy and won’t get into so much trouble. 

You don’t notice when he drifts off. Once you’re satisfied with the sketch, you return your sketchbook to where it was. Din still isn’t back and you finally hear Grogu’s soft little snores. You decide to explore the market. There are so many things to see and try. The possibilities get your heart racing. 

First, you try a strange bumpy green fruit. It’s juicy and sweet. Next, you happily eat a skewer of meat. After that, you’re nice and full, so you move on to the curios. The sheer amount of things to look at is overwhelming. Clothes, trinkets, antiques, and furniture. You even find a stand selling board games you recognize from Nabu. A surge of homesickness hits you, but it doesn’t last long. There’s too much excitement being on Tatooine.

“You must’a paid a pretty penny for that,” a Twi’lek merchant with purple-toned skin says. 

You’re at her table looking over the case of different pigment powders she has displayed. Some of the colors you didn’t even know you could get like this. It would make mixing paint a lot easier and give you more colors to choose from. When the Twi’lek speaks your eyes get drawn to her intrigued gaze.

“I’m sorry?” you furrow your brows.

“That’s a fine piece of Corellian silk on your head,” she gestures to the one thing keeping you from having a heat stroke. 

“Oh, thank you. It was a gift,” you say and reach up to brush your fingers over it.

The feel of the fabric brings a reminder of Din, which makes you smile. The merchant nods.

“What would you let it go for?” she asks.

The question startles you a bit. You thought you were here to possibly buy something from her. 

“Nothing, it’s not for sale.”

“Everything is for sale for the right price. What about those pigments? That’s’a fair trade,” she nods to the case you were just examining. 

The offer doesn’t even tempt you. No matter how much you want those pigments.

“No, it isn’t,” a familiar voice says from behind you. 

You look over your shoulder to find Din staring down the Twi’lek. Relief floods your body. You didn’t know how you were going to politely remove yourself from the sudden negotiations. The Twi’lek raises her hands in surrender with a smile.

“Okay, how about the pigments and a hundred credits?”

“It’s really not for sale, but have a nice day,” you smile and turn on your heel. 

Din doesn’t move as you walk away. 

“How much for the pigments, Tiva?” he asks her gruffly.

“For you, Mando. Let’s call it forty-five,” she smiles knowingly.

He nods and hands over the credits. Tiva closes the wooden case and fastens the brassy latch before handing it over to him. It’s about the size of a book so Din doesn’t bother worrying about how much room is left in the Crest.

“I have to say-”

“No, you don’t, but I’m sure you will anyway.”

“I never thought I’d see someone get under that beskar of yours,” she muses. 

“No one’s gotten under my beskar,” he says a little too defensively.

After everything that happened with the Children of the Watch, could he be blamed? He’s already been told he’s no Mandalorian. He isn’t sure he really wants to be, not the kind he was at least. Maybe something more like Boba Fett. Something that gives him the chance at forming real bonds with others. Tiva hums.

“Whatever you say. Until next time, Mando.”

Din nods and follows after you. 

Grogu gurgles inquisitively in your ear. You chuckle a soft good morning to him. His ear brushes the back of your neck as he looks backward. The motion causes you to do the same. Din is further behind than you thought. He’s carrying something you didn’t notice before. There’s a light red blinking coming off the side of his belt. You stop walking to allow him to catch up. When he does he holds out what’s in his hand. The case of pigments from the Twi’lek’s table. You let out a gasp and gently take it in both hands. 

“You didn’t have to,” you breathe.

“I know.”

The soft look you give him is enough to make the spent credits worth it. Suddenly, you’re throwing your arms around him. The beskar is a little hot, but you don’t care. Din’s arms hover in the air for a moment before hesitatingly wrapping around you, just under Grogu. His firm hold around your lower back makes you feel weightless. You squeeze before letting go, not wanting to overstay your welcome in his arms. Din has to stop himself from grabbing onto you and pulling you back in.

“Thank you. I’m going to paint you something when we get back,” you beam at him.

If only you could see the warm smile you received in return.

***

The Twi’lek’s words nag at you the entire time you’re painting. You’re sitting cross-legged in the cockpit with Din. Grogu is fast asleep in his hammock above Din’s bed. From the pilot’s seat, Din can hear the strokes of your paintbrush getting fewer and further between. When you start chewing on the handle he knows something is awry.

“What’s wrong?” he asks without looking back.

“How much did you pay for the Corellian silk?” 

Din simply blinks behind his helmet for a moment. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. 

“It’s rude to tell you the price of a gift,” is his answer.

“No, don’t go all Mandalorian on me. That Twi’lek said it must’ve cost a pretty penny. How much was it?” you’re firmer this time.

“Tiva just likes to cause trouble.”

“Din,” you snap.

“Why is it important?” he snaps back.

A heavy moment passes where you both stew in the tension. You exhale through your nose and go back to painting. Din thinks the conversation is over, but that would just be too easy.

“It’s not that it’s important. I’m just… worried,” you sigh.

“You’re always worried,” his voice softer.

“You always give me something to worry about.”

Another round of silence, but without the tension.

“What have I given you to worry about this time?” he asks gently.

“Giving me so many nice things… I’m afraid you see me more as a babysitter than a friend,” you admit quietly, “I’d really like for you to see me as a friend, Din.”

Din’s stomach does a strange twist. You think he’s paying you? That the things he’s given you are for your time watching Grogu? The truth is, he doesn’t see you as a friend. He sees you as so much more than that. 

You’re what keeps him steady. You’re what keeps him up at night. You’re what he thinks about when he thinks of needing to get home, you with Grogu in your arms. You have given him the closest thing he’s ever had to a real family… and you think he sees you as a babysitter. Where did he go so wrong to give you that impression?

“I don’t see you as a babysitter,” he tells you, looking over his shoulder.

You peak above your sketchbook, eyes meeting the dark of his visor. 

“Do you see me as a friend?” you ask meekly. 

“No.”

Your stomach drops. Din can see the hurt. Before he can finish you disappear back behind the sketchbook.

“I consider you family,” he finishes softly.

He watches your eyes reappear above the binding, wider than before. The tips of your ears are red. Din can feel the small smile grow on his lips. 

“Really?” you whisper. 

“Really.”

