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whatanoof · 3 years

Text

Of Angels and Promises

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Word Count: ~12.2k

Warnings: fluff, smut, violence, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, daddy boba is a warning all on his own, implied throne fucking

Summary: Promises are bad. They imply attachment and accountability, both very hard to come by in the maker-forsaken deserts of Tatooine. Falling in love inspires promises that one isn’t able to keep, and you let your guard down with him.

You saw the ship. It soared through the sky, slicing through the air like an arrow. It was the same one that he had drawn for you on the rough sketching paper in your mechanic’s workshop, and it was even more beautiful in person. It was a cloudless day, and the green paint contrasted the sky perfectly. You could track every movement across the blue expanse and expected to watch the ship set down directly by your hut. But it didn’t. It continued, stretching farther away in the direction of the palace with every passing second that you stood, frozen in space and time.

So you do what every other abandoned lover would. You ignore it and tell yourself that you were mistaken. It’s easy to pretend you’d imagined it. Because if Boba ever came back, he would come back to you, right?

A gentle knock on the doorframe rouses you from the depths of overthinking, and you accidentally slam your head on the shelf in surprise. “Shit! Motherkriffing, dank fucking farri-”

Your first name echoes through the building and cuts through your vicious curses like a bell, and you stop in shock. No one out here calls anyone by name. Your hand drops to your workbench and grasps a heavy wrench. You slowly approach the door and slide to one side of the frame to prepare an ambush. The voice calls your name again, and this time you register that it’s female, low-pitched and soothing. An arm appears through the doorway, and you swing the wrench with all of your might.

You expect at the very least to graze the limb appearing through the doorway of your workshop, but you’re sorely disappointed when you miss entirely. You stumble forward, off-balance from the misplaced strike. A hand seizes your wrist, torquing it violently to one side and forcing you to drop the makeshift weapon. Before you can blink, you’re pinned against the wall with your arm twisted behind your back.

“Let me go!” You struggle against the grip, but it’s too strong, and you grunt at the strain in your joints. “Please, I have water, maybe a handful of credits in the house.”

She doesn’t release you and your name is muttered sharply again. “Is that you?”

“You found me. If you’re going to kill me,” You turn your head enough to spit on the ground, “Tell Bib that I’ll come back to haunt him and shove it where the suns don’t shine.”

“I don’t come on Fortuna’s orders.” She spits the Twi'lek name like a curse. Now you’ve pissed her off. If you weren’t going to die before, you would now. “I come on Boba Fett’s.”

You stop struggling immediately, “What?”

“Boba Fett sent me to bring you to him.” You inhale sharply at the confirmation.

Betrayal flashes through you like lightning. “Let me go.” The words are an angry hiss, reminiscent of a desert serpent ready to spit venom.

She does so and you turn, rubbing your shoulder. The woman is deceptively small, with dark hair in a long braid down her back. A form fitting leather tunic and coat accents her slim waist and fit body. She’s wearing a helmet, though you can see dark eyes through the visor, and a long rifle rides on her back.

“Who are you? Are you a bounty hunter?”

“I am.” You wait for her to reach for her rifle, “But that is not why I am here.” She disengages her helmet lock and pulls it off. She’s too pretty to be a hunter. You wish that wasn’t your first thought, because now you can’t help but stare. You’re vaguely aware that you probably look stupid, but you’re too busy gaping at her smooth skin and fine features. The only indicator of her profession is the stern set of her mouth and perfectly shaped eyebrows, okay you need to stop.

Because you weren’t mistaken earlier. Boba is back on Tatooine, and you’re not sure how to handle that after so much time.

---

“Come on, don’t do this to me right now. No, no no no no n--” A puff of smoke drifts from the comm unit, and you drop the screwdriver with a defeated sigh. Kriffing hell. Weeks of searching for the right parts, the blazing hope within you that you might be able to finally get off this ball of sand when you saw the Imperial signal boosting unit, all ending in a smoking and sparking mess in your hands. Anger flashes hot through your veins, and your hand flies up and whacks the communicator hard, hard enough that the stinging impact chases away the anger momentarily. Then the fury returns, doubling in intensity, and the sheer injustice almost makes your vision white out.

The distant grinding of the sandcrawler shakes you out of your fervor, and you haul yourself to your feet with a sigh. Trading days always... intensify you. But you can’t afford to get hung up on one comm unit. It has been years of fried comm units. Even if you managed to patch together a working one on your limited knowledge, who would you call? A single name flits across your mind, but you veto it instantly. Even if he was in range, he wouldn’t come to get you.

So, back to the original plan. The long plan, the one that has stranded you on this planet for solar cycles. You busy yourself with the various scavenged parts that you’d collected over the past month, polishing and dusting the pieces until they glint like gems in the late afternoon suns. Every small scratch garners another twelve minutes of debate over whether the rebuilt astromech viewport would be worth the trade for the polished transparisteel, or the additional inhibitor units.

The first thing that’s off is the Jawas themselves. They seem… tense. No, that’s underselling it. They’re always high strung, running around and worrying about different bargains and barters. But today, they’re absolutely freaked out. Dual sun-stroked. High on their anxiety. Which is good for you; they’ll be distracted and maybe they won’t try to barter for your spare vapor consolidator again this time.

So you naturally pay it no mind while setting up your line of wares. You had a good haul this week, enough to make the water taxes this month.

The Jawas crowd out of the sandcrawler deck, and you greet them as you recognize them. A flurry of Jawaese flies around your head as they run about, laying out the wares for you to examine. One scurries to your offerings this week: random parts and a series of old mouse droids that you had reprogrammed. They examine the small droids while speaking to each other too quickly for you to follow. Finally, they come back with two of the small droids, nodding to each other as they present the desired pieces to you.

“Got any working EC processors lying around in there to trade?”

They look at each other, and one says a single phrase that you translate roughly to, ‘Bring him out.’

“Bring what out?” But you’re too late and the Jawas are already inside, hauling a mass covered in sackcloth down the ramp. “Is that a patch-in droid? Where the hell did you scavenge a whole one fr…”

The second thing that’s off is the human body. They rip the sackcloth off of the form, and you trail off. “What in the kriffing hell is that?” After further examination you confirm that it is probably a he. His eyes are closed, and he’s lying in the sun too limply to be healthy. There are bruises and cuts on the skin that you can see, but he’s draped in dark clothing that has to be sweltering hot in the Tatooine suns. A Tusken gaffi stick lies pinned underneath his body.

The Jawas erupt in a storm of chattering, waving their arms around their heads as you try to keep up your limited Jawaese. You crouch by the man. He’s breathing shallowly, and you don’t see any visible injuries, but dammit, you don’t know much about first aid. “Slow down, please!”

They don’t slow down, and you’re left scrambling trying to remember the difference between preterite verb forms while continuing to try to check on the man’s health. “He broke into the sandcrawler, killed your warriors, and took a nap?”

More unpleased Jawaese flies around your head, “He broke in, killed your warriors, and didn’t try to escape, just sat down and tried to interrogate you. And then you knocked him out and broke his legs.” The Jawas cheer gleefully in affirmation, and you sigh. A second glance at the man reveals the sunken skin around his eyes and the unnaturally pale color of his skin. There are white scars over his face that look like acid burns. “Maker, how long has he been in there?” The Jawas keep talking, but you’re not paying attention. He won’t last another day without attention, and that is coming from an inexperienced mechanic. You may not know medicine, but you can’t leave him in good conscience.

“I’ll take him off of your hands. Keep the mouse droids.”

It’s a kriffing miracle that you manage to get him back inside your hut and onto the cot without pulling a muscle. You don’t even know if he’s going to wake up. He just lies there, and the weight of the situation slams down on you in a single crushing moment. “What the hell did I just do?” You rake your fingers through your hair, “Take in a dying stranger, why don’t you? Sign away half of your supplies, half of your food, half of your water, half of the credits meant to get you out of this damned place? Dumbass.”

He groans, and you start. He’s awake. With a heavy sigh, you face the newest burden in your life. “Here, drink some water.” You grab the half-empty jug from the table and kneel beside the cot. “You’re lucky that the Jawas decided to meet me today. If they had gone to Tokonu’s farm, you might not have lived through the next few hours.” You reach to prop his head up.

In retrospect, you shouldn’t have tried to touch him. There’s an explosion of movement, and you suddenly find yourself pinned to the ground, arms locked painfully behind your back. Maker, he’s half-dead, and you barely saw him move. “Where am I?” The growl is so deep that you can feel it in your toes, though the roughness of his voice suggests that it hasn’t been used in a while.

You look over your shoulder, and you see dark eyes piercing into you. A shudder runs the length of your spine at the predatory gaze, and you’re feeling less like an unlikely caretaker and more like trapped prey. This is a dangerous man, no matter the state of his health. Then he curses and the weight on your back lifts as he falls to the side and you remember the broken legs.

You shakily roll to the side and sit up, studying the man next to you on the floor, who’s clutching his legs and muttering rude phrases about Jawas and thieves that you’d rather not repeat. He’s older, with creased skin and a dark scowl contorting his features. Scars run the length of his face, adding to the aged appearance. His dark clothing masks most of his body, though you’re sure that the rest of his skin bears similar scars to the ones slicing through his features.

“You done staring?” The rasping voice makes you jump and look away hurriedly, cheeks flaming red in embarrassment.

You stand. You have to find a way to splint his legs. “I don’t see many other Terrans out here.” He grunts, and you hurry to your workshop. You need wood, or metal, or something straight. Fuck you’ve never set a broken bone before, but you grab the bacta from the back cabinet. Your gaze lands on the ladder in the corner of the room.

“Hey.” His head lifts when you re-enter the room, lugging the ladder through the door frame. You dump it on the floor in front of him, and he looks up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Angel, I’m not going to be climbing anywhere anytime soon.”

You ignore the endearment and the sass, “I’ve never set a broken leg before. I need your help if you ever want to walk normally again.”

“You’re going to set my legs?” He asks.

“I’m assuming that you know how to.”

He doesn't confirm your theory, instead tilting his head and looking at you more seriously, “Big assumptions.”

“If you know how to break an arm, you know how to set one.”

He just leans back and laughs, “You have a tongue on you.” You won’t dignify that with an answer, and his smile only grows. “Break the ladder. I need two straight planks.”

---

The massive palace is dank and cold, the polar opposite of the planet outside. It’s a new world compared to the heatwaves and sand dunes. The silence amplifies your quiet footsteps as Fennec leads you through the hallways. Speaking of which, she is absolutely silent. Her footsteps are nonexistent even on the cold metal floor. She put her helmet back on when you entered the palace, so you can’t even hear her breathing. The only sounds are the ones made by you, and the walls seem to amplify them to the point where you’re sure that wherever you’re going, you will be expected.

You can’t help but feel like you’re walking to an execution, though you haven’t decided if it’s your own yet. It could be. You don’t know if he’s changed. It’s been years. You’ve changed, that’s for sure. Actually, scratch that. You know that he’s changed, because he didn’t come straight to you.

You frown. There’s a piece of the puzzle missing, though you can’t place your finger directly on it just yet. After years of being tied to no one, of being perfectly free and independent, why would he come back to Tatooine? What is tethering him to this desert of a planet besides his own suffering?

Out of nowhere, a staircase yawns in front of you, and you hesitate slightly before following after Fennec. The arched ceiling opens into a large room that prominently displays a raised dais, though it all falls away when you see who is seated on the throne.

It’s been a long time since you’d seen him, and you’d never seen his armor in color, only a sketch. The smooth green and red accents are color combinations that are in short supply on Tatooine, he cuts a menacing figure against the dark throne. He’s splayed out on a throne built for a Hutt thrice his size, legs spread and arms resting on the sides. It might be intimidating if it were a stranger, but you keep telling yourself that he’s not a stranger. It’s easy to imagine that he is, due to the blatant showmanship and armor. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, but this suit of armor isn’t the Boba that you knew.

---

“What’s that?” You’re sitting at the workbench while he’s in a kitchen chair that was dragged into the workshop so that he could have a place to rest. He’s recently become mobile, though he’s only allowed to move under your sharp eye, making sure that he doesn’t try anything stupid that will leave him bedridden for another month. That would be another seven weeks of extreme food rationing and existing on supplies only meant for one. That being said, he mentioned that he was willing to lend an extra pair of hands in your workshop, and you’re not one to deny free help, so long as he promised to not push himself too hard. Your measurement tools were left on the table, and to your surprise, he picked up the stubby pencil and began sketching with it. The rough parchment now shows evidence of a human-like figure.

“My armor.”

“What color is it?”

“Green.” Another purposeful sketch on the paper and there’s a prominent blemish in the helmet. “And red.” Stars, it’s like pulling teeth.

“Did you lose it?” Maybe you’re intruding, but you’ve been taking care of him for the past month, so you’ll excuse yourself from this one.

“Yes. These--” He waves a hand around his face, indicating the pale scars, “--are from a Sarlaac. When I fell in, I lost consciousness. Woke up without the armor. I need to find it.”

The Sarlaac pit is an execution site for those who oppose the Tatooine crime syndicate. You’ve never heard of anyone surviving either the wrath of the Hutts or the Sarlaac. “It’s important to you.” “The armor belonged to my father.” It’s hard to imagine the toughened man in front of you ever being dependent upon someone else. Though, you suppose that everyone comes from somewhere. You wonder not for the first time where this man came from. “It’s part of who I am.”

---

“Boba?” The name is a quiet whisper that echoes emptily through the chamber.

He says your name in return, but his deep baritone makes it sound so much more full than his did floating in the air. “Just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

“Can’t say that I can make the same observation.” You shift nervously. It’s too empty and cold in here, the absolute antithesis of the world you made your own. You can feel the dampness leeching the energy from the air.

“That’s fair.” There’s a beat of silence.

“How have you been?” It’s a passive question, nothing more than something to say to break the silence.

“Good. And you?” The conversation is stunted and awkward, though it only used to be stunted. Now, you’re looking at this man and you don’t know him anymore. Even before, he was your friend above all else. Now you’re stuck making basic observations about him.

“You got your armor back.”

The helmet inclines once, barely an acknowledgement of a statement that you feel should receive so much more. “Found it through a friend.”

“Some friend. Am I going to get that story?”

“Later.” It’s infuriating, the distinct lack of personalization. For solar cycles, you had Boba. Then, nothing. Now you have Boba Fett, the bounty hunter.

---

“What’s your name?” You can’t believe it’s taken you this long to ask, though in all fairness, there’s not much need for names when there are only two people around for leagues. You simply speak, and he assumes you’re talking to him. He rarely speaks, so when he does, he’s always talking to you.

He doesn’t answer at first, only continuing to hold the sheet of metal in place so that you can continue welding it shut over the gap in the droid’s body. You don’t mind. If he wants to answer, he’ll answer. Though it would be nice to have a name to place to the stoic face. It would also be nice to have a name to whisper when you touch yourself at night.

You hadn’t meant for it to end up like this, but you can’t help but admit that you had been setting yourself up to fail. Living with a man, especially one so tall, strong, so… kriffing dominant in how he carries himself? You’re just surprised that it took the dreams half a solar cycle to start up. But now you can’t stop thinking about how it would feel for him to back you up against a wall and pin you to the rough stone with just one of those wonderfully strong hands.

“Watch it angel--”

You snap back to the present just in time to see your torch drifting dangerously close to your hand. You yank it away, but the damage is done and your glove is burning. He curses, bare hands immediately flying to the thick cloth and yanking your arm forward. A few rough pats later, and your glove is smoldering. Shit. That had been your last good pair. You sigh, pulling the glove off and getting up to find another. You snag a mismatched glove from the bottom compartment of your storage unit and settle back down to finish the job.

You’re two inches into the welding line when he speaks. “If I had known you’d be so distracted by silence I would have spoken.” The tone is dry and sardonic, and your gaze darts up to meet his deadpan one before flicking back down to your work in time to keep the welder from drifting again.

“No you wouldn’t have.” It’s the truth, based on how he doesn’t seem to have a snappy answer.

Finally, he sighs, “My name is tied to my past. I’ve done some bad things.” This time, you know better than to look away from your work.

You raise an eyebrow at the sheet metal, “I know.” You finish and click off your torch, settling it carefully down on the work station beside you. “No one ends up in a Sarlaac pit by following the law.” Air puffs out of him a little more forcefully than normal, and you squint. Was that a laugh?

“I wasn’t the one getting executed.”

“Didn’t take you for a clumsy person.” He doesn’t dignify the jab with a response, and you suppose that you deserve that. You examine the weld before pulling the torch back out. It’s a little sloppy. “Do you regret those things?”

“No. The sum of a person’s lifetime is found in his actions. Regrets or none, they are who I am.” That… is shockingly poetic considering that you’d only asked for a name.

“You’ve killed people.” It’s not a question, there is no doubt in your mind of the answer, but you want to hear it from him.

“Yes.” A beat of silence. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Depends.” You inhale slowly, trying to figure out how to phrase this, “I… understand that you don’t have an easy past.” He snorts at that, and you glower at him before continuing. “Tatooine doesn’t need more war.”

“You’re scared.” It’s a pointed statement, blunt and uncaring about the blatant assumption.

“No.” No, a million times no. You had not cowered in fear during the Clone Wars, you had picked yourself up and survived. But ever since Bib Fortuna took over the syndicate, violence had been minimal. You do not need more. “As long as you live here, I do not want you to be the one who brings it back.” You’re on shaky ground here, considering that you really don’t have much control over him or his choices. But this is the only request you have made of him so far.

He grunts in response, a thoughtful silence settling over the workshop. “You really care for this planet?”

“No. I fucking hate deserts. I’m blowing this joint as soon as I can.” You yank the glove off with more force than perhaps you needed. Whatever, it got the job done. You squint down at your calloused hands, “I just don’t want to be the reason that more innocent people get hurt around here. Bib does enough on his own.”

Bib Fortuna. The Twi-lek that currently commands the most powerful force planet-side on Tatooine: the crime syndicate that was left leaderless after Jabba the Hutt died in mysterious circumstances involving a Jedi and a Sarlaac execution. Wait a minute...

“No violence?”

You shake your head, chasing away the puzzle pieces that just began to slot together. “Only self-defense.” You’re not unreasonable, Tatooine may be more peaceful than during the war, but lowlifes still exist. “And if you get a chance to get off-world, take me with you.”

“Steep price.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I saved your life. You may as well return the favor.”

“Fair enough. You have my word as a…” He slaps a hand over his chest, but trails off before finishing the sentence, as if only realizing then that his armor is not there. He amends, “You have my word as a man.”

An awkward silence settles over the shop again, though there is no logical reason why it should be awkward, giving you the moment to remember the seed of the conversation. “A man with a name?” It’s a fumbling and clumsy attempt to turn the conversation back towards your objective, and you can tell that he picked up on it.

He looks at you with amusement, “Persistent.” There’s a half-beat of silence as he considers you. “You may recognize my name.”

“I live in the middle of nowhere.” You counter. “Who would I tell?”

“That’s not why I don’t want to tell you.”

Oh. You can’t really think of a response to that, so you stand and begin cleaning your station. Rusty bits of scrap go into that bin, useful parts go into that one over there so you can tinker late at night when you can’t sleep.

“I don’t know your name either.”

You turn a prop a hand on your hip, dramatically lowering your voice, “My name is tied to my past. I’ve done some bad things.” There! Another huff of breath, and a halfway crooked smirk from the usually grim-faced and unreadable man. You smile back, “Trade?”

He considers it briefly, “First names only.”

You grin. That’ll do nicely. “Deal.”

“Boba.”

You introduce yourself, “Nice to meet you, Boba.”

---

“Why are you back?”

“Are you not happy to see me?” He sounds amused.

“I am.” You shift back and forth on your feet. “Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to see you. To know that you’re alive and healthy.” He’s avoiding answering.

“That’s only half of my question.” Your voice becomes small, “Why didn’t you come home?”

“If I had come to the farm, Bib would have sent hunters out again. You know how that ended last time. You have to cut the krayt’s head off, or it will just keep coming.” You don’t miss how he’s avoiding calling the farm his home.

“You don’t have to pretend, Boba. You have your armor and your ship, you don’t need me anymore. If you came back to take over the syndicate, I won’t be angry.” Even if it means that he’s throwing you away and not looking back. Your heart would heal.

“I--” He hesitates to finish the sentence, and your stomach drops as you expect him to confirm your suspicions. “I didn’t only come back for the throne. I still wanted to see you.”

“If that were true, you would have come yourself.”

“Ang--”

“Stop making excuses.” Your gaze narrows onto the visor blade, meeting his cloaked eyes, “If you really wanted to see me, you would have come to the farm, not sent your lackey. You have your armor and your ship. Why are you back?”

---

It’s all he talks about anymore. And it’s not like he talked that much before, so now ninety-nine percent of the conversations that you have with him are about the nearest pawn stalls, or the Jawa trading route, or the ship scrap yards scattered around the planet. He’s been moving about independently for the past two months, each day venturing out further into the sand hills in search of his armor.

The jug of water is disgustingly lukewarm, but refreshing all the same. You swipe a hand over your forehead as you pace around, propping open all of the windows and shoving the door open. You don’t want to work anymore, it’s too hot for this shit. Late afternoon is the worst, hanging the promise of sunset overhead while continually beating the world into submission with the heat that makes it feel like you’re dragging fire into your lungs. With nothing better to do, you slowly sweep the floor of the house, brushing sand outside just as it continues to blow inward.

The moisture vaporator is functioning passably, your supplies were restocked two days ago, and you made decent headway in your workshop. Nothing is urgent enough to spur you into action. All there is to do is wait for Boba to come home. That’s the brightest point of your day; seeing his figure appear in the shimmering heat waves as he treks through the sand towards you.

He still doesn’t talk much. Neither do you, but there is a comfortable sense of companionship every night when you set the meal down and eat together. If conversation is needed, then it’s needed. But until then, you’re content to sit with him. He’s my friend. The stark realization nearly makes you stop in your tracks. You’re friends with the gruff man who you took in with two broken legs and who leaves you alone for the better part of the day. The man who you imagine on the rough nights when you long for a body beside you.

Finally, finally it’s sunset. You climb to the top of a nearby dune. He’s there in the distance, he always is. You watch the suns sink beneath the horizon and turn to head inside.

You don’t hear him come in, though to be fair, you never do. You expect him to sit at the table. Instead he appears at your elbow, silent as a wraith but as large and solid as any human. You nearly jump out of your skin, “Stars, Boba, you kriffing scared m--” You turn, but are stopped short because he’s right there, crowding you against the counter and there’s something feral in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He’s breathing heavily through his nose, face hovering an inch away from yours and gaze fixed on your lips. Your eyes are glued to his almost black ones. His flick up to meet yours. You can smell him, something spicy and musky that’s drawing you in. Stars, you want to fuck him.

Your eyes flicker down to his lips and the tension shatters. He shoves past you, planting his hands on the counter. He hasn’t changed out of his gear, and the gaffi stick sways threateningly on his back. The tip is darkened and shines in the dim light of the lantern.

Dread pokes your heart. “Boba, are you hurt?” You try to look over the rest of his body for hints of injury, but his baggy clothing masks his body. He seems to be moving fine.

There’s a strained silence before he rips himself away from the counter and stalks away with a terse, “I need to change.” He halfway out of the door when he stops, and you watch him carefully as his head turns back halfway. “Meet me in the bedroom.” The ‘fresher door bangs in the distance, and you nearly collapse against the counter.

You’re not sure how you make it to the room. You’re a trembling ball of nerves, anxious and fidgeting as you stare at the corner of the room. He killed someone. Someone is dead, because of him, and he doesn’t seem to be torn up about it. Only… tense. Like he’s more concerned about the consequences on you than him. You remember his promise.

He’s standing there now, dressed in clean clothes and looking at you like you’re the most complex problem in the room. He seems calmer, though he’s in this mode that you can’t describe with a single word, though you had witnessed it before when you first brought him into your home. There’s a feral intensity about him, almost primal. You don’t know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut.

Finally, he speaks, “I would never hurt you, angel.”

You nod. There’s a shared understanding of this, though it had never been verbalized. He has your back, and you have his. A mutual survival and benefit exists between you two.

“Will you come here?” There’s an underlying question to read in the rasped question. Will you go to him? There’s also a warning. He’s not a safe man, but you’re willing to ignore your fears about that if it means you'll have him. You stand and walk towards him purposefully, each step sealing your choice. You stand in front of him, barely allowing yourself to breath as he scrutinizes you. A hand comes up and tilts your chin upwards carefully.

And then he’s kissing you, more like absolutely devouring you with how far his tongue is down your throat. It’s sensory overload, because all at once he’s so close and so there right in front of you, pressing against your front so closely that you can feel him hardening against your thigh. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair, and you gasp as he yanks your head back.

“I don’t know if I can be gentle, angel.” His pupils are blown, dark eyes even blacker with desire and boring into yours. You can see the restrained lust in his eyes, and you shiver at the silent promise in them.

You grin, only barely aware that it’s slightly feral, “No one asked you to be.”

His own responding smile is nothing short of primal. “Maker, you’re fucking perfect.” His hand roughly smooths over your hair, and you melt into his touch. “Now strip.”

You can’t yank your shirt off quickly enough, but he stops you as soon as the offending fabric flutters to the ground. A hand traces over your collarbone, the rough calluses scraping over the crisp outline of the ink. “What’s this?”

You hesitate before answering, “It’s, uh, it’s artistic.” He makes his skeptical face at you, and you step in closer to him, pressing your body against his more clothed one, “I saw the design in a shop and liked it.”

The distraction seems to work, because he crushes his mouth to yours again, his hands removing the rest of your clothes so that you stand completely bare before his piercing gaze. You fight the urge to cover yourself. He has this way of making you feel like an open book even when you’re clothed, and now you feel that he can look into your soul without any other barriers.

“Beautiful.” The compliment is growled into the tension filled air. Blood rushes to your face, and you duck your head shyly. A hand tilts your chin back upwards to meet his eyes, “Get on the bed.”

He pushes you backwards gently so that you land on the mattress, bouncing slightly as you watch him remove his coverings. With every delicious inch of skin revealed, you feel another shot of heat between your legs. You hadn’t seen much of his body since that first day, and it’s like watching a gift unwrapped in front of you. When he pulls the last of it off, your eyes unavoidably drift between his legs, and your heart stutters at the sight. Stars he’s thicker than you’d expected.

You don’t get anymore time to overthink because then Boba is caging you to the mattress with his body. Your breasts heave, nipples brushing against his chest with every inhale. One thick finger slides through your folds, and you almost cry at the contact. Maker, you’ve wanted this for so long. He pushes into your heat and you swear your body seizes at the sensation.

Boba grunts, “Angel, you’re so tight.” His hips jerk seemingly of their own volition against your leg, his erection sliding over your skin. “Want to be inside of you. But--” He adds another finger, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out more, “--I think I’d break you.”

The heel of his hand grinds into your clit, “Boba. Please, fuck. Told you not--” He curls his fingers against your g-spot and you gasp, “--not to be gentle.”

He pulls his fingers out with a growl and flips you around to your hands and knees. You shiver in anticipation as you glance over your shoulder while he aligns his hips to yours. He barely gives you any time to prep before he sinks into your heat.

Oh shit.

He is so much thicker than you expected. The stretch burns so good, and-- you spare another glance over your shoulder as it just keeps coming. Your arms give and you collapse to your elbows with a whine. Your teeth clench as you focus on taking him, and your hand slaps the mattress as you tense. He stops behind you, “Angel, you need to relax.”

You exhale shakily. Fuck, you can’t relax, it’s too much. He’s going to split you in two. You’d told him to be rough, but you hadn’t been prepared for this. So you crouch on the bed, trying to breathe enough to allow yourself to form words.

“I can stop.” His cock inches marginally out of you, and you panic.

“No! Fu-- keep--keep going. I can do it.” He’s holding himself back. You can tell in the tiny quiver of his hips as he inches further into you. All you can focus on is the feeling of him rubbing against the inside of your cunt. His fingers rub your clit, and a garbled moan escapes your throat as your hips press backwards into him. The pain mixes with pleasure, a bone-deep one that you feel through your entire body as it arches against the bedsheets.

When his hips finally fit to yours, you let out a breathy moan. But he doesn’t continue. He just rests there, which is ridiculous considering how every nerve ending in that region of your body is firing with pleasure and how is he staying so still when this feels like fucking paradise? You might go insane just lying here with him bottomed out so deep inside of you that you can feel it in the back of your throat. His hand leaves your clit to grasp your waist. He eases out of you, the satisfying fullness retreating until the head of his cock hovers at your entrance, just barely inside of you. He’s teetering on a cliff, all of that potential energy built up behind his body as he hovers there, waiting for something. He’s trembling, Boba is trembling as he waits for something that he never asked you for. There’s molten lust creeping through your veins, you need him to move, to fuck you nine ways to next week. “Move. Please. Need--need it.”

He rolls his hips forward and you swear the world implodes behind your eyelids. He doesn’t stop this time, just yanks you closer on the bed and fucking wrecks you. The pace is unforgiving and rough, and the obscene slapping sound of skin on skin echoes through the small home, making you ever more grateful that there are no neighbors for miles.

A whine escapes your throat before you can help it, and you clap a hand over your mouth. He chuckles as he pushes back into your dripping pussy, “Oh, you like that angel?” His hand seizes your hair and drags your back flush against his body, “Ah ah ah. Take it off your mouth.” You do so, your hand trembling, “I want to hear every.” Thrust. “Beautiful.” Thrust. “Noise.” Thrust. You could almost feel him in the back of your throat with that last one, and a strangled cry is ripped from you. “Understand?”

You whimper and nod at the velvety purr against your throat and he hums in satisfaction. “Good.” He shoves you back down onto the sheets, one hand pinning you to the cot by your neck, the other curling around your waist. Without your hand to muffle the noises, your sounds come without you intending; choppy moans that are only broken by the force of his thrusts. He’s anything but quiet himself, a series of soft grunts and curses coming from the general vicinity of his head as he continues to slam into your body.

Your orgasm peaks without warning, ripping through your body before you can think to prepare yourself for it. The climax ripples outwards from your center, white flashes appearing behind your eyelids as you keen high in the back of your throat. Your floor muscles clamp down on Boba, and his rhythm stutters.

“Angel--” With a curse, he rips himself out of you, painting your ass with his release. You’re in a daze of pleasure as you come down from your high, the sheets smooth beneath your cheek and his cum warm on your back. He pulls the sheet, and you whine in protest as he yanks the comfortable bedding from underneath you. He cleans you up with the cloth, tossing it to the side into a random corner of the room.

It’s dark now. The only light in the room comes from the flickering lamp in the corner. Boba pulls blankets over your cock-dumb body, and you snuggle down into your bed, fully expecting him to leave. He doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, he naps on the floor with a blanket or two. You don’t expect him to climb into bed behind you, arms wrapping firmly around your waist and pulling you close to him. You drift before finally surrendering to peaceful sleep.

You wake when he moves behind you. The sunrise glints through the window, spraying warm light around the room. You’d have to get up soon, but not yet. He doesn’t have to go. You turn and look at him.

Your voice is raspy with sleep, but it cuts decidedly through the silence of early morning. “I trust you. You know that, right?” You don’t wait for an answer, because if you don’t say it now, you probably won’t have the courage to do it later, “It’s not hard to earn my trust. It’s hard to keep it, and even harder to regain it.” He’s quiet, and you can feel his deep, even breaths against your front and how his arms tighten fractionally around your waist.

He rolls over, and you feel the mattress dip as he stands. “I need to cover another sector by tonight.”

You turn on your side so that you can’t see the door. Best not to get attached anyway.

---

“Should I be calling you a title or something?” You’re hesitant to refer to him as anything in your mind. He’s just Boba. Not your boyfriend, or your lover, because you only name things you expect to endure. If you find a super cute loth cat, but you can’t keep it, you don’t name it, that's just a rule of life. Don’t label it if you don’t want to keep it. Don’t get attached to something that will not stay. “Lord Boba? King Boba? Master?”

He snorts, “Not necessary, Angel. Though I wouldn’t mind that last one.” You blink at the old nickname, the familiarity of the endearment stirring up emotions that you’d thought had long since been buried. “I’m still me.”

“Are you?” The question slips out before you can think to restrain yourself, the tone more accusatory than you expected.

“Do you want me to be?”

Now you’re the one caught off guard. You had thought about it, in the empty silence while he was gone, when the bed was too cold and empty after so much time adjusting to his weight on the other side of the mattress. No decision had been made. But once, in the darkest hours of the morning, right after you’d made yourself cum on your own fingers that couldn’t hope to measure up to him, you’d wished. You had wished that you had labelled it when you had the chance. Because maybe you had wanted the relationship to stay.

---

“Why do you call me that?” The words are whispered into the darkness of another early morning. He’s curled around you, the heat of his body keeping you warm despite the freezing cold desert night. You need to start thinking about getting up soon. It’s a new day, a fresh start, a time to restart. Chores are waiting, like they always are. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to want to move when he’s at your back.

