#for those of you who might be worried that i only complain about new trek

[moistvonlipwig]

i guess this is an unpopular opinion but i really wish people would stop making jokes about sub rosa aka the ~Scottish Ghost Sex Candle~ episode as if that were just a funny haha silly little thing that happened or, even worse, as if it were one of the campy goofy star trek plots that newer trek should seek to emulate...it's a ludicrous premise to be sure but the candle ghost quite literally rapes beverly in that episode and possibly mind-controls her as well, and the episode portrays that as romantic. the episode is a stunning failure to properly grapple with consent and a prime example of how rape culture infects popular heterosexual romance narratives. and you can call me a killjoy if you want but i simply don't think that's funny!

[rebelliousstories]

Rightful Spot

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Mentions of Fighting

Word Count: 1,521

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: After coming back to his timeline and finally joining in on missions, Remy underestimated how powerful cuddles could be.

Consider Donating: Here

Looking back on it now, he could have stuck that landing better. However, the circumstances leading to him having to stick a landing were a bit unforgiving, so it should not have been terribly surprising. Still, falling from the sky and rolling into a dark alleyway was not how Remy wanted his welcome home to be.

He could not complain though. Remy was home. He was back in his own universe, and now had a renewed sense of purpose. Stumbling out into where he could see lights, familiar sights and sounds greeted him like old friends. New Orleans, Louisiana; home sweet home. Gambit was on Bourbon Street, which was always hustling and bustling.

His feet began the trek to who knows where. All he knew was that they were going some place familiar and safe. The man ducked and weaved, making his way effortlessly through the crowds. In his hands, a card was always there, just in case. Further and further from the crowds, his feet took him. Down to where there were some apartment buildings, his brain finally started catching up with his feet. Taking over, Remy bolted up to the top, and began to run across the rooftops to his destination.

Dropping onto the fire escape, he thanked whatever was out there that he managed to keep mostly quiet. Peaking inside the window, he was shocked to see someone was still awake. In fact, multiple someone’s had been awake and moving about the apartment. Remy could not hear what was being said, but he knew those faces. Scott with his red glasses, and Jean with her matching red hair, Storm with her flowing white locks, and her. His cher was sitting there entertaining them all.

She looked like she was exhausted. Not from sleep, but mentally and emotionally tired. She looked like how Remy felt being in the Void. In her hands was a mug of something warm, probably that tea she likes to drink, and one of Gambit’s jackets around her. His heart tugged at the sight, and his lips curled in a smile. She never did do well with the cold.

Picking the lock on the window, Remy silently creeped into the apartment. Their eyes had not noticed the new person in the apartment, but he noticed how quiet it had gotten. Before he could speak, his body was suspended in the air as Jean turned to face the man. But she gasped in shock and let the man go almost immediately. The rest of the party was just a second behind her.

“Now, that ain’t no way to treat da Gambit, no?” His hands began massaging his body as the other people finally reacted to the new arrival. He heard her voice whisper out his name as he stood once more.

“Cher, I’m home. I’m so sorry.” But before he got any closer, Scott stepped in front of the ladies.

“If you really are Gambit, what’s something only he would know, huh? What was the last thing he said to me?” Scott pressed, worried that this might be an imposter.

“Cyclops, really? I just got back, mon ami. We really gonna have us an inquisition right now?” But the man was not swayed.

“What was the last thing Gambit told me?”

The Cajun was looked around for someone to support him not doing this, and just wanted to lay his eyes on his girl again. But he groaned, and wiped a hand over his face in frustration.

“Gambit told ya, ‘I’ll go on the mission. Jean needs ya here. Tell my cher dat I love her.’ That was the last thing I told ya before leaving for that damn mission to go so some recon on the brotherhood.” Everyone stood down. But Scott was still unimpressed.

“Where have you been all this time? And why only come back now?” He continued, even though Jean was tugging at his sleeve.