“So… you just like getting me gifts?” 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Din faces forward. He knows you can’t see him, but he doesn’t want to face you as his cheeks heat up. He busies himself with some switches that don’t really do anything. Mostly, he’s flickering the lights in the cargo hold and the exterior landing lights, but you don’t know that.

“They make you happy. I enjoy seeing you happy,” he says, still pretending to do anything of meaning on the control panel. 

Your body floods with a warmth you’ve never experienced before. Everything feels lighter like someone turned off gravity. You want to hug him again, but decide it’s not a good idea while he’s behind the wheel. 

“I consider you family too.”

Din nods and hums in response. Under all that beskar, his skin feels electric. The Razor Crest has never felt more like a home.

***

There’s a shift in your relationship, an ease that creeps in and coats everything. The painting you made for Din after he got you the pigments doesn’t show up in the cockpit as you expect. There are several pieces of your art in there now. All are images of Grogu or Grogu and Din together. So, the absence of the most recent one doesn’t bother you too much. After all, it was only Din in the painting.

It’s the first time you’ve painted or drawn only him. You keep thinking about the way his gloved fingers drifted over it when you gave it to him. They made a light scraping noise against the dry paint but moved gently. The fondness that slipped into his voice when he thanked you has you questioning everything you know about tenderness. In all your life no one has spoken to you with that level of care.

“Stop,” Din’s voice comes sharp from the cargo hold. 

He lets you sit in his bunk to sketch during lengthier periods in the Crest. It’s a neat cozy little space that’s tucked into the wall with the option of a door for privacy. You don’t usually use the door, but Din has made it clear that you can if you’d like to be distraction-free. There’s something in the air in here that isn’t in the rest of the Razor Crest. Something that feels more like Din. Hearing him as you sit there makes you smile while drawing. 

“I said to sto- okay, that’s enough of that,” his frustrated voice carries through the ship once more.

“There, are you happy?”

The sound of metal hitting metal rings out.

“How do I get your arms in this thing? Dank farrik, stop moving,” Din’s voice is thoroughly annoyed.

The noise prompts you to go check in. When you emerge in the cargo hold you keep your sketchbook held against your chest. You see Din struggling with Grogu in the leather pouch. He has it strapped to his front but is struggling to wrangle Grogu’s arms into it. Those arms are wreaking havoc, causing tools that were once fastened against the wall to fly into Din’s armored back.  

“Need help?” you ask, amused. 

Din’s shoulders sag in relief as he looks up at you. 

“I don’t know how you do this,” he sighs, dropping his hands.

Another wrench clinks against his beskar. You laugh and place your sketchbook down on a crate before going to help. 

“Terrorizing your dad, I see,” you chide Grogu. 

The kid coos at you innocently and a screwdriver bounces off Din’s pauldron. You gently take Grogu’s hands. With the help of dramatic motions and silly faces, you tuck his arms into the bag. Then you’re able to secure the top of the bag so only his head could come out. His ears lower as he gurgles indignantly. You give him a boop on his little nose.

“That’s not a very responsible way to wield the Force, young man,” you tell him with a wag of your finger. 

“Thank you,” Din says.

“Do you want me to take him?” you offer with a sympathetic smile.

Din’s hands come up to brace the front of the pouch.

“No, you deserve a break. You can close the bunk door if we’re distracting you,” he reminds you.

The thought on his part makes your heart swell. You do spend a lot of time making sure Grogu doesn’t take the Crest down. It’s a nice feeling to know Din recognizes and acknowledges that. 

“You aren’t. What are you two doing exactly?” you glance around curiously at the scattered tools.

“I was giving the capacitor a tune-up. He was… helping.” 

You laugh and scratch behind Grogu’s ear earning a little purr. Din glances over to the sketchbook you put down. Three detailed sketches of him cover the page. One is his side profile, light glinting off his beskar forehead. The second next to it is him cleaning his blaster. He didn’t even know you were awake when he was doing that. The final sketch is below the two and centered. It’s his hands, just his hands. You’ve captured every wrinkle of his gloves as they hit the buttons on the control panel of the Crest.

Din’s breathing stops as he takes in the intimacy of each captured moment. An intimacy that he didn’t know was there. An intimacy that was so natural he didn’t think about it. An intimacy that didn’t require him to shed his armor.

“Those are good,” he comments with a nod to your sketchbook. 

You look over your shoulder. When you turn back to Din, your face is completely flushed. 

“Uh-thanks. Sorry… if me drawing you is weird. We’re just together a lot and it’s easy to draw what you know,” you rub the back of your neck awkwardly. 

“I don’t mind. I like them,” he assures you. 

You reward him with a small smile.

“So, where are we heading next? I’ve checked off five planets from my must-see list so far,” you quickly change the subject.

“Endor.”

Your face absolutely lights up with excitement. A delighted squeal bursts through your lips as you smile so hard it looks painful. Din’s heart flutters at the sound.

“Finally!” you cheer.

Din chuckles. You grab your sketchbook and walk off toward his bunk, talking to yourself about what you should wear. Grogu gurgles from where he’s strapped to Din’s chest. Din looks down to meet his big questioning eyes.

“What?” he asks the kid.

Grogu coos, raising his ears and looking to where you disappeared. Din follows his gaze to the empty entry of the cargo hold.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he sighs.

By the time he finishes the tune-up, Grogu is out cold. Din brings him to his bunk where you’re asleep. The pillow and blanket are scrunched in a pile beneath you like you made a makeshift chair. Your sketchbook is on your chest and your pencil is still in your hand. He gently places Grogu in his little hammock above you. Then, he carefully takes your sketchbook and extracts the pencil. 

Although he’s tempted, he doesn’t look through your sketchbook. You once told him your sketchbook is like a journal. You just talk in pictures instead of words. Din isn’t willing to invade that privacy. Privacy is a limited resource aboard the Crest, especially for you. You don’t get the luxury of the bunk door every night.

He is willing, however, to take a moment to watch you and Grogu sleep in tandem. Your soft breathing harmonizes with Grogu’s light snores. He’ll have to sleep with his helmet on since he won’t have the door to separate you, but that’s okay. You’ve been sleeping on your cot this entire time. He can take it for a night. 