He shifts, breathing in the scent of your hair, “Call you what?” His arms tighten around your midsection and you wiggle slightly in his grip, your hips pressing back against his half-hard length. “Ohhhh, angel you’re going to start something that you won’t be able to finish.”

You turn so that you’re facing him in the darkness, his features just a ghost of an outline against the early dawn rays glowing faintly through the doorway. “That. Angel. Why do you call me that?” He grinds against you, and you stifle a whimper at his heavy erection against your thigh. “Stop distracting me.”

He sighs heavily, but he does stop and allow you to regain your focus, “I call you angel because of that first day. Do you remember?”

You roll your hips against his, “Hard to forget.”

“Yes.” His teeth sink into the bare flesh of your shoulder, licking and sucking until you’re sure that there’s a mark. “I was in that sandcrawler for days, it’s a haze in my memory. Just blinking in and out, hoping that the sound would stop, that the world would stop moving, that those damn creatures would stop jeering at me for just a few minutes.” Your hand slips down and grasps his erection, and he inhales sharply, “And--and then. They’re grabbing me and dragging me out of that hell. And you’re there, standing above me, framed by the suns. And my first thought was that you--” He grunts as he thrusts up into your fist. His cock is leaking profusely over your hand, and you swipe your thumb over his head, “-- you must be an angel. How could you be anything else? You saved my life.”

“Bold of you to think that I’m from heaven.” With a wicked smile, your other hand drops to fondle his balls, massaging the flesh in your hand as you continue to slowly jerk him off. He snarls quietly, hand anchoring in your hair and tugging your head back so that he has access to the bare flesh of your neck and shoulder.

“Now, you’ve become more of a devil in my bed, my angel of death.” His teeth sink into the juncture of your shoulder, no doubt leaving a mark. You were prepared for the pain, but you weren’t ready for his hand zeroing in on your sensitive clit, rubbing with the exact amount of pressure that could cause you to come in seconds, and you have other plans.

You roll on top of him, swinging your leg over his hips and positioning his head at your entrance, “So you try to break the arm of every angel you encounter?”

“That was your fault.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his hands reach to grasp you around the waist. “For pushing me, like you are doing now.” His hips roll up, and your eyes roll back. The day can wait.

---

The surge of emotions only serves to make you more frustrated, and that’s not going to help matters. You may have a long fuse, but once your anger ignites, it burns hot and long. He knows this, and yet he continues to push you. “I came down here because I owe you one, for saving my ass. So you better talk if you’re going to keep me here.”

“I saved your beautiful ass twice in return.” He’s amused, and that only serves to make you angrier. “So you owe me two, one for coming and one for staying while I explain.”

Hell no, he doesn’t get out of this by throwing in a shabby compliment, though you furiously fight the rising embarrassment all the same, “No, the first one repaid me for dragging your dying carcass out of the sandcrawler. And the welding incident hardly counts, so you’re on thin fucking ice right now.”

“Angel--”

“No, you are going to stop with this pretentious bullshit and tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing.” Your arms are waving in the air, you’re on the verge of hyperventilating, your voice is rising in pitch and you’re vaguely aware that you shouldn’t be working yourself up like this, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care, because he’s there. And you’re here, at the foot of the throne.

“Why are you so angry, angel?”

A laugh explodes out of you so forcefully that your throat stings, “Your fucking audacity, is pissing me off. You leave without explaining. You come back, and don’t think to come to find me yourself. You send your incredibly attractive, what are you, his sidekick?” Fennec raises her chin in response, though you don’t know if that’s a confirmation or not. “You drag me down here where I find out that you’ve killed Bib Fortuna and become Tatooine’s newest crime lord. And yet, you still haven’t shown the basic decency of telling me why I’m here. Do you have to kill me because of some new fucked up bounty hunter code? Because you know that I won’t go down easy, whether you have me two to one or not.” You’re scarily aware of Fennec’s gaze boring into the back of your neck.

Silence screams into the empty air as Boba freezes on the throne. “You know.”

“That you’re a bounty hunter? I’m not an idiot. It was smart to not give me your last name that first time I asked. As soon as the hunters told me, I knew. Jango Fett was your father.” The name drops a bombshell in the center of the throne room.

“What do you know of Jango Fett?”

“Not much. Only what Hondo told me.” Hondo Ohnaka. The pirate, the outlaw, the man who had morals enough to take in a starving child rather than leaving her to die.

“Hondo Ohnaka.” He leans forward, clearly interested once he recognizes the name. “But you’re not Weequay.”

“Fortunately, the man cared for children. He wouldn’t abandon one in need. He fed me, essentially raised me.” You’d been caught picking his pocket. Instead of killing you, Hondo took you in. You feel the corner of your mouth quirking up at the memory of the old pirate and the small-time smuggling jobs he’d allowed you to help out on, with your small size and quick fingers. “He’d always remind me that he used to be a feared outlaw throughout the galaxy, and that he wouldn’t be as soft the next day.”

“But he kept you anyway.”

You shrug, “He lived by a code.”

“The pirate code?” There’s skepticism in his voice, and you don’t blame him.

“Hondo… didn’t exist by societies’ laws. He was honorable, but never good. Told me to be the same.” The advice was the best that you’d ever gotten. It allowed you to move on from guilt, to live isolated from the chaos of the galaxy. It taught you to live on your own and to be independent, to not feel for the suffering of the collective galaxy. But it also commanded you by the morals that saved your life. Don’t steal from the poor, but the rich won’t miss a handful of credits. Don’t hurt a sick child who’s just trying to eat. Don’t kill a helpless enemy, even if he hijacked your ship and crashed it onto a desert planet in the middle of nowhere. Leave him to die in the sand instead.

“I was stranded on Tatooine a few years ago. I had no money, and no ship. I found the abandoned farm, and put together something so that I could save enough to escape one day.” No communicator either, and you’d only just struck out on your own too. Hondo was lightyears away by the time you’d thought to try to comm him, and none of the technology was current enough to reach that far. You’re pretty sure he wouldn’t have come to pick you up anyway. “Whe--” Your voice breaks, and you curse your emotionally sensitive vocal cords. You clear your throat, “When you left--” “You think that I could have taken you with me.”

“You could have!”

“It was dangerous, angel. I hated that I had to leave the way that I did, but--”

“You smeared bacta on me and disappeared. Was I supposed to feel happy?”

---

The day he left started the same as any other. The moisture filter needed replacing, but you didn’t have the credits yet. So you had a date with an ancient filter and your multitool. You look up, flicking hair out of your face when you hear the footsteps behind you. “Hey.”

He doesn’t answer, as per usual, but he nods and rubs your hair with a gloved hand. “I’m scouting towards the flats today. Only a day trip, I’ll be home before dark.”

“Sounds good. See you.” You turn back to your multitool. You’re too focused on tweaking the settings to allow for a greater flow rate to see him smile, a rare one-sided grin before he turns to leave. His path takes him south, so he doesn’t see the three dark shapes in the heat waves approaching from the north.

The vaporator beeps loudly, protesting the absence of the filter and loudly proclaiming that it needs the filter to harvest water from the atmosphere. You tune out the obnoxious sound. After a ten minute struggle, you snap the filter’s frame out of place, exposing the internal wiring. You’re going to need a smaller drill point to reach the last resistor knob. You walk towards the workshop, wiping the sweat out of your eyes, fiddling with the screen as you do so. You’re too distracted by the tech in your hands to notice the figure slipping around the outside wall of your hut.

You grab the smaller bit and unlatch the last knob, absentmindedly walking outside to get better light into the inner workings. Despite the heat, Tatooine’s afternoons were perfect for mechanics, with the twin suns illuminating all but the tiniest crevices. Unfortunately, with your attention elsewhere, it doesn’t reveal the crime syndicate members waiting outside your door.

The air rushes out of you as something slams into your midsection, effectively knocking you onto your ass on the sand. The filter flies out of your hands, but you’re focused instead on the helmeted figure standing over you, vibroblade levelled at your throat. “Where is he?”

Your hands are shaking as you raise them in the air, attention fixated on the masked figure. Adrenaline surges through your veins, and you almost don’t notice the second one hanging back near the wall. A third, the only unhelmeted one, stands beyond the first, smiling nastily. The blade grazes your throat, and you whimper at the cool metal against your skin. “I said. Where is he?”

“Who? Maker, please, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fett! Boba Fett!”

Your stomach drops at the surname. The hunter curses viciously, holstering the weapon and grabbing you by the front of your shirt. You’re yanked to your feet, “Intel said that he’s here, so I’m guessing that you’re his little pretty piece on the side.” An arm presses over your throat, and you gasp as your airway is almost cut off. “Where is he?” The question is purred into your ear silkily.

He must be insane if he thinks that you’re giving him that information. “I don’t know, he said he’s going towards the Dune Sea today. I swear, he’s gone. Left an hour ago.” You inhale sharply as the blade stops against your jaw.

“You’re pretty.” Your stomach turns at the sneer, and you fight the urge to bite him. Better to bide your time. “But an awful liar.” The angle changes so that the point is pressing into your skin and you cringe in anticipation of the cut.

A sharp command rings through the air and your captor stops. You exhale shakily, but don’t allow yourself to feel any hope. Boba’s gone and will be all day. They’re going to kill you, or use you as leverage when he returns. Or both. You’re not getting out of this alive, but you’re not going to lay down and die. Your eyes fix on the knife in front of you, but you’re visualizing where the hunter’s holster is.

Blaster fire explodes behind you, and you duck as sparks shower down onto you and your captor slumps to the ground. You don’t waste a second, ducking to rifle through the hunter’s pockets, snatching the blaster. Boba is there, features contorted in rage. He’s standing over a body, blaster in one hand and his staff in the other. Your eyes lock, and for a moment, you can almost hear him asking if you’re okay. You nod your head almost imperceptibly, but he gets the message.

A laugh rings through the air, and the moment shatters. There is a single hunter left, the one who was hanging by the hut while the other one threatened you. The cocksure swagger tells that this is the one in charge, the one who gave the command to keep you alive. And yet, the favor doesn’t hold any value to you as the helmet tilts up at Boba, “Boba Fett. You’re a hard man to find.” Boba doesn’t answer, instead jerking his head and you move towards him, “Bib Fortuna wants to talk.”

Now Boba responds, “I don’t.”

“150,000 credits to me says that you will.” Another blaster(fucking blasters) points at you, and you stop in your tracks, fighting to keep your breathing steady. He’s only a few meters away, a dead shot if he decides to let his finger slip.“Because he may want you alive, but not her. And she lied to me. Drop the blasters, or I shoot her now.”

You slowly lay the weapon down, eyes fixed on the barrel. Boba does the same, his hands raising placatingly as the shiny metal plops into the sand, “She’s nothing to me.”

“You can try to tell Bib Fortuna that, but he’ll believe it even less than I do. I’ll cut you a deal. You come with me, I get my credits, she gets to live.” You focus on Boba’s face, trying to steal some of his stony calm.

Boba smirks, “You’re even stupider than you look.” Then he’s moving, eating up the meters between them faster than you can blink. The staff arcs up, the wicked point glinting in the sun before smashing into the hunter’s helmet, crushing the metal with stunning ease. Your mouth is still hanging open when white-hot pain flares through your shoulder. Fucking blasters. You drop to the sand, curling in on yourself as your entire body seems to throb in agony. There’s no blood on your hand when you pull it away, but the smell of burnt flesh almost makes you vomit. The suns are too bright and you blink rapidly, trying to get rid of the spots dancing in your vision.

A form crouches over you, blocking out the light. Someone is saying your name repeatedly, slapping your face gently as they support your head and neck, “Wake up, stay with me. Gotta get bacta on that shoulder.”

You blink blearily. The world is swimming before your eyes and nothing is focusing correctly. It’s a struggle to stay awake, never mind focusing on what Boba is saying to you. The sand is so warm. Sleep would be nice. You wouldn’t have to stay awake and focus on the implications of what just went down. You wouldn’t need to feel the hole burned in your shoulder. Fuck, Boba had been shot before? How did he bear it?

He turns away, but he’s instantly back, gloved hands ripping apart your shirt at the shoulder. You mutter, “Leave it. Self cauterizes. Best way to get hurt.” The suns blend into twin slurs of light across the sky. ‘Meteors,’ you think, ‘They look like meteors. Or shooting stars.’ People make wishes on those, right?

Boba snorts, “Bantha shit.” He smears the bacta on the wound, and you shudder as the pain lessens marginally. He starts talking as he works, though it’s a struggle to understand anything when you’re so distracted by the world spinning beneath you. “Angel, I have to leave. They’ll be coming for me. I can’t stay here with you. Do you understand? Tell me you understand.”

Okay. Okay, you tell yourself it’s okay. You’ve been expecting this day for some time. He’s a dangerous man, it was right to assume that he’s wanted by someone, you just didn’t expect the someone to be the resident crime lord of the planet he is kriffing living on. It’s hard to stay in one place for some time, but he did. For you. And now it’s your turn to let him go, to sacrifice for him because he sacrificed for you. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to say it. You have to settle for a shaky breath and a tiny nod.

He lifts you and carries you inside, arranging you on the bed. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, a second of tranquility before he turns and begins gathering supplies. You fight against the encroaching sleep, resolving yourself to watch and savor these last moments. He won’t be coming back, not while Bib Fortuna holds the bounty on him, and Bib has a long memory.

So you commit every detail of him to memory. His grim and stoic face and the deadpan sarcastic humor that you’ve grown to love. His broad shoulders remind you of the first time you met him. It was absolute hell fitting his massive frame through the small doorway of your home, only for him to flatten you to the ground when you moved wrong. His careful and smooth gait that you observed every time he walked out into the dunes and away from you. His lips, which sometimes wear that devastatingly attractive sideways smirk that promises trouble, but more rarely wear a genuine smile that you’ve only seen once or twice. His powerful legs that pinned you to the mattress more than a few times. And you wish on the twin meteors outside that this wouldn’t be your last memory of him.

You try to summon words to your dry throat, but they come out as a raspy cough on your first attempt. “Boba.”

He’s by your side instantly, so quickly that you would do a double take if you had any strength to do so. “Here.” He offers the water jug to you and you sip, remembering the first day that you met him.

But there’s no time to reminisce, “I know that you have to go. I know that I probably won’t se--” Your voice breaks, but there’s no need to finish the sentence. “But I’ll be here. If you ever come back.”

---

“You broke your promise that last day.”

“It was self-defense.” A huff of air echoes through the modulator, and he sits back on the throne, “Angel, everytime I kill, I kill for a reason. It’s not senseless.” No, that’s not what you’re talking about.

“You broke your promise when you left Tatooine without me.” You took a chance on him. You trusted him to hold to his word. And he’d betrayed that trust.

“I was trying to protect you. You couldn’t come with me, it would have been too dangerous. You have an entire life ahead of you. Coming with me off-world would have thrown it all away.”

You laugh scornfully, “So what, you just made that promise without ever intending to keep it? Is that all your word as a man is worth?”

“I made the promise intending to keep it.” His voice is stiff, mirroring his posture as he regards you with all of the bearing of a king lording over his subject. You hate it. “But my loyalties changed, angel.” You open your mouth to continue, but he cuts you off, “I couldn’t bring you into my life within good conscience. I promised to save you in any opportunity promised. My way of saving you was leaving you here.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“Angel, if you had come with me, I would have been violating both aspects of the promise. You would have seen killing, pointless and meaningless death. And it would have destroyed you, whatever good hope for the universe you had left.”

You scoff, “I am not a good person. I have flaws, Boba, you just refuse to see them.” You tear your collar open, revealing the tattoo inked into your skin. You’d told him that it was artistic, and it was the most beautiful reminder of your old life that you had. It’s the mark of a thief on your home planet, curling into your skin and reminding you everyday of what you had run from. “I lied and cheated and stole my way through life. I am not too naive to hear the real reasons for you coming back.” Because that’s why he didn’t tell you. He thought you were too pure to know about his job. He thinks you’re too innocent to know why he’s back. Well, you're done with him handling you with kid gloves.

“If you ever cared about me, you’ll explain why you’re here now. Because I won’t stay.” You stare down the emotionless visor, knowing that you can’t hold your ground. Your anger is still burning white hot, but it’s beginning to subside for lack of fuel. You’re exhausted, and you have no power here. You inhale, ready to continue to ream him out except the breath catches in the back of your throat and comes out a strangled half-sob. You continue to stare at him, but all you can manage is a little, “You promised.”

The suit of armor staring back at you holds the power, and he could kick you out in an instant without a backwards look. What’s a few solar cycles compared to a lifetime of independence? But someone is going to have to give ground here, and you’re almost convinced that it’s going to be you when he speaks.

“Fennec.” Without a single word, she turns and leaves. You watch her retreating back, not knowing if you should feel relieved or trapped. “Do you want to know why I came back today? Or that day?”

A rebellious tear slips down your cheek, and you scrub it away angrily. “Pick one first.”

He’s silent again for several heart breaking moments, and you’re terrified that you’re going to have to leave, “I didn’t break my promise at first. I didn’t leave Tatooine that day.”

“What?” The tears have stopped, and that’s one little victory you won’t have to fight for here.

“The day that I left.” His hand rubs against the visor of his helmet, and you can almost imagine that he’s rubbing the visor of his helmet, right over the bridge of his nose the same way he always used to when he was stressed. “I went to Bib and bargained. A year of my service to leave you alone. I had no choice, it was the only way I could try to protect you after they came after me.”

Your heart drops and rises in your chest simultaneously, making you feel both like you’re plummeting off of a cliff while bound to a torn parachute. Puzzle pieces click into place too quickly, laying out a picture that’s still unfinished, but one that you understand primitively. The next command from Boba is unexpected, slicing through your problem solving.

“Up.”

You blink, “Excuse me?”

“Come here.” You stand and walk to him. “Give me your hands.” His grip is gentle, guiding your fingertips under the lip of the green painted beskar. His hands stay on your wrists as you carefully lift the helmet, inch by inch, and it’s a good thing that they did because without his support your hands might have been shaking too hard to get the damn thing off.

He looks the same as when he left all that time ago. Same strong chin, stern mouth, and scarred skin. But you look at his eyes, and you know that he did change in the time away. There’s a soft look in his eye that you had never seen before.

“What happened to you?” Your hand grazes over his skin, and he leans into your touch.

“I fell into a Sarlaac pit.” The familiar sardonic smirk appears, but you don’t smile along with him. It vanishes, “I--” He breaks eye contact with you, looking down and licking his lips as if he’s trying to gather the words to explain, “I met a man. And a child.” He looks back up, and you almost melt at the muted shine in his eyes, “They reminded me of what is important. I came back.”

You gently set the helmet on the ground and raise your hands to cup his face. “Boba--”

“I came back that last day because I realized that I loved you. I turned around and came back to tell you, and it’s a good thing I did.” His hands come up to cover yours, and there’s the wicked spark of humor in his eye. “I wanted to stay, angel. I wanted to stay so bad, but you were safer if I didn’t.” Your eyes slip closed as you lean down and graze your forehead against his, the way that he taught you. His hand leaves yours to plant on the back of your neck and holds you there. “We couldn't be together until Bib was dead. I was wrong, to come here first and to send Fennec for you. But I needed time to… prepare.”

He had to prepare for the possibility that the bargain didn’t work, or that you had moved on. He hadn’t needed to worry, because you promised that you’d be here. You slip onto his lap, straddling his thigh without moving your head away from his. “I’m here.”

“Are you still upset?” A hand comes up and ghosts over your hair. You lean into the touch almost subconsciously.

“I’m working through it.” You pull back and fix him with a stern gaze. “This isn’t resolved.”

“But?”

“We’ll work through it.” He nods, his mouth hanging slightly open in a look of contemplation.

“I won’t stay.” What? You freeze, dread spiking through your chest. He must feel the tension in your body because he rushes to clarify, “I-- uh I, ah shit that was a bad way to put it.” He pulls away and meets your eyes, “I will leave this. I’ll be Boba. Not Boba Fett. Not king of the crime underworld. I’ll be anything for you. We’ll escape off-world together or some shit. We can go find Hondo, if he’s still alive.”

You snort, “That old man is too tough to die.” You tap his nose with your fingertip, “Like one other that I know.”

He snaps his teeth playfully at your finger, and you squeal happily. “My point is--” He looks up at you with such peace in his eyes that you want to curl up against his chest and never leave, “We can do whatever you want. Just the two of us. But I want to stay with you, this time around. That past life is all done. We’ll find something else to do, besides hunting bounties.”

Your eyes track towards the doorway that Fennec disappeared through, and his gaze follows. “Fennec will be fine. I’ll release her from my service. Hell--” He chuckles dryly, “Maybe I’ll leave the throne to her.”

That’s a terrifying thought that you’re not quite ready to consider just yet. “You’d give this all up for me?”

“Angel, that’s what love is. Sacrifice. I just didn’t learn it soon enough.”

You kiss him, a real one this time, melting into his lips, “Love can be compromise. And this is a point I’m willing to give on.”

“What?”

“I’ll admit,” You tilt your head, a mischievous grin sliding across your face, “Queen of the crime underworld has a nice ring to it after being a moisture farmer for several years.”

He smiles, the real one this time, “I like the title on you.” His hands attach to your hips, holding you down on the hard ridge of his thigh as he grinds the leg up into your cunt. “Makes me wanna act out, Your Majesty.”

You gasp at the surge of wetness between your legs. Stars, it’s been so long that you almost forgot how much you loved the feeling of his body beneath you. “Boba--”

“Ah ah, is that any way to address your king?” So this is how he wants to play? Fine.

“No, Your Royalness.” Wrong answer. One hand comes down hard on your ass, and there’s going to be a mark for sure. “Your Excellency?” Nope, and another spank burns on your butt. “My king?” You brace yourself for another, but the hand stays.

“Hmmm, I like that one.” His grip tightens, and you know that you’re going to have finger shaped bruises on the pillowy flesh. He captures your lips against his, and you roll your hips downwards onto his thigh. His erection rests heavy against the inside of your thigh, and you purposefully angle your hips to create more friction against it. “Angel, I want nothing more than to take you now, but--” He stands with a grunt, easily hoisting you into the air with his hands supporting your butt.

“--I’d rather taste you first.”

A/N: Okay wow this took me so long. This project has literally been in the works for months, and I found a way to finish it finally! I’m not sure if the Boba Fett craze has passed yet, but either way here we have Boba. Some throne-fucking for those of you who would care for it.

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #smut #fluff #violence #daddy boba #could rail me anyday and I would THANK him #sir #just a crumb of cock please

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hajimeiwaswife · 3 years

Text

THE WAY I LOVED YOU

Word count: 4,2K

Wanings: angst (but fluff, too)

Summary: You weren't over the love Childe provided you, even when you were engaged to Albedo years later.

A blue, pink and mauve sky garnished the surroundings of the Stormbearer Mountains. The summery breeze, warm as the light of the bright sun, comforted those who walked along the path of fallen leaves, wild flowers and the smell of mint. A beautiful landscape presented itself for sore eyes to see.

A certain Alchemist was working on his new masterpiece, relaxing under the few rays of light that came with dusk, painting the one he considered the most beautiful person to ever put a foot on Teyvat. Mixing the colours of nature, he portraited on the sketch book the view he had of his fiancée and the scenery, all of it worthy of a cheesy romance novel and a fantasy book.

"How much time do you need?" Y/N asked in a tired tone, trying not to shift her position, "I'm getting crumps on my face from smiling."

The man didn't answer at the moment, considering for a brief time her question and filling a space on the page that still needed his attention. At last, he looked at her and smiled at the image he had the honour of witnessing. The girl, dressed in a summer white and blue dress, was slightly pouting at the lack of talking from his part. Her hair danced with the wind and he thanked Barbatos for letting him see her golden locks fly around her face.

"Just a little more, my love," he answered, his attention shifting back to the drawing in front of him.

"You said that an hour ago," the girl sighed, putting a smile again on her face so she didn't disrupt her lover from painting her, "I thought you wanted to go see Sucrose before the sun came down. Oh! And also, you promised Klee you'd visit her."

He hummed, immersed in the way her features took a hardened expression when she tried to remember something that needed to be done. Brows furrowed and fore finger on her right cheek, she looked at him in search of a comment from the Alchemist.

"Albedo! Are you listening to me?"

"You're so beautiful." mumbled the man, lost in her and the blush that was forming on her visage.

Shameless and, at the same time, honest and shy. That was Albedo, the one she was engaged to. Such an honourable and good man, someone who loved her as much as the Sea loved its waves, as much as the birds loved the Wind, as much as a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire. He gave her his everything and from the bottom of his own person, and she was grateful for it.

"I'm sorry" he promptly said, coughing on his palm to hide the evident embarrassment he felt, "It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable."

At that, she couldn't help but laugh. He was such a beautiful person, always searching her comfort and well-being before anyone else's, always taking care of her and looking for her. A pure soul, she would venture to affirm.

"Don't be silly, sweetheart," Y/N chuckled, positioning once again for him to portray her, "you know I love it when you compliment me. Now, c'mon, finish before the sun falls."

"As you wish."

One more hour of dirtying their hands in paint and observing the marvellous dusk that came upon them, they left to visit Sucrose, who was willing to tell Albedo about her advances in the research they both were working on.

"That's impressive, Sucrose," Albedo praised the girl, reading the documents and correcting those things he found could be improved.

Y/N turned off the conversation, not really interested in the depths of the Alchemy. She respected what the husband to be and her friend did for a life and she couldn't be prouder, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear the endless conversations about properties a flower could have.

After saying goodbye to the little Alchemist, they both headed to say hello to little Klee, who was mad at them for coming so late, it was already her time for bed and, as she said, 'We can't go bomb fishing!', followed by a 'Do you not love Klee?' Reassuring the little bomb crazy kid was more draining than she could imagine, but she did it for Albedo, nonetheless.

The afternoon turned into the late hours of the night, lilac sky was now dark and adorned with stars. The Alchemist had intertwined his fingers with Y/N's, sighing in content, allowing himself to relax at the warmth of her hand and the serenity reigning in Mondstadt.

"Maybe we should head home, you seem exhausted," commented Albedo after watching his fiancée yawn for the third time in ten minutes.

"That would be great, actually." Y/N yawned again, gaining a quiet chuckle from the man next to her.

No one talked again, everything already said until the moment to bid goodnight when they laid in bed. Albedo, being the reserved man he was, kept himself in his side of the bed, not too confident to spoon his girl still.

The silence was only accompanied by Albedo's soft snores. Darkness decorated the walls of the room in the AM. The sense of being trapped growing inside Y/N as she thought of the implications of her new life. She was engaged to an incredible man, who told her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her every single day; who went with her on strolls and made her laugh; who could teach her more than she could ever imagine; who appreciated her as she was.

Still, she felt nothing. At all.

She liked Albedo, that was clear. Who wouldn't like Albedo? He was the perfect man. On more than one occasion, Y/N had Amber and Barbara drooling about how lucky she was to be with someone like him. She knew she was the luckiest girl in Teyvat, most women simped over Diluc or Albedo. But, at the same time, she only felt guilt for being with him without actually loving him.

Anxiety growing on her, she decided to stand up. She walked out of the room, being careful not to disrupt Albedo's sleep, and headed to the transport point, she needed to be away from any form of human activity, she felt like shouting and hitting the first thing she could see. Breathing becoming a very tedious task as she approached the device, opting to go to Mt. Aocang. If she was going to wake someone up, she preferred an Adeptus who wouldn't ask more than any nosy human.

The wind, colder than that afternoon, calmed her to the point her lungs could take the oxygen she had been trying to get for minutes. The orange leaves obscured by the night reminded her of the hair she used to love so much. The hair of that man she had once despised, then loved, and then lost.

He, who claimed to be brave enough to enter her heart, had been the one to take it and keep it even until those days. Y/N noticed how her breathing became irregular again, she was used to it, every time she thought about the Harbinger. That repulsive, irresponsible, dishonest, cunning, intelligent and breath-taking man she couldn't forget. How had she let it come so far?

Albedo gave her everything, yet her heart yearned Childe's love. How pathetic.

"Fuck you, Childe!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring for the Adepti, not caring for those who could hear her cursing the Harbinger Tartaglia at 2 a.m. a Thursday night. "You ruined me, you motherfucker!"

So many fights, so many make outs, so much love making, so many nights under the stars trying to comprehend their feelings for the other. All of that for nothing. Like the bitter cold of Snezhnaya they froze, their hearts on their sleeves, light that came from the satellite above turned off.

"You know, sometimes I feel like you don't like me that much." she remembered him saying, his characteristic smirk on his face, "It's true we had our... abrasions, but girlie, c'mon, don't be so stiff."

She could clearly see in her mind how his hands came to her waist, grabbing her in a gentle but at the same time rough grip. A shivered down her spine, in the present and in the pass, and she was sure she would feel it in the future, too.

"How am I supposed to trust you, Harbinger?" she had said, crossing her arms after pulling away from him.

"Easy, trusting me."

And she did. She felt like a fool for allowing him to be so near, to had felt love from him, for loving him.

"Are you feeling okay? You look pale, my love," Albedo commented, a hand of his on the forehead of his lover, a worried expression on his face.

"Yes, Albedo, don't worry, I didn't sleep too well last night," Y/N reassured him, smiling slightly at her fiancé.

The Alchemist hummed, nodding to himself and returning to his work. The girl had returned to their room after a couple of hours in Mt. Aocang, praying for Albedo to not had noticed her absence. Apparently, he didn't. Had he noticed he would had already asked about it, or so she thought.

"I was thinking about visiting Liyue today, there are some materials there I need for my research," Albedo said after some minutes, looking at her, "I was wondering if you'd like to come."

Y/N's heart dropped. She had to say yes, how could she say no to Albedo? He wanted to spend time with her while still working, an effort she really appreciated. But, going to Liyue? What if he was there? Strolling those streets the two of them had travelled a thousand times.

But his gaze was still on her, waiting patiently for a reply. Doubtfully, she considered all her options: not going and upsetting Albedo; going and crossing him; going and being unable to continue due to the memories. No option was good, she had to choose between her fiancé's well-being and hers. 'He's made so any sacrifices for me'.

"I would love to, love."

Merchants selling, people buying, contracts being signed. That was Liyue in all its glory. Red, green and blue being the most recurrent colour themes on the walls, roofs and gardens, a gift to anyone who wanted to visit a paradise.

Albedo was buying some materials while Y/N stood next to him, not looking at anyone's face in case Childe decided to make one of his classic appearances. She grabbed Albedo's sleeve as a way to comfort herself, reassuring one time and one time again that she didn't have that much of bad luck to cross him in such a huge city.

She turned her head to look around at last, brave to see the stores and Liyue's people. Many of them knew who she was, having helped most of them at least in one occasion, great people with beautiful and peaceful lives. She had that now, at Albedo's side. But why did she feel like it wasn't what she wanted?

The red mask in one of the stalls froze her in her place, it looked identical to Childe's. She knew it wasn't his, of course, he was too involved in the Fatui and too wealthy to pledge his mask, but it made her remember him and one of the many memories she had with him in Liyue, again.

"Girlie, don't be like that" Childe exclaimed, smiling at her with bravado, "You don't have to feign you don't want that bracelet."

"I don't want it," repeated her for the third time, growing irritated.

"I have enough money to buy it for you, darling," the Harbinger insisted, taking her left hand in one of his and kissing her knuckles.

"How charming," she murmured ironically, rolling her eyes and pulling her hand out of his grasp.

"I know," he smirked, going after her, "and I also know how much you love when I act like a gentleman."

"How would you know that if you've never acted like one?" she snorted, watching his expression turn into an offended one.

"I'm a gentleman, you just can't appreciate my efforts to woo you," he replied with a pout.

"Aw, little Childe can't take a no for an answer," Y/N continued to tease him, smiling slightly at his spoiled brat's act.

"Very well, little lady, you're not having that bracelet," he stamped and turn away from her, walking without a real direction.

"Not that I wanted it!" she shouted at the distance.

Needless to say, she found the bracelet in her purse that night with a cheesy note that claimed 'To my favourite and stubborn traveller, with love, Childe'.

She still had it in her wrist, accompanying her wherever she went, reminding her of the stupid man that gifted it to her. Golden with Snezhnaya patterns, orange jewelry decorating the surface of the material. Albedo never said anything about it, never asked, and she was grateful for it, he knew to respect her space.

Her fiancé had just finished purchasing what he needed, looking at her with a loving gaze. She felt nothing, only appreciation, and she felt awful for not returning his feelings at their best, he deserved to be loved and spoiled. However, she missed him, she missed what they had.

The grey sky announced the storm that was coming, thunder and lightning appearing to give a performance of nature power. She had fought, walked, ran and danced in rain. She had danced, kissed and loved. But nothing of it with Albedo.