“Went on dat mission, and touched down in da forest. Didn’t find no brotherhood, but instead some people called da TVA takin’ bunch o’ dem out. Next thing I know, I wake up in da desert in some place called the Void. Been der evea’ since. Den a Deadpool and a Wolverine fought to leave the Void, and bargained for my freedom to come back as well as others. Believe me now, Scott?” Remy was getting fed up with answering questions. All he wanted was to get her in his arms.

Before anyone could speak again, he was nearly knocked over by the weight and force of something hitting him hard and fast. Remy regained his balance and looked down to see his girl squeezing him tight. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Hands landed on his arms, and he found Scott and Jean there on one side, with Storm on the other. Remy pulled the rest of the gang close as he relished this moment he never expected to have again.

After a few months of training, flying back to New York to go live at the school again, and a brief adjustment period to not always being on edge about who or what was going to find him, Gambit was back in the field. He did not do solo missions anymore, but he was excelling in team exercises again. This last one had kicked everyone’s butt though.

What was meant to be a simple mission of going down to help stop a mutant riot in the city, turned into a full scale brawl with the Brotherhood. In the end, they had eventually stopped the riot, but not without acquiring some scratches and bumps. The flight back to the school was a silent one; one where everyone that was not navigating the plane just wanted to rest with their eyes closed, and their brain off.

It was a smooth landing, which was a blessing. But having to walk back up was a curse. Every bone felt ten times heavier, and their feet felt like they were made of lead, but they did it. Bidding his teammates adieu, Remy continued his climb to where their room was. Thankfully, she had moved back into the mansion, having left when Remy disappeared, and was staying in their old room together. It was just like no time had passed.

Creaking the door open, he was delighted to see that she was folding some laundry with music playing somewhere in the background. Upon hearing the footsteps, she looked up, smiled, and abandoned her task.

“Remy, you’re home! Are you alright?” Her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug that made him groan.

“Ease up, cher. Ol’ Gambit done had the card house dropped on him.” Pulling away, she saw that a bruise was starting to form right underneath his chin. She traced a feather light touch over it, and furrowed her brows.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” She pleaded, worried to see what other marks he had gained in the afternoon that he had been gone.

“Non, cher. Just finish wit’ dem clothes so we can lay down, yeah? Gonna go get out of my suit now.” Gambit pressed a kiss to her lips, but was careful over the split he felt in the corner. While he went to the bathroom to change, she resumed her task of getting the laundry done.

Her mind was distracted, and worried about her lover that was just on the other side of the door. She could hear his groans and hisses, especially once the water started and he was underneath the stream. Setting out a loose shirt, and an equally loose pair of pajama pants, she went to work putting the rest of the clothes away while waiting for him to come out.

The door opened, and she just had to turn to see. Bruises started darkening already, and there were some minor scrapes, but that seemed to be the brunt of his injuries. With a towel loose around his hips, he grabbed the clothes from the bed, and sent his lover a wink. Not a seductive or even teasing wink, but rather a way to say thank you. He disappeared back into the bathroom, and she changed herself to something a bit more comfortable. As she was pulling the covers back from the bed, Remy emerged once more, with damp hair, and a fresh set of clothes on.

Gambit crawled into the plush bed, and sunk into it with a groan. She giggled, but crawled in beside her lover all the same. His arms, no matter how bruised or sore, opened wide to accept her right where she was supposed to be. They were facing each other, and her hands were tucked up against his chest to keep her close. One arm under her neck, and one around her waist, Remy kept her as close as humanly possible.

“Je t’aime, cher.” Remy whispered, pressing a kiss to her hairline as they began to drift off.

“I love you too, Remy.” She replied, feeling perfectly at peace in her spot with her lover.

[hermannsthumb]

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Wrong End of the Ithilien Stick (Legolas x Reader)

Requested by: @elvish-sky

could i request a legolas x reader with angst- like she misheard something he said and they have a falling out- but with a happy ending?

A/N: Here you are!! Hope you enjoy :