***

The paper crinkles as you stir. You blink your eyes open. Grogu is sound asleep in his hammock. The crinkling draws your attention again as you sit up. You shift the pillow and blanket to find your painting. It’s stuck to the wall directly next to where his pillow would normally be. The way you had the blanket and pillow pushed up covered it before. You poke your head out of the bunk to see if you can tell where Din is.

The armor on the ground catches your eye instantly. Your gaze travels to your cot where Din is breathing softly, helmet still in place. He’s asleep meaning he’s given you his bed tonight. You put the pillow back where it should go and pull the blanket over your body. When you rest your head on his pillow you get a clear view of your painting of Din. All you need to do is loll your head to the side. 

Warmth spreads to your fingertips and toes. You imagine Din lying here staring at the painting as he drifts off. What does he think about? Do you plague his thoughts the way he does yours? The last thing you see before falling back asleep is the soft image of Din in the cockpit hanging on the wall.

***

Three days on Endor. Din is giving you three days on Endor. He could tell as soon as he saw your face exiting the Crest that you would need more than a day. Your hand is flying across paper the entire time. It gets to the point where you start taking notes for paintings later because you know you won’t have the time to sit here with your easel for all of them. 

The bounty Din was chasing took him all of two hours to catch. The guy is now on carbonite while Din plays tourist with you. Experiencing Endor through your fresh perspective is endearing. Everything is exciting you from the plants, the animals, and the native Ewoks. 

“I can’t go into the forest at home, but it’s all forest here. It’s amazing,” you giggle out as you examine the foliage above. 

Grogu coos adoringly from Din’s chest. The tip of your tongue sticks out as you begin sketching the Lantern Bird you spot in the trees. It’s large, bright pink, and preening. Truly a gorgeous sight that you can’t wait to paint later. You jot down notes of what colors to mix to get what you need. Din watches your diligent work fondly. 

“Dank farrik,” you curse under your breath suddenly. 

Din’s eyebrows shoot up under his helmet. He’s never heard you use that expression before. The thought that he’s rubbing off on you does something to him. It flips something on and suddenly his heart is a motor.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

You frown and flip furiously through your sketchbook. When you reach the end you sigh and snap it shut. The pages are so distorted from your drawing and painting that it doesn’t shut quite as much as it once did. 

“I’m out of room. I guess we don’t need to stay that long after all,” you tell him with disappointment dripping from every word. 

“There’s a village not far from here on Lake Marudi. We can see if they have any sketchbooks at the market.”

You give him a hopeful smile and nod. Halfway through the trek, Grogu starts to fuss making the two of you halt. Before Din can ask him what’s wrong, you’re slipping him out of the pouch. Grogu coos happily and takes up residence on your shoulders. You smile up at him as he gives your head a little pat to let you know he’s ready to keep going. When your eyes travel to look ahead once more you catch Din staring. 

His helmet is facing you dead on, his hands are still on the pouch as if Grogu never left, and his shoulders are still. You flash him a curious smile, which seems to snap him out of whatever daze he’s fallen into.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

Din clears his throat and nods. Then you continue on. The village really isn’t far. It borders Lake Marudi in a way that reminds you of the river at home. At first, you only see a few huts on the ground. They’re made with the resources around them which are mostly wood, tree fronds, and mud. It looks more like a small encampment than a village.

“I don’t think there’s a market here,” you say to Din as a couple of Ewoks emerge from the huts.

Din simply nudges your shoulder and points up. When you look, you gasp. The village is above you. A network of bridges and thatched huts sit in the trees. Rope ladders hang down to allow easy access. Ewoks can be seen walking across the bridges, going in and out of the structures, and generally living their lives post-war. Instinctively you reach for your sketchbook in a bag on your back but remember it’s full. 

“Stay here, I’ll talk to the hunters,” Din says.

He stalks off before you can argue. You watch him with a small huff as he goes to one of the Ewoks that emerged from the forest floor huts. 

“Y’know one of these days I’m gonna be the one that tells him to stay behind and let me take care of things,” you grumble to Grogu, but mostly to yourself.

Grogu makes a combination of cooing and gurgling. He gives your head another little pat. A small act of loving reassurance.

“Thank you, that does make me feel better,” you sigh. 

Din is on one knee before an Ewok with mud brown fur, a deep green hood, and a bow on its back. You can hear the strange jumble of sounds the Ewok is offering and the way Din returns it without thought. His speaking Ewokese comes as a surprise. You didn’t know he spoke anything other than Basic. After a few moments, Din nods and stands then makes his way back to you.

“You speak Ewokese,” you comment once he’s close enough.

“I speak many languages. He said there’s a market, but he’s not sure they have what we’re looking for.”

“Is it worth checking?” you frown.

“Probably not, but this is your chance to see an Ewok village up close. It’s possible they have other supplies we could use.”

You agree and he makes you go up the ladder first. Grogu hangs onto you for dear life, gurgling in a decidedly displeased tone. He feels much better once you’re securely on the landing. You follow Din through the network of bridges, studying every detail of the village. Up here you can see across Lake Marudi. If you squint you can make out another village on the other shore. A couple of small boats of Ewoks seem to be fishing. 

“Check the market,” Din nods to the larger hut in front of you, “I’m going to speak with the Chief.”

“The Chief? Why?” you question with furrowed brows.

“They’ve asked for my help with a Gurreck.”

At the sound of the beast’s name, a few passing Ewoks give wide-eyed looks. You have no clue what a Gurreck is, but it seems to have them spooked. 

“Okay,” you nod.

The market is small. It mostly has tools, weapons, and different size hoods. You find a table with some wood carvings of creatures native to Endor. Behind the table, an Ewok with black fur is working on another. It’s the only table with any type of art, so you decide to try your luck asking. 

“Um- excuse me,” you say hesitantly. 

The Ewok looks up at you and says something you don’t understand. 

“You don’t happen to speak Ewokese too, do you?” you ask Grogu with a frown.

He gives a gurgle in response.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

You pull out your sketchbook and hold it up to him. 

“Do you know where I can get one of these?” you gesture to it.

The Ewok says something else you don’t understand but reaches out for the sketchbook. You hand it over and watch him look at some of the drawings. He flips to the end and sees your sketches of Endor. Excitedly, he begins pointing at the paper and speaking Ewokese again. 