"Now a step to the left" instructed Childe, grabbing her waist with his left hand and her hand with his right one, "and now turn around... That's it! Perfect! You're a natural."

"Stop lying," she laughed, following what he was saying and dancing with him in a forgotten valley in some old ruins, "I can't dance for the love of Barbatos."

"I think you're really good, almost seductive," he purred, kissing her jaw and going down her neck, "seeing you move your hips like that just" an animalistic growl came from the back of his throat.

"Okay, calm down big guy, we're not fucking here."

The sound of thunder interrupted his reply, confusing them both for a moment. Suddenly, rain poured and soaked them wet. Y/N looked for somewhere they could go to shelter from the storm, but Childe just laughed and started making her dance again.

"What the hell are you doing, pee-brain!" she exclaimed, desperate.

"Dancing with you under the rain. Isn't it romantic?" he asked, smug as always.

"Romantic until we catch a hypothermia."

He didn't budge. Swaying them both with the dark landscape behind them, leaves flying around, wind aggressive. But nothing mattered as they looked at each other; love, affection and lust hidden in their souls, wanting nothing more than to indulge to the other and become one. How can anyone love this much? How can feelings root that deep? Childe was the only answer to those questions.

With nothing but a soft caress to her cheek, he smashed his lips on hers, kissing her while the rain accentuated the wet sounds. Everything with him was wild, but so addictive she couldn't help but coming undone, indulging to everything he asked silently from her. A kiss in the rain never felt so good.

"I'll be right back, I just need to drop this at Mingxing Jewelry," Albedo said, giving her a peck before leaving.

She stood there for a few moments, wondering what she could do white she waited for her lover. The rain was nearing Liyue Harbor, Albedo had told her he needed to do a couple of things more before going to the transport point to return home. She felt like throwing up, not a single spot in the city did not remind her of the love of her life, including their ugliest moments as a couple.

"How could you!?" Y/N screamed, feeling completely devastated and deceived.

"I had to! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No! It's not okay!" his indifference was breaking her heart, looking at him with disappointment, "Again! You did it again!"

"I was ordered to!" he shouted, his voice the same tone as hers, wrath in his eyes, "I have a job and you knew about it when you decided to fuck me!"

"What the hell, Childe!" she cried, "First of all, you nearly destroy Liyue! Again! Not only once but twice!" she was tired, everything was going down in front of her and she didn't want to watch it come to ruins, "And fuck you? You mean love you?"

"Love, sex, everything's the same, isn't it?" he replied, calmer and returning to his indifferent tone.

"W-what do you mean?" the fuming storm stopped to bring an eye of the hurricane, waiting patiently to unleash the tsunami over them.

"What you heard; I don't find a difference between the two concepts."

"You're lying," she murmured, unbelieving. How could he say that when an hour ago he was looking at her with so much love? Was it all an act? No, you can't feign feelings so deep.

"You're just too fool to see it, girlie," his smirk appeared, making her shake in fear, fear of losing what she cared about, "confusing terms and assuming things without asking."

"You're lying." she repeated, more to herself than for him to hear. He sighed, as if he was done with her.

"Think what you want. Now, there are people waiting for me. Until next time, girlie."

The shattering of her heart served up as the soundtrack of his departure. The leaves that had been once so vibrant and full of colour now danced around her in muted tones, mocking her. That was it, the end of their love. The palace the resembled their union fell into pieces, she needed to let go of him. The words he said cut deeper than a knife, made her feel cold. But how could she let go if she still loved him?

"So now you're with the Alchemist," a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, making her turn to the source of it.

There he was. Orange hair and piercing blue eyes. His smirk wasn't present in the portray he displayed of himself, walking as the noble man he said he was. Her heart raced for the first time in years, asking her for indulgence, for permission to feel.

"Yes," was the first thing she said after some minutes processing what was happening. Childe was there, in front of her, "yes, I'm with Albedo."

"I see," he commented, uninterested. She thought that was all the interaction they would have, that he would go away again and leave her live her life, but she had to know better, "even if you can't forget me, you allow yourself to be with someone else?"

"What is it to you?" Y/N felt offended, who did he think he was to reprimand her in such a dirty way? He couldn't know she wasn't over him, could he?

"It's unfair for both of you. You see, love shouldn't feel like you owe something to someone just because they love you." Childe said, his gaze falling at the bracelet for a couple of seconds before looking at the landscape, "You're fooling him and yourself."

"And what would you know about love?" the question came in a bitter tone. She was angry, how dare he talk about love when he did her so wrong? When he hurt her so much?

"Touché." Childe gave her a sincere smile that reached his eyes, it was breath-taking. Y/N felt her stomach twirl and her heart jump at the sight of such a beautiful scenario, "Glad to see you well, Y/N. See ya!"

And like that, he left the place as if he hadn't turned her world around again. She missed him, she admitted to herself that she missed him. She missed his wild nature, his odd conversations, the mystery wrapping around him. She couldn't forgive him, but she couldn't live without him, either. That's the way she loved him.

Once Albedo returned from his errands, they both went to the transport point to return to Mondstadt. The way back was silent, but not a comfortable one as they always had, there was some tension lingering in between them. She wanted to attribute it to the tension she had been carrying since her encounter with Childe, but deep down she knew there was something else.

When they entered their house, they both changed into their sleeping garments without sharing a word, waiting for the other to be the first one to break the silence. Y/N didn't have it in her to be the brave one in the situation at hand, so, finally, Albedo spoke.

"I know you're not over him," he said, calmly, but there was jealousy in his tone.

She was surprised to hear him say those words. She never mentioned Childe before, less being in a relationship with him. She wanted to feel fear, the same one she felt when her argument with Childe broke them apart, but she felt nothing at all. Why? Why couldn't she be in love with a man life him?

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Y/N." Albedo sighed, sitting at the edge of their shared bed.

"B-but", she stuttered, searching for words, "H-how do you know...?"

"There were rumours... some years ago, about the 'traveller' being with one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. It was during your time at Liyue."

She nodded, understanding, but really not understanding anything, "Did you believe them?"

"I can't say yes, but I can't say no, either." Albedo looked at her, he didn't look angry, and that made her feel a little bit better. "I just couldn't know if it was true or not because I wasn't there."

"I see." another moment of silence followed. She took a deep breath and looked at him in the eyes, "Why do you say that I'm not over him, though?"

"There are so many signs, you aren't the subtlest person, love." he chuckled, "The bracelet has Snezhnaya patterns and you haven't taken it out in all these years. I can only assume it was a present from Tartaglia."

Y/N nodded again, impressed with how observant Albedo was and with his deduction skills. She wished for the hundredth time that day that she would have fell in love with him and not with the Harbinger.

"I'm so sorry-" she began, but was quickly interrupted by her fiancé.

"Don't." he commanded, "That's not the only thing that gave you away."

"What do you mean?"

"Your late night trips."

'He knew' she thought, searching for any clues that could tell her when he had discovered it, but there were none. 'He has known all this time.'

"Why haven't you said anything?" she asked.

"I wanted to give you space," he began, "I must admit, however, that at first I thought you were cheating on me."

"I would never-" she was interrupted again, a kind gaze on his eyes.

"I know, I know. I realized when you came home smelling like grass and mint and not with the cologne of another man."

It was silent again, Y/N tried to find anything she could say to make him feel better, but she couldn't even understand himself. Why isn't she feeling her heart shattering? She knew why, but she didn't want to indulge in that feeling.

"I'm so sorry, Albedo. I really am."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not." those words sounded identical to the ones she had directed to Childe once upon a time.

"I am aware that you don't love me the way I love you."

"Albedo-"

"But it's okay, I can love both of us enough to fill that gap."

She was at a loss of words. Had she heard it right? What did he mean? Albedo was so calm, so ethereal, looking at her fondly even when he knew she didn't feel the same. He was going to marry a woman that didn't want him the same way she wanted her. And even though he was aware of that, he was smiling.

"Why?" she wondered out loud.

"Because that's how it works, that's the way I love you, until you can return my feelings."

The leaves that danced aggressively at the other side of the window stayed still, processing the scene going on in the room of the Alchemist and the Traveller. Their colour coming back to a vibrant one, giving her hope of being able to love again, to feel something.

Her love with Childe was like the Sun and the Moon, so in love they were crazy for each other, but impossible and unworkable. But, Albedo loved her like the Sea loved its waves, like the birds loved the Wind, like a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire, and she was going to return it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but she would. And when she did, she would love him as much as the Leaves loved their trees, as much as the Lake loved the rain that floods it, as much as the Horizon loved dusk.

She bid goodbye to Childe that night, leaving the bracelet in the drawer in her nightstand. Adorning her hand only was the ring Albedo had gifted her.

"See you, Childe," she murmured at 2 a.m. before falling in her slumber.

#albedo x you #albedo x reader #childe x reader #childe x you #genshin childe #tartagila #genshin impact #genshin liyue #liyue harbor #mondstadt

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Might we get some Sebastian Zollner soft smut 👀 maybe even like young him when he was still trying to do his own painting and you were his nude model

The Artist and his Muse [Sebastian Zöllner x his Muse]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, bit pf fem!dom and a mess of a man

A/N: As usual Sebastian is my weakest spot. The painting here is "In the Tepidarium" by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema.

You stood there quietly, a sense of expectation taking over you when he opened the door at you. You noticed him from day one and now you had to wrap the situation between the two of you.

"There you are"

He only said letting you inside, a second voice greeting you.

"Hey! Seb is that your girlfriend?"

He waved at his flatmate to shut up as he put an hand on your lower back pushing you to get out of that situation fast.

As you got into his tiny room it was a mess.

The space was small, scattered art books and biographies of great artists everywhere on the floor, on the big inclined drawing desk, one of those like architects had. Then drawings, drawings everywhere from the floor to the walls, from over the bed to every visible corner of the room.

Also mugs, ashtrays filled up everywhere, more mugs used as ashtrays and some leftover food also used as ashtray.

The place would have been grey and dull if it wasn't so chaotic and full of colours.

You also noticed from the big amount of duvets over the bed that the place was cold.

"Get your stuff here"

He said moving his, hopefully clean, clothes off a chair so you could lean your stuff there.

"Thank you for coming" he added briefly and you smiled.

"Thank you for inviting me"

It wasn't like you had much choice, you posed for the art academy, but some extra money was always nice and he daunted you for weeks by now, so in the end you said yes.

"So, let's begin or do you need anything?"

"Some water would be nice" you said as he nodded taking a glass full of dirty water, probably used to get wet the brushes, and going away. You heard him throw it away and briefly wash it before coming back to you with the glass full of water and still half dirty.

You smiled as you took it taking a sip only to be polite putting it back on side.

"Now please" he gestured something, he did a lot of hand gestures and a lot of waving like he was constantly trying to get rid of some smoke surrounding him.

"Get naked" he concluded and you nodded quietly undoing your dress as he looked away to look trough some of all those sketches he had around the room finally showing you a sketch of a standing naked figure, he clearly had some ideas for the background and it was quite classic as structure.

"You can hold this" he said handing you a ball "hold it low, around here" he said pressing the ball over your lower stomach.

"You know ,like a fortune teller" he said before giving you his back to prepare the easel and put on the canvas. You notice he sketched the back of it, so he probably didn't have all of that money. The chances to be paid becoming small by minute, but you were here and he was awkward enough to intimidate you a bit.

You put the ball down and proceeded to undress, you folded your clothing over the chair he freed for you and piled them neatly before picking the ball again.

"ruffle your hair, I need a kind of unkept vibe"

you nodded as you held the ball under your arm and with one hand you ruffled your hair standing nicely in place as you put the ball back to its position.

He stared at you as he leaned on side, he jerked his hand blindly on side to turn on the small radio to some low indie pop channel.

You took your time to observe him as you stared in front of you.

He had longish hair and he tied them up into an half bun, a soft beard. He wore a used t-shirt from the band The Smiths already stained with colour and some blue pants that must be his kind of working from home uniform.

He was barefoot and you noticed he bowed his feet inward as he got pensive, like a way to get extra relaxed.

He was cute, you had to admit it. He was also the first in line most of the time during real life drawing lessons, you could tell he was striving for it but he didn't take well criticism. He would glare and frown at every critic, nag at his bottom lip as he resumed his sketching every time with more passion.

It was always weird to go and see a student on your own. When you were working at the academy it was easy because you had a clear shift and pauses, while when working with artists alone you always had to give in some time.

"Relax your shoulders"

You blinked like his words woke you up and you took a deep breath resuming your position.

"It is a study for a classical image, you know something like Alma Tadema works, only modern" you smiled as you liked that painter and you nodded.

Silence took over as he observed you and disappeared behind the canvas. He was nervous from the moment you agreed to meet him alone. he felt like a creep because he always had a bit of a crush on you and he was upset when for a reason or another you were not the model on certain days. You were everything he liked, every proportion of your body was the ideal he had as an artist.

He sketched your shape as for once he had all the time, no change of position, nobody calling it too difficult or interrupting the moment.

He huffed softly as he got too excited awaiting for this moment he couldn't sleep at night and he even cleaned up his room. Well, you could tell he tried.

He observed every detail of you: from the way you had little moles scattered on your body that he never noticed before to the way your collarbone met deliciously under your neck, how your shoulders drifted up every now and then to unease the tension from the lack of movement. He bit on the inside of your cheek as he sketched the navel of your hips, the delicious curve where so many times he imagined to bury his head into, to be kept safe from the welcoming world of your female form, the origin of the world of erotica.

He frowned as you moved to take a sip of water, he looked at the time, 30 minutes already gone?

He stared down to the canvas as he had to focus, focus focus.

"Seb?? Do you have my lighter??"

A male voice that you guessed belonged to his flatmate shouted and he picked a cigarette

"NO" he shouted louder as the other guy groaned from behind the door, you smirked as you watched him light up his cigarette with a metal lighter and blow some smoke.

He resumed his sketching and you relaxed after some time, your eyes darting away as you barely saw him beside the smoke raising from behind the canvas.

"SEB"

Another shout interrupting but this time it was another flatmate that just bounced the door open. You gulped in surprise as you didn't have anything at hand to cover yourself

"What shit is this? What kind of pervert are you?"

The guy asked as Sebastian thew the pencil at him.

"Fuck you" he shouted "get the fuck out, out!" he jumped off his seat throwing the lit cigarette at him. And that’s why you hated to go to people's houses. Other that don't study art looked at you like that, like something dirt ,like a naked woman.

You sighed as you moved toward the bed covering yourself with one of the countless duvets scattered in the room, it was warm and soft at least. You looked away trying to zone out from the little fight going on between Sebastian and his the other guy.

"Sorry"

He said as he locked the door and pushed the drawer in front of it huffing and panting as he came to you showing with a gesture of his hand your way back to that position.

"No, look it is better if I leave, if you want to do it a private session let's do it at the school" you said as you got enough of that place and his flatmates and you also realised that if he lived in that chaos he probably didn't have the money to book the room and also pay you.

"no, no, no, no" he repeated as he moved after you as you marched to collect your belonging.

"please, they are just idiots" he said as he looked like he was ready to have a panic attack.

"I can see that myself, so that's better to end it now"

"no, no you don't understand"

You chuckled as you looked at him "don't understand what? the power of art?" you inquired as you had heard all sorts of excuses about it.

"I need you"

He said helplessly as your frowned and looked away as he gabbed you by your duvet yanking you back a little.

“I don’t work with other models, I can’t process it, when you’re there I am productive, I work and overwork, and my head is full of ideas, of hopes and more and more ideas, I can see things in perspective, I can feel it, it is like a raging fire and I need you t make it start, just please, just listen to me”

You tried to focus onto what was around you and there's when you noticed that from this new perspective you saw the sketch.

You moved closer to it as you admired how delicate was Sebastian's hand, he made little traits, quick slashes that made your figure look like you had never seen yourself before and you had actually seen a lot of sketches of yourself, so many pointing out unflattering things about your body that you tried to avoid having a look at those sketches.

"it is rough, don't" he said as he still held you by the duvet but he noticed you look up at the canvas.

He had never been this close to you. You smelled like fresh flowers and soft creamy after bath lotion, one of those that say your skin will be like honey and milk. He was sure you tasted like it.

He gulped down nervously as now this was widely unprofessional and he would have given all he had to avoid this moment and yet he daydreamed of it for so long while watching you getting dressed after the lesson.

"I apologise, I swear, I never.. I mean I know this is not the best place but I never felt like I do with you before and I didn’t want to screw it up on the first time”

You didn't really had the time to answer as he clashed his lips over yours grabbing the sides of your face with his hands and it was so desperate like he was about to break down.

You pushed him off as he frowned visibly. He looked so taken aback and saddened now.

You almost chuckled to his face as he looked like a pup that got smacked in the muzzle for biting onto something pricy.

You tugged him by his shirt still wrapped up in that duvet pushing him to sit down.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out of it when you moved to straddle him.

"Stay still"

You said as you moved your hand to his jaw making him close his mouth, he stared at you as you brushed you lips against his, he looked at you intensely before closing his eyes and letting you guide him into that kiss. He let out a soft sound as you showed him what kisses are made for, not that fearful rushed slamming from his mouth to yours.

"You're a goddess" he whispered softly as he leaned for another kiss. He pulled onto that duvet now hungry for more.

"Calm down, don't rush so much" you whispered as he almost didn't know what to do with himself. He was hard already, he was desperate for you that colonised his dreams for so long.

"Damn" he groaned as you lowered your hips against his. He stared at you panting softly as you started grinding against him, the fabric of his joggers was soft but you would have endured some itchy feeling just for the way he trembled and groaned from the friction you gifted. You were sure his boxers must be filled with precum already.

"Can I touch you?"

"Not yet" you whispered. You loved the way he draw you, you saw all the desire behind it and he deserved to enjoy it and not to rush through it.

"Fuck please, i have never" he stopped himself as you looked at you curiously.

"I did everything but that" he said as he tried to avoid to mention how usually girls got so annoyed with his that after a very good cunnilingus they would ask him to leave.

"even better then" you said as he looked so nervous it was adorable. you leaned in and kissed him again as he let you take off his shirt as he stared at you adoringly, the duvet falling off your torso as his eyes fluttered closed letting you guide him in the kiss, he had a lot to learn but he was eager to.

You swiped your tongue over his lips as he parted them and groaned as you joined your lips in a more eager kiss, your tongue trying his as his hips jerked aimlessly against you trying to get some relief, but you moved your hips away not willing to satisfy him too fast. He was used to stare at you, to long for you with his eyes and now he had to persevere in that.

You pulled back from him moving to stand up between his legs letting the duvet fall off your body, now the act taking a whole new meaning for him as you kneeled down taking off his clothing.

You pushed his cock out slowly stroking it, your cold fingers making him hiss as you pumped him slowly, your lips moved across his cock slowly sucking on it and tracing its length with your tongue.

“If you cum I will leave”

The threatening enough to make him groan, he couldn’t take his eyes off from you even if that made him only more horny.

“Fuck” he hissed as you sucked on his needy tip already spread with premium, your tongue twirling over it before taking it whole in your mouth.

Oh the strangled moan he let out.

He held over the edge of the bed like a dear of life, your bobbing head making him lose his mind, you let out soft moans and humming sound that echoed through his whole body.

“Fuck”

He repeated, more helplessly than before if possible, as he closed his eyes, he squeezed them as his thighs trembled eagerly fighting against his natural eager nature.

You pulled back as you stood up and he let out a loud groan.

“Look at you, already a mess”

You smirked as you moved to straddle him, your bare slit tracing his cock like your tongue just did before letting the tip of it inside you, then you pulled back making him cry out.

Once again, his hips jerked up helplessly.

“Please” he groaned “I need it, I need it” he begged as you held him by his jaw with your left hand as your right one guided him inside you.

You stared at him as you did, his eyes widened, his pupils blown as your warmth engulfed him and wrapped him in a dense sense of pleasure.

“Move, move”

Your leaned your head on side

“Please”

You still didn’t wince, he parted his lips not knowing what to say.

“You have been staring at me like that all that time, do you think I didn’t notice?” You whispered as he licked his lips nervously

“You used me for your little dreams didn’t you? I bet you wanked like a loser with your sketches, you were getting hard on the first day only”

He whined like a suffering cat his thighs trembling as he was bouncing on his heels lightly

“Am I wrong?”

He shook his head to you and you smirked

“I have been your fantasy, now, you’re going to be mine”

He moaned as you begun to move, your lips meeting his as he sucked onto your finger before you moved your own hand to rub your clit, he was completely out of his zone. He used to be hungry and straightforward and now he was just an idiot who didn’t know where to place his hands.

“My muse” he groaned as your moves were making him go wild, his hips jerking against yours “my muse”

He repeated it as you pushed him to lay onto his bed, your sensual bouncing over his lap making any sane man become a priest for your religion.

“Fill me Sebastian, please me”

You moaned as you rubbed over your own clit as he squeezed your thighs unable to phantom any move, to focus.

His mouth hanged open, he licked his lips and groaned, your permission making him lose control as he released inside you.

He kissed onto your lips rising to sit up, arms around your waist as he nuzzled helplessly against you.

A whole new world open in front of him.

“Do you want to paint me now?”

He nodded looking up at you, hair stuck up to his sweaty forehead as he looked so lost, pupils blown and erratic breath.

You smiled tenderly to him tracing his face with your fingertips guiding him into another kiss that he won’t forget for a lifetime.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling

#sebastian zöllner x y/n #sebastian zollner smut #sebastian zollner x y/n #sebastian zöllner x reader #sebastian zöllner x you #sebastian zollner x reader #sebastian zöllner headcanon #sebastian zollner #sebastian zöllner #ich und Kaminski fanfiction

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itsamejin · 4 years

Text

this love || yoongi angst

Summary: A story through the years detailing your relationship with Yoongi and all the ups and downs that came with dating an idol.

Warning: cursing, sexually suggestive content

Genre: angst, fluff, idol!yoongi, artist!yn

Pairing: Yoongi x female!reader

Premise: Based on the song ‘This Love’ by Taylor Swift. Reader is an artist.

Commission Request: @minyoongail

Word Count: 7,681 words

—

You met Yoongi when he was just a trainee, ready to take on the world and bursting with energy to get on stage. He had visions of grandeur- him living in a beautiful mansion, wearing name-brand jewelry, cruising in rare sports vehicles. When times were simpler, he’d promise that you’d be there with him, indulging in the glitz and glamour that came with his fame. He’d be an idol and you’d be his muse. Yet under all those pretenses, under all those empty promises, he was just Yoongi.

He was a guy who walked in and out of your life as easily as ocean tides come and go on the shore. He taught you how to fall in love, fall out of it, and rekindle it all the same. It was a sort of beautiful asphyxiation, being wrapped up in his lifestyle and learning to accept the consequences that came with dating a celebrity.

You wonder even now as you search his name on the internet, if you had any regrets. After all, you lost too much to be with him.

—

April 2013

A first meeting meant everything to you, especially when it came to your clients. You didn’t accept jobs from weirdos who didn’t respect your craft and you definitely hated impatient ones who badgered you to finish your pieces as quick as possible.

Big Hit was a happy medium and had hired you as a contract employee after reviewing your portfolio. Although the style of work they wanted from you was not at all what you specialized in, you were happy that they treated you like an actual employee and not some sort of machine. Plus, the pay was good.

You were asked to work on some cute animal characters for an upcoming boy group that you weren’t terribly familiar with, maybe stumbled on a vlog of theirs that you forgot about. You were intrigued by the slew of trainees that sat in front of you, their palms clenched out of anxiousness.

“I’m [Y/N], one of the digital artists that will be working with you guys from now on,” you introduce yourself politely to the seven bright-eyed boys in front of you.

You were in a room with other staff members, discussing the concept of the “Hip Hop Monsters” your graphics team was working on. This was a planned project lasting over a span of years and would eventually result in collectors edition items. It made you giddy just thinking of the royalties you’d earn from it all.

“I’d like it if the animals took after us,” one of the boys suggested shyly, slightly intimidated by the large number of corporate employees there were in the room for something that seemed so trivial. “I think our fans would like the characters more if they kind of resembled our personalities and stuff...”

You nod along to his suggestions, staring at his jersey to notice that the member who spoke up was Rap Monster. It was cute how they all wore clothes with their names on them. That’s one way to attract attention, you suppose.

“Any other suggestions you guys have for us?” you ask, jotting down notes and making rough sketches as they talk amongst themselves.

“I’d like it if,” a somewhat husky voice starts and you can’t help but stare into the guy’s eyes as he speaks, “my character was a turtle.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter along with the other staff members. He had said it with such a straight face and with so little enthusiasm, yet you could tell from his slight blush that he was serious. He was cute in the way that he wasn’t trying to be.

“You resemble one,” you grin at him, drawing out a small turtle with a cute beanie on your iPad, like the one he wore in front of you. You show it to him. “Something like this?”

“Exactly that!”

He breaks out into a gummy smile, one so bright that it hurt your heart to stare at him for too long. Now you were the one left flustered. He realizes how enthusiastic he was and got embarrassed once again, scratching the back of his head to avoid eye-contact.

“S-sorry, for shouting. It looks good.”

You bite your lip from forming too big of a grin. You still had to remain professional after all.

“You’re welcome,” you smirk slightly as he goes back to trying to look cool. You can’t help but doodle his name on your iPad even as the other members shared ideas for their own animals.

Suga, Suga, Suga.

You smile to yourself. It does have a ring to it.

—

June 2013

Yoongi sees you in the hallways sometimes and wants to say hi, but he can’t because other people are watching. Though, that isn’t the only reason.

He tells himself every day that he’ll muster up the courage to go talk to you, but every time he sees your face his legs turn to jelly. Yoongi was busy with debut stages recently, but he found some free time in his schedule to approach you.

Yoongi was never the shy type, more reserved if anything else, but you had something that enamored him- intrigued him. He wanted to know who you were other than the cute girl he was stuck in meetings with from time to time.

As you sat there on your desk, Yoongi lingered in an area nearby. He would give you his number today and if things didn’t work out then that would be that. There was no need to be all shy about this; it’s not like this is his first time asking someone out.

He strides over to you with feigned confidence and you look up after a minute, not noticing how his shadow loomed over you. He sees that you’re working on realistic portraits of the members and not the cutesy characters he usually sees you drawing.

“Hi,” he says curtly, trying to seem disinterested though he was the one that approached you first.

“Hello,” you smile up at him.

Suga.

“You draw really cool stuff,” he says to break the awkward tension. “You should show it to the CEO. I’m sure we’d have cooler concepts for our albums with your work.”

You look up at him, a happy glint in your eyes. He was complimenting you, although avoiding eye contact to seem a little less nervous than he really was.

“Well, I’m just a contract worker so I don’t think I really have the authority to start up new projects out of nowhere,” you say with a smile on your face at how flustered he looks. “I feel like you’re here to ask me for something. Am I right?”

He looks away for a split second, coughing to alleviate his nerves. He was a grown man for fuck’s sake, why was this so difficult?

“I was actually wondering if you could come give me some opinions about some art that I drew,” he lies through his teeth, just trying to find a way to get you in a more private area than the corporate floor teaming with watchful gazes. “I’ve been trying to start a new hobby.”

You chuckle slightly, seeing right through his words. You stand up to amuse him.

“I’d be happy to.”

He leads you to a studio filled with whacky knick-knacks and dim lighting, not necessarily the best place to draw. You know by now that he just said those things as an excuse to be alone with you.

“So where’s this masterpiece?” you tease slightly at his nervous expression. How did a guy who looked so deadpan have such a giddy personality?

“Well actually,” he starts off, palms already sweaty. “I-It’s not here right now, but I think I left it at the dorms. Maybe if we exchange phone numbers I can text it to you.”

He tried to appear nonchalant, but his hands moved as if he was doing a public speaking presentation. Yoongi thought he was doing great, though growing a little more nervous at how you were giggling.

“You know, Suga,” you start teasingly, “My number is in the company directory. Feel free to text me anytime.”

Yoongi slightly cringes hearing his stage name. He loves it, don’t get him wrong, but he didn't like hearing it come from you. He didn’t like the unfamiliar aspect that came with using his stage name- like you two only went by professional terms.

“Call me Yoongi,” he says with genuine confidence this time. “I like it better when my friends call me Yoongi.”

You nod, relieved that you could finally know this cute guy’s name. Truth be told, you were snooping around his conversations with other people to figure it out.

“So we’re friends?”

Yoongi nods, sitting down in his rolling chair.

“I’d like to be,” he grins, patting the sofa, hoping you’d take a seat with him.

And you do.

—

Present

It’s hard to work efficiently when you’re no longer in a corporate space. There’s no boss to check up on your progress nor is there a nosy coworker trying to see what you’re doing from the corner of their eye. You missed the hustle and bustle of an office floor, but it was nice exploring your creativity through freelance work.

You tap your digital pen onto the table repeatedly, looking at the reference image over and over again. It was a sick joke played by the universe to have been commissioned to draw your ex-boyfriend’s idol group, but you couldn’t refuse the hundreds of dollars the ecstatic fangirl was willing to give you. Truth be told, she might have offered too much pay, but you took up her offer anyway. Money is money.

Yet a face you’ve touched so often, a person you’d been with for years felt so unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t like you were drawing him realistically either. The client wanted anime-style figures that resembled them, looked enough like the boys to display it as her Twitter header. In the end, it’s still too difficult to draw. The rest of the members were lined up and sketched perfectly, but there was a blank area where Yoongi’s face should’ve been.

Your wrists hurt from the constant drawing and erasing so you set it down to massage your hand from cramping. In moments like these, you hated your job.

Ting.

A message notification popped up on your phone that laid beside your iPad. You usually left it silent when you were working, but you opened yourself up to distractions when drawing this particular piece. Whoever thought it was a good idea to specialize in celebrity artwork? You pick up your phone and smiled softly at the text.

hey, can I come over?

—

March 2014

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Yoongi, happy birthday to you~~”

You cheer on with the rest of the boys in their cramped dorm. Somehow you had gotten close enough with them to be at this level of comfort, sitting crisscrossed and shoulders touching with Jungkook and Seokjin. Yoongi blows out the candles and claps his hands, a little sad that another year passed by so quickly. He kept glancing at you who was focused on cutting the cake like the perfectionist you were.

He couldn’t help but feel like time was running out, like if he didn’t confess to you now then it would never happen. Yoongi took off the beanie he wore and ruffled his hair. He was feeling anxious all of a sudden.

“Dude don’t do that your dandruff is gonna get everywhere,” Hoseok whines. “The cake is gonna be decorated with your dead skin cells.”

“Go wash your hands,” Jin commands and Yoongi could only roll his eyes.

“Relax, I don’t even think we’re gonna have cake anytime soon when this slow-poke is taking forever to cut.”

He flicks your forehead as you glare up at him.

“I could so easily throw this in your face, but I choose not to,” you stick your tongue out at him and he scoffs.

“I’d like to see you try.”

All the members groan out of annoyance.

“Oh my god they’re having a lovers quarrel again,” Jimin yawned. “Aren’t you guys sick of arguing?”

Yoongi freezes at his words. Lover’s quarrel. That was a nice way to put it.

“They’ll stop arguing when Yoongi finally-”

Taehyung was cut off as Yoongi swipes three fingers worth of frosting from the cake and lathers it all over Taehyung’s face.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi shakes his head and soon chaos descended. Cake flew in places it shouldn’t have and ended when Namjoon knocked over a glass of water, managing to break it on the floor tiles. In the end, no one got cake.

Yoongi and you were laughing amongst yourselves at the kitchen sink, washing off some of the bits that got onto your shirts.

“I’m so sorry about your cake,” you say through your chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you some time.”

Yoongi only smiles.

“Yeah, you can treat me on a date,” he replies a little too boldly. You look at him in shock, not quite processing his words.

“A date?”

He nods.

“We should go out sometime.”

You purse your lips to prevent the huge grin about to be displayed on your face.

“We should.”

—

Present

It was subtle, the way it all started. You trace over the features you drew so far, only getting to his eyes. Yoongi and you were innocent lovers for a while, keeping your trysts a secret from everyone in the company except his managers and the members. A few of your friends knew, but none of them knew BTS well enough to be all that surprised. It wasn’t all that rare to go out with a celebrity in your line of work.

You almost miss those days when he was unrecognizable. After your friends realized who he was after he hit it big globally, you felt like a secret of yours was displayed to them. Your love was supposed to be private, but his fame left very little room for privacy. You missed when you were the only one that knew of him and maybe it’s selfish to think that way, but you were past the point of being selfish.

You text back.

yeah, can't wait to see you

—

Jan. 2015

Yoongi lays you down on the couch gently. His hands caressing your sides underneath the thin material of your shirt as he pulls you in closer to his kisses. This felt different from other nights, different in that there was nothing around to stop what would come next.

He pulls away from you slightly, panting from the lack of oxygen.