“Yeah, that’s Endor. I want to do more of that, but I need another book. Or even just paper,” you attempt to explain. 

The Ewok points to the sketch of the Lantern Bird and then back at himself. When you give him a confused look he repeats the motion with more enthusiasm. 

“Oh- you want me to draw you? I can do that, but I need something to draw on.”

The Ewok nods and shuts the book, handing it back to you. You watch as he lifts a floorboard and begins to dig around. He triumphantly pulls out a couple of pieces of handmade paper. You take them gratefully as he points to the paper and then to himself.

“One portrait, coming right up!”

Din finds you still in the market with a gathering of Ewoks before you. You’re sketching images of them. As always, the tip of your tongue is sticking out in concentration. Grogu notices Din first and greets him with a gurgle. The noise causes you to glance up. When you spot Din you give him a wide grin that just about makes him trip on his own feet. You put a finishing touch on the drawing and hand it to the Ewok in front of you. They all excitedly pass it around to take a look.

“How’d talking to the Chief go?” You ask as you wade through a dozen Ewoks to get over to him.

“I’m leaving with the hunting party to kill the Gurreck. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours,” he explains. 

You glance over your shoulder at the chittering Ewoks, still examining your drawing. 

“I think I’ll be okay here while you’re gone.”

“Keep an eye on things.”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think the kid has to watch out for me here.”

“I was talking to you.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth forms an oh. 

“Don’t worry, with the power of my pencil I’ll guard the village,” you smile.

“I don’t doubt that.”

Din gives Grogu a small scratch behind his ear. You expect him to leave after that, but then his hand finds a firm grasp on your upper arm, just beneath your shoulder. After a brief squeeze, he’s gone. You can still feel the pressure of his hand on your arm even after he’s far out of view.

***

The Gurreck proved to be more of a pain than Din thought. Once it was down, the Ewoks with him broke into cheers. The beast has killed several of their villagers and its meat will feed dozens more. It’s not often Ewoks get to say they’ve slain a Gurreck. The hunting party informs him that there will be a celebratory festival held for the occasion. 

Din is itching to get back to you and Grogu as night crawls across the sky. He knows that despite their stature, Ewoks are impressive warriors. You’ll both be safe there. So, it’s a strange sensation when what’s drawing him back so fiercely isn’t the need to ensure you’re protected. He just wants to see you. After that exhausting fight and being thrown into a couple of trees, he wants to hear your voice. A sound he’s grown accustomed to in the Crest. A sound he’s going to miss deeply when he brings you home.

When they arrive back in the village, Gurreck in tow on a wagon, it feels like the entire village is already outside. They’re all trying to get into the Chief’s living quarters. At first, Din thinks the chittering he’s hearing is anger. Once he listens a little harder he realizes it’s excitement. 

One of the Ewoks with Din shouts up to the crowd. As soon as they see the dead Gurreck, cheers break out and they come scrambling down to help with preparing the meat. Din is about to ask your whereabouts when you emerge on the bridge above with the Chief. You’re draped in garlands and flowers. There’s even a small flower crown on Grogu.

“I think they like me,” you call down to him with a smile.

There’s nothing but joy written on your face. You quickly follow the Chief down. Grogu once again holds on for dear life. When your feet hit the ground you take Grogu off your shoulders and carry him on your hip. The Chief leads you to Din. He approaches Din with open arms. A gesture Din knows isn’t an ask for a hug, but an expression of appreciation. The Chief begins to talk before you can. 

Din nods as the Chief thanks him not only for the Gurreck but for you. You were wrong. They don’t like you, they absolutely love you. Anxiety rises in Din’s throat when the Chief offers you a place in the village to stay. Forever. He’s tempted to not mention it when he translates. He doesn’t want you to tell him you’ll stay. He doesn’t want to go back to the Crest without you. 

“I don’t know what he said, but they’ve been really excited about my drawings,” you tell him proudly. 

Grogu reaches a hand toward Din. You hand him over with ease. It’s almost like Grogu can sense the complicated emotions running through him. 

“He said you’ve made significant cultural contributions with your drawings. They haven’t had documentation of their lives like that before,” he translates the part of the message that doesn’t make him nervous. 

Somehow, your smile brightens even more. You lift one of the flowery garlands off of your shoulders and place it over Din. The inside of his beskar is suddenly twenty degrees hotter. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” your words are soft and filled with an emotion Din can’t place.

He nods because he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know if he could speak if he wanted to. 

“They’ll be having a festival tonight to celebrate killing the Gurreck,” he manages to get out in a normal tone.

“That’s so exciting! Can we stay for it?” 

“They’re expecting us, it would be rude not to.”

The Chief grabs your hand and begins to pull you away from Din. You throw him one last smile over your shoulder before you’re dragged into the crowd of Ewoks. He lets out a sigh. Grogu gurgles in Din’s arms, his flower crown falling a little over his eyes. Din pushes it back into place.

“I know,” he responds to the kid.

Both Din and Grogu know that Din has it bad for you. There’s nothing scarier to a Mandalorian than the prospect of allowing themself something they want. And he wants you oh-so badly. 

***

The firelight dances across the paper giving the illusion of the little Ewoks you drew walking. It’s a beautiful thing, but Din finds the firelight dancing across your features much more interesting. One of the benefits of existing primarily behind the helmet means he can stare. Just because he’s facing your way doesn’t mean he’s looking at you and there’s no way for you to tell for sure. He revels in the small moments where he allows himself the luxury of staring at you. 

The Ewoks are gathered all around you, watching the drawing in awe. Grogu chases little rodents that reside in the trees. There’s music being played off of wooden instruments, and even a few stormtrooper helmets as drums. A handful of Ewoks sing in Ewokese. You take another piece of the paper they’ve been steadily giving you and you begin to show them how to do it themselves. It’s been like this for the past couple of hours. You’ve been showing them how to draw, what to use, and drawing for them nonstop. Truthfully, your hand is starting to cramp.

“Din,” you call over the heads of the Ewoks from where you sit on a log. 

Din stands and starts to go to you.

“Can you tell them my hand hurts so I need to stop?” you ask, looking guilty. 

He makes the announcement to the Ewoks, all of whom are visibly disappointed. Until the Chief tells them that you may be staying. The sudden cheers earn Din a confused look from you. He gestures for you to come to him and leads you back to the log he was sitting on across the fire.  

Din’s eyes stay trained on Grogu pouncing on a mouse as you sit beside him. Ewoks begin to bring you food and drinks, all of which you accept graciously despite already being full. 

“The Chief has offered to let you stay. He wants you to continue your work here,” Din tells you, voice tight. 

“Oh,” is all you say.

You stare into the round wooden cup full of green liquid that’s in your hands. Din doesn’t say anymore. He doesn’t give any indication of whether he would want you to stay and that makes you nervous. Is he going to leave you on Endor?

“Do you… want me to stay?” you ask timidly.

He finally looks at you. When he does his shoulders straighten out, his head tilts a little to one side, and you can read the befuddlement all over him. It’s been getting easier to read him and the little movements that give him away.

“Do you want to stay?” he counters.

You furrow your brows and press your mouth into a thin line.

“I asked you first.”

Din turns back to where Grogu is slurping the mouse’s tail down. His arms are resting on his thighs, hands hanging in the middle, and his back is hunched. You wonder if he’s tired. You wonder how heavy all that beskar is and if he ever feels like he might collapse under the weight of it.

“No, I don’t want you to stay,” he answers, his voice raw with honesty.

“Do you think I do?”

“I think… I know that you’re happy here. You’re celebrated here. I can understand not wanting to leave that,” his voice is only getting softer with each fireside confession.

“Din, please look at me,” you plead in a whisper.

When he does, your expression is gentle and understanding. He feels wrapped in comfort and safety by your eyes. 

“We’re a family, remember? I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to,” you say every word with intentional confidence.

“I’m not going to tell you to go anywhere.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

You exchange tender smiles, only you don’t know that. Din is so very aware that you can’t see the adoration he’s sending your way. He wants more than anything to be able to convey the fullness you’ve given his life. He has never felt like a complete person. Grogu filled in one-third of what he was missing. 

You’ve filled the last third, completing him and life on the Crest. He thinks part of him always knew that you would. That’s why he kept finding himself on your doorstep, enjoying your kindness, and appreciating how you are with the kid. He’s never had a way with words so he got you gifts instead. Only, he knows the gifts aren’t enough to translate what he wants them to. That feeling can only be spoken.

“You’re tired, we should head back to the Crest,” you say softly.

“It’s too dangerous to travel in the dark. They’ve set up a tree hut for us,” he informs you, voice low and tone inscrutable.

“Lead the way, then.”

A tan Ewok leads you up a tree and across several bridges. The hut you’re brought to is decently removed from the others. It almost seems like the village was once larger and this is a remnant of that. Inside there are just two sleep mats three feet apart. The light from the torches outside affords some visibility. Sharing a tree hut concerns you for Din’s comfort. He’s already had to sleep on your cot with his helmet on. 

“You can ask to sleep elsewhere. I won’t be offended,” you tell him as you sit on one of the mats. 

Grogu climbs onto it next to you and curls up. He’s asleep in no time. You don’t know how he does that.

“I would rather stay if you don’t mind.”

A bashful smile forms on your lips as you nod. 

“Do you want help with your armor?” you offer, knowing he doesn’t need it this time. 

He’s sore, but he’s not really injured. He’s perfectly capable of doing it himself, but he nods anyway. Din finds solace in your fingers plucking his armor off of him one piece at a time. The brush of them through his flight suit leaves trails of flames. Each time a piece of armor comes off he feels infinitely lighter, despite beskar already being lightweight. Soon, he’s left in only his flight suit and helmet. The rest of his armor is neatly organized at the end of the other mat. 

You spend an unsure moment in front of him. Your fingers tingle with the urge to remove his helmet next, but you refrain. That isn’t your choice to make. It’s only your choice to respect.

“I… I could use the Corellian silk to cover my eyes if you want to take your helmet off tonight,” you make the offer quietly, unsure if it’s crossing a line.

“You don’t mind?” 

“No, not if it means you’ll get a better night’s sleep.”

Din nods. He watches intently as you slip the fabric off of your head, hair flat where it once was. You fold it a few more times to make it thinner until it’ll only cover your eyes. The silk is cool and liquidy soft on your skin. You fumble trying to tie it around your head until Din’s gloved hands cover your own. 

Your breathing stops once you feel how close he is. He gently ties the silk not too tight, but enough so it won’t move. He receives an appreciative smile in return. You hear a short hiss as he releases his helmet. With a racing heart, you listen to him slide it off and place it on the ground with the rest of his armor. You don’t move, afraid to do something that might make the silk fall. 

He’s in front of you again. You can feel his heat. You can actually hear him breathing, a surreal sound. Din studies your face with his own eyes for the first time. No visor separating him from you. The little fish swimming on the Corellian silk over your eyes calls for him to remove it. To let you see, but he doesn’t. It feels like too much for one night. His nerves are already on fire.

You raise a shaky hand, inching it toward where his face would be. When the warmth from his skin hits your palm, you stop. Is touching him wrong? You don’t get a chance to think about it too much. Din turns and leans his head to nuzzle the side of his face into your palm. A gasp escapes your lips at the sensation.

The first thing to strike you is he has facial hair. It’s short and coarse against your hand. Then your thumb brushes across his cheekbone and you can feel the definition. You don’t want to move your hand. You don’t want to take more than he’s willing to give. Standing there with your skin on his, Din is willing to give you everything.

You can hear a shuffling and two soft thuds. Then his strong, warm, bare hand covers yours. You know your face must be entirely red by this point and can only hope the low light conceals it. He moves his face more, planting a small tender kiss on your palm. Maker, you didn’t know your heart could beat this fast. You didn’t know touching someone could feel so good.

His other hand takes your free hand and moves it to the other side of his face. You realize, he’s inviting you in. He’s inviting you to explore his face with your hands. It’s an invitation you accept without hesitation. Gentle fingers trace the downward curve of Din’s nose, glide over his strong brow, brush his eyelids, and finally take in the softness of his lips. Even with only your fingers, you can tell he’s smiling fondly. It occurs to you that Din isn’t breathing. One hand travels down his neck until it settles on the center of his chest. His heart is pounding as hard as yours, which makes you smile.