“Are you sure?” he asks, drawing circles on your hip with his thumb. He was only supposed to come over to help you unpack some stuff for your new apartment and here you were, pinned on the couch and sweating from the close contact.

You nod back in response, not finding the right words to get him to continue. He pulls your shirt over your head, peppering kisses on your neck and atop your breasts. He fixates on your neck languidly, biting as he sees fits.

There was a pause as you felt him press up against you and you knew then that there was no making it to the bed. You would have your first time with him on this newly moved-in couch.

The clothes dropped to the ground as his touches get more impatient, more desperate. It all passes by like a blur and you could only remember the pleasure that came with his long fingers, the satisfaction you felt when he was inside you. The climax of it all made you realize that you loved him, truly and without regret. He holds you in his arms when you come undone, flashing a satiated smile as you look up at him. It’s like the stars were in his eyes.

“How do you feel?” you ask him, worried he was already drowsy. You didn’t want to have to sleep on the couch naked.

“Satisfied,” he says with a smile on his face.

You can’t help but swoon, his eyes fixated on you. At least for now, he was yours He wasn’t Suga, a rapper. He was Yoongi, your boyfriend.

It didn't matter to you that he was struggling to make a name for himself in this cut-throat idol industry or that he would spend countless nights cursing as one of his numerous tracks get rejected. None of that was in your mind. Only he swam through your thoughts. Only him.

“I love you,” he sighs out. He was the first to say it.

“I love you too,” you reply back and he holds you tight against him.

He’s nuzzling himself in your hair, his chest pressed up against you so his heartbeat can synch with yours. He loves this, can’t get enough of it. He catches your lips and once again you are whisked in the pleasure of it all. This is it. This is what love is.

—

Present

The piece is finally finished and you send it off to your client, hoping she doesn’t ask for revisions because you can’t handle another second of drawing his stupid face. His soft skin, his tiny moles, his gummy smile...

It's not like you hate him. It’s just... a certain contempt lingers after a breakup from a long-term relationship. It’s the type of resentment that can’t really be explained. You don’t want to see him, but you catch yourself watching his videos on Youtube. You don’t want to think about him, but you hope he thinks about you. You don’t see yourself ever getting back together with him, but you don’t have his phone number blocked.

It’s a sort of paradox you catch yourself in and you wonder if you could ever get out of it. Will Yoongi ever escape your mind?

can't wait to see u too babe

—

Aug. 2016

Yoongi hugs you from behind, his face scrunched at the nape of your neck where several marks were made from last night’s events. Your eyes stayed focus on the TV in front of you, still impressed by your own ability to afford one in your bedroom at your salary.

“BTS' SUGA drops new music video for his song and mixtape Agust D...”

The news anchor drones on and you could barely hear her through the sounds of Yoongi’s soft snores. His hold on you grew tighter as he hears his stage name from an unfamiliar voice and it makes you giggle slightly at how different the edgy music video being displayed was from the same person wrapping you in his arms so tightly.

“Babe, wake up. I have work to do,” you whisper into his hair and he only shakes his head back in response.

“No,” he mutters, pulling you into him closer. You roll your eyes, managing to pry off one of his hands as you sit up on the bed.

“Don’t you have studio stuff to do today?” you ask him, searching for a shirt to wear.

He shakes his head as his eyes start to flutter open. You both reeked of alcohol since you opened a bottle of wine last night to celebrate the release of his first solo work. He was proud of it and you were proud of him.

“Can you turn that off, I’m getting a migraine,” he whines, covering his head with a pillow. You opted to wear Yoongi’s shirt instead of your own since you couldn’t be bothered to walk to the other side of the bed to find it. You smiled at his laying figure, cooped in a fetal-like position. He was still naked, but you were with him long enough to no longer be phased by that sort of thing.

“From one bottle of wine?” you tease slightly. “I think you’re losing your touch, Agust D.”

You chuckle as he throws the pillow on top of his head towards you.

“Don’t call me that,” he pouts, “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

You stand up from where you were, stretching out your back as you make your way to the door.

“That’s because I am,” you smirk, “You know you’re saved on my phone as Sugar?”

He gives you a glare.

“It’s Suga,” he says, attempting to add some intimidation to his voice. It doesn’t work because all you do is stick your tongue out at him.

“Whatever sugar.”

He chuckles lightly and watches the silhouette of your figure exit his view. Yoongi can’t help but mindlessly follow after you.

As you exit towards the kitchen, you can’t help but hear the television from the bedroom.

“Suga has recently been caught up in a dating scandal with Suran, the solo artist, who sang with him in a song...”

Your head snaps up from those words, your skin crawling with goosebumps. You make it into the kitchen but with a heavy heart and no appetite.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, passing by you to pour himself some water.

“Nothing,” you say, though you sounded bitter. He caught on quite quickly. You were jealous again.

Yoongi heaves out a deep sigh and sets the glass of water down. He comes over to your angry figure and gives you a soft hug, laying his head on top of yours as if to comfort you. You try to pull away but he keeps you close.

“I’ll tell them to drop the rumors, okay?,” he says, genuinely enough to make you believe him. “I don’t want us to fight so early in the morning.”

“You promise?”

He pulls away.

“I promise,” he says, brushing a hair away from your face. “Let’s not think about those rumors right now. You and me both know they’re not true.”

You were never one to forget so easily.

—

It was around 2016 when you had stopped working at Big Hit. They halted the Hip Hop Monster brand and your contract was expiring with them anyway. You went from living a kush office life to struggling freelance worker in a matter of a second. It also meant that Yoongi and you would be spending less time together. His busy schedules couldn’t permit him to stay with you longer than a few hours and his presence slowly started to disappear from his side of the bed.

It was like a sinking ship, what you had with him. The pain starts off slow, unnoticeable. You’ll still laugh and keep up appearances as time passes, but you could tell there was an ominous atmosphere that wasn’t initially there in the relationship. Your screams start to grow silent as more problems start to stack on top of each other. It’s then when you hit the iceberg. It’s then when it all starts to fall apart.

He was still good for you, you convinced yourself, even as the currents swept you out under your feet.

—

Dec. 2016

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming?” you yell through your phone. You were sitting on the floor of your living room, holiday decorations strewn around the apartment. He promised he’d come spend a day off of his winter promotions to be with you.

“You know how hectic the end of the year gets with promotions,” he says in quiet hushes. “I can’t do anything about it. This is my job.”

You suck in your cheeks to prevent yourself from yelling. From the sound of it, he was in public.

“Yoongi, I called out of talking to a really high-paying client,” you say through gritted teeth. “And I still came home. Why am I the only one making sacrifices?”

He sighed at the other end. He didn’t have the patience to deal with you today.

“Look, can you stop being so fucking needy. I don’t need this right now.”

He couldn’t tell from the phone call, but your heart broke at the word. Needy. He thought that you were needy.

“I’m already stressed out as it is,” he continues through the phone. “I don’t need you up my ass all the time.”

“I’m not gonna wait for you,” you reply, tears threatening to spill over. “I’m going to sleep and you’re gonna get rid of all the shit you have in my apartment. I’m sick of you, Yoongi.”

He scoffs.

“I’m sick of you too.”

Yoongi hangs up, about ready to hit the wall when Jimin comes to calm him down. Small things that were never meant to be taken seriously built up until it was ready to crash down.

When Yoongi comes at night to visit you, he sees that you’re asleep on the couch. He sits next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry baby,” he whispers quietly. “I’ll do better.”

You nuzzled closer to him, comforted by words you forget the next day. Even when you woke up with a bad neck and Yoongi snoring onto your skin, you couldn’t find a way to stay mad at him. You knew, deep down, that some way or the other you’re gonna find yourself arguing about the same thing next week.

—

Present

Junghoon comes to pick you up. Junghoon, your boyfriend.

He’s a little uptight and too stern for his own good, but has a good heart and a knack of giving great gifts. You met him from working in the same industry, a 3D graphics designer for several video game companies. He was a new addition to your life, your relationship only about three months old.

You were warming up to him slowly, thankful for finally having a consistent presence in your life. He always made time for you, never used work as an excuse, and didn’t act cold just for the sake of acting cold. Junghoon was sweet in the way that Yoongi used to be when he wasn’t such a massive celebrity.

It was a relief to have someone like Junghoon in your life that didn’t walk in and out of your door without much of a thought to even say goodbye. Your life with him has been a tad bit dull, but you don’t mind all that much. Junghoon’s made you feel secure in ways that Yoongi couldn’t.

—

May 2017

“Your boyfriend is winning a whole ass award across the world and you’re having ramen with me?” Chaerin sighs. It’s typical for a best friend to judge the actions of the other.

“Yeah and?” you reply snarkily, swirling your chopstick around to find the perfect clump of noodles. “I’m not the top social artist according to Billboard, what’s it have to do with me?”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know, you could at least watch him win the award?” she suggests. “The live stream is literally happening right now. Your boyfriend is making history and you don’t even care!”

You look at the clock on the restaurant wall. It was nearing 2 o’clock and your client meeting would be starting soon. You were in high demand as a graphic artist recently and as far as you were concerned, that was the only thing on your mind at the moment. You stare back into your bowl, suddenly losing your appetite.

“The apartment is lonely without him,” you admit sadly.

He bought one for himself and had you move in. ‘It’s easier to not get noticed by the tabloids,’ he convinced you. The modern sleekness of his penthouse was a nice change to your lifestyle, but you missed the comfiness of your small studio apartment. It was often too cold when he wasn’t around.

“You could watch it with me?” Chaerin suggested. “Yoongi’s probably so sad that his own girlfriend doesn’t even want to watch him win such a major award.”

You bite down on your chopstick harshly.

“Well he didn't even want me to come with him so I don’t wanna hear anymore about him from you.”

Chaerin squinted her eyes in your direction.

“Well I mean I get where he’s coming from. He’s still an idol, [Y/N],” she scolds. “It would be a massive risk to take you with him.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, pushing the bowl away from you.

“I’m not an idiot, Chae. It’s not like I was asking to be on the red carpet with him, I just wanted to be there waiting in the hotel room after the show. Two nights ago he suddenly backs out and says I shouldn’t come.”

Chaerin’s jaw dropped out of shock. That wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

“Did he say why?”

You stare down at your nails, your heart growing heavy as a long pause of silence takes place. It would be better to be honest, right? You shouldn’t have to pretend like everything’s okay when it clearly isn’t.

“He said he wants space,” you say, careful not to get choked up. “So I’m giving it to him.”

You clutch your thigh instinctively, remembering how Yoongi had brought that up with you just nights before. You two weren’t happy and that he needed to figure himself out before the relationship gets any worse. It’s just a break or whatever bullshit he spouted.

She scoffs.

“What is wrong with you two?” she asks, genuinely concerned. “You are not the type of person to take a break in a relationship.”

You stare bitterly into the reflection of your soup.

“I just don’t think I’ve been happy for a while,” you reply, taking a sip of your water that was left untouched for a better half of the night. “I don’t think he is either.”

—

Sept. 2017

The break lasted for months and you wondered if it was really even a break at all. It felt more like a break up if you were honest. He’d text once in a while and video call you when he was free but other than that it felt like he became a stranger, just another celebrity billboard you walked past on your way to a client’s workplace.

You’d draw sketches of him countlessly, in fear you’d forget how his face looked in real life and not through a low-quality screen. You etched every baby hair, every small blemish he’d hide with makeup. It was your method of not forgetting who the real Yoongi was because honestly, you didn’t know anymore. You didn’t know him.

Trrrringggg.

The sound of your doorbell could be heard all throughout your apartment. You stood up from where you sat on the bed, leaving the sketchbook of his face on the comforter. You weren’t expecting any visitors, but surely enough, Yoongi stood in front of you with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Hey.”

You let him in, not uttering a single word. He looks different now. His hair was black, thank god, but his face was a little softer than you were used to. You remember him being so paranoid about turning bald just a few years ago and here he was, no bald spots to be found. He looked healthy.

“It’s been a while,” you respond, hugging your arms close to your chest, uncomfortable that he was in your presence. It was his apartment technically, but you lived in it more than he did. He opted to stay in the dorm ever since he issued that idiotic break.

“I miss you,” he says in a lowly voice and you almost believe him. Almost.

You scoff.

“It seems like you’ve been having fun without me though,” you say through gritted teeth. “I thought you still wanted space?”

He shakes his head and brings his hand to touch your arm.

“No,” he swallows his saliva. “I miss you.”

You could feel his sincerity, but you can’t help but not trust him. He’s been viciously cold to you, but you find yourself pulling him closer anyway.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you threaten. “It’ll really be over then, Yoongi.”

He sighs into your hair. He loves you. He does. But he doesn’t know why it’s so hard to express it.

“I promise [Y/N]. I won’t leave.”

—

Aug. 2018

He buys you flowers, your favorite kind. It’s a small gesture, but it has you jumping into his arms all the same. It shows that he still cares somewhat. It’s been a while since he’s last shown it.

He holds you closely, appreciating the softness of your body and how you curl perfectly into him.

“I want to stay like this,” you say mindlessly, just relishing in his presence.

You’re not mad at him today and he’s not frustrated with you. It’s a high point in your relationship.

“Me too.”

His words are simple but it warms your heart nonetheless. Yoongi looks at you with twinkling eyes and for a moment you think that this could last forever and that it will last forever. You kiss him slowly and he reciprocates.

It reminds you of your first time, slow and careful- like you were the last person he’d ever want to hurt.

His love, although painful at times, was good to you when you needed it to be.

—

July 2019

Yoongi’s gone again. He’s on tour, as usual, and not giving you any updates. You were getting sick of it. The constant waiting, the constant insecurities that ate you up inside. You weren’t built to endure this kind of torture.

Suga. Suga. Suga.

It rolls off the tongue but it feels disgusting coming out of your mouth. His stage name, a persona. He starts to resemble that name more and more as the days go by. You hear it so much now that it no longer registers as an actual word.

You call him.

He doesn’t pick up.

Again.

No answer.

You’re about ready to throw the phone at the wall until a soft ring was heard from the small device. You take the call immediately, smiling as if you passed the hardest difficulty of a video game. The grin would soon be wiped away, though.

“Why’d you call?” he grumbles from the other line, loud music blasting in the background.

“Why weren’t you picking up?” You sound bitter. You don’t care.

“I’m out right now,” he says, exasperation laced in his voice. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Clearly, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Yoongi was at a party or a club or wherever he could possibly be in the streets of Shizuoka at 10 p.m.

You just wanted to chat, check on him as a good girlfriend would. He’s been complaining that you haven’t been in a while. You thought this was what he wanted- for you to care.

“I just wanted to see if you were doing okay,” you sigh. “How’d the concert go?”

“Good,” he says, clearly distracted. “Some of us snuck out of the hotel rooms to let loose for a bit.”

You nod as if he could see you.

“So you’re partying?”

You could hear him laugh at the other end, but it wasn’t from your comment. Someone else was making him laugh. Someone with a light and dainty voice, whiny as she got closer to Yoongi.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he says, clearly distracted. “Listen I’ll call you back, okay?”

You feel a lump stuck in your throat. There are no words left to say. The foreign girl on the other end giggled harder at whatever Yoongi was saying and it felt like you were invading their privacy- as if she was his girlfriend and you were nothing. You hung up, your mouth feeling dry as the tears poured down.

You see a text from Yoongi just a few seconds into your wallowing. You sniffle as you read it.

don’t misunderstand. nothing’s happening rn i'm just having a bit of fun.

This time you really threw your phone at the wall.

You go to your iPad that’s sitting untouched on your desk. You open your drawing app and just let the anger in the stylus take you from there. You draw a rough sketch of a couple on the edge of a beachside cliff. The woman seems to be falling into the water as if she was pushed. The guy’s hand reaches out to her, but you can’t really tell if he was trying to grab her or if he was the one that let her go in the first place.

As the tears spilled onto the cool surface of the iPad, you sob harder. Nothing could be fixed and everything still felt broken. It was meaningless, sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes when he was all the way in Japan snuggling up to girls that were probably much prettier and much more willing to understand his lifestyle.

You look around the penthouse he had bought for the two of you, beautiful wide panel windows and modern furniture. It mostly looks empty, everything nice and tidy as if no one lived here. It had such a stark contrast to that of his old life when he shared rooms with other members and had no place to really put his keyboard except the studio. You smiled at the memory of you all hovering around the small coffee table in the cramped living room eating ramen.

Maybe it was your fault for falling behind, for letting the world around you build up and not follow in Yoongi’s tracks.

—

Present

You guess it was then when the relationship had passed a point of no return. When everything that felt right had started to feel incredibly wrong. You tolerated his presence rather than bask in it. You heard him speak but couldn’t bother to listen. Maybe you were petty, but more than anything you were angry.

You were angry that he could break you that badly and you would still forgive him for it.

You stare over at Junghoon who’s cooking you up something on the stove. This is what you needed.

—

Nov. 2019

Yoongi was back from some big-name award show that you didn’t watch. You heard he won Artist of the Year or whatever, the accolades that he’s collected no longer having meaning as the days pass. Why be happy for him when he himself showed no signs of excitement? This was routine. He expected the awards at this point.

You walked towards him. Yoongi looked angry, though you have no idea why.

“Hey, I made dinner to celebrate,” you tell him. Yoongi’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through the congratulatory messages he received from other industry stars. He looked like he needed to get something off his chest.

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters. “Just leave it.”

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs. It was a simple question.

“Not in the mood.”

You give him a pointed look and sit next to him.

“Why are you never in the mood for anything?” you ask him. “It’s just food Yoongi. I just want to eat with you.”

You don’t see it properly but he rolls his eyes.

“Just drop it okay? Today’s a good day, I don’t need you to ruin it.”

You suck in your cheeks.

“Ruin?”

Yoongi sighs heavily.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he starts, facing you. “Why do you have to be so dramatic over everything.”

You grit your teeth.

“Dramatic?” your voice quivers. “I didn’t know feeling hurt was being dramatic.”

His gaze softens and he touches your arm lightly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

You shake your head, feeling your eyes dampen at his words.

“I hate your apologies, Yoongi,” you say in a hushed tone. “They don’t mean anything anymore.”

He’s shocked, not really sure how to respond. You were never one to confront him, especially when he was angry. Instead, he holds your hand softly. He was terrible at comforting people.

“Yoongi are you really sorry?” you ask abruptly. It was a question you’ve been meaning to ask for years now.

His grip on you tightened and you can’t quite read his expression, but you can tell that it’s not a positive response. He looks conflicted and he shouldn’t have to be if he really was. You force him to let go of you.

“I am,” he says, knowing he answered a little too late for his words to not seem suspicious.

“I don’t think you are,” you reply sadly. “You say sorry more than you-”

say I love you.

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence because he knows. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“I am,” he says with more sincerity, but he looks at you with an unreadable expression. “I just don’t think it’s enough at this point.”

“What’s not enough?”

You were confused. Is he still talking about whether he's apologetic or not? Or is it something entirely different?

“I do love you,” he says with a certain conviction in his voice, “and I always will, but it feels like nothing’s working out.”

Yoongi doesn’t look at you and focuses on the leather of the fancy couch. He doesn’t say anything but you know what this means. He’s about to stand up, but you grab onto his wrist.

“This is your apartment,” you say before he could say anything to break your heart even further. “I’ll leave.”

“[Y/N], no,” he says. “You don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m just gonna stay over at the dorm. I just...”

Your eyes get blurry from the tears. Even now it felt like he was looking down at you. Nowhere to go. It was like he pitied you.

“...need to go clear my mind,” he finishes the sentence, standing up to grab his coat.

You shake your head and stand in front of him. He’s usually like this. A coward. A bumbling fool who would rather avoid problems than face them head on.

“I need you to stay, Yoongi,” you cry out. “I need you to actually stay for once and comfort me.”

He looks at you, mouth open but no words come out. He smiles sadly and walks toward you, kissing your cheek.

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, [Y/N],” he says and you watch him leave as easily as he walked in.

It’s not like he ever comforted you in the first place.

—

The break up happened silently over a late-night phone call a few days after he disappeared on you. You packed up your things, stayed over at Chaerin’s house, and braced yourself for what was to come. It should’ve happened sooner, you admit, but your heart still sinks when he speaks.

“I just don’t think either of us is willing to try anymore,” he says solemnly. “We’ve been on and off for the past few years and I don’t think it’s healthy for either of us to continue.”

You agree, just wanting the call to end quickly so you wouldn’t have to hear his voice any longer. It hurt to have to listen to him rationalize breaking your heart.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore, [Y/N],” he says, not even a tiny bit choked up. “I think we’ve... outgrown each other.”

You knew what Yoongi really meant. He’s outgrown you.

“I think so too,” you say rigidly. Short and simple. You left nothing to be desired. “Let’s break up.”

Yoongi looks at his phone, slightly disappointed. He wished you would fight back, maybe rekindle something in him that he’s lost over the years. Yet you were silent on the line and he just had to accept it- that there was nothing left to be saved.

“Take care, okay?” he says softly because in the end he still cares- he just doesn’t want to anymore.

“I will,” you reply, ultimately hanging up the phone. You collapse onto a bed unfamiliar to you. Yoongi would no longer sleep beside you, no longer reach over to hug your side and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He was gone and you had to accept that maybe he was never yours in the first place.

His last words replay in your mind.

Take care.

That was the most concern he’s ever shown you in the past few weeks. You almost scoff at the absurdity of it all. You don’t notice how truly broken you were until the tears start streaming down your face. You see the image of him through blurry eyes and you wonder how you could let Yoongi leave such a permanent scar on your heart.

—

Present

“Do you like your eggs runny or no?”

Junghoon asks as you approach his figure. You hug him from behind and smile at his warmth. Safe.

“Just a little runny,” you reply.

He smiles and nods, turning off the heat and grabbing some seasoning from your cupboard. You detach yourself from him when you realized what he was grabbing.

“Babe that’s not salt. That’s-”

Sugar.

You stop yourself from saying it and Junghoon looks at you with concern. He chuckles at your stoic state and ruffles your hair.

“Cat got your tongue or what?” he asks, grabbing the right container this time. “Maybe I should’ve asked if you like your eggs sweet instead, huh?”

“I’ve never tried that combination before,” you say teasingly. “Why don’t you test it out for us.”

He clicks his tongue at you and splashes some salt on your face.

“I’ll pour sugar all over you if that’s what you really want.”

You laugh half-heartedly. A simple word shouldn’t affect you this much but you find yourself get more teary-eyed as it repeats in your head. It wasn’t fair to Junghoon that you were thinking of your ex in his presence. It wasn’t fair to you either.

You feel a vibration from your pocket and you pull it out to serve as a distraction from your wallowing thoughts. It’s a text.

From Sugar.

—

A/N: This was so hard to write because my mind has just been empty these days but I’m so glad it’s done now >_< Thank you to @minyoongail for requesting this story. I’ve been bumping to the Taylor Swift song now because of this commissions T^T I recommend you all to listen to it. I tried to write this in a different style from my other works so I hope this is still readable for you all LOL

I’m closing commissions temporarily to focus on the ones I have now and to also start writing my own stuff. Let me know how you feel about this, I appreciate all types of comments and criticisms <3 Look forward to Part 2!

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thedevillionaire · 3 years

Text

Invasive Species

~3,000 words of my supernatural soap opera, Demonics Office edition. If you’ve read my fics before, you’ve met Cerberus and Kia already. Other Underworldians briefly appearing or mentioned here: Therion, Demonics Understudy - sort of the same thing as vice president, Crisis (Therion’s BFF, another Demon), Winter (Crisis’s bonded, Sorceress), and Belladonna (Therion’s bonded, Vampire). And of course, any questions, about anything, please do ask.

---

Heading home from the evening’s soiree more than a little later than intended, they’d only decided to take the detour to the Demonics Office last minute, Cerberus reasoning that collecting the necessary documents and notes for the introductory expedition he was directing in two nights’ time might as well be done now rather than waiting until tomorrow. It should be late enough that they wouldn’t be interrupting anything, anyway. They should, in fact, have pretty much the entire department to themselves at this hour – although it was a general truism that if any department was likely to have activity occurring at unorthodox hours, Demonics would be the one. He hoped for the best nonetheless, casually willing a few of the firebrands lining the walls aflame as he and Kia passed by.

Kia nodded towards the Office door upon their arrival. “It’s definitely unoccupied?” she checked again. “I mean, since you’re not expected in tonight at all and… Well, you know. Cat’s away, mice will play, all that.”

“Are you suggesting my Office could be the site of something…in flagrante?” Cerberus chuckled darkly.

“Oh, absolutely, babe. I’m just intending for it to be us.” She gave him a playful smile. “You know. Rather than walking in on it.”

“I’m not sure Therion’s a particularly likely candidate for that sort of thing,” said Cerberus, though he knocked lightly twice before opening the door anyway. “Or at least, if he is, he’s been careful enough to have never been caught.”

He stood aside for Kia to enter before him, and she paused, smirking. “Is that out of chivalry, hon, or are you just hoping that if someone is fucking on your furniture that I’m the one who gets to be the main witness so you won’t have to try to unsee it every time you come in here afterwards for the rest of eternity?”

Laughing, Cerberus kissed her lightly on the top of her head. “I’d not considered it to that degree, but now that you mention it, I hope you’ll forgive me for thinking that’s actually rather a good idea.” He smiled, half-bowed and waved her through.

Kia looked back at him in light-hearted reproach as she entered. “One day I’ll learn to shut up, you know.”

Cerberus closed the door behind them. “Oh, darkling, I very much hope that you don’t.” He paused for a moment, frowning slightly at a subtle, unusual scent that he couldn’t quite place, before disregarding it and following his bonded inside.

Kia semi-leapt with melodramatic abandon onto the couch, lay back and threw her arms wide. “Look! Completely fuck-free!” She grinned wickedly as Cerberus laughed again, and sat up, crossing her legs in a deliberate parody of primness. “Okay, okay, so remind me – what are you actually doing tomorrow or whenever?”

“First year Take direction. Standard introductory procedure. More necessary than interesting, unfortunately,” replied Cerberus, walking over to his desk and searching for the related papers he could have sworn he’d left here specifically, noting also that that wasn’t the only thing that seemed to be out of position or incorrectly placed or…flat out missing. Hmm. The carafe of cognac he kept there was also a significant degree emptier than it ought to be, too. “Something has definitely gone on here tonight,” he said, rubbing his nose absently against a faint but obstinate itch. “There’s been some…sort…” He broke off as the itch became abruptly definite, sneezing. “Hm. Pardon me.”

“Bless you!”

“Thank you, love,” Cerberus said vaguely, distracted by both the absence of the documents he needed and the disturbingly insistent tickle which seemed to have grown in intensity rather than to be at all relieved. He rubbed his nose again. “Why is nothing where it’s supposed to be?” he asked rhetorically, annoyed. “It’s not like it needed to…” he began, but soon lost his thoughts to other concerns. “Oh, excuse m… hh…” Breaking off again, he took a tissue from the box on the table, sneezing into it. “HuhTSCHuu!” He apologised and wiped his nose.

“Mmm, bless, babe.” Kia wandered across the room to meet him, pushing a few books aside to create enough space for her to sit on the desk, facing Cerberus and giving him a soft, suggestive smile as she curled an arm around his waist, the other behind his neck, through his hair. “You know…you could put off the document search for a little while, if you like,” she murmured, kissing him deeply and Mindsending a teasing, sultry :and do someone else instead.:

The rush of desire racing through Cerberus momentarily eclipsing all else, he returned her kiss with a promise Kia could feel, and she purred with pleasure as he drew her closer to him, wrapping one leg around his, feeling him covet her, and all she wanted was more. But it seemed like the fates had other ideas, as Cerberus found himself suddenly, unavoidably torn from the moment. His breath caught and he turned from her in haste, not able to do otherwise.

”HhTSSCHUU! Ah…ahTSCHUU! What the h…hh-AHTSSCHU!” He glanced back at Kia briefly, his brow creased in confusion and his eyes watering, before he had no choice but to surrender again as the need to sneeze again overtook him. “Hhh-hh-TSCHUU! Gods! Pardon me.” Sniffling wetly, he claimed several more tissues, the relentless irritation burning sinus-deep. “W-what…what the hell is…” Another hitch in his breath and he looked at the ceiling, attempting to settle the rapid, shaky inhalations but to no avail and he sneezed again, powerful and demanding. “Huh-ahhHEHTSSCHuu!”

“Oh, bless you! Are you alright?” Kia looked at her bonded in a mixture of concern and captivation, even as she thought to herself that he was clearly not alright and that it was fairly pointless to ask. “I mean, you’re not coming down with something, right? You seemed fine earlier…”

Cerberus, genuinely confounded, gave a brief shake of his head in answer and tried, not successfully, to steady his breathing against the compulsive, overwhelming prickle that simply refused to back down. “No, I…” He sniffled sharply and pressed the back of his hand firmly against his nose. “I…I’m not sick,” he said. “I have no…no idea wh… hhh-TSSCHUU! tshHUU! S-sorry, lov… ah-hh-MMPchh! Ugh.” He winced from the discomfort of stifling, a desperate measure he rarely resorted to, and wiped watering eyes. “Oh, my gods.” Taking yet more tissues, vaporising the used ones in a flash of Combust, he blew his nose and murmured another apology.

Kia leapt neatly down from the desk and half motioned, half physically directed Cerberus to take a seat, which he did, and she moved to stand behind him. “Okay. So, then, in that case…” She smoothed some disordered hair back from his face and kissed the top of his head. “What are you allergic to, hon?”

Cerberus shook his head once more. “Nothi…ii-AHHtchuu! hhtCHUU!” He had no chance of preventing the two rapid sneezes which took him completely without warning, and he blinked rapidly, wiping his eyes again, then his nose, both of which seemed to have no intention of stopping their near constant streaming now. “Nothing th…that I-I… Ah-TSSCH-uu!” He groaned, sniffling uselessly. “Ah, gods, excuse me. Nothing that I can think of, nothing that would…hh-HH…” Focus dissolving unstoppable, he sniffled several times more, uselessly, no respite or relief afforded, hurriedly claimed another few tissues, and sneezed again. “AHH-TSCHUU! Fuck!”

“Bless you, sweetheart.” Kia cast her gaze around the room, considering potential options and not recognising any viable ones. She gently neatened her bonded’s hair and rubbed his shoulders as he caught another convulsive sneeze in the tissues, and another immediately after that. “But maybe you need to think a little harder, okay?”

Other than the occasional reaction to dust, though – something he never let get out of hand in his immaculately kept Office – and of course unexpectedly or unsuitably cold temperatures and the like, again in this instance definitely not the case, Cerberus honestly couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be the cause of this.

“Gods, I-I don’t…” His breathing shaky, untrustworthy, he did his best to concentrate on something other than needing to sneeze and the fierce, unending, crawling itch that just. would. not. subside. “I have no idea. Nothing that should be in…in my Office, damn it,” he managed before an urgent, violent sneeze bent him double, leaving him gasping for breath. “AHHTSSCHHUU! Ugh. Honestly!” Scrubbing a rough hand under his nose, he sniffled strongly, looking back over his shoulder at Kia. He offered her a self-deprecating half smile, raising an eyebrow and giving a quick shake of his head. “I think I can see through time.”

Kia laughed. “Oh, hon. Well, I’m certainly not going to question your…many talents.” She stroked his hair and kissed him again, when her eye was caught by a salt-sketched pentacle on the floor of the ritual workings space in the furthest corner of the room, a small, lightly smouldering ceramic bowl at the pentacle’s apex northern tip, several unfamiliar symbols encircling it.

“Um…I’m no expert or anything, but isn’t that upside down for here?” She gently turned Cerberus’ attention towards it, pointing. “I mean, it’s not upside down but it should be, right? For Demonics.”

Cerberus followed Kia’s direction, finding focus difficult through reddened and watery eyes, but he nevertheless recognised a Sorcery cleansing set-up when he saw one. “What the…”

Before he could explore that thought further, though, the door opened suddenly.

Therion stopped dead in his tracks. Shit. He hadn’t planned on having to explain anything - just tidy up Crisis and Winter’s mess and leave again. “Uh…hey. I didn’t think you were coming in tonight,” he said, more than a little awkwardly. “I, um…” He indicated the pentacle. “That wasn’t me, man. But I am here to sort it…” A powerful sneeze from Cerberus interrupted him, and another following almost immediately.

Sniffling again, Cerberus cursed under his breath and tried to will himself to at least perhaps manage just a modicum of control, just for a moment, damn it, because he was fairly sure that any aura of authority and command, something that usually came so effortlessly to him and something he would very much like to have at least a semblance of right now, was going to be thoroughly undermined by this…ridiculous, unrelenting…sensation that he just...couldn’t… Gods, fuck… “Huh-TSCHHUU!”

Kia blessed him quietly, gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder and another quick kiss, and left his side to head over to the ritual space, something having occurred to her. :Just a sec, babe: she Mindsent. :I’ll be right back.:

“Gesundheit,” said Therion. “You got a cold?”

Before Cerberus could offer any sort of denial – not that he was in any real state to do so anyway, his concentration primarily on trying not to sneeze again – Kia held up the ceramic bowl, thin tendrils of faintly scented smoke still curling from it. “Therion!” she called, displaying it. “What’s in this?”

“Um…well, it’s Winter’s work, so I’m not really sure. It won’t be anything too fancy, though – it’s just a basic cleansing Sorcery herbal concoction thing, so, um…probably mostly birchbark and…” Therion broke off abruptly, eyes widening in realisation. “Oh… Shit.” He didn’t bother to check anything further and instantly Sent the bowl to Winter’s house, Mindsending her a hurried :Sorry, sorry, I’ll explain later, can’t talk now, tell Crisis we’re probably in deep shit, sorry.:

“It’s… HMPTch!” Appalled, Cerberus stifled another sneeze and winced, sniffling sharply. “It’s what?!” He grabbed a fresh handful of tissues, wiped his eyes and blew his nose, and rounded on Therion in no uncertain terms. “Explain this. Quickly. Now.” His words, though congested, carried enough vehemence in their undertone that Kia, having crossed the room to stand with him again, put a calming hand on his arm to try and call him back from doing anything perhaps more extreme than was necessary.

Therion tried to think of a reasonable starting point. Fuck. “Um…”

“Quickly,” repeated Cerberus tersely, rubbing his nose firmly to try and suppress the irritation still bothering him despite the source having been removed. Damn stuff will have permeated practically everything in here. He sniffled again, emphatically, repeatedly, and pressed the back of his hand against his nose but couldn’t stop two more sneezes, rapid and forceful, and he swore in frustration. Kia softly blessed him again, and he Mindsent her an apology, thanked her between a series of sniffles, stroked her hair.

Exhaling heavily, Therion sent a silent entreaty to the fates to please let Cerberus remember that for the vast majority of the time, he hadn’t made any monumental fuck-ups and they actually worked together really well usually, and hoped against hope for the best. “Okay, um, well, me and Bel and Crisis and Winter were just having some after-shift drinks, and Winter has an advancement thing coming up that she wanted to do a practice invocation for and so me and Bel left her and Crisis here because it…seemed okay at the time, I don’t know, man, we’d been drinking, and I didn’t ask her what she was gonna be doing but how bad could it be, I mean, fuck, she’s only level 7, I told them to clean up before they left but they only did the desk or some shit because they were still drinking after we left and… I fuckin’ don’t know, man. And then I found out they hadn’t sorted the Sorcery ritual space shit and so I came back here to deal with that and…well, you know the rest of it.” He looked at Cerberus in trepidation. “I’m really fucking sorry, man.”

Cerberus cleared his throat, sniffled and blew his nose again, excusing himself with annoyance evident, and tried to steady his breathing, still somewhat erratic. “You will impress upon Crisis without question that the only reason he’s lived through this night is because it’s you telling him the following rather than me. If he or anyone else ever either performs or allows a Sorcery ritual to take place in the Demonics Office again, there will be no…no further warnings such as this one, and I…” He inhaled shakily, another rising itch threatening to derail him, but he pressed a firm hand against his nose in ironhard determination and managed to see it off, at least for the time being. “And I guarantee that repercussions will not be delivered with mercy.”

Therion nodded, chastened but relieved, given what other…significantly worse outcomes could have transpired, and agreed to do as tasked.

Cerberus paused a moment, considering. “And also, Therion? You will do whatever it takes to fumigate this place by tomorrow, and if you ever allow anything like this to occur again, your Understudy position is forfeit. Clear?”

Therion nodded again. “Crystal.”

With a short, sharp sniff, Cerberus pushed several wayward strands of ebony hair from his face and rubbed still-itchy eyes. “I have had entirely enough of tonight,” he said. “By tomorrow, Therion. Oh, and find out where the hell Crisis thought he should file my papers for the Take introduction two nights from now. Because it’s nowhere that makes a-any… Huh-TSCHH-uu! Goddamnit! *SNF!*” He pushed his hair back again, more roughly this time, his tolerance for this nonsense absolutely done. “Any fucking sense.”

He sighed, recentering himself somewhat as he shifted his attention from Therion to Kia, and wrapped an arm around his bonded’s waist, kissing her on the top of her head. “Shall we?” he asked, indicating the door. :I can’t believe I actually would have preferred to walk in on couch sex.:

Kia burst out laughing, shaking her head and reining in her laughter to a degree as Therion looked at her in curiosity. “Nothing,” she said, “nothing.”

Cerberus gave her a wry, knowing smile, claimed a few more tissues, and they left the Office without further ado, Kia stopping him as soon as they were out the door.

“Okay, so, why didn’t you mention birchbark when I asked you about allergies?” She raised her eyebrows at him archly. “Because Therion obviously knew about it.”

“Well, I’m hardly ever in contact with it.” Cerberus wasn’t even sure he’d remembered its existence at the time he’d been asked, anyway. “It’s not used in Demonics, and I’m never involved in cleansing invocations. Ridiculous things, really. I have encountered it in the Sorcery department before, some time ago – though that is probably why Therion recognised it, I suppose.” He looked at Kia in vaguely perplexed apology. “It’s just…I’ve never really thought of it as an allergy. Yes, sometimes it makes me sneeze, but…”

“Sometimes?!” Kia gave him a look of incredulity. “Babe.”

Cerberus chuckled, low and dark, sniffling again. “Alright, I do realise how that sounds, love, but I’ve never—” A catch of breath, brow creased anew, and a momentary pause. “—never had that level of exposure before and… ah-HH…” He inhaled deeply as the burning tickle returned with fresh, demanding insistence. “HAHTSCHH-uu! *SNF!* Gods! Honestly.” He sniffled again, sighed and wiped his nose. “Sorry, love. Pardon me.”

“Bless you, sweetheart. Nice timing.” With a gentle laugh and softvisceral thrill, Kia embraced him. “Tell you what,” she said seductively, trailing a manicured fingernail down his arm and giving him a warm, inviting grin. “If you Teleport us home, I’ll get you out of these clothes and into a hot shower.”

She stood on tiptoe, curled a hand through his hair, kissed him with unmissable promise. :And some hot company.:

----

#snzfic #sneeze fic #my OCs #supernatural soap opera #cerberus #my writing #cerberus and kia #cerbia

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modern-vellichor · 3 years

Text

Me and My Husband

Summary: You have to hide a failing marriage from the world, and then suddenly it all feels better again. Warnings: mlm, implied polyamory, failed marriage, explicit language, angst to fluff Pairing: Steve x Reader (Brief Steve x Bucky, implied Stucky x Reader) A/N: Me And My Husband, Mitski

You stood next to Steve, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. You rested your hand on his chest, your wedding ring glinting in the low light of Tony's party. You were playing the perfect married couple. You were talking to Pepper, and all she wanted to talk about was your perfect fucking marriage.

"Oh yeah, kids just aren't for us," you laughed politely. Steve smiled down at you, a fake smile, but only you could tell the difference.

You weren't sure where it all went wrong. It was always so perfect. It was messy and unconventional, but God, you loved each other. You were the couple that other couples envied. It was so beautiful. He was so beautiful. With his hair and his eyes and his gentle touch. He used to sketch you, keep photos of you in his wallet. He still does, but it's not the same.

It all just turned sour one day. You didn't see it coming. That's what hurt more.

Bucky was always coming over. You loved having him in your home, he practically lived there. And then all of a sudden he was sleeping next to your husband and you were crying in the guest room.

After a few weeks you got used to it. Steve was adamant that he was bisexual, and you understood. You let him be himself, you were no one to judge. The guest bedroom became comfortable. Nat would come over to comfort you. She would lay her head on your stomach and say comforting things, and tell jokes. She made everything feel better. The nights she slept over were the easiest, because at least you weren't alone in bed.

You begged Steve for a divorce at the start. But he just reminded you of what the team would think, and your family, and your friends. And you gave up on that idea.

Eventually it was the new normal. You and Steve were just awkward roommates. You still loved him, and he said he still loved you. You still talked, and laughed. You still cooked together, and watched tv together. You only played the couple in public. You even became comfortable with Bucky in your side of the bed. And then it got complicated again.

Steve excused himself to get drinks and Pepper turned to you with an excited expression.

"how's married life, you're still so young!"

"it's great! We're doing better, it's always been just me and him together"

You smiled at Bucky as you opened the door.

"Hey, Buck," you stepped aside to let me man in. He was tall and brooding, and honestly, you saw the appeal.

"Hey, Ste-" You shouted out for your husband, but stopped in your tracks when you turned around.

He was standing with nothing but a towel on, still wet from the shower. Your jaw went slack and you nearly dropped the cloth you were holding. He looked like a God, your God. You took him in for a minute, just watching with a love filled gaze.

"Yeah?" His voice echoed in your head as you snapped out of your daze. You blushed and stared at the floor.

"Uhm, Bucky's here," you mumbled, embarrassed. "You guys going out?"

"Nope," Bucky smiled down at you, and you suddenly felt very small. "Staying in. You baking?"

He was so quickly distracted by the smell wafting from your quaint little kitchen. You giggled at the man, he was so childish sometimes.

"Yeah, stop snooping in my kitchen. I'll call you when it's ready"

They disappeared into your - Steve's room and you broke down. You realised how truly fucked up this all was. You realised that you shouldn't love a man who loves another. You should be allowed to divorce him. People shouldn't be allowed to judge you. Your marriage shouldn't be fucking failing.

"How long have you and Steve been together, as long as I've known you anyway," Pepper giggled.

You prayed that Pepper would change the subject. You felt bare and alone without Steve by your side.

"We've been married for six years and we dated for four before that"

"Ten years?" She exclaimed happily. "That's impressive"

You nodded as you took a long sip from your drink and gazed around the party for your husband.

You knocked on the door to Steve's room. You balanced two plates of cake on your arm. Steve called out from behind the door.

"come in," it was muffled and he sounded distracted.

You fumbled with the handle and let yourself in. Bucky's face lit up at the sight of food. You placed the plates on the bed.

"doing anything interesting?" You asked, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

Steve nodded towards the tv.

"The Pianist? I love this film," you muttered quietly.

With that you left the room. You shut yourself into the guest bedroom and let yourself cry. Normally you would have called Nat and she would have made it okay. But it wasnt okay. It was insane. Your marriage had failed and you had just accepted it. You never even tried to fix it.

"You two must be so happy. You're such a beautiful couple, shame about the kids"

"We're happy by ourselves, Pepper," you smiled.

"so you two are in it for the long run, hey?"

"at least in this lifetime, we're sticking together. Me and My husband, we're sticking together"

You left your room when you heard Bucky walking towards the door. You walked into the entry way and waved him goodbye. Steve stood by your side, the two of you watched Bucky drive away before Steve shut the door. You smiled at your husband and began to walk back to your room.

"Y/N," Steve called out. His voice was hopeful and full of life.

You stopped in your tracks. You turned around to face him but kept your eyes trained on the floor. Steve held out his hand.

"C'mere," he muttered quietly.

You took his hand and he pulled you into his warm embrace. His hands wrapped around you, once cradled your head while the other rested at your lower back. You returned the hug. You buried your face into his chest nd wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed. It was nice. It felt normal. You felt loved.

"are you okay?" He mumbled into your hair.

"Sometimes I feel like I am an idiot with a painted face, in the corner taking up space..." You trailed off.

"But?" He coaxed, holding your even closer. His own way of letting you know he was there.

"But when you walk in, I still feel loved"

"jump," he mumbled.

And you did. He carried you all the way to his bedroom with your face buried in his neck. He laid you in bed and got in next to you, pulling the duvet up. His hands lifted to caress your face. And for the first time you looked him in the eyes.

"I love you." He stated firmly. "I really love you. You're my wife, you'll always be my wife. Maybe we just had a rough patch but I miss you," he confessed softly.

"I love you, too. so much," you whispered with a smile.

He pressed his forehead against yours. Your mouths were slightly open, you could feel his breath across your cheek. For a while you lay there, breathing each others air. It was strangely romantic. Then he kissed you. And everything felt normal again.

"Y/N! Steve!" Pepper called out, making her way over to you.

You were at a garden party. Steve had his arm wrapped around you. You held his other hand in yours as you smiled at Pepper. Bucky was standing on the other side of Steve. One of your hands slipped behind his back to take Bucky's, just out of Pepper's view.

"Hey, Pepper. Lovely to see you again," you smiled.

"How long has it been?"

"Only a year"

You smiled. Only a year. Only a year and you fixed your marriage. Only a year and you felt whole again.

"You look so nice, what have you been up to?"

"Steve and I actually got our vows renewed. And Bucky moved in"

"How exciting!" She exclaimed happily. She was always happy about everything you did. Pepper always made you smile, especially now things weren't falling apart.

"How about kids?" She asked softly. "Still off the cards?"

"Actually," you started and Pepper's face lit up. "We're reconsidering"

"Well, things seem to be really coming together"

"Well, it'll always be me and him together."

#steve fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers one shot #captain america fluff #captain america fanfiction #captain america fic #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x y/n #stucky x you #stucky

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 17 - With Him

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, how will it go in the end?, 4.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

One finger tapped on the strap of his fanny pack as Alex listened for the right bus stop to be called. If all those months since he’d seen Willie had been long, this past week had been longer. Especially since the news about Caleb had hit hard and every minute in the studio now felt like the band was precariously teetering on the edge of a cliff. He was going to try not to let any of that get in his way today, though. He’d made it to Saturday and Willie was only a few streets away, and he didn’t care what happened for the rest of the day - it was going to be good.

Finally he heard the next stop announced for where he needed to get off and he pulled the cord that told the driver to make a stop. Stepping onto the sidewalk, his heart bounced around in its chamber like the Tazmanian devil from Looney Tunes. He was glad that Willie lived in the basement of the apartment building he occupied because it would’ve been the worst if Alex forgot which room he was in and spent hours frantically knocking doors.

It was hard to tell if he was moving quickly or if his mind was just racing, but in either case, he eventually found himself at the door. For a second, he simply took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to get a visual of Willie immediately pouncing on him the moment the door opened out of his head. It wouldn’t exactly be unwelcome, but Alex was realizing how desperate he was to be with him and was amazed at how it affected his imagination.

Lifting a hand, he made sure he knocked loudly. Soon after, the door opened, and Alex was greeted with shining brown eyes, silky, gorgeous brown hair styled into two braids, and a smile he could make home in. Willie.

“Hey, come on in!” Willie was saying, standing to the side and gesturing for him to enter. Crossing the threshold, Alex gazed at the humble space, taking in the details with heightened interest. “This is mi casa!” He began showing Alex around. “We’ve got the main living space, very cozy. The kitchen to your left, but no dining room so it’s all criss-cross applesauce on the floor - makes it extra chill. Bathroom through the back. The sink and shower handles will sometimes shock you, so don’t mind all the electrical tape.”

It was surprisingly accommodating for a dingy basement, and Willie had already made little additions that spoke volumes about him without words. A king size mattress sat in the corner of the ‘main living space’ on the floor with a small bookshelf beside it. The bookshelf only had a handful of cassette tapes and a Walkman lying on top, with a few sketchbooks on the middle shelf. Next to that, the dresser had a small collection of vintage soda bottles and a camera sitting on its surface. Glow-in-the-dark star stickers covered the ceiling above the bed. Even a couple cat toys could be spotted on the floor. Immediately, Alex approached the area where Willie’s desk sat surrounded by sketches hung on the wall.

“So these are your drawings?” he asked, although the answer was obvious. They were so good. Willie followed him over, the squinty smile still in his eyes.

“Yeah. Some are new. Most of them are attempts to recover what Caleb tore up.”

Alex looked at Willie apologetically, even though the loss of Willie’s previous work wasn’t his fault. Without warning, a pressure on his leg and the sound of loud purring announced Sheldon’s presence. The cat looked up at him and blinked slowly, already begging for attention. Heart melting, Alex bent down to pet him.

“Hey, Sheldon,” he said. “I forgot how cute you were!” He smiled as Sheldon rubbed his head against his hand with more affection that he’d likely seen from any other creature on the planet. Well...maybe there was one other that matched it. Alex had heard about how pets could take on the temperament of their owners, and suspected this was a clear example. “He’s gotten so big since I last saw him.”

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be almost two years old, if Escobar guessed his age right.”

Standing again as Sheldon pattered off, Alex returned his attention to the wall of art, looking at the pieces more closely.

“So which one is your dad?” he mused.

Willie untacked one of them and held it out for Alex to examine. “This one.”

Holding the edges carefully, Alex gazed in amazement at the detail Willie had caught. The edges were certainly less defined, but the scene inside the truck was so easy to visualize that Alex could almost feel the leather of the seats and the windchill from the window. He wasn’t sure what began burning in his chest as he peered down at the image, but it was profound and complex.

“I’ve thought about seeing if I could find him, but I think with my memory it’s kind of impossible,” Willie told him.

“He looks so happy here. I don’t get why you would end up as a foster kid.”

“Yeah, I wondered that too. Maybe he didn’t have a choice?”

Alex looked at Willie’s face, and he could tell half of him was lost in a world of what-ifs and other questions. He was always trying to seem so easy-going, and to an extent he truly was, but he couldn’t hide the constant sense of upheaval that rested on his shoulders. At least, Alex was picking up on it more, now that he knew the things he did. He may have been biased, but he couldn’t imagine anyone not fighting their hardest to keep Willie.

Suddenly his gaze was drawn to the unfinished work on the desk, and recognized it as a portrait of himself.

“Wow.” The word fell out of his mouth.

“Oh,” Willie started with a hint of shyness. “Obviously that one isn’t done, so…” He reached to put it away.

“You got that far off of memory, though,” Alex said. “I’m impressed. And you make me look good.” He offered an encouraging smile. “Maybe some time today I could be a model for you?”

Willie cocked his eyebrow, surprise and playfulness making an adorable combination on his face. It made Alex’s smile grow wider.

“Well, we’ve got a whole day ahead,” Willie said. “Your wish is my command.”

“Okay,” Alex said, leaning onto his back foot casually, one side of his lip curling with intrigue. “Well, I wanna see where you go around here. You seem to have a knack for finding the best spots. We can play it by ear.”

“What’s that one song with the one phrase?” Willie asked. “‘Any way the wind blows?’” He sang shyly, clearly playing down what Alex could tell was a nice voice.

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” Alex smiled. Willie’s job at the record store was at least giving him a good taste in music. “Don’t worry, you’ll know everything about the classics once you hang out with me enough.”

An emotion flashed in Willie’s eyes and after a moment Alex realized what those words were actually saying. He held his gaze, hoping he could communicate his intentions clearly, unlike the last time they’d seen each other. Willie swallowed, and his expression remained excited as he loaded his backpack and led them out the door, board in hand. Alex followed him, deciding not to question which direction they were going.

First, they made a stop to buy a bunch of apples. In classic Willie fashion, he went to a bodega, and this time he communicated with the cashier in rough Spanish. Alex knew he was showing off, and smirked at the notion that Willie enjoyed impressing him.

“So what do we need these for?” Alex wondered as they left the bodega. “Besides a ton of apples for lunch.”

Willie’s secretive smile made Alex raise an eyebrow.

“It’s a surprise.”

A little while later, they stood before the most unlikely place in all of Los Angeles: a horse barn. Staring at the building as if it loomed fifty feet above him, hands in his pockets, Alex gulped and a lump of dread landed in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh no,” he muttered apprehensively.

“Oh yeah,” Willie said, turning to him with a thrilled grin on his face.

Alex wasn’t exactly afraid of horses...he just had no idea what to do around them and therefore was not sure what to expect from them. Also, he would’ve worn different pants if he’d known this was on the agenda.

“I promise, they’ve got some really chill horses,” Willie tried to ease his nerves. “I’ve gone on this trail enough times. Don’t worry, you’ll know everything about riding once you hang out with me enough.” He winked as he threw back Alex’s line with a sly smile.

Unable to argue, Alex shook his head and used the hand in his pocket to gesture forward, signaling to Willie he was up to the challenge. He watched him practically skip inside and he had to jog to keep up after him. They signed in and then were led to two stalls.

Willie immediately gravitated toward a tall golden-colored mustang stallion with a dark mane, apparently both already familiar and happy to see each other. Alex watched him gently greet and essentially coo at it while comfortably stroking its nose and then feeding it an apple. He longed to have that sort of talent with other creatures, and simultaneously realized that he yearned to receive that same tenderness.

Once the horses were tacked up and one of the instructors had given Alex some brief pointers on how to ride, he found himself following Willie on a trail while mounted on a painted mare. The only philosophy he could adopt out here was to be gentle and not get lost.

“Not so bad, your majesty,” Willie called over to him.

An extremely nervous laugh elicited from Alex’s throat involuntarily, only making Willie laugh in return. Alex rode a little closer so they were nearly side by side on the trail.

“I’ve been here once,” he said. “I think I was about twelve? My mom thought that it would make me change my mind about taking ballet classes. We rode for maybe fifteen minutes before I got so nervous we had to turn back around and go home. Never made it through the full trail.”

“Man, that sucks,” Willie commented. “I didn’t know you did ballet.”

“Yeah, that and a few other types of dance. I was forced to quit a little couple years ago. That’s about when we got serious as a band, so I just found something else to bother my parents with.”

He could see the gears click into place as Willie came to a few conclusions about his parents and gave an emphatic nod.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance. That was the one thing Caleb had promised to teach me. He’s the worst, but he definitely knows how to dance.”

Suddenly, Alex remembered watching Caleb’s movements when he’d served him and the boys at the diner. Of course he could dance; everything had been fluid and smooth. All he could say to that thought was “huh,” at first. Then after a few moments: “I’ll have to teach you one of these days then.”

Willie’s eyes crinkled at the corners, happy at the prospect.

“Yeah, okay! Add that to our to-do list.”

Alex chuckled. They had a to-do list now. He bit his lip as he continued following Willie along the trail. It was a gorgeous day and in this area the sky was so clear compared to further inside the city. Greatly contrasting his experience from years ago, Alex felt himself become much more at ease and felt confident enough to take greater control of his horse. Willie pulled out his camera and snapped a few scenic photos every once in a while.

Eventually, they stopped at an outlook and Alex had to take in an awed breath. The view was clear for miles all around them. Green hills spanned the landscape in every direction with patches of city speckled in between. Even the ocean line was visible from there. How did Willie know how to find these?

“Hey, Alex!” Willie called, lifting his camera. “Say cheese!”

Turning to face him, Alex flashed a genuine smile as Willie captured him atop his horse against the scenery. He was usually pretty camera shy, but this time he really didn’t mind. Keeping memories like this actually felt important to him, unlike the many times he’d been forced to pose with his family at functions he’d also been made to attend. Those occasions had always felt so insincere - less about enjoying the memory and more about trying to prove their status as the polished, functional family everyone aspired to.

He saw Willie dismount for a moment and stretch his legs. Gripping the reins and looking around in uncertainty, Alex realized he’d gotten on before ensuring he could properly get off. Thankfully, Willie noticed and came up to him, hands raised.

“Okay, so just...carefully lift your foot out of the stirrup and swing your leg over toward me,” he instructed. Sucking in a breath hesitantly, Alex did as he said. “Alright, then...here.” Willie offered a hand for Alex to grab so he could slide off with ease. Landing on the ground, he leaned into Willie to gain his balance, and felt a congratulatory pat on his back. It took more restraint than Alex anticipated to not simply wrap his arms around him and sit like that for an indefinite amount of time. They had all day ahead of them; he didn’t need the sudden fear of losing him to derail things out of nowhere.

“Sorry if I look like a wimp about all this,” he said, letting go of his hand.

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Willie assured him, shaking his head. “This is...this is new.”

His eyes seemed to take Alex in from head to toe and Alex could’ve sworn the charge in the air between them would buzz if they got closer, spark if they made contact. It was almost like that moment in front of Willie’s door the week before. For a few seconds they remained locked in that trance before Willie took hold of the horse’s reins and handed them to Alex.

“Technically this trail could take hours, but I’m guessing this isn’t all you’re interested in today,” he said. “What do you say we stretch our legs a bit and then ride back?”

Looking from the reins in his hand back to Willie, Alex nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Opening his backpack, Willie handed him an apple and then bit down into one of his own. Taking a bite, it was one of the most refreshing apples Alex ever eaten. They walked the horses a little ways and tried to get good pictures of the different views around them. Alex asked to try his hand with the camera and get a few good shots of Willie. He didn’t consider himself a photographer, but he doubted when the photos got developed that they would turn out badly. The way Willie smiled made him seem like he was made of sunlight from the inside out.

As they rode back to the barn, Alex kept replaying those moments where he’d refrained from making a move over in his head. This had been strike two. If he continued on like this, he was going to hate himself for the rest of eternity, he was pretty sure. Was it some weird kind of side effect of the whole ‘Willie come back to life’ thing? Watching him affectionately say goodbye to his horse once they were ready to leave, Alex looked at his own horse and raised a tentative hand up to her nose.

The mare gazed back, patience gleaming in her eyes. He finally set his hand down on her nose and gently rubbed it up and down, smiling a little to himself. This wasn’t so bad. He could do this - it was just a matter of getting through all the barriers he made for himself in his head. Moving his hands from the horse’s nose, he stroked along her neck, and caught Willie smiling at him from the corner of his eye.

“You wanna try feeding her an apple?” he asked.

Thinking for a few seconds, Alex nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Pulling one out of his backpack, Willie placed it in Alex’s palm.

“Alright, so hold it out in front of you like this…” He positioned Alex to offer the apple. “And keep your palm flat.”

Alex uncurled his fingers and after sniffing at it a little the mare ate it out of his hand. He could ignore the sensation of her mouth touching him because Willie still had his arm around his shoulder to hold him steady. They looked at each other, and Alex wished he could get a proper shot at Willie’s face at that angle with the camera.

“Looks like you’re gonna get the hang of this,” Willie commended.

Alex looked back up at the horse, a little bit of pride swelling in his chest. “Yeah, I think I will.”

Later, they went to the beach at Alex’s suggestion. He was perched on the surface of a picnic table, posed as if he were looking off into the distance. Willie sketched with great concentration, having taken his hair out of his braids so he could run his hand through it. The late afternoon sun brought out all the best color contrasts in their surroundings - one of the things Alex loved about coming to the beach at this time of day.

“So I have a question,” Alex started, trying not to move too much. His tendency to talk with his hands kept getting him in trouble.

“Shoot,” Willie prompted him, not looking up.

“Did Caleb let you go to school or anything? Or did he provide any sort of education at all?”

Squinting, Willie looked thoughtful for a moment.

“So, after the accident, he told me that I’d had to be taken out of school,” he began, continuing to sketch. “Which makes sense, I guess, if I forgot everything. I remember some basic things, like math wasn’t hard to pick up again. Once I was recovered enough to go places, he just let me go to the public library and find whatever I wanted to read. But he always insisted on not having reminders of who I was before and said it was supposed to be helping me ‘become my own person’. He got rid of things like my school yearbooks and old journals and things. I didn’t think anything of it at first because he’d just called it useless clutter and I believed him. As soon as he decided I was fit enough to work in the diner and help out at the hotel, he told me to forget about school. Anything else I picked up was from watching TV, or listening to the radio, or something. Sometimes I’ll just remember I know something after hearing about it and it’s like it was just always there.”

Listening intently, Alex marveled at the whole thing. The fact that Caleb was not only negligent, but actively discouraging Willie from knowing anything, made him wish he could take down the man’s whole career. However, he figured Willie probably had a lot of his intelligence still untapped. If he’d been able to get away from Caleb and somehow create a life for himself in the span of a few months, Alex wondered what else he was capable of.

“What’s something you remember?” he wondered.

“I guess I used to be really obsessed with space. Just planets and stars and all that. I can spout off facts about Jupiter’s moons and stuff like that. Did you know that the moon Europa has a saltwater ocean under a layer of ice?”

Alex shook his head. “No, I didn’t. That sounds really cool though.” He thought of the stickers on Willie’s ceiling and smirked a little before reassuming his pose.

“I sort of wish I could remember being in school,” Willie was saying. “Everyone else seems to just share all of those memories and understand each other that way.”

Alex saw his brow furrow, and could tell he felt left out. He pondered on his own experience growing up in public school. There was almost no other way he would’ve met Luke, Bobby and Reggie if they hadn’t all attended the same schools. While he could easily critique and complain about it to no end, he knew it was a privilege.

“School is definitely hard,” he told Willie. “But I did get my friends out of it, and I guess that makes up for it. If it’s any consolation, you could just complain about Caleb like he was your horrible English teacher who thought he knew more about the subject of your essay, but you cited all of your sources and they proved him completely wrong.”

Willie laughed. “Why? Did that happen to you?”

Alex bobbed his head from side to side and feigned looking thoughtful . “Maybe.”

“I kind of like reducing him to a loser English teacher. He just sounds petty and sad.”

“That’s high school,” Alex confirmed.

Leaning back from his work for a minute to take it all in, Willie brushed a hand through his hair.

“Here, you wanna take a look at it?” he said. Alex hopped off the table and went to stand over Willie’s shoulder at the drawing and was immediately rendered speechless. The detail was impeccable, but Alex was more impressed by the feeling he got looking at it. Willie had managed to make him appear...handsome, and pensive, and fascinating, like anyone else could look at him and create a million unique ideas of who he was. However, it wasn’t anyone else looking at him, it was Willie, and what he’d captured felt like the truth. Alex couldn’t really explain what that meant, only that it was an honest representation.

“Okay, I know I said the one back at your place made me look good, but this is...this is unreal.”

He could see Willie trying to be modest, but the corners of his lips couldn’t stay down. Funny enough, he appeared even more unable to find words, and simply beamed as he looked back and forth between his sketch and Alex’s face.

A sudden impulse came over Alex, and he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on top of Willie’s skateboard and backpack. Willie sat looking flustered for a moment.

“Wanna swim?” Alex nodded toward the waves, bidding Willie to follow. He didn’t wait for him to catch up as he immediately began running into the waves up to his knees. Alex knew his pants would be even more ruined the second he hit the salty water, but he didn’t care. Now the sun was beginning to set and the chill of the waves was refreshing, and he couldn’t express what he felt just then in any other way.

Willie tackled him from behind, climbing onto his back and nearly knocking him over into the shallow tide. Clambering back to his feet, Alex splashed water at him. They began a playful water fight back and forth, until they were both drenched. Eventually, Alex tried to catch hold of both Willie’s hands in an attempt to prevent being splashed anymore. He had the advantage of longer arms, but before he could get a tight hold of the second arm Willie’s leg swept under his and they both fell just as a large wave washed over them.

As the water pulled back, they sat in the sand in a tangle, laughing. All Alex could think of was how pretty Willie was in this light, hair swept back off his face with tendrils resting over his shoulders, sun gleaming in his eyes and constantly shining from the inside out. The laughter died between them and he caught a look in Willie’s eye that made him wonder if he appeared to him to be just as perfect in that moment.

This time his mind and body worked in sync as he lifted a hand and gently pulled Willie into a short, tender kiss. All the self-flagellation from earlier was washed away in one pure moment, and exhilaration moved into its place. It felt soft and sweet, just the way he expected it should. Just as quickly as he’d let go, Willie went in for another one, a little longer and a little deeper. One hand remained caressing his cheek while the other wrapped around his upper back. Alex couldn’t help smiling into another kiss; he was too happy to care about anything else. Hardly a week ago, this had been impossible.

As they let go, their hands came together and they looked into each other's eyes, both releasing a relieved chuckle. Willie looked at the rest of the beach behind them and Alex’s eyes followed, but at this hour there were too few people around and no one paying attention to them. Turning back to Alex, Willie sighed and shook his head with a smile.

“Wow,” was all he said, biting his lip.

“Yeah, I’d definitely do that again,” Alex smirked, until the joy in his chest converted it into a full grin.

A wave washed over them again and they both stood, shaking out their hair and trying to wipe off whatever sand they could. Heading back up the beach, Willie grabbed Alex’s hand so they could make their way up together. The sun was nearly set but Alex was sure it had just gone into his chest, bursting with excitement. Once they reached the picnic table, they gathered their things and Willie offered to carry Alex’s shirt inside his backpack on the way home. Thank goodness there were a few patches of grass so Alex could try to get a little more sand off his feet before putting his shoes back on.

“So how long have you been sitting on that?” Willie teased as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and they left the beach.

“Shut up,” Alex laughed, knowing he was being called out.

“No, really!” Willie bumped his side jokingly. “I want to know!”

Tilting his head back to try to remember, it didn’t take Alex long to give him the answer.

“Since day one,” he told him.

Surprise swept over Willie’s face as he looked at Alex.

“Seriously?” he asked.

Alex nodded.

“Me too.”