You grab Din’s hands and direct them to your face. He cradles your jaw so tenderly you want to cry. How could hands that take down beasts and bounties handle you with such loving care? With a smile, you turn and give Din’s palm a kiss to match the one he gave you. 

There’s a moment when the galaxy stops. Everything around the two of you ceases to exist. There are only Din’s hands on your jaw and your hands around his wrists. He wants to stay connected to you like this forever. He never wants to forfeit the warmth and softness of your skin again but knows he must. So, for now, he’ll soak in every bit of you that he can. For a heart-stopping moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You want him to kiss you. 

His strong hands bring you closer to him. Then, the softest brush of his lips meets your forehead before pulling away. It’s so much, yet not enough. It’s the only moment you find yourself wishing you could be Sola’s type of selfish. The kind where you just take because you want to. Yet, you’re happy that you’re not. You’re elated that Din is giving to you. You don’t have to take, he’s slowly offering up parts of himself. Parts you’ll treasure.

“Goodnight,” he whispers.

His voice without the modulator sends a chill down your spine. That low cool tone is still present, but it’s also smoother. He has a voice like the river at home: cool to the touch, but the further you step in the more the bite becomes gentle kisses at your shins. Like the water is loving you back. His voice makes you miss home, but also feel at home right where you are. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper back.

Then his touch is gone and you wonder who you were before you felt it.

***

You’re alone when you wake up. Din and his armor are gone. So is Grogu. The ghost of Din’s skin is still on your hands. Your sleep was filled with the feel of his face. It takes a minute to straighten yourself out before you leave the tree hut. As you walk by them, the Ewoks are sending happy-sounding words your way. All of which you return with a smile. 

After a few minutes of walking aimlessly trying to find Din, you decide to try to ask. 

“Do you know where my friend is?” you ask a white Ewok you run into.

The Ewok responds in Ewokese, but you can see the question on her face. You put your hands in the air on either side of your head, palms facing in. Then you do a move up and down as if you’re taking a helmet off. Your face heats up at the memory of last night.

“Y’know, the guy with the helmet,” then you make a cradling motion, “and the baby?”

The Ewok nods and takes your hand. You’re led to a large tree hut near the center of the village. In it, there are Ewoks eating at tables. Sticking out like a sore thumb, Din sits at a too-small table with Grogu while he sloppily eats something mushy. He perks up when you enter. You smile as you sit across from them.

“Does that taste good?” you ask Grogu as he devours his food. 

He gives you a little coo in confirmation. 

“Are you hungry? I can grab you some,” Din offers.

A fire lights in you. You nod, unable to get words around the lump in your throat. He gets up and heads to where the food is being served. You lean your face on your hand and watch him go. Grogu coos, drawing your attention. 

“What’s up, li’l guy?” 

He brings his plate over and sits next to you with it. You scratch behind his ears and he purrs as he continues eating. A soft chuckle tumbles out at his grab for attention. You love how much the kid seems to love you. Especially because you love the kid so damn much. It hits you that, if necessary, you would die for this little green terror. You wouldn’t even think about it. Is this what being a parent is? you wonder.

Din places the food in front of you. You were so wrapped up in Grogu you hadn’t realized he made it back. You thank him with a smile and start eating.

Din had his eyes glued on you the whole way back. The loving gaze you had fixed on Grogu nearly took him out. He doesn’t know how Grogu managed to find the one other person in this galaxy that he could believe loves Grogu as much as he does. Out of every house on Naboo, out of every person in Dee'ja Peak, Grogu ended up with you. Din has never been much for fate, destiny, or the Force, but the kid came along and changed one of those. It’s possible you’ve changed the other two. 

“Did you sleep well?” you ask him.

“Yes. Did you?”

“Yeah, better than I thought I would. I think those sleep mats are more comfortable than the cot,” you chuckle.

Din stiffens briefly.

“I’m sorry about that. We can rotate beds,” he says.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I didn’t say that to-”

“I know you didn’t.”

You can tell the smile that appears on your face is sappy, but you can’t help it. Din is here doing things to let you know that he sees what you do for him and wants to return the favor. Din, who has been taking you around the galaxy, something you thought you would never be able to do. Din, who gets you gifts just because they made him think of you. Din, whose skin was on yours last night, whose face was beneath your fingers. He’s sitting here caring for you like it’s part of his daily routine. You guess in some ways it is. Things just feel different now, in so many ways. 

When you’re finished eating, the three of you go to see the Chief. You have to let him know you appreciate the offer, but you won’t be staying. Din does all the talking really, but you figured it would be bad manners not to show your face. The Chief, although clearly disappointed, nodded in understanding. Din didn’t relay this bit, but he said he understood the two of them have a responsibility as parents. Parents. He’s used to being called Grogu’s dad, father, or parent. This is the first time he’s heard it plural in any language. He quite likes it.

The Chief calls for something. Two Ewoks, one gray and one black, carry something in. They present it to you. Your jaw drops when you realize what it is. A sketchbook. The cover is made from bark, there’s a thick stack of paper bound between with a branch that was carved into a spiral. It’s handmade. The Chief says something directly to you.

“He says this is a gesture of gratitude and a symbol that you have allies on Endor,” Din translates. 

“Is it okay to hug him?” you ask, eyes watery.

Din asks and the Chief nods. You kneel down and take him in your arms. His fur is a little itchy, but it’s a nice hug. As you stand, you wipe away some stray tears. You accept the sketchbook and hold it to your chest. You’re closer to Din than you were before. 

“Is it okay if we stay here while we’re still on Endor? I’d really like to get this place down for myself,” you nod at the sketchbook in your arms.

Din says something to the Chief you don’t understand. The Chief nods as he responds.

“The tree hut is ours for as long as we need it,” Din relays to you.

“I better get started then. There’s a lot I want to draw.”

***

Din follows Grogu around as he explores, redirecting him when need be. He’ll help an Ewok here and there if they ask, but otherwise, it’s a pretty calm day. A little after midday he realizes he didn’t see you get lunch. When Grogu finishes his meal of mashed grubs Din finds something more suitable for a human to eat. He manages to get a grilled piece of Gurreck. 

“Can you let me put you in this, this time?” he asks Grogu, holding up the pouch. 