It was Alex’s turn to look surprised. Without saying another word, he took Willie’s hand in his and then kissed it before continuing back toward his place. The whole way they talked about all the different things they needed to do together in the future. Riding on more horse trails, dancing lessons, skating lessons, art modeling sessions, going to band practices and gigs, visiting the record store while Willie wasn’t working, etc. They both agreed that the entire day technically counted as a date, and all further plans would as well. Alex was reminded once again that he didn’t have a notebook to write things down in, and vowed to have one for the next time he saw Willie. Once they reached Willie’s door, they had already put their shirts back on and it was completely dark outside.

“Are you free any time next week?” Willie asked, still holding onto Alex’s hand.

“I wish I could say yes, but probably not. And as much as I’d love to give you my number, it’s really not the best idea.”

“Well, I could give you mine,” Willie said.

Alex shot him a confused look. Holding up a finger, Willie dug into his backpack until he found his sketchbook and tore off the corner of a page, quickly scribbling one down and handing it to Alex.

“It’s actually the one for work,” he said. “But if it’s what we can do for now, I’ll do it. Kyle won’t care.”

Looking at it for a minute and then stashing it in his now-dry pocket, Alex took hold of Willie’s chin and went to kiss him again. It was really hard to stop, but they soon broke apart.

“I gotta go,” Alex murmured.

Willie only nodded, squeezing his hand before letting go and slipping his own into his pocket.

“I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

Once again heading up the short set of stairs to the sidewalk, Alex rubbed his lips together, relishing in the taste of what he and Willie had just done. He couldn’t imagine anything sweeter.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #sunset curve #alive au #willex #willie #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #caleb covington #viva las vegas #with him #fiddlepickdouglas

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jiminwreckedme · 4 years

Text

Unfamiliar. (m)

Yoongi doesn’t feel so unfamiliar anymore, now that you feel things you haven’t before.

Genre - Smut, little angst if you peek, fuckbuddy Au (not so pwp, the characters have a bit of a backstory?) Word Count - 12K Pairing - (Bartender!) Yoongi x (Doctor!) Reader Warnings - bit of PDA (touching, making out), dirty talk of sorts, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (Remember folks, No glove, no love), rough sex (maybe slight choking? and restriction too) Music - High for this, Pillowtalk

You don’t know, what’s in store, but you know what you’re here for.

“What can I get you?”

You blink at him with absolute disbelief etched across your face.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m serious.”

What a killjoy.

“Fine.” You give in and lean, resting your elbows on the cold granite stone of the counter. “Surprise me.”

Close your eyes, lay yourself beside me

He stares at you intently for a moment, a very brief moment before he replies.

“Do you have any preferences? What kind of alcohol do you usually get?”

He knows the answer to that.

“Hard liquor.”

Hold tight for this ride. We don’t need no protection

“How do you feel about gin?” He points at a bottle on the shelf behind him. “We have a fine bottle of Copper & Kings, the History of lovers.”

You look at it and cross your arms, eyebrows arched up. Really?

“Or scotch maybe? Lagavulin, 16 years old, has a bit of a savory taste if that’s what you like?”

He knows the answer to that as well.

You don’t reply, looking at him pointedly but he waits, ever so ignorantly for you to use your words.

Come alone, We don’t need attention.

You give up and roll your eyes before answering him. “Remy martin.”

“Sure, how would you like it? Neat, on the rocks, straight up?-”

“Now you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“This isn’t a place to joke around Y/n,” His voice is threateningly low, yet you hear it above all that music. “You are in my workplace.”

Open your hand, take a glass. Don’t be scared, I’m right here.

“If you don’t want me to fix you a drink, I have other customers to handle, excuse me.”

Before you can even answer the question he walks away, grabbing the jigger, artfully spinning it with his fingers.

You stare at him shamelessly, oblivious to everything else, mouth going dry. Of course he was hot, Oh Min Yoongi was hot, but there was something about him standing behind that counter that was unbelievably attractive.

Even though you don’t roll. Trust me girl, you’ll wanna be high for this.

Maybe it was because he was dressed in that spotless see-through white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, all those veins stark against his skin every time he gripped something. Maybe because he had ditched his signature style of those blonde fringes falling into his eyes and had them pushed back, out of his face. Maybe because he was doing his job, hands working fast as though they had a brain of their own, fixing all those drinks with incredible artistic skill. Or maybe because you hadn’t been laid in about three weeks now.

For whatever reason, you were tempted to just pull him by the collar over the counter and kiss the fuck out of him.

But he walks past about 4 times without looking at you even once.

You know because you sit arms crossed, your eyes following his every action. He knows you’re looking at him. You know he knows. Because almost 15 minutes later, he brings two bottles, setting them on the work space right before you, a little less gently than you would have expected, speaking to you in the same tone as earlier, but with a hint of annoyance.

“What do you want?”

“Would it kill you to talk to me normally for a minute Yoongi? Like I’m not a customer but someone who you-”

“Watch your mouth,” He shuts you up knowing very well what you were going to say next. “This is not just any place Y/n, I work here. You can’t just turn up here like this.”

“You come to my workplace all the time.”

“You work at a hospital, it’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

Yoongi gives up and he returns his momentary undivided attention towards you back to the drinks in his hands.

“Because people go to your workplace to get treated, like I do.” Your eyes are fixed on the way his hands move. So artistic. “People come to my workplace to drink, and you’ve come here to-”

You look up, meeting his eyes to find him already looking at you.

“-to fuck.”

No I did not.

What, it was okay for him to say that? Although the music was louder now than before, and with no one within an earshot of you, there’s no way anyone but you could have heard him.

“You know, it’s not like I’d say no if you came to the hospital for sex.” You mutter stupidly under your breath. Please tell me you didn’t hear that.

“Not now Y/n,” Ok, he didn’t hear that. “I’m in the middle of work.”

And he walks away again, grabbing a bottle, fixing the pourer onto it.

You watch, as he slowly spills the drink over the back of a spoon into an already half full shot glass before setting it carefully on the counter. Spinning a lighter on his finger, he clicks it and lights the surface on fire, earning the many many squeals of what looked like a bachelorette party. Though he resumes working, wiping a few glasses, he is watching the supposed bride from he corner of his eye as she downs her shot within seconds amidst all the cheering and slams the glass down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, satisfied. The edges of his lips curl into a faint smile, the contentment evident on his face despite his attempts to not to make it obvious. He was proud of his work. When he looks away from them, he sees you again and simply sighs, walking away once more to the other side of the station.

It’s a whole ten minutes before he has work in the area you are sitting, ever so patiently. You take your chance to ask him.

“You didn’t mention when your working hours were going to end?”

“When the bar closes.” He begins to wipe the water near the ice bar and doesn’t even look up when he answers. “Two, two-thirty.”

“Fine, I’ll wait then.”

That’s what gets his attention, making him stop and meet your eye.

“It’s half past 11 Y/n.”

“I know.”

“That’s almost 3 hours.”

“I know.”

He raises an eyebrow. “For sex?”

With you. “For a conversation.”

Bending down, he grabs what looks like a bottle from below the counter and slams the mouth of it on the edge of the surface, knocking the cap off, before handing it to you. “Go home Y/n, It’s not worth it.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” You point at the beer bottle he’s put in front of you. “And this is not what I ordered.”

“You live far from here. Best not to get you too tipsy or drunk so you can go back safe.”

You look at him exasperated. “Yoongi-”

“What are you doing here in the first place?” He frowns at you. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I had the shift off for working overtime last week.”

“And you’re here? Instead of staying at home?”

Valid and rhetoric question. You did love staying at home, he knew you enough to know that. Turning up at a bar on your day off was quite uncharacteristic of you. Days off meant more time curled up in your bed, more documentaries to watch and just get lazy. If you weren’t someone who took every opportunity to stay at home you would never even have met Yoongi.

He was your brother’s tutor.

In a family full of doctors and scientists, your 16 year old brother was the only person insistent on becoming a fashion designer. You had assumed his passion was limited to collecting and maintaining a few catalogues and sketching designs for his blog. It was only when he was almost half way through his high school that he revealed his sincerity towards it. He was so determined, he even managed to contact some designer in Korea to intern under after he was done studying. But that meant he had to learn at least basic Korean and that’s how Yoongi came into picture. Your parents thought finding a Korean tutor in Amsterdam would be nearly impossible and frankly so did you. Until a few days later, when you got the fright of your life.

You had gotten off work early and returned home with your then boyfriend, the both of you giggling and walking in, thinking you were all alone. As the two of you sat on the couch, impatiently making out, it was then that Yoongi walked in on both of you with a simple “Could you please keep it down?” And walked back into the house.

That was the first time you saw him.

About 6 months from that day, you were in your bed grabbing the sheets as he covered your mouth with one hand and made you come with his other.

It still boggled your mind, how you went from being embarrassed whenever you saw him to sleeping with him every time you had the chance to.

It started maybe 2 days after your asshole of a boyfriend dumped you.

You were moping around the house that day after refusing to attend the baby shower of some acquaintance with the rest of your family. It was just as you were about to crawl into bed and get comfy that the bell rang and you opened the door to find Yoongi standing there. Apparently your brother hadn’t informed him about his new plans and so Yoongi turned up for the lesson as per schedule.

That’s when things started spiraling out of hand.

When he told you he would just wait on the porch for his friend to pick him up, you shouldn’t have invited him into the house you were in all alone. When he came inside and sat on the couch, you shouldn’t have told him to find you if he needed anything (even though you said it for formality’s sake). When you knew he was in the house, just one floor below you, you shouldn’t have tried to get yourself off in your room.

If you hadn’t done any of that you wouldn’t have found yourself with your fingers deep inside you, back arching off the bed when Min Yoongi knocked on your door and opened it before you could even tell him not to.

At that moment time went very strangely. It was as though he was standing at the door frame for unbelievably long, giving you all the time in the world to pull out your fingers, shut your legs close, sit up and then think of a hundred different things to say without even saying one word.

And then time sped up all of a sudden, because you have no idea how, you didn’t remember at all, but somehow Yoongi was by your bed leaning over you, planting his hand into the mattress right beside your head (Weren’t you sitting? When did you even lie down?) and then his fingers slipped into you.

That feeling of his fingers replacing yours? It was so unfamiliar but so good. They were so much longer, shaking much less, the pace so consistent - the sensation was wild. With a few thrusts he had managed to figure out how and where exactly to curl his fingers to draw that long moan out of you. And as you got louder, he got faster, not stopping for anything. Not even when he heard the car pull up in your driveway. Not even when he heard the front door opening. Not even when he clearly heard the voices of your family.

When you tried to warn him, instead of pulling them out, he covered your mouth with his hand and whispered, curling his fingers just the way you needed him to. “Shh, be a good girl and come for me Y/n.”

And you did, almost instantly, giving yourself just enough time to (1), ride the high on his fingers before (2), he pulled them out and calmly hid himself, standing against the wall right by the door while (3), you pulled the sheets over your half bare body - all just in time, before your father opened the door of your room to check up on you.

After you assured him you were fine, he left, closing the door behind him, slowly revealing Yoongi who stood there calmly, simply watching you propped up on your elbows looking at him as he slipped both his fingers into his mouth, sucking your arousal clean off his fingers before he left, a smirk dancing on his face. And as you fell back into your bed staring at the ceiling in absolutely disbelief, you heard him making his way down the stairs, updating your family on everything right up to the part where he stood by your bedroom door.

And that’s how your first orgasm with Yoongi happened.

And though you knew it was not right to let a man you barely knew do that to you again, a part of you knew that was definitely not your last orgasm with him.

The next time you saw him, about two days later, he was absolutely normal, behaving with you like he always did, like all that did not even happen. Even when you found him alone for a minute in the dining room and told him you had to talk to him, all he said was “Not now, I’m in the middle of work.” Almost an hour later, he approached you while you were strolling outside, in the backyard, surfing through your phone. When you saw him out there, your first reaction for some reason was to panic and try to hide him away from the eyes of anyone who might see you together. Yoongi was clearly confused the whole time, especially when you climbed the dog kernel right under your bedroom window, and sneaked into your own room in broad daylight, ( similar to your teenage days when you came back home late at night). But he calmly just followed you.

When you found him in your room alone once again, that was when you finally spoke to him.

“We haven’t spoken about….that incident.”

“What about it?”

“You- I mean I- that was a one time thing Yoongi, you understand?”

“This is what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes.”

“Are you done?”

“Y-Yes?”

“So I can go now?”

You look at him surprised. “Do you have nothing to say?”

“No. If you don’t want this, then there’s nothing left to say.”

“If I wanted more then?”

“Then I’d say, I thought so.”

“W-what?”

“I have never had one time encounters Y/n, I don’t do them and never will.”

“Why is that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Of course, it was. The way you felt when you got off his fingers? Who wouldn’t want to ride that high again? Women probably crawled back to him all the time, and he probably couldn’t have one time encounters even if he wanted to.

“I don’t like to.” He shrugs very simply. “I like to work on the basis of…..you can call it an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?”

“Just two rules.”

Rules?

“First, while this is going on, I won’t sleep with anyone else and you shouldn’t either.” He gives a pause letting you take in that information before he continues. “Second, If either of us should want to end it, for whatever reason, then we tell the other person and we’re done. No justifications, no explanations needed. When one person says no, it ends, as simple as that.”

You stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“I am only going to proceed if you are okay with that Y/n. All you have to do is ask.” He takes a step closer to you. “Ask me and I’ll give it to you.”

At that moment you really didn’t think it through when you said yes. You just wanted him. And that day after you made sure you locked the door this time, Min Yoongi made you come with his tongue not once but twice.

It had been going on since that day.

Though quite frankly, you didn’t know what to call yourselves. This was exclusive after all and a sort of commitment as well but nowhere even close to a relationship. He wasn’t exactly a booty call either. You couldn’t just text or call him every time you were horny, Yoongi wasn’t a man who entertained those kinds of requests. Sex, hence only happened in certain conditions and that was whenever came to your house.

So Min Yoongi who used to come to your house every weekend to tutor your brother began staying for an extra hour to ‘tutor’ you as well. When you told your parents you wanted to learn Korean, it was a miracle they didn’t question it. Maybe because Yoongi didn’t charge extra for teaching you (“I’m not going to charge to fuck you Y/n, that’s not how this works.”) or maybe because your extremely social parents were barely at home during the weekends and didn’t really care much about what their adult daughter did. Much like your brother who spent most of his time holed up in the basement working on his own thing. That left you and Yoongi all alone in your room for an hour twice a week. Yes, sex with him was technically pre-scheduled. So he was far from a booty call.

Could you call yourselves fuck buddies then? Initially you didn’t know if you could, you both were not even close to what you would consider ‘buddies’ - you barely spoke. Every time you and Yoongi found yourselves together, you only ever had sex. You could barely remember an incident or two when you didn’t actually fuck upon finding yourselves alone. Once when he saw a scar on your body and asked you what it was. You remember telling him, showing him the other scars too, telling the stories behind each of them and he did the same when you asked him. You didn’t remember sleeping with him that day. Or on that day when Yoongi turned up in animated pizza printed underwear and you couldn’t stop laughing. That day you didn’t have sex either. Instead you showed him all your printed underwear as a peace offering.

But that was about it. There were no other instances as far as you could remember. But if you really did have to give the relationship between you two a name, you preferred to call yourselves fuck buddies. You don’t know what Yoongi thought of that, you always just referred to it as ‘the agreement’.

And the agreement was going like it was for the last one year - just fine, till about three weeks ago, when your brother told Yoongi he didn’t need to be tutored anymore.

You were wondering what that meant for you and Yoongi. Because if he wasn’t going to come home for your brother anymore, it made no sense coming home for just you. You had no idea how you were going to continue this arrangement of yours now and only hoped that Yoongi had some alternative in mind. You tried calling him about it but he didn’t pick up. You dropped him a bunch of texts but he didn’t reply to any. Was he busy? Was he ignoring you? You didn’t know.

Your last ray of hope was that weekend. Your parents and brother had planned to go to Korea for a week to attend the new collection launch of the designer your brother was in contact with. You could have gone too, expect you had to go to work. That’s what you told yourself but deep down you knew that meeting Yoongi was also a part of your agenda. For all you knew, that weekend could have been your last time with him. So you sent him a message that you were all alone at home this weekend and just sat with your fingers crossed, hoping he would turn up.

He didn’t show up on Saturday.

And didn’t show up on Sunday either.

Another week passed by like that and then another. With you calling him only to reach voicemail, with you sending him texts only to be replied with silence. It was starting to reach the point where you actually began worrying about whether he was even okay or not because, was it really normal to ignore someone for so long? And you didn’t even know how to meet him at least to make sure he was at least alright. You had no idea where he lived, where else he worked, what other jobs he did, nothing. You knew nothing about him.

Except that he was some sort of expert when it came to alcohol. You were surprised when you came across some of his papers on which he had scribbled, in the messiest handwriting possible, some recipes for cocktails. Back then you didn’t think about why he had such stuff written down, rather you were more fascinated by all those interesting concoctions and so you excitedly asked him about each of them while he calmly answered them. (Oh. That was another day you didn’t have sex with him.)

That night though, you had thought about it, why he might’ve known so much. It was one thing to have an opinion on different kinds of alcohol but to know things such as what kind of ice and what kind of strainer to use? That was definitely not general knowledge, he undoubtedly was a professional of some sort. You had made a mental note to ask him the next time you saw him but you couldn’t. Not when his dick was thrusted deep inside you, his mouth hot on your neck.

A few days ago, when you took a closer look at his profile picture as you sat for the hundredth time wondering why he wasn’t getting back to you, in the background you saw the neon letters spelling out the name of a bar (Truck You) you had only heard about quite often. Putting two and two together, you began wondering if Min Yoongi might actually be a bartender of some sorts and if that was his workplace. There was only one way to find out and that was to personally go there and see for yourself but you were swarmed with night shifts at the hospital and heading to a bar was out of question.

Till today, when you finally got a day off because your friend offered to take your shift to repay a favor last week. And the moment you got free your first thought drifted towards looking out for Yoongi. Even though you knew it could be pointless - he might go there often or he might even have just been there once - and there was no guarantee you’d find him there today, this was your shot in the dark. You had one chance to try and one place you could do so at. So you took it.

And it paid off because the minute you walked in, your eyes fell on Yoongi behind the counter. At that moment there was just a wave of mixed emotions. You were happy he was fine, you were proud of yourself for finding him, you were mad that he was absolutely okay and just ignored you for three weeks, you were so turned on seeing him dressed like that - so many things at once. But you squashed all those feelings in and just sat on the bar stool waiting for him to react when he spots you. It had been so long since you saw him, you had to first make sure this was not a dream. And when he finally did see you a few minutes later, his eyes widened for barely a second (so this was real) before he resumed looking completely indifferent.

And he still looked so unbothered as he worked that cocktail shaker effortlessly. It was as though you didn’t even exist and you couldn’t do anything about it. All that could be done now was wait.

And you do, boredly squirming, tapping your finger on the surface, occasionally sipping on the beer which had gone pretty flat, looking at him whip up all those drinks for what seemed excruciatingly long. You did that till you heard a voice.

“The bar is about to close.”

Your eyes fly open and find a man dressed much like Yoongi, standing right before you with a name tag that read ‘Hoseok.’ When did you even fall asleep and for how long? Your first instinct is to look for Yoongi.

He wasn’t there.

“Where’s Yoongi?”

“It’s my turn to clean up today so I guess he’s done for the day?”

“He left?”

“I didn’t see him leave the bar though. He might still be changing?”

“Where?”

Hoseok scratches the back of his head. “I’m not sure you can go there though, it’s for staff only.”

You sigh, really tired of everything. “Please.”

Hoseok looks at you with what seemed like pity in his eyes. “Are you Y/n?”

“H-How do you know?”

“There.” He points, but you don’t look. “The room next to the back door.”

“But how do you know my-”

“He’s leaving.”

You turn to see Yoongi far across the crowd on the dance floor, stepping out of the room in his usual simple tee and ripped jeans outfit. Hurriedly thanking Hoseok you rushed through the crowd “sorry, sorry.” till you finally reached the blonde man and grab him by the wrist to his absolute surprise and drag him away from the music out of the back door.

When you step out, the first thing that hits you is the smell of the trash from all the trash cans nearby, but you don’t care.

You let go of Yoongi and cross your arms but he beats you to the conversation.

“I was going to come talk to you.”

You cut it, straight to the point. “Why did not talk to me all these days?”

“Y/n,” He sighs, “I’ve just been busy.”

“How busy do you have to be to not find the time to type two words?” You unlock the phone in your hand and hold up your chat over the days, forcing him to see it.

You : Yoongi, are you okay? You : Please say something, I’m getting scared. You : Just say you’re okay and I can be at peace. You : Where are you Yoongi? You : Why are you doing this? You : Please, please just tell me once that you’re fine.

“I’m fine.” You put your phone down sighing. “That’s all you had to say to all this, that you’re fine. Do you know how worried I was?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? It’s been 3 weeks and I haven’t heard a word from you, I was scared something happened-”

“To our agreement?”

What? That’s what he thought you were worried about? Sex? Yeah of course, for a day, maybe two but after that you had been worried for his life. Wasn’t it basic humanity to? To worry and care for people you were associated with? Would he have not felt the same if he was in your place? Or were you the one thinking about this more than you needed to?

“Yes.” You lie. “You said our agreement would end only if we tell each other we wanted it to end. Ghosting me for three weeks was not mentioned-”

“I don’t want it to end.” He says it instantly and so earnestly. “That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

He didn’t want to end things?

Deep down, this was your biggest fear, something you didn’t even admit to yourself. Being worried for Yoongi’s general well-being helped suppress every other reason for panic but with him standing in front of you and knowing that he was okay, there was only one thing left to be scared of. That he wanted to end things. That if Yoongi said he didn’t want this agreement anymore you’d have to stop seeing each other. You didn’t want to stop.

“So you…..you don’t want to end things.��

Yoongi shakes his head.

“You don’t want to end things, you won’t reply to me, you won’t sleep with me and I can’t sleep with anyone else either, do you know how frustr-”

“Do you want to sleep with anyone else?”

His question throws you off. Out of all the things you had listed that’s what he catches? If he wasn’t ignoring you because he was planning on ending the agreement then….Is it because that’s what’s bothering him?

“Wait Yoongi, this isn’t one of those ‘I’m catching feelings for you’ kind of situations right?”

He blinks for a bit and then lets out a short laugh. “Are you mad?”

“Then….then what’s the problem?”

“I told you, I was busy.”

“With what Yoongi? What were you so busy with that you send me a message-”

“I lost my scholarship.” He confesses, taking you aback. “I have one term left to finish my degree in English Language. They cut my grants off because of some new rules and now I have to pay full tuition payment for a term and……I don’t think I can afford it.”

“Oh.” You stutter, completely thrown off by the information. “I-I’m so sorry Yoongi, I didn’t know that.”

“You don’t know anything.”

That was unfair.

“How would I?” You whisper softly. “It’s not like you told me-”

“I don’t need to Y/n.” He smiles sadly. “We don’t mean enough to each other to share so much.”

As much as those words were true they still made you feel strangely disappointed.

“Can….can I ask you what you’re going to do about it now?” You immediately add. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not eligible to get a decent loan with the earnings of a bartender. The only way to do this is…..to earn the money myself.” He reveals. “I’ve been trying to get a job over the last few weeks. I applied to couple of places and last week I got an offer, to teach Korean in this tuition center, over the weekends.”

“That’s great!” You smile, deeply relieved on the inside. “I’m so happy for you…How has it been working there?”

“I haven’t accepted their offer yet though.”

“What?” You’re washed over by a wave of shock. “Why not?”

“I’ve been considering dropping out instead,” He slips his hands into his pocket. “I want to follow my dream over what I think my dream should be.”

You know exactly what he means. It hits home. You always thought your dream was should be being a doctor, you grew up with the idea, you were brought up with the idea, you convinced yourself that it was your dream. But all those posters in your house stuck inside your cupboards, those stages, those costumes, those routines. That should have been your dream. Being a dancer should have been your dream.

“What is your dream?”

“To be my own boss.” He smiles. “Open my own bar one day. Maybe a chain. Serve the best kind of alcohol in the whole city. Have crazy Friday nights with packed tables and happy people. That’s my dream.”

“Then why….”

“It’s not a small investment, something like that. Even if I work 7 days of the week, save almost every cent of what I earn, it will be years before I can make enough money to do something like that. I thought the more practical approach to life then was to just change the dream”

He sighs, chest rising then falling.

“But whenever I look at the tuition fee I have to pay to finish this degree? It doesn’t make any sense to me. If I really had to churn up so much money, I figured I might as well put it where it makes me happy instead.”

“So you mean you want to drop out and…then what?”

“Kick start my dream by writing a book.” A book? “More of guide to be honest, for bartenders, it’ll have tips and techniques, how to actually use equipment, recipes, things of that sort. You’d be surprised how many people out there call themselves professional without knowing basic things like what ice to use-”

“Ice that’s not cloudy.” You state confidently, catching Yoongi off guard and shrug. “You told me this once. Ice is to a bartender what fire is to a chef.”

So that’s what all those notes had been about.

“Yeah.” He looks impressed. “But that means I have to experiment a lot, invest too much time and money, I don’t think I can do that with two jobs and continuing a degree. I have to decide what to hold on to and what to let go.”

Did you choose to let go us?

“Is that….is this why you’ve been so- I mean, is this why you couldn’t reply to me?”

“I need to sort things in my life first Y/n, and our agreement…… I didn’t think I should prioritize it at this point.”

“Of course not.” You shake your head. “I’m the stupid one, I should’ve understood you had your own problems, I’m so sorry, I just….I was being an idiot, I guess I was just so used to you being a constant the last one year, it was strange cutting off everything all of a sudden. I probably” You let out a short stupid laugh, “Probably even missed you-”

“Probably?” He chuckles. “I for one, definitely missed you.”

“Yeah sure.” You mock him, trying to lighten the mood even more, now that he was smiling again. “You wouldn’t have been able to stand so far away if you really did-”

He takes two quick strides and the rest of you words are lost against his mouth as he kisses you, trapping you between his hands against the wall. There’s a mix of urgency and gentleness in the way he moves, as though he badly wanted this but also wanted to take his time. You didn’t take his word for it, but it almost seems like he really did miss you. You take his face in your hands, gaining control, easing your lips against his, savoring the moment, not wanting to rush it through. Yoongi groans softly, low in his throat pulling your hands down with his, pinning them above you, against the wall kissing your neck as he whispered. “It was so hard to resist the urge to do this the moment I saw you.”

Your breathing becomes more audible as you arch off the wall, baring more of your throat to him, spiraling, getting lost in the sensation, before you finally manage to find the voice to ask him to stop.

“I’m….I’m not going to have sex with you near the trash cans Yoongi.”

He pulls back, face so close to yours as he grinned. “It’s been three weeks, I thought you might be desperate enough to.” There he was.

“You give yourself too much credit.” You wriggle your hands making him loosen his grip. You wanted him so badly, it had really had been way too long but the smell of the trash? You couldn’t bear it. “I just can’t here, the smell kinda ruins the mood.”

“Yeah we should get out of here.” Yoongi let’s your hand go, taking a step back. Where to though? “Let me grab my things.”

You nod and walk into the bar as Yoongi holds the door open for you.

Maybe because it’s much later at night but the lights were dimmer and the crowd was much lesser and the music was a lot slower and a lot sexier than you remembered it. You can feel your body automatically swaying to the music, forgetting the world around you. You didn’t even notice when Yoongi stepped in behind you and walked into the changing rooms.

Climb on board, We’ll go slow and high tempo

Letting the music lead you, you walk in, to the edge of the dance floor and let your body move the way it feels its right. It felt so good to dance again. You’re so lost in your own private bubble, it takes a while before you notice Yoongi standing in his leather jacket, backpack slung over one shoulder, just staring at you.

You beckon him towards you with a smile and he complies but he doesn’t take your hand when you hold it out, shaking his head instead.

“I don’t dance.”

You laugh and reach for his wrists instead, pulling him closer, wrapping them around your waist.

Light and dark. Hold me hard and mellow

“What a pity, women find a man who can dance attractive.”

“That’s a personal preference.”

“It’s a scientific fact.”

Yoongi chuckles. “As far as I remember, when you entered the club, you walked past all those ‘dancing men’ and sat right there for 3 hours” He points at the stool on the other side of the floor with a tilt of his head, that cocky look on his face. “What does that tell you?”

You shrug, continuing to play with the metal of the chain resting on his chest, as though you didn’t know the answer to that.

I’m seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure. Nobody but you, ‘body but me. ‘Body but us, bodies together.

“Those men may move their bodies however they like, but a woman likes a man who knows her body.” His voice is so fucking deep. “Like I know yours.”

“Do you now?” You run your finger along the line of his jaw. “It’s been so long since you’ve even touched me-”

“Doesn’t matter.” He presses himself onto you and you can feel it. How incredibly hard he’s gotten. “No one knows you like I do, I can promise you that.”

Your lips curl into a smile as you run your hand from his chest to all the way down there, rubbing him ever so slightly over the material of his jeans. “I could say the same”

I love to hold you close, tonight and always. I love to wake up next to you.

You want to see a warning flash in his eyes or some sort of reaction to your actions, but all he does is let out a breath. “It’s been three weeks, I didn’t think you would be in the state to tease.”

“I figured if you could leave me like that for so long, a few minutes shouldn’t hurt you-”

“3 hours.” Yoongi stares at you with an intensity you’ve never seen in his eyes before. “Ever since you walked into the bar and sat there.”

I love to hold you close, tonight and always. I love to wake up next to you.

“Nonsense.” You put your arms around his neck, laughing. He was being ridiculous after all. “You barely looked at me the whole time.”

“I didn’t need to. Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.”

So we’ll piss off the neighbors.

You almost gasp, eyes widening, feeling that throbbing sensation in your core. Yoongi never speaks like this outside your bedroom.

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About w-what?”

He turns you around, your back against his erection pressing into you, his lips on the skin of your shoulder making their way up. He’s holding you in place with just one arm across your waist, his other hand is drawing circles on the skin your extremely short dress was exposing.

In the place that feels the tears. The place to lose your fears.

“Your moans” He’s not even whispering, he’s making sure he’s heard. “The way you sound when I’m fucking you, when you say my name.”

“The way your hands run down my back and how it feels to be inside you, so tight,” Its like he knows you clenched your walls at that exact moment. “fuck so tight all time, its like I’ve not been there a hundred times already.”

Reckless behavior.

“Yoongi-”

“And how you smell, that scent of you drives me crazy,” His voice suddenly goes so low, you unwillingly feel yourself swallow nothing. “and I can smell it right now. Is that how wet you are already?” You still can’t move. “I’m sure I can easily slide in two fingers. Maybe even three? You’re a good girl, I know you can take it.”

A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw.

It’s so hard for words to leave you. “I-I know something better you can put inside me Min Yoongi.”

He chuckles, “I offered to earlier today, you said I give myself too much credit.”

“Did you really take my word for it?” You turn to him, pressing your hips into his.

He lets out a small laugh. “Have you always been this easy to please?” There was so much pride in his voice. But he deserved to feel that. You were practically a puddle in his hands. “I can’t remember”

“Fuck me and you will.” You can’t hear or think of anything else, your hands finding that tiny cold metal of his pants and they start to unzip it already, forcing Yoongi to hold your wrist and stop you.

“I’m not sure this is the right place for it-”

“I take it back, I don’t mind doing it near the backdoor, trash cans or not.”

Yoongi smirks at your desperation. “We’ve been waiting for 3 hours, I think we both deserve more than that.”

“Yoongi…..” You whine, desperate. “Where do you want to go then? My parents will be home now.”

“I know….” He trails off for a bit. “I know a place nearby we can go to, about 10 minutes away. Would that be okay with you?”

After all these months was Yoongi finally taking you to his house?

“10 minutes is all you get.”

“Perfect.” He steps back flashing his gummy smile, holding his hand out. “Let’s go.”

The moment he leads you into the darkness of his house and shuts the door behind you, you don’t waste time and press him up against it, hooking you fingers in his belt loops, slamming your lips onto his. And he responds by letting his backpack slip from his shoulder onto the floor before he takes your face in his hand, slipping his tongue into your mouth, eliciting that soft whimper from you. His hands don’t wait there, wandering down, caressing your neck before he pushes his jacket that you had borrowed during the bike ride here off your shoulders, making you quickly reach behind and drag the sleeves down your arms before crumpling it unbothered and throwing it, however far your arm could extend.

“Careful!” Yoongi abruptly pulls back, making you almost bite your own lip as he cautions you, pointing at the silhouette of a vase you nearly knocked down with the jacket. “I have no idea how expensive anything is here. We don’t want to fall into any kind of trouble.”

You freeze.

All that excitement, the awe, the thrill, everything in you extinguishes in a second, the moment you hear that statement.

“Yoongi. This-this isn’t your house?”

“I wish.” He chuckles, hand searching the wall for the switches and flipping them on upon finding them. “My house isn’t even a quarter the size of this.”

When your eyes adjust to the brightness and you are finally able to see something other than shadows, you’re awestruck because the place is, well, absolutely beautiful. The white and blue tones of the walls, the slightly antique looking furniture, all those books racked up in bookshelves and those paintings on the walls - none of it looked even close to what you would imagine his place to look like.

“Oh my god, this isn’t your house.”

Yoongi shakes his head as if it’s that simple.

“A friend’s house?”

He shakes his head again.

“Do you even know who lives here?”

“For someone who was eager enough to do it by the trashcans you are having an awful lot of questions now.”

“Yoongi, just answer.”

He picks up his jacket and backpack from the floor and walks in casually to dump it on the couch.

“No, I don’t really know who lives here.”

You freeze. “Oh my god, what are we doing here?!”

He shrugs. “You said you couldn’t wait.”

“What?!” Your voice leaves you as angry whispers. “Yoongi, that doesn’t mean we trespass into someone’s private-”

“Relax Y/n. I have the keys.” He fishes them out from his back pocket, jiggling them at you before he throws them onto the couch as well. “ I have permission, this is far from illegal. My housing agent suggested this space.”

You slowly walk into the house, the fear subsiding with each step.

“The owner lives in Sydney, so I was free to come over and check it out whenever I wanted to. Though the agent did ask him to let him know when I do….” He grins. “Guess I just forgot. “

“I can’t believe you Yoongi.” You shake your head in disbelief, fighting back a smile. “So technically, we are breaking in?”

“Not technically-”

“Yoongi, you just brought me to some random persons house to have sex.”

“Should I be scared that you don’t sound disappointed saying that?”

“Hmm, I like it.” You smile slowly, walking up to him, a glint of mischief in your eyes “I’m so tired of us always having to do it in my bedroom, keeping it down, trying not to get caught. That had its own thrill but here,” Pressing your body against his you tiptoe, weaving your fingers into the back of his head, whispering in his ear. “Here you can make me scream.”

Yoongi lets out a short laugh, his hands finding the curves of your hips, walking you back till you feel the edge of the breakfast bar behind, and kissing you in a way that dragged out those desperate moans. When he pulls back letting you breath and whispering, “Trust me, I’m dying to.”, you look at him chest heaving, biting your lip that was already missing his mouth. His eyes are darken with a mix of desire and something you couldn’t quite tell as he began littering kisses along your collarbone and you attempt to pull your hair into a ponytail, the way he likes it, thank god for the hair tie on your wrist. His hands grip your thighs as he stands between them and his mouth feels so good but you want so much more.

“Are you just going to kiss me all night?” Your voice shakes as he makes a trail up your neck.“I can think of better places you can put your mouth.”

“Such impatience.” He chuckles, sliding the straps of your dress off your shoulders and down your arms, his long fingers brushing them excruciatingly slowly. Of course, Min Yoongi’s recipe for mind blowing sex - foreplay, teasing, edging. But you were not in the mood for any of that today.

“You ditched me for 3 weeks,” You work faster than him, almost swatting his hands aside and pulling the dress down to bunch up at your waist, “I think I’ve been patient enough.” You unhook the clasp of your bra, and slide it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor, unbothered. Yoongi’s expression darkens as your fingers find the zip of his jeans, and unzip it without hesitation.

“Come on Yoongi, how much more do you want me to ask?”

He smirks but complies nevertheless, dragging his hands under your dress and up your thigh, pushing the material of your panties aside, running his finger between your folds.

“You’re so wet, fuck.” There is something about the way his voice goes so low and deep when he’s aroused that makes you clench your walls harder. “I could slip in there so easily, fill you up so good. Would you like that?”

Fuck yes Min Yoongi. That’s what you want to say. But you can’t. Not when he doesn’t even wait before he slides two fingers inside you, and all you can do is let out a soft moan, your body instantly reacting to the familiar feeling of his long digits thrusted inside you. But before you can fully savor that sensation, he pulls them out completely, much to your disappointment.

“Lift your hips for me.”

And you obey pulling away from the edge of the counter letting him tug that tight dress down your legs, throwing it somewhere. He pulls out the bar stool from behind you, guiding you to sit on it.

“Turn.”

You frown, not understanding as he swiftly spins the apparently rotatable stool half a round, pressing himself against your back. As you open your mouth to complain about not being about to see him, his hand slides from behind, over your waist, down there and this time, when he plunges his fingers into your heat again, “Oh fuck yes.” the feeling is wild.

His hand finds your breast as you feel yourself arch off against him, whimpers spilling from you mouth. He doesn’t let you grind against his hand, and picks up the pace instead knowing that’s what you want, as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, months of experience telling him just how deep you liked it and just how fast. His hand switches between your breasts, mouth hot on your neck as you tip your head back, quickening the pleasure building up inside, your breaths getting louder, shorter. It’s been so long since you’ve even been touched, with him pumping his digits into you like that, it doesn’t take long for you to edge.

“Fuck, I’m going to come, Yoongi, stop.” You weakly attempt to hold his wrist but of course you are not successful, not when you feel him run his tongue up your neck. “Fuck, I want you inside me when I come, please, just stop-”

“Cute.” He lightly sinks his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, whispering against it. “What makes you think you’re only going to come once tonight?”

You bite back a moan, stuttering “Fuck, yes, yes, yes, right there”, incoherently and it takes just the slight pressure of his thumb on your clit and you fall apart instantly, breathing heavily.

When he feels you finish riding your high and relax around his fingers, he slowly pulls them out, and you turn to face him, finally gaining the ability to address his cockiness. “Make me come more than once today? Don’t you have a lot of confidence Min Yoongi?”

“I think I’m allowed to have it.” He sucks on his fingers, smirking proudly around them. “Delicious.”

Fuck.

The effect he had on you. Every time. Every time he managed to make such a panting mess of you all while remaining so calm, so composed and today, fully clothed moreover, with just his zip down. You look at the bulge in his pants, and you can tell he is not at his most comfortable, yet he waited for you to make the move.

You grab the edge of his shirt and pull it up, over his head, dropping it the moment he’s free of it, and run your hands against the pale skin of his torso as he watches you patiently. Oh but today you had the upper hand. You were satisfied by his fingers already while here he was, an erection still in his boxers. If you wanted you could give him a taste of his lesson, tease the life out of him, but there was something you were holding onto all these days, something you wanted to tell him for quite a few weeks now.

“Do you have a condom?”

He nods, reaching for his back pocket to take out his tattered wallet as you palm him over the material of his boxers before sliding your hand in to and griping his erection, drawing a very soft but audible groan from his throat.

“You’re going to have to take my cock out if you want to use this sweetheart,” He holds the foil pointedly.

“Or not.” You mutter unsure as you take the foil from him and put it on the surface next to you. “We don’t really have to use it you know.”

What did that expression mean?

When Yoongi doesn’t reply to that, you don’t know what to do but continue.

“I’ve uh,” Why you are so hesitant? “I’ve started taking the pill.” You bite your lower lip, muttering. “So if you are okay with it…..we can do this without protection.”

It’s a while before Yoongi stops just blinking at you and replies. “You’re saying,” He looks away momentarily, letting out a struggled breath. “You’re saying it’s ok if I fuck you raw-”

“I’m saying I want you to.” You look him straight in the eye, dead serious. “Fuck me raw.” Then quickly add, “If you want to, that is.”

Yoongi actually takes a few steps back instead. “The first time we slept together, you said without a condom, it felt too intimate.”

“Oh,” You scoff. “That was my nice way of saying ‘god knows what nasties you are carrying’.”

You roll your eyes when he looks at you confused. “STDs Yoongi.”

“I was clean then, clean now. You knew that.”

“Only because you said so.” You point out. “But I have medical proof now because I might have looked up your test results on our hospital records…?” You trail off, voice softening a bit in embarrassment. You weren’t prepared to answer all these details, it was a simple yes or no question.

“Really?”

“Yeah well,” You shrug. “I’m a resident, I have access to all kinds of records-”

“No, about this.” He straightens out, standing upright. “You really want to? You-you’re serious about….this.”

“Oh.” You nod. “Yeah, I mean, I am clean but I don’t have any evidence right now-”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You swallow on nothing, surprised by his trust in you.

“Uh and unless you’ve slept with someone the last few weeks-”

He scoffs, “You think?”

With just two strides, he’s right before you once more, kissing you with a ferocity that was new to you but you kissed him back just as intensely, biting, running your tongue over his lips, over where they meet, just inside of them, tracing their outline with the tip of your tongue. You slide your hand into his boxer, gripping his erection, attempting to free it, and he helps you, pulling both his boxers and his pants halfway down his thighs.

“Take them off.” You whisper and he obeys taking a step back and swiftly pulling off the last of his clothes as you push aside your drenched panties and stick your fingers inside you, feeling all that wetness, gathering it. Yoongi’s eyes follow your digits as you pull them out, your arousal slick between your fingers and he looks up to your mouth, as though he expected you to slip them in there. Instead, you gesture him to come closer with them and when he does you wrap your hand around his erection, the wetness of your fingers letting you stroke it with a little ease as you feel his breath get heavier.

“Can’t wait to put this in my mouth.” You coo into his ear, attempting to slide off the stool but he pins you by your thighs, not letting you move.

“Not tonight.” Yoongi refusing a blow job? He groans as you run your thumb over his tip. “I want to fuck you right now-”

“Then fuck me.”

Holding you in place with his hands under your knees, he wastes no time - no teasing your slit with his tip, not even pushing himself in you slowly to allow you to adjust his thickness, not even bothering to fully remove your panties, he just pushes them aside and he thrusts himself in with one swift move and fuck, the feeling of his bare cock in you is so foreign but unbelievably gratifying. You can feel it inside you, down to the last detail, your walls clenching, aching for some movement. But Yoongi just wraps your legs around his waist and buries his face in the crook of your neck, hands digging into your thighs, surely bruising them.

“Yoongi, move.” You moan into his ear, entwining your arms around his neck. “Please.”

And he does, picking up the pace, giving it to you so hard, your nails find themselves raking his back. He kisses you along your shoulder, not letting you hear the soft grunts he couldn’t help but let out. You though, wince every time he thrusts into you, body sore from your fixed position.

“It hurts.” When he doesn’t stop, you slide your fingers into his hair, and tug his head back, letting him see you and realize you were hurting. You sense how it takes every bit of his energy to halt and mutter. “I’ve been sitting for far too long.”

“Bedroom?” He asks, almost short of breath. When you shake your head he swiftly pulls you down from the bar stool, giving you immediate relief.

“Are you okay?” You nod but he doesn’t seem convinced. “We can find a bedroom-”

He goes speechless the moment you turn around, gripping the edges of the counter and slightly bend over. You just wanted a change in position, you weren’t really thinking about the effect it might have on him.

Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.

“Is this what you imagined?” You try to peer over your shoulder. “In the bar earlier today?”

He’s still silent. You can’t really see him well but you know he’s watching as you touch yourself, eager for him to shove himself back in there.

“No.” He murmurs.

You feel his hands on the elastic of your underwear, pulling it down to where he said he pictured it, before he makes his way back up, kissing and biting softly along the inside of your thigh, dropping one last kiss on the skin of your lower waist before he confesses in your ear in a low voice,

“This is so much better, you have no idea.”

Your proud smile falters the moment he digs his fingers into your hips definitely making bruises, and rams himself inside you, making your head dip down in pleasure as you bite back a moan.

“Don’t hold back.” He speedens his movements in and out, the new angle letting him snap his hips against yours faster and deeper. “I want to hear you.”

So you let him. Parting your lips you let him hear what he does to you, moaning his name and it drives him crazy because you feel him getting more aggressive, not hesitating at all. His hand wanders up, pressing into your skin wherever it could, grabbing your breast almost painfully before reaching your wrist, tapping it.

“Let go.” He growls, and the moment you obey he harshly pushes you forward, right up against the counter, till every bit of the skin of your upper body is against the cold surface, giving him the ability to pound into you harder almost as though he had no intentions of holding back.

“Shit,” You try to raise yourself but he leans over and pins you with his hand on the nape of your neck, restricting you against the surface, your cheek still against the coldness. “Fuck,” You moan shamelessly. “I forgot how good you fucked me Yoongi.”

No cocky response to that? It’s like he doesn’t care anymore, nothing but an occasional grunt or two leaving him unwittingly, his breath the most audible thing from him. You wish you could see him fucking you like this. Sex with Yoongi never was gentle love making but it also wasn’t this sort of rough fucking. You hated to admit how much you liked it. Even more so when he takes both your hands and holds them firmly against your lower back with his single hand, and starts to lose his rhythm, thrusts getting sloppy.

“Fuck, I’m going to come.” You feel his lips on your shoulder, trying not to sink his teeth into your skin. “Where do you want me to?”

Like you could respond to that with your mouth so dry and you were approaching your high too.

“Fucking hell Y/n, you need to tell me, shit I’m so close-”

“Inside, inside.” You whimper, breathlessly. “Come inside me Yoongi.”

And before you even finish your sentence he groans, shooting his load with a few thrusts, the warmth filling you up as you clench around him, desperate to hold on to the sensation of him inside you to tip over the edge once more.

“Stop. I’m going to get hard again if you do that.”

You sense him move back, slowly sliding out of you as you feel his cum leaking down, threatening to dribble down your thighs. Turning around you look at him, eyes savoring the sight of completely fucked out Yoongi before you as you get down on your knees slowly, taking his cum covered cock in your mouth, sucking him clean, that alluring taste of him making you want more and more. Yoongi lifts your chin with a finger under it, pulling you back as he looks down at you.

“If I get hard again, I can’t promise I won’t break you. So don’t try, Y/n.”

Fuck.

Normally you wouldn’t have laughed at that, but being deprived of your orgasm makes you gutsy.

You chuckle, standing up, licking your lips. “Speaking of promises, someone said I’ll be coming more than once tonight.”

His eyebrows furrow as the realization hits him and honestly, it surprised you just as much as it surprised him. Min Yoongi just fucked you with the most minimal foreplay, absolutely no teasing, and the man who had always made it his mission to make you orgasm first was standing here with his cum all up inside you before you had the chance to. It clearly hurts his ego because you can see the determination in his eyes to change things.

Pushing you back onto the stool, he gets on his knees instead and you gasp, seeing his head between your legs like that. Yoongi, who is so repelled by the idea of tasting himself that he wouldn’t even kiss you after you blow him was here, latching his mouth around your cum filled cunt, delving his tongue inside you. You are already so sensitive from his cock inside you earlier and it doesn’t help that he looks so hot buried between your legs like that, meeting your eyes, you can feel that tightening sensation rise in you again. Desperate, you catch yourself almost grinding against his tongue till he finds the need to stop you, taking one of your legs over his shoulder making you reach for support from the counter behind.

“Fuck y-yes.” You whimper, his mouth sucking on your cunt so hard and he brings his hand up to your clit, rubbing on it hard and fast and it takes less than a minute for you reach your orgasm, vision fading to black as you rake your fingers through his hair softly. He runs his tongue along the folds on last time and your look down at as he drops a kiss on the inside of your thigh.

As he stands up you slowly adjust yourself, rolling your neck to relieve yourself, pulling the hair tie, freeing your hair. Yeah furniture sex is great, but your body was surely going to hurt like a bitch in a few hours.

Yoongi holds you gently by the elbow, planting a brief kiss on your lips. “Are you okay?”

“You should ask me this question tomorrow because that is when I’ll know.” You laugh.

“I will.” He nods, picking your clothes from the floor handing it to you. You take it, trying to avoid his concerned gaze.

“Uh, I should go pee.” You hold your clothes against your chest, suddenly embarrassed about how much you were exposing to him.

“The washroom is probably down the hall.”

He moves to the side giving you way and you leave with a small thankful smile, hurrying with small steps, eyes searching around the house. When you push the bathroom door upon finding it, you are greeted by a full size mirror making you jump reflexively. “Ah fuck….”

You’re a mess.

You knew you were probably looking like one, but you didn’t know to what extent. You bite your lip looking at the purple marks stark against your shoulders and the inside of your thigh. Yoongi doesn’t usually mark you. Simply because you didn’t allow him to, at least not the neck. You told him that was off limits because you worked at a hospital and you obviously couldn’t go to work looking like that, it wasn’t appropriate. You did say though, that you didn’t mind anywhere else but he never seemed interested in that proposition because he never even tried to. But today looking at those marks, the pride in your chest does a happy backflip. Yoongi really lost control today.

When you clean yourself up and come out, you don’t know why you are surprised to see him still there. Maybe because every time after the both of you slept together, either he had to rush or you had to, there was never an opportunity to so much as even look at each other, forget saying something.

But here he was, with just his pants back on, shirt still lying discarded on the floor as he makes himself busy cleaning the surface of the table with a wet tissue, much like how he was clearing his station a few hours ago.

You sink into the couch nearby and watch him take his time, running here and there, scrubbing the surface clean, once with a wet tissue, then with a dry tissue, scrounging around febreze, spraying it around the place, sniffing it carefully in the air. You smile at his antics, shaking your head.

“Alright, clean here.” He grabs his shirt from the floor and pulls it over his head. “Oh yeah, sanitizer.” Your habits really did grow onto him. You did not know why and what kind of role you played in Yoongi’s life but the last 3 weeks taught you something. For some reason, you don’t know what exactly but Yoongi was important to you.

As he approaches the couch, hand reaching out for his backpack next to you, you hold him by the wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t do that to me again.” You stare at how beautiful his hand looks in yours, like its meant to be. “The last three weeks were……difficult.”

“You think 21 days of not fucking you were easy for me?” He scoffs. “The regular 5 days itself are ridiculously hard.”

“Difficult because I was worried, not because I was horny.” You laugh as Yoongi sinks into the couch next to you, rolling his head over, giving you his gummy smile.

This was the reason.

That’s when you finally, finally realize.

You realize that you laughed after almost 3 weeks now. After days of being upset and angry and irritable, just one night with Min Yoongi and you were normal again.

You were laughing ever since things cleared between the both of you.

You were laughing ever since you realized he was okay.

You were laughing because he was laughing.

You were laughing because of Min Yoongi.

Oh.

Oh no.

“I’m sorry though, I really am.” He looks away because he’s ashamed and you are relieved he can’t see the conflict you are going through. “I thought I’ll figure it all out and then talk to you about it but….I should have said something.”

You gulp air in the silence, not paying attention to his sincere apology, your realization evoking hundreds of thoughts in you head, the most important one being-

“What happens to us now?” You whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“My brother doesn’t need tutoring anymore, we can’t exactly…” This was the part of the night you were dreading, the part that decides it all. “How will we keep this going?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Yoongi nods slowly. His words, calm down your racing heart. “If you don’t want it to end then…..”

“Of course I don’t.” You answer certainly.

“Then we’ll find a way, I’m sure we can.” He then slowly smiles smugly, as though he realized something. “Maybe I can get my agent to find us a new house like this every week.”

You raise your eyebrow, letting out a laugh once again but slowly nod your head. “So we are going to continue breaking into houses like this?”

“It could be our thing.” He grins.

Our.

“Or would you rather the hospital instead? Like you suggested?”

It takes you a moment but when you remember it, you laugh. “Oh god, you heard that.”

“Mhmm.” Yoongi nods, “It made me think about doing it in my workplace.”

Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.

“Someday, when I have a place of my own, maybe after closing hours.” He smirks and you immediately find yourself picturing it already.

“Speaking of the bar,” You remember that man as you turn toward Yoongi, sitting sideways. “There was a bartender there who knew my name.”

“Who knew your name?” Yoongi frowns before realizing, “Hoseok?”

“I think that’s what his name tag read?”

“Probably him, I can’t think of anyone else who knows.”

“You told him about us?” Your eyes widen.

“What? No,” He adds slowly. “He saw your name flashing on my phone screen a couple of times.”

“Oh.” The panic ebbs a little. “Oh so you saved my contact as Y/n?”

“Yeah.” He nods like it was obvious before squinting at you. “Why? What did you save mine as?”

The Agreement.

“MYG” You lie confidently.

Why did you lie? Because you thought is might hurt his feelings? Why did that matter? You know why.

“Though…..” He speaks, still thinking. “Would that be such a bad idea? Telling people about us?”

You nervously laugh. "W-Why did you think of that all of a sudden?”

Why Yoongi?

“You were quite terrified when you thought I told Hoseok about us.”

“No I mean…..” You swallow not knowing what to say. “You said so yourself, we don’t mean enough to each other to share so much.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“What will we even tell people? What are we Yoongi?” You smile sadly. “We are just an agreement. Something that started with two rules and that will end with one sentence.”

Say I’m wrong Yoongi. Say we could be more.

“You’re right, We are just an agreement. ” He nods. “What would we even tell people?”

You : That I am falling for this man. Yoongi : That I’ve long fallen for this woman.

But both things were left unsaid, only a strange silence in the space between you two, sad smiles exchanged in the place of those feelings.

#yoongi smut #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #btsguild #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts angst #unfamiliar #jiminwreckedme

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honey-hippie-harper · 3 years

Text

Walking through the dark

Hello :’) ahdjabndms well...I didn’t enter the gift exchange (I WAS HAVING A BREAKDOWN I’M SORRY) but...ansdhnsj yeah :’) @honey-harper-official like I had already told you...I wanted to do something for you. You asked for angst about Adrian talking about his mom...but this turned out to be kinda Nodrian, I hope you don’t mind :’)

Idk what to say :’) You were an important part of this fandom, and I’m going to miss you a lot. Still, I am (I think we all are) proud you’re doing what’s best for you. Carry on <3

I hope you like this <3

And thank you.

I’m a little rusty in all this writing straights businesses

Walking through the dark

Two years after the Supernova, they were trying to “get more creative” with the parade, while trying to make it more affordable at the same time.

This year, it looked like an illustrated book. There were no paid actors, nor were the Renegades on top of a float. If anything, they were patrolling alongside the rest of the teams, and the only extra checks were for the marching band and the drivers.

The first float was about the lift of the city, and it had a city in ruins, with Ace Anarchy standing above everything. The background was in greys and reds, which made his gold and blue costume glow like a traffic light in the shadows. By the right corner, were Queen Bee and Cyanide, turning their backs at the audience, and staring at Ace Anarchy instead.

The second float was about the Renegades’ first public appearance, standing at the front, ordered by height, while the Anarchists’ silhouettes stood behind them, taller and bigger, so they could fit into six different people.

The next one was the Puppeteers’. He was standing on a Ferris Wheel, with the strings coming from his hands tied around the Anarchists and the Renegades’ shadows. The Renegades had blue strings, and the Anarchists had red strings.

The following one was new, because her parents had never been in the floats before. It was a beautiful car, with colors that resembled the Milky Way, and it showed David Artino, with a woman (Tala Artino) and a little girl (Evie, now Maggie Artino) standing behind him, placing a star into an older girl’s hands (herself). There was another, golden silhouette behind them, too.

The Day of Triumph came right after. Ace Anarchy standing on the cathedral, and Captain Chromium watching him from below, Silver Spear in hand, and a little capsule on his back.

Then came the scene after the cathedral, with the Renegades standing together outside the building. No masks. One of them missing. The rest, bruised but victorious. Captain Chromium was holding the Silver Spear above his head, and the Silver Spear had the helmet, which was on Max’s head the following float.

The supernova. Max being the one standing above them. The two of them.

Adrian and Nova.

The supernova float had a lot of colors, and it was Adrian’s personal favorite. Maybe that’s why Nova remembered the floats so well in the first place. She had spent a good amount of time discussing with Adrian about them.

She also remembered them because she was watching them from above when she fell from the roof.

It was an accident, and it was stupid.

In order to avoid having people scattered all over the place, the teams were asked to split this year. While Danna and Nova watched from two different roofs, Adrian, Oscar and Ruby were left on the ground. From her roof, Nova could see Adrian, and if she went across it, towards the space where the water tanks were located, she could see Ruby. However, Danna was the one who could see Oscar.

When the floats arrived into their assigned street, the security camera started bothering Nova more than it should’ve had. It wasn’t really misplaced, but it surely looked so to her, because she had once been here, and she was one to know about the tricks a person who had bad intentions could play. She also knew that two could play that game, especially if they both knew those tricks.

Now, the camera wasn’t misplaced. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. But Nova was stubborn, so she climbed on the edge of the roof anyway to go check on it. For some reason, the structure being slippery due to mold or water or whatever, never crossed her mind.

One moment, Nova was standing at the edge of the roof.

The next one, she was falling.

It happened so fast she couldn’t even scream or think, but somehow she managed to activate the emergency alarm in her bracelet, as the wind made her eyes tear up, and she felt her body suspended in time, though it was still falling, and falling, and falling.

First, the panicked swarm of butterflies reached her, careful not to block her vision because that would only make the death experience worse for her (yes, at the moment, Nova was sure she wouldn’t live to tell the story about how she fell from the roof) while also trying to help, perfectly knowing there was nothing they could do.

And, a few seconds after that, all Nova felt was a wave of overwhelming pain, when Thunderbird tackled her to stop the freefall and then wrapped her arms around her, flying all the way up to the roof, and then going down again. Nova had never been rescued by Thunderbird before, but she didn’t know one single person who said being rescued by her had been a pleasant experience. Her movements felt controlled and it was evident she knew what she was doing, but she was rough as hell, to the point where, despite knowing she had already been saved, Nova screamed for her life, until she was dropped on the ground in a mildly gentler way.

Upon stepping on stable ground, Nova realized this would be the dizziest she would ever be, and stumbled. Danna, who was already reformed, standing next to her, caught her by the arm so she wouldn’t fall.

At first, when she regained control over her senses, she heard nothing but Thunderbird’s ranting, and her voice demanding to see the entire Team Sketch, here and now, because, to put it lightly, Thunderbird was as blocked as her, and none of the two were able to hear Adrian in the distance, until they spot him.

He was bawling.

The parade was following its course, as they were trying to keep things as calm as possible, and Tsunami was still out there, acting as the only active council member at the moment, although aware of what was happening. Above all the noise and the commotion, Nova spotted Ruby politely nudging her way into the crowd, following Thunderbird’s call and, obviously, the emergency alarm sent by Nova when she was falling.

Oscar was also coming, although slower.

And Adrian was bawling.

Nova could see him knelt down on the floor, with Captain Chromium’s, who also happened to be his dad, arms surrounding him, holding his body tightly. The Dread Warden, his other dad, was there too, uselessly trying to block the scene.

Well.

Maybe his attempts weren't that useless, and it was only that Nova happened to be in the right spot, at the right time, from which Adrian’s silhouette was impossible to go unnoticed, even with the Dread Warden standing in the middle.

“Who’s riding with her in the ambulance?”

An ambulance.

The words almost didn’t make sense in Nova’s head, not even with Thunderbird’s voice, which was pretty clear most of the time, especially when she was talking to the recruits. An ambulance.

An ambulance, because Nova had fallen from a roof, and Thunderbird had caught her.

Half of her body was sore, because she had been hit by Thunderbird’s body after all, but Nova was pretty sure she didn’t need an ambulance. She didn’t need to go to the medical wing. If anything, maybe she needed some water, but she was sure nothing was broken, nor dislocated or sprained.

She was fine.

Adrian, in fact, looked way more affected than her. Nova’s heart was pounding, but she wasn’t bawling after all.

He was.

“I’ll do it.” Ruby said. “I’ll ride with her in the ambulance.”

She did understand that.

“I’m okay.” She said. “Literally, I’m doing good. I don’t need to…”

“Just in case.”

Thunderbird patted her shoulder, which made it hurt a little.

Even so, Nova was still convinced she didn’t need an ambulance.

Yet, said ambulance was already coming closer to her.

“I’m fine. I’m just fine.”

“Sssh.” Ruby came over and, as Danna let go of her hand, wrapped her arms around her, so Nova could use her as the human crutch she didn’t need. “It’s okay, Nova.”

“Don’t fight it.” She heard Oscar’s voice say.

Sweet rot, she was just fine.

Being bruised by Thunderbird wasn’t something that required her being taken to the medical wing, mostly because it hadn’t been her intention to hurt her. On the contrary, Thunderbird had saved her. She was okay.

They wouldn’t believe her, of course. It wasn’t a possibility.

It never was, when something as awful as this happened.

Ruby rode with her in the ambulance.

Adrian showed up into her room a few minutes after they started allowing visitors. His face seemed wet, and his eyes were red as cherries.

Then he got into the bed and rested his head on her chest, while she gently ran her thumb through the space below his ear, going all the way down to his chin, feeling the remnants of facial hair he had previously shaved, perhaps a couple of days ago.

For the next week, Adrian said nothing about it.

Nothing.

-.-

Nova had an intermittent schedule because, once she grew to accept the fact she also needed some spare time and do something besides work, she decided she couldn’t just work as part of the patrol units and work in the Vault. On the other hand, she also had refused to leave all the work to Callum, and it’s not like she didn’t like the Vault or hanging out with Callum. For instance, she decided she would be part of the patrol units for a week, and then she would rest from that the following one, working at night in the Vault instead.

So far, it was working. She felt more rested and relaxed, even on busy days.

The post-parade days were usually busy, if she wanted to be honest, mostly because of the things that had happened during the parade but nobody noticed them until everything was over.

Nova had covered a shift with the team when she was supposed to be getting ready to join Callum at night. In her defense, the parade was pretty stressful for everyone, even the Council, now that they have to work as staff. Still, that didn’t change the fact they were walking alongside the floats, following them through the entirety of the city by foot, with the patrolling teams working as their side view, checking if there was any threat in the spots they couldn’t see.

The Anarchists were gone, and so were the Rejects.

Both Winston and Leroy had stopped considering themselves Anarchists some time ago and, besides, they didn’t like the parade. If anything, Winston had speeded towards the Headquarters the moment they called to the house, saying Nova had fallen from a roof, but none of the two were among the crowd to see her fall.

“I would love to see them dressed in the patrol units’ uniform, though.” Winston said. Because, indeed, to make sure everybody knew they were part of the staff, they had chosen to wear patrolling uniforms, and not their official costumes. “But I won’t.”

And he didn’t.

At least, not a first.

The thing was…he did see them in the hallway when he came to the medical wing, but he was too busy freaking out to even make the slightest offensive comment.

It wasn’t until later, a few days after the parade, that, while laying on the couch, Winston started wheezing at how tight the uniform was on Hugh’s chest, how uncomfortable Kasumi looked (and how she had pulled up the sleeves), how Tamaya kept tugging on the fabric around her neck, and that photo where Simon was trying to get a little piece of tape off his clothes but, out of context, looked as if he were checking on his own butt.

Winston had a blast, but only after Leroy, Maggie and him were scared to death.

The Maggie thing was questionable.

A little. Nova wasn’t sure.

Because, just like Adrian, she didn’t mention anything about it after she snuggled up in bed with her as soon as she came home from the Headquarters.

But maybe that was just Maggie.

She was like that sometimes.

Adrian, from his part, wasn’t. He wasn’t one to be closed to his feelings. In fact, he was usually willing to talk about what was wrong and why he was upset, which was pretty useful to Nova because, even if she sometimes had some trouble admitting it, she wasn’t particularly good at reading signs. It was something she was working on, relentlessly, but Rome hadn’t been built in a day.

Maybe he was just worried.

Nova never called in sick. She rarely missed a couple of days at work, let alone the entire week.

The day of the parade, just like she suspected from the start, the healers didn't find anything unusual in her body. In fact, everything was as it should be apart from the bruises. Nevertheless, they did say she might experience some mild pain in the next hours.

And mild was only one way to put it.

Maggie had been asleep, curled into a ball, next to her, for a couple of hours already, when Nova felt the sudden urge to throw up, and when she tried to move, half of her body was so sore she couldn’t find the strength to run. Or walk, whatsoever. Instead, she somehow managed to reach for the trash can, and even that was painful as fuck.

People were right when they said Tamaya wasn't tender. Nova had had her doubts, but right now there were no doubts left. When she called to notify she wouldn’t be going to the Headquarters at all, nobody tried to convince her otherwise. People rather encouraged it, knowing Nova verged on workaholic.

Adrian texted her a couple of times, and they talked about stuff unrelated to the parade accident. Nova didn’t think anything about it, as she attributed that to the fact Adrian was as sensitive as he was open. Perhaps he thought talking about it would make her upset, despite her having left the headquarters seemingly unaffected when it happened.

Then, after Thursday, the texts stopped. They were having a conversation about pizza, and then he stopped. Which made sense, to a certain extent, because Adrian was part of a patrol unit after all, and Ruby had already told her they had a couple of night shifts these days.

Once again, she tried not to think much about it. Besides, once her muscles were a little less swollen, she agreed to paint flower pots with Winston.