Grogu lowers his ears and gurgles from beside Din on the table. Din sighs.

“I’ll let you hunt mice tonight,” he tempts the kid.

It works. Grogu holds his arms up for Din to grab him. He doesn’t struggle when Din places him in the pouch. Din even gets his arms in it. Then the two of them are off to find you. It doesn’t take long. You’re sitting with your back to one of the giant tree trunks near the central tree hut. As always, the tip of your tongue is out as your hand moves furiously across the page. You’re already several pages into the sketchbook.

“We brought you lunch,” he says as he approaches.

Your gaze flies up to him filled with surprise. Then it registers and a smile breaks out. Din loves how much you smile. He’s never met someone so willing to smile at him. You pop up from where you sat.

“Aren’t you two sweet! Thank you,” you place a kiss on the top of Grogu’s head.

Looking back at Din, you hesitate. Kissing him next felt like the natural thing to do, but how would you go about that? Dank farrik, you think. You place a hand on the cheek of his helmet. The impulse wins. Your lips meet the cold beskar of the other cheek briefly. Beneath that helmet Din’s head is spinning. When he’s in his armor he isn’t supposed to be the recipient of gentle touch. Only violent blows and blaster fire. Yet, here you are treating him with all the tenderness of the night before.

“I can’t believe you got him in the pouch,” you chuckle as you take the food from Din.

“I had to bribe him with mice,” he admits.

“Hey, whatever works,” you shrug.

“It looks like you might fill that before we get off Endor,” Din nods to your sketchbook.

You laugh shyly.

“Everything is just so beautiful here and the Ewoks have been so nice. Then there was the festival last night and… I want to remember it all.”

The word all hangs heavy in the air. You sit back down crisscrossed, plate balancing on one thigh. Then you flash Din another one of those smiles.

“You’re welcome to join me if you’d like. Might get boring, though.”

Din sits down beside you. Grogu coos in a pleased manner. You continue drawing between bites. The village spreads out on the page exactly as it is in real life, just in graphite. You have notes scribbled around about color and atmosphere. There’s an attention to detail that’s impressive. He thinks he could watch you do this all day. He thinks he could watch you do this forever.

Have you ever thought about staying? you had asked him. The answer is yes, he has. He thought about staying ever since returning from Endor with that first gift. Staying just isn’t something he was sure he could do. He didn’t know if he was built to be what you need in a real home. Sitting here with you as you draw and Grogu coos softly against his chest, he starts to wonder if he could be one day. 

***

Nightfall brings about less celebration this time, but it’s just as welcoming. The Ewoks feed you. They happily look through the drawings you got done that day as you eat. Din eats elsewhere, but he’s back soon. You can only imagine he scarfed the food down as fast as he could. When he spots you, you swear you see him relax slightly. 

As he sits beside you, the Ewoks flip to a page with a drawing of Din. A tan one points excitedly at the drawing then at Din exclaiming something in Ewokese. Your face glows bright once you realize what’s happening. 

The drawing shows Din carving a spear. He figures you must have drawn it earlier in the day. He was helping the hunters make more to replace the ones they lost fighting the Gurreck. As always, it’s a perfect depiction. Din’s stomach takes on a weird weightless sensation. 

“Why do you draw me so much?” he can’t help, but ask.

He can’t figure out why you take him on as a subject so often. It’s not that he doesn’t like it. Din enjoys the feeling of being intimately known in an indescribable way. He likes knowing you don’t just look at him. You observe, you take in every detail he has to offer, and you turn them into art. 

You can hear your heart in your ears. You can’t look at him. There’s no good answer to it. None that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete weirdo who likes to stare. What can you say other than the truth, though?

“I like looking at you,” you answer softly, eyes meeting his visor again.

Your eyes are wide, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Din’s own face catches fire, a familiar feeling around you at this point. His fists clench on his thighs. The urge to rip his helmet off floods him. You like looking at him, but you’ve only ever seen his armor. You’ve only ever seen the Mandalorian. You’ve never seen Din. 

He struggles with words for a moment. There are so many things he could say. So many things he wants to say. All he can get out is the bare minimum, the tip of the iceberg.

“I like looking at you too.” 

Embarrassment slips away and another smile takes over your features. Din watches you continue eating. Occasionally, you stop to dote over Grogu. He thinks about your touch, your kiss on his palm and his beskar, your overall caring demeanor. He thinks about kissing you tonight. A deep tug of desire pulls at his stomach.

Maybe Din is a little too eager to get to bed. If you catch that, you don’t say anything. Instead, you silently carry a snoring Grogu to the tree hut. You place him on your sleep mat and watch for a moment. His little chest moves up and down, a motion that brings you comfort. 

When you turn around, Din is standing in the center of the hut. You can’t tell for sure, but you have a feeling he’s been watching you. Deja vu hits and you decide to lean into it.

“Do you want help with your armor?”

Din nods. You start the process that’s beginning to feel like a routine. He stays still, committing your touch to memory, burning it into his skin through the flight suit. Every piece is on the ground, but his helmet. The torchlight bounces off his breastplate, softening the harder edges. 

“Would you mind…,” he trails off.

With a small smile, you slip the Corellian silk off of your head and fold it. This time rather than fumble with it you give it to Din and turn around. He ties it with the same firmness as last time. Slowly you turn back around. There’s that hiss, the sound of the helmet being put down, and Din stepping closer to you. Your heart leaps.

His fingers are bare when they cup your face. Soft despite the strength they hold, and warm despite the cold exterior they usually reside in. The soft pads of his thumbs caress your cheeks. You soak in every bit of him you can. Until you decide, just this once, to take instead of receive. Small details that have occupied your thoughts.

“What color are your eyes?” you ask.

“Brown.”

Your skin buzzes with the information. His voice sends electricity down your spine.

“Your hair?”

“Brown.”

“Is it wrong to try to picture you?”

It’s the sincerity behind the question that does it. The genuine concern for his comfort and boundaries. Din pulls you into a fervent kiss. He kisses you like he’s gasping for air. Your hands fly to the back of his neck. His hair is short, you discover this when you trail fingers up the back of his head. It’s softer than you imagined. Everything about him is so much softer than you would have ever imagined before getting to know him. 

Your lips move against his effortlessly. Din’s teeth lightly catch your bottom lip, earning him access to your mouth. His tongue meets yours briefly, mingling the tastes of dinner with a hint of mintiness. Then his mouth is gone much too soon. You would think you hallucinated the whole thing if it weren’t for his hands still holding your face. His breathing is just as ragged as yours while you try to compose yourselves.

Something changes in the air between you. It’s like you can feel the expression he has fixed on you. An expression of adoration and awe, one you’re sure you’re mirroring. Homesickness has never felt so far from your mind. You’re sure now that home is wherever and whenever Din’s lips are on yours. Everything you associate with home filled that kiss: warmth, care, affection, and mutual respect. Standing here with your eyes covered, you feel like you’ve never seen the galaxy this clearly. You’ve never understood life this fully.

“I’ve never cared for someone the way I care for you,” he tells you, his cool voice gentle and tender. 

“I’ve never cared for someone the way I care for you,” you smile, returning his sentiment.

The words wrap around the two of you, bringing you closer together. Din’s thumbs slide beneath the Corellian silk. They brush over your eyelids. The skin is smooth. He can feel your eyes move before his thumbs slide away to go back to cradle you. 

He longs to be brave enough to push the silk away, tear it off, and throw it across the hut. He’s brave enough to fight battalions, but tonight he can’t find the bravery to look directly into your eyes. With a twist of his stomach, he settles for resting his forehead against yours.

“I don’t want to go back to the way things were,” he whispers, breath skirting across your skin.

Your eyebrows furrow beneath his.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to stay like this. I don’t want to return to a life of merely visiting you, of only getting you in pieces. I want you wholly. I want you always,” each word is dipped in affection and pushed out earnestly.

You’re grateful for your eyes being covered. His words bring you next to tears. They grab your heart and squeeze it in your chest. It doesn’t matter what’s left to see out there in the galaxy. This spot right here on Endor is your favorite.

“You can have me as long as I can have you,” you whisper back.

A dozen butterflies have found their way into Din’s stomach. His heart flutters with their wings. He has the entire galaxy in his hands in the shape of your face. 

“You can have me endlessly.”

“Then you can have me endlessly too.”

He presses another, lighter kiss to your lips. It’s short but oh-so-sweet. Chaste, yet still spurs on the raging fire within you. Somehow the two of you find the strength to go your separate ways to bed. You listen to Grogu’s snores beside you. When you caress his head, he curls into you. You keep an arm around him, keeping him secure by your side.

***

The next day the three of you make the hike back to the Crest. Along the way, you stop to draw more things you see. Din is convinced you could find a way to fit all of Endor on a piece of paper if it means taking it with you. He lets Grogu chase after bugs while you draw. 

You even draw Grogu a few times in his calmer moments. Din is in no rush to get back to the Crest so he doesn’t hurry you along. He waits patiently, never once uttering something even close to a complaint. Back on the Crest, he listens to you go on about all the painting you want to do. He chuckles when you make a joke about your hand falling off and tells you he’d rather have you in one piece. 

Your stay on Endor has been drawn out for as long as it can be. There’s a pang in your chest as you watch the forest fall away and the atmosphere fades into space. Yet, there’s a deep comforting sense that you have left Endor with so much more than you arrived with.

Tatooine has become a familiar sight. Din has to stop in to collect his payment and get a new bounty. Sometimes Peli has to fix up the Crest. She’s rough around the edges, but you like her. You like how she treats Grogu and how she isn’t afraid to say what she wants to Din. 

Stepping off the Crest, Grogu in the pouch on your back, you call out for Peli happily. 

“There you are,” a chilling voice answers to your left.

You whip around, heart flying into your throat, and hand grabbing Din’s wrist next to you. On top of two stacked crates sits Sola. Her hands grip the edge of the crate on either side of her, legs crossed at the ankles as she swings them a bit. A dangerous smirk crawls onto her face.

“Heard you’ve been lookin’ for me.”

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian #din dijarin fanfiction #down the din hole i go #din djarin #grogu #the mandalorian x gn!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction

[at-thestillpoint]

weird questions for writers: 22, 32, 38

[ask me weird questions for writers!]

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

I use Google Drive to write and organize myself. I have a nested folder system broken down by ship, then story universe, then individual fic (if needed). Each fic doc is titled with the pairing, a number, and the title of the fic. The number is honestly for aesthetic purposes—it corresponds to the order in which I had the idea, though 000 is always the headcanons, blotter, and darlings catchall for that ship or fic. I write each fic in a single doc, and use headings so I can quickly jump from chapter to chapter. When I’m in editing or finalization mode, I’ll even use subheadings to tag the areas I’m still not happy with so I can easily navigate from place to place via the Google Doc outline sidebar. I also have a spreadsheet to track all my WIPs, ideas, and completed fics.

So, yeah…I’m quite an organization freak for my writing, but I have to be because I write out of order, and things would otherwise get lost.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

I’ll give you lines from a poem and a novel, because I couldn’t pick!

“There are years that ask questions, and years that answer them.” (Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God)

I read Their Eyes Were Watching God in high school, but didn’t realize how much this line had stuck with me until I’d graduated college, and faced some tough, uncertain years in my early 20s. I used it then as a reminder that answers would come—things would get more clear, or better, or whatever it was I was looking for. I still come back to it as a reminder that the moments I’ve felt most aimless, most lost, most overwhelmed, those are the moments I look back on with the benefit of time and now realize the impact they had on my life.

“Life is short and the world / is at least half terrible [...] / though I keep this from my children. I am trying / to sell them the world” and “You could make this place beautiful.” (Maggie Smith, Good Bones)

I get goosebumps just thinking about it, in particular, I got actual chills when I read this the first time. There is something devastating and poignant in how this poem summarizes the despair and the hope I feel about the world every day. 

Honorable mentions go to the entire timshel passage from East of Eden and “and time yet for a hundred indecisions” from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

I feel like my entire writing process is Really Weird, but the weirdest thing I think I do is act out dialogue in the shower. I struggle with the beat of a conversation when I’m just typing, and find characters’ spoken voices come more naturally when I say them out loud, so I will have the conversations with myself, as the characters, over and over again, and just hope that I don’t forget the words while I blowdry my hair.

#dispatches from my google docs