Not that that was something she exclusively did with Winston. Everyone in the house had done it, because they were always trying to find ways to bond and, in this case, due to Winston’s suggestion, they had painted flower pots. So far, they were trying their best. Maggie’s flower pot had pretty dark colors, because she claimed she liked those. Leroy’s was pretty simple, because he had just sketched some formulas and painted the top part in green. Winston had not one, but three different flower pots already, plus the one he was painting at the moment, all of them very colorful and with elaborate drawings. As for Nova...she was doing her best.

She wasn’t an artist, but, with tons of dedication, she had managed to paint her flower pot in black and blue. She was now writing her name in italics on it, thinking about how she might also draw some stars later...or tell Winston to help her draw some stars. It occurred to her it would look nice.

Their house was sort of small, meaning they had a small yard too, but it was big enough to have a small garden and to place a blanket, and sit on it while they painted.

Both Winston and Nova had awful postures, if she wanted to be honest, and hers was even worse now that half of her body was aching, though she could feel she was already getting better.

A lot, in fact.

At least now she could limp through the house without feeling like she was dying, and get into the shower without Maggie’s help (which she provided reluctantly).

Over the time they sat together, Winston and Nova did some small talk, not enough to get the other distracted from their work.

In fact, the sound of Nova’s phone vibrating distracted them more than themselves had managed to do.

Normally, she wouldn’t have answered any calls or text messages when she was in the middle of a bonding session but, somehow, she also figured it could be Adrian, so she discreetly lifted up her cellphone.

Adrian: Hey.

Adrian: Can you come outside?

“Is it Adrian?”

“It’s Adrian.”

Winston scoffed.

“Don’t make that poor guy suffer.”

-.-

Nova didn’t like bright lights, because she wasn’t used to them. Hence, when she was given the chance to decorate her own room, she chose to only illuminate it with night lamps instead of light bulbs. Not only did it make her feel more comfortable, but it also helped save money, especially when there were four people living in that house.

Her closet was right next to the door, and it was fairly messy, to the point where Nova managed to reach for a sweatshirt, without even opening the closet per se.

Oscar had given it to her as a present during her last birthday, and it was in full black. At the back, it had a phrase, written in a very small font: if you can read this, you’re too close.

Nova liked to wear it.

Maybe it wasn’t that adequate in this situation but, on the other hand, Adrian couldn’t even see it and, besides, it was more adequate than a paint-stained white t-shirt, which was what she was wearing underneath it.

Nova’s bed was made most of the time, as she rarely ever used it. It was a twin bed, of course, and she had filled it with cushions and some plushies, because one was never too old for plushies (she even managed to get a teddy bear that looked similar enough to Dolly Bear). On top of the bed, there was also a blanket Nova had been knitting ever since they had moved into this house. It was so long it fell to the floor, on the carpet, and it had several, several types of wool. Sometimes, when she felt sad, mad or stressed, she just knitted and knitted for hours, non-stop, sometimes until she got blisters in her fingers.

Needless to say, she was emotionally attached to that thing and Adrian, since he was her boyfriend, was aware of it, so he always tried to be very careful when he sat on it.

He was being careful even now, as he sat down on the bed, on top of the knitted blanket, and Nova sat on the swivel chair, although not without asking:

“Do you want something from the kitchen? I think Winston made some cookies yesterday. We also have orange juice and...pizza leftovers. The usual. So, do you...want something?”

Staring at her from the bed, through the light, Adrian smiled sideways, as he reached for her hand, lowering his gaze towards the small tattoo she had in her index finger. It was nothing special, just two dots, one next to the other. Each represented one of her parents. Adrian himself had helped her make it, back when Maggie arrived into the house and everyone was having a hard time adjusting.

(Nova had always had weird ways to cope with stress).

“Is there a reason why you’re so quiet?” Nova asked, carefully, knowing that’s what he had asked some time ago, when they finally sat down to talk about everything that had happened the previous weeks to the supernova. Especially, how he had taken her bracelet away in a rather personal way, and how that had hurt her.

They rarely ever talked about it anymore, mostly because Gatlon preferred not to talk about the supernova. Leroy often said that, like the Age of Anarchy, it was an event that had caused collective trauma. When people...people who weren’t the Council, or direct witnesses, that is, tried to talk about the issue, they automatically lowered their volume, though they knew there were no legal repercussions to the mention of the tragedy.

Still, it was delicate, so everyone just chose not to talk about it.

Nova, personally, and after some time of therapy, was open to tell her experience, though she rarely took the initiative to do it. Adrian was the same, more or less.

“Am I quiet?” He asked, his sideways smile widening. Nova tilted her head to the side, scoffing.

“Pretty much.” She confirmed. “And I don’t mean just in this very moment. Is there a reason why you’re pretending I don’t exist? You know...not texting back and such?”

For a moment, he seemed uncomfortable, and it occurred to Nova that, maybe, her tone hadn’t been the right one. Her voice was like that, but she usually managed to manipulate so it would fit in a situation the way she wanted it to.

“...I’m not mad, just so you know, but still, if you want me to know, then...I...I want to know too.” She cleared her throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adrian pushed his glasses up, with the tip of his pinky.

“How are you?” He asked after a while. His voice sounded delicate, almost weak, and thin as a thread.

For a second, Nova didn’t understand.

“I’m...good. How are you?”

He laughed in response, but it wasn’t a genuine laugh. Nova knew him well enough to know that had been a nervous chuckle.

“No, I mean…” He coughed. “Thunderbird hit you pretty hard when she...when you were…”

“Oh! Yes!” Nova felt immediately stupid, so she chuckled a little too, before pulling up one of her sleeves.

Adrian’s eyes widened.

The massive bruise was getting better, but it was still there, and it still hurt to the touch. Besides, obviously, it wasn’t only in her arm, but also in her entire side, before it abruptly ended in her thigh. She wasn’t going to show that to Adrian, because one couldn’t just start getting undressed in a serious situation. He was good with just watching her arm which, on its own, was already making him uneasy for some reason. “For some reason”, she said, because this wasn’t the worst wound he had seen on her skin. These were just bruises. There wasn’t blood or anything.

“It’s getting better.” She said. “A few days ago, I couldn’t even move, but now I don’t feel as sore. Winston and Leroy brought an ointment for me, and…”

She wasn’t yet finished, when she noticed Adrian was already taking out his marker, which he usually carried in his pocket, getting it closer and closer to the bruise, to which Nova flinched, taking it out of his reach.

“Easy there.” She said, smiling and arching an eyebrow. “It’s not necessary. It's healing on its own just fine.”

“Don’t fight it, Nova.”

“Adrian, it’s fine. I’m okay. I’m doing okay. Don’t wo--”

“You’re not doing okay. You have a bruise.”

“Duh! But it’s healing. It’s fine.” Nova grabbed her own wrist, tying to get her arm out of Adrian’s reach. The bruise burned.

“It’s not fine, Nova!”

“Chill, Adrian! Chill! What’s gotten into..?!”

“IT’S NOT FINE, NOVA!”

“Why are you screaming?!”

“IT’S NOT FINE!”

The marker wasn’t directed towards her. First, because she knew Adrian would never. And, second, because she could tell it wasn’t particularly aimed at anyone or anything. Still, he threw it anyway. And given that, for some reason, Adrian appeared to be pretty distraught, letting his marker fall didn’t feel fair. Hence, Nova tried to catch it, but the chair was sort of stretchy so, in the moment she leaned backwards, it looked like she was falling.

Gasping, Adrian grabbed her by the left wrist, very tight, to the point Nova almost felt he was going to get that bruised too.

The marker fell to the floor, on Nova’s knitted blanket, and she just stared at it, while Adrian stared at her, not letting go of her hand.

Silence fell among them, as the sense of overwhelming confusion surrounded them, making them feel like they knew nothing, or that they were meeting for the first time, or that, simply, they weren’t on the same page.

As the marker laid on the floor, Adrian gulped, and finally let go of her.

“I...I think it’s not the time. I should go. I should just…”

“No.” This time, Nova was the one who grabbed him by the wrist, trying to be gentle, but also firm. “Stay. Please.”

Once again, Adrian’s eyes found Nova. He looked lost, almost like a small child, and where Nova had asked for a favor...kind of like a request, he had heard a command for some reason.

He didn’t move, but Nova did.

After picking up the marker, she moved towards the bed, sitting cross-legged, feeling the cushions behind her.

She placed the marker between them, but Adrian didn’t take it. Instead, he kept staring, until Nova took a deep breath and placed a lock of hair behind her ear, straightening her back.

“If you don’t want to tell me, then take your time.” She said. “But we can do something else. We can...paint flower pots with Winston. We could try to go on a date. Watch a movie. Nap for two days…”

That one last line was meant to be delivered as a joke, but Adrian didn’t catch it, and if he did, it wasn’t funny enough to get a reaction from him.

Sighing, Nova filled her cheeks with air, and then let it go, trumpeting with her mouth, and grabbing her own ankles, as she turned away, staring at the ajar closet.

“Nova?”

Upon hearing her name, Nova became alert, just nodding, so he knew he could go ahead, which he did after a while.

“I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“What are you talking about, Adrian?” She asked in a soothing voice, to which Adrian fidgeted with his own fingers, suddenly incapable to look her in the eye.

He was frozen.

And he couldn’t.

“When...when you were falling...when you were falling from that roof…” Adrian squirmed, frowning, and massaging the bridge of his nose. Hesitating. Maybe scared. Maybe a little confused.

Nova waited for him.

“When you were falling from that roof, before Thunderbird caught you… before we realized you were okay...before… before...before everything was okay.” He gulped, still not being able to look her in the eye.

“...It’s like…” he scratched his own arm. “...It’s like I almost saw her.”

Her.

Her, wh… ?

Something clicked inside of her brain, and all the dots connected with each other.

Suddenly, Nova remembered the one who had fallen from the roof, and taken half of the world with her in the process.

Georgia Rawles’ ghost was hanging from the sky, but not this one; she was hanging from another sky, perhaps the same one Nova’s parents were, and nobody could see her, nor hear her.

Nevertheless, they could feel her. And her absence stabbed the ones who had loved her in the stomach, perforating their insides.

Choking down a gasp, Nova took her hands to her mouth, remembering how she, too, had fallen from a roof, and for a second she saw nothing but Adrian knelt down on the floor, clinging on his dad.

“Adrian.” She whispered, in a suffocated voice. “Adrian, I’m sorry, I…”

She stared into his eyes once again. They were shiny as crystal, and red as blood.

Maybe it was time to stop talking and do something instead.

So, gulping, Nova reached for him, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight and being corresponded. After a couple of seconds, Nova’s arms started to get a little tired, and the pain came back to her, but she didn’t let go. On the contrary, she just changed the position of her arms, putting her arms beneath his’ , and resting her chin on his shoulder.

For his part, Adrian kissed one side of her head, and Nova felt his breathing between her hair. Then, she felt his fingers, tenderly caressing her scalp.

His body became tense, and his heart started beating fast, for Nova could feel it in her own chest, and in her entire body.

As Adrian shivered, Nova made sure he knew she understood, and rubbed the tip of her nose against the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m here.” She reminded him.

“I know.” He said, in a broken voice. That, for some reason, made Nova feel some sort of relief, and she hoped Adrian knew how much she meant it.

Because she did. A whole lot, in fact.

“...I know it wasn’t your fault...” He said, once they had separated, and he had wiped the tears from his eyes.

Nova held his hand, and her bracelet shone under the soft lights.

“...I know it wasn’t her fault either.” Chills ran down Nova’s spine. “It’s not her fault she died...and sometimes I wonder if she knows that. That it wasn’t her fault. That I know she wanted to stay. That I know she loved me. That I know I miss her and that I…”

Adrian cut himself off.

“That I’m sorry.”

Nova resisted the urge to ask him how therapy was going, because she knew having intrusive thoughts didn’t necessarily mean therapy wasn’t going well. Still, she held his hand tighter, and gulped.

“I’ve heard many things about your mom.” She said, smiling sideways. “And I didn’t get to personally meet her, but I trust she loved you very much. Raising a child...while trying to take down a government...that is badass, Adrian.”

She gulped.

“... And if she was willing to do that for you...then I’m sure she knows.”

Adrian shivered again, visibly, and as tears started rolling down his face again, Nova placed her hands on his cheeks, wiping some of them away.

“And I’m sure she knows it wasn’t your fault, too.”

Adrian hiccuped, pressing Nova’s hand against his skin, calm.

“...When do you learn to see in the dark, Nova?” He asked in a low voice.

And for some reason, the answer was clear from the first second, as she, staring directly into his eyes, said:

“You don’t.”

Because she knew.

“...What you do learn, it’s to walk by the ones who have an excellent night vision and are willing to help you through, and you also learn to follow the voice of those who aren’t here anymore.”

Nova gulped.

“Your dads, Max, Danna, Oscar, Ruby… and me. We’re all here… maybe she’s also still here, somewhere up there, in the universe.”

By feeling him right there with her, Nova felt that they really were.

That they were.

And that they could.

Adrian smiled sideways, and when they laid next to the other to nap for two days, and Nova made sure they both knew they could use the blanket if they wanted to, she asked:

“Remember when you said that maybe you wanted me to be your nightmare?”

“I remember.” Adrian rested his head on his own arm. His eyes were still shiny for the tears, and they were very brown and very beautiful.

“I don’t want to be.” She said, slowly. “Let’s not be each other’s nightmare, okay?”

“Then what should we be?” He asked, scoffing a little.

Nova thought about it for a while. Then, she kissed him. A small kiss, that felt as if the other were a safe, warm space.

“Light.” She said.

“Let’s walk together through the dark, so we don’t fall.”

And for a while, the world was theirs.

Then, Maggie came to knock on the door, saying Leroy wanted them to take the car and go buy food, knowing Adrian would stay for dinner.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #dawnie writes #nova artino #nightmare #insomnia #adrian everhart-westwood #sketch #georgia rawles #lady indomitable #Nodrian #ly <3

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roggenmuhme · 4 years

Text

Exam Season

The Diamonds x Reader Summary: As the semester draws to an end, finals are approaching and you struggle to balance studying and your relationship with the Diamonds. Wordcount: 4.3k More than open to criticism; this is my first time writing in years and I’m ESL, so I’ll take everything I can get.Feel free to chat me up on discord and on here … I'm happy to exchange sketches and wips, I got plenty! imbutahumblefarmer#5583 "You guys, I'm fine!"

It was your third time saying this exact same sentence while White Diamond strained herself to take up the whole screen in front of you.

Coupled with an awkward laugh, everyone would have figured out that you were lying by now. Everyone except for the Diamonds, of course.

They were a strange trio; completely unrecognizable from when you first had met them. In the place of the terrifying space dictators who had tried to squish you like a bug at Garnet's wedding were now three socially inept women with too much free time and nothing to do.

And they were endearing in their own way. Just like now.

An exasperated sigh could be heard through the connection, the screen whisked away by large, yellow hands. (White's stunned gasp was pointedly ignored, however.)

Yellow Diamond's face appeared in full on your little gemtech tablet, a curious Blue peeking over her shoulder. Her features were rough as always, one could be quick to assume that she was bored, but you knew better.

By the way her eyes narrowed, she didn't buy your shtick at all. A cool, calculated gaze met yours and you prepared yourself for the scolding that was about to come.

"... If you say so", her answer sounded oddly clipped, even for her.

Letting out a deep breath, you tried your best to smile at her and you could feel how fake it looked. Yellow just blinked at you, a hand leisurely supporting her cheek.

"Haha, yeah", you said in another attempt to calm them. They barely understood what university was, and if they caught wind of you being miserable, they would come and flatten your faculty. Or something. You didn’t want to deal with that. “It’s all over in two weeks, then I can come over… if I pass, that is”, you mumbled the last part under your breath, mentally freaking out a little. Only two weeks left … it felt like forever and nothing at all at the same time. “Two weeks?! That’s so long!”, White’s whine sounded off-screen, prompting Yellow and Blue to give her curt look, Yellow’s face contorting for a split second. “Are you serious?”, you had to suppress the laugh that bubbled in your throat. Whatever they did, they always put you in a better mood, intentionally or not. “You guys are thousands of years old, this should be like a minute for you, theoretically.” Yellow blinked at you again, her full attention shifting back to you. “We are aware. But every moment without you is torture.” This time, you laughed for real. Despite Yellow’s deadpan, she could be the cheesiest one of them at any given time. “Guys…!”

“Oh, but it’s true!”, Blue’s soft brogue interrupted your fussing. Yellow turned the device to face her, giving you two a moment. “You know we love you”, she smiled at you. You could feel yourself melting at the sight. “I miss you, I really do. I’ll get Steven to warp me to you immediately after the last exam, I promise.” It was the most you could do and it would already complicate things. But you couldn’t stand to see them like this. This seemed to be enough for Blue at least. She gazed at you in silence for a moment and nodded. With a flurry of colors, your eyes were burned by White’s pouting face again. “If you must, but not a second longer!” You sighed, grinning at her. “Of course.” A gaze at your wrist watch nearly made you recoil in horror. It was way too late already and you still had to do some revisions on unit 23! “Anyways, I really have to sleep now. Y’know, my organic needs and all...” You were a bad liar, but it did the trick on White. She looked like a moping child after their toy had been taken away. She made the most disappointed, dramatic noise while pushing the device from her to give you a look at the others. Blue gave you a little wave, still smiling sweetly. “Okay guys, I’ll call you the day after tomorrow, alright?” They nodded in unison, biding their goodbyes. Before you could switch your screen off, Yellow opened her mouth for one last message. “If anyone is giving you trouble, tell us.” With a hasty bow of your head and one last wave, you pressed the off button, your room now considerably darker again.

Your wrist watch beeped. Back to work.

Nervously tapping your pencil on an old worksheet, you tried to figure out a way how to solve the problem - you didn’t understand it back when you discussed it in class and you still didn’t understand it now. Your wrist watch gave a short beep, your signal to call the Diamonds in fifteen minutes. The break was more than welcome, maybe thinking about something else would give you a fresh eye. Tugging at your hair with a hairbrush, you hummed absentmindedly. You hadn’t really done anything today or yesterday that was worth reporting, but that never stopped the diamond’s from calling you. They simply did the talking themselves. Checking your appearance one last time in the mirror, you gave yourself a satisfied nod. Your eye bags had seen better days, but there was nothing you could do about it right now. Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, stark white light coming from your window. Turning your head comically slow to the source, you had a gut feeling who this could be. One of White Diamond’s eyes peaked excitedly into your studio apartment. It widened when you gave a hesitant wave. Your gut was right. “Hello, starlight!”, her voice was loud, too loud for 10 pm on a weekday. If the sudden arrival of three giant aliens didn’t get you in trouble, this would. When you didn’t answer, she brought a nail to the glass, impatiently tapping it. You were lucky it didn’t shatter on impact. “Darling”, she sang. “Come out, we came all the way to see you!” You had to shake yourself out of the trance you were in - you knew how clingy and protective they were, but this was new. Making your way to your window, you could already hear the noise rising in your neighbor’s apartment. Great. You just hoped they wouldn’t terminate your lease for this. When you finally opened the window, White’s massive hand plucked from the ground and plopped you into her other one. Indeed, all three stood in your parking lot, now hunched over to get a better look at you. “Hi guys”, you squealed, straining your neck to meet their eyes. Three faces beamed back at you, their total lack of situational awareness really showing. “Instead of calling you, we decided to visit you instead! A nice surprise, isn’t it?”, proclaimed White proudly as if she had just solved all of mankind’s problems single handedly. Blue and Yellow nodded enthusiastically next to her. You probably should be mad, but how could you? “Look, I really appreciate this”, you sighed. “But we really have to go somewhere else - people are already waking up. And it might get me in trouble.” That got you a collective ‘oh’ out of them. “Where is the ship anyway?”

You didn’t know how they managed it, but they had found an empty space large enough for the leg-less space giant. Apparently, they had walked the rest of the way and without damaging anything at that. You felt a little proud. The mental image still made you chuckle. “Okay guys, why did you come in person?”, you crossed your arms, while they sat around you in White’s head. “I thought we had a deal - I call you every 48 hours, you stay on Homeworld.” Blue and White evaded your eyes at your scolding tone, but Yellow held your gaze steadily.

"It was fairly obvious that you were not well at all despite your insistence otherwise", she offered her hand for you to climb on, and you did. "You have to take care of yourself, you are very fragile."

Now it was your turn to avoid her stare, feeling guilty. She was right, but you just didn't have the time. There was so much material to go through, so much to memorize. What could sleeping two hours less a night do? It was only for a short period of time, anyway.

And even if you struggled with anxiety and exhaustion, you didn't want to burden them. It was bad enough that you were gone for the semester, telling them how you really felt would be overkill.

But now the jig was up. You should have known that Yellow was an expert when it came to observation and you had probably hurt them even more with your lie.

"I'm so sorry", it was like someone had opened the valve and now you were pathetically blubbering. "I just… didn't want to worry you, is all."

Seeing your distress, Blue immediately pulled closer to you, a tentative finger rubbing the crown of your head.

"Little one, you know you can tell us everything. We care for you and want to help you", she cooed at you, shooting you a smile.

"You organics are so weak to stress, apply a little pressure and - poof - you just break", declared White, a finger up in the air to call attention to her great wisdom.

The stroking on your head stopped abruptly, replaced by shaking.

"Don't… say that", Blue voice was trembling, clearly on the verge of crying. As if on cue, you and Yellow scrambled to console her.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. It's just a little difficult right now", you turned to her, smiling.

"She is an excellent specimen and very durable, Blue", Yellow's tone was a bit more pragmatic, but honest. It was also a nice compliment, coming from her.

"Yes, this isn't the first time I'm dealing with exams", you reached out to pat her finger. "It's going to be okay, even if I don't pass."

"... really?", Blue looked at you with big, questioning eyes. "Please don't lie, you know I couldn't stand to see you - "

A shuddering breath followed. "Stars, I can't even say it."

You were scooped up by her hands and pressed against her soft cheek.

They were all experts in dramatics, but Blue was especially sensitive when it came to your mortality. The first time you had explained your lifespan and the many ways one could die to her in detail, you weren't allowed to leave her for a week. She had known how short human lives were, but this! Unacceptable.

She even made you eat nothing but mush during those seven days, too afraid of this 'choking'.

In the end, you talked her out of it. But it was a big factor when it came to your living situation. They wanted to spend every moment with you, savoring your presence.

You tried to reciprocate the cuddling by embracing her as best as you could. She let out a soft sigh, holding you a little closer. After a minute of silent embracing, she reluctantly put you back in Yellow’s hand. “We’re always there for you, no matter what”, she told you in a gentle tone, the other two nodding in agreement. “If you need me to talk to one of these organics, darling, don’t hesitate to tell me!”, exclaimed White, a smile stretching her cheeks in the most unnatural way. A mental image of her hunched over one of your professors in their office made you a little… uneasy. “Thank you, but I can do that myself”, you laughed nervously. White didn’t look too satisfied with your answer, but seemed to accept it.

“And if it becomes too much, you’re always welcome to move in with us”, added Blue, making you flush. It wasn’t the first time you got that offer, but it was just too sweet. “M-maybe in a couple of years”, you stammered, which earned you a grumble from them. You coughed, feeling a little awkward to change the topic so suddenly. “Ehm, thank you guys - I don’t want to be rude, but I have to get back to studying pretty soon.” “But it’s already dark outside! Isn’t that when humans sleep - oh”, Blue said, suddenly struck by an epiphany. “Oh no, we kept you from sleeping!” You shook your head vehemently. “No, no, we don’t go to sleep the second it gets dark, guys. I think I might have explained this to you before. But I still have some stuff to do.” Of course it was White who interrupted the stunned silence first. “You don’t have a little more time for us? We came all the way...” Yellow joined in, her voice a little louder than anticipated. “Can’t you study here? With us?” “Guys, you can’t just park your ship here - without asking anyone - and keep it in this place for days! I’m gonna get in trouble”, you panicked a little at the thought. The only spot where this gigantic humanoid vessel could be placed was Beach City. Nobody would call the police or worse, the government, over this. “So you have to leave,” this hurt more to say than you’d like to admit. “Or you have to go to Steven, if you want to stay.” All three of them pulled incredibly sad faces, and Blue was close to crying again. You would be lying if it didn’t pull at your heart-strings. “We’re here to make sure you take care of yourself, spark. You’re packing your things and then we’ll stay at Steven’s house and help you study”, Yellow nearly shouted at you. It wasn’t malicious, just her expressing her genuine concern. A relic of times now gone. You thought about it for a second - you could take your books with you, as well as your laptop and notes. Classes were over for now, you only had to attend the exams in two weeks. Technically, you could do it. And with the look they were giving you and all their efforts to make you feel better, you agreed. How could you say no to your giant space ladies? Especially when they were bending over backwards to comfort you. Steven was even more surprised to see the four of you two hours later. You had texted him on the way, but it had been left unread. The Diamonds didn’t really care for announcing their visits, but even this was a bit sudden. After White had explained everything to him, he simply slinked back to bed, planning on discussing the logistics of the situation in the morning. You were allowed to sleep on the couch, but not without the protest of the Diamonds. You loved falling asleep with them around, though regarding the circumstances they would probably dote on you until you were wide awake. They also tended to fight over who got to be the one you would sleep on, and you didn’t have the nerves for that right now. When you left the beach house the next morning, you were greeted with the sight of the three of them practically camping in front of the deck. They had missed you that much, it seemed.

“Good morning, guys!”

You were greeted by various nicknames and excited faces, White the first one to scoop you up. Behind your back, Steven groaned in his cup. “So, what have you planned, darling?”, her voice was chipper as ever, her bright eyes burning your retinas. Maybe Steven was right and it was just a little too early, but no take-backs now. “About that...”, you scratched your cheek in slight discomfort. “I have to study the whole day.” White’s fell immediately, clearly stunned. “I told you yesterday - I have things to do, but you can keep me company. Maybe even help me?” She blinked at you once, the gears in her head clearly turning. Then she gave you an eye-watering smile. “Whatever this studying is, we’ll help you!” You groaned internally. How many times had you explained it to her already?

It went better than you initially expected. The weather outside was nice and warm, the beach calm enough to simply set up a little picnic blanket with your books and notes. (You left your laptop inside, not wanting to get sand into it.) Surrounded by three (surprisingly silent) giant figures watching your every move, you got to work. It was a little awkward at first, but you fell into a routine soon enough. Each of them had her own unique way of helping you; Blue would simply nod and smile when you tried to regurgitate the material to her, White would go on a tangent whenever she recognized something you were talking about, earning her a warning glare from Yellow. Yellow herself would try to quiz you on whatever notes you had pulled up on your gemtech tablet (they were surprisingly resistant to sand). It quickly became one of the most successful days so far, you were impressed. Being with them kept you grounded, they were like a calming aura to keep your anxiety at bay. And they were extremely helpful. It was almost comical, you had to admit. At the end of the day, you were finally able to pack up your books and enjoy the evening with them. It felt good to know that you had managed to get so much done today. You were strangely at ease, their presence strengthening you. You did worry however, that this routine might get boring for them - it wasn’t like the nice things you did usually, it wasn’t playful, entertaining or relaxing. You didn’t want to force them into staying with you, you didn’t want to bore them. With a sigh you shouldered your tote bag, still too caught up in your head. Your sudden shift in mood didn’t go unnoticed. “Little one, are you alright?”, Blue crouched down next to you, her soft eyes glowing in the dusk, her form crowding you in shade.

You looked up to her, a little unsure on how to word your feelings.

"It's just", you opened and closed the fist around your bag straps. "Did you enjoy today? Was it dull? I-I still have two weeks to go and it's gonna stay the same, pretty much."

She sighed, her tense shoulders slacking.

"We enjoy your company", she gave you a smile. "We haven't spent time with each other in such a long time, starlight. If we were able to accompany every second of your life, we would."

She offered you a hand and you happily jumped on it, a little flustered at her words. They were so serious, so heartfelt. Sometimes you did forget that they were older than civilization on earth, that they would outlive you by eons.

"Thank you, Blue", you peered up at her, a relieved smile appearing on your face. "Your company helps me so much, you know? It would mean the world to me if you stayed with me until the exam."

Luckily for you, Steven had given you permission to stay on the beach - you were also allowed to sleep on the couch, but you knew you'd have to stay with the Diamonds. It was the least you could do to pay them back, even if it was just this little thing.

And this was exactly how you spent the last days leading up to your finals, either sprawled on the picnic blanket on the beach, sitting on the deck with your laptop or, when the weather didn't allow it, lounging on the couch or on the ship. You were surrounded by Blue, Yellow and White at all times, each of them trying her best to help you with the material. They kept you on track, making sure you didn't procrastinate too much (even if that meant less cuddles) and nipped any self-doubts you had in the bud.

Even as the date got dangerously close, they still patiently calmed you down. When your panic got too bad, one of them made sure to keep you close, either putting you into her lap or patting your head. At night, they talked to you until you fell asleep and woke you up better than your little phone alarm could ever do. You knew that even if you didn't pass, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

Still, you were an anxious mess when the first exam rolled around, your mind a thousand miles away as you got ready to go to uni and to give it your all. Not even the Diamonds were able to calm you down, but you knew you just had to get it done and over with. The week was a blur, days blending into each other, your head always buried in a book. You were lucky that they had stayed behind with Steven, only calling you at the end of the day. While the fussing had been helpful beforehand, now it would only hinder you.

Before you could really settle into a routine, finals were over, leaving you with a weird emptiness and a restless feeling. Now all you had to do was wait for the results, a special kind of torture in itself.

The Diamonds noticed how absent you were, but no amount of well-meaning words could shake your nervousness. You didn't mean to cause them any further stress, but it was tough to keep your mind off things.

When the results were finally posted online, your heart threatened to burst out of your chest, your mouth dry and your hands shaking. You knew there was nothing you could do now, but the thought of weeks of studying going to waste was nearly unbearable. A dozen scenarios ran through your head, not one overly positive.

Once the browser had pulled up your account, the answer was a simple click away. You had to steel yourself by gripping the edge of the table - the Diamonds were waiting outside impatiently, you knew they would lose it if they saw you like this.

With one last breath, you closed your eyes and did what had to be done.

The page was on full display in a matter of milliseconds, your eyes frantically searching for the right column, moving erratically up and down.

Finally you found what you were looking for: you had passed. In a moment of disbelief, you reread the page again, but it was there in tiny black letters.

It was like someone had knocked all the air out of you with a single hit, your heart wasn't done with beating fast, but at least some of the nervousness slowly dissipated.

The realization took a while to settle in as you deflated in your seat like beach ball slowly losing air. You stared at the wall, a smile cautiously spreading on your face as if you were afraid that too much joy would nullify your results. But after a solid minute, not even your stress-addled mind fog could hold you back from jumping out of your seat in joy.

Busting through the door, you cheered loudly while you ran across the deck, immediately focusing all attention on you. Steven had distracted the Diamonds to give you some time and space, but at the sound of your happy shouting they instantly turned around, faces unsure for a second.

You raced through the sand, arms in the air, relieved laughter pouring out of your mouth like a steady stream. It was probably not the most flattering or mature look, but you couldn't care less.

"I passed!", with one last cry you came to a grinding halt in front of them, only to jump up into the air. "I did it! Ha!"

Blue's face was the first to soften into a tender smile, her expression clearly full of pride, followed by White who looked at you in excitement.

Yellow only blinked at you for a moment before she erupted in delighted laughter and scooped you up without a word, her eyes beaming with glee. It was rare for her to lose her composure like this, but that made it all the more sweet. You shot back the biggest grin you could manage, positively vibrating in her palm.

"We're so proud of you, little one", Blue's voice came out as a gentle sigh, stress falling off her back you didn't even know she had felt. It made you stop for a moment, finally grasping how your situation had affected them and how much they cared for you.

You teared up in an instant, the sudden change of feelings giving you whiplash, your heart suddenly bubbling with love and gratefulness. It was unbelievable how lucky you were, you realized.

At the sight of your sniffling face, Yellow brought you closer to her, her eyes full of warmth. It was as if she was shielding you from the others for just a moment of privacy.

"No reason to cry, spark", her tone was as soft as the look she gave you and did exactly the opposite: you couldn't help but let some tears slip down your cheeks, babbling about how happy you were to have passed and to be with them, while she smiled at you in slight amusement.

The moment was interrupted by an awkward Steven coughing not-so-subtly into his fist.

"Okay, I’ll, uh, leave you guys to it?", his voice reached a clumsy high, he clearly felt like he was disturbing something.

The Diamonds didn't really notice however, they just happily sent him off and turned their attention back to you. You were showered in affection and soft words, they were genuinely happy for you and even more ecstatic to have you all for themselves for a couple of weeks. As you listened to White ramble on and on about what she had planned for you during this break, you felt the pressure lift itself from you. All this stress had been worth it and now you were rewarded with all the love you could ever ask for. You knew that this was where you belonged.

#blue diamond x reader #yellow diamond x reader #white diamond x reader #steven universe #the diamonds x reader #my writing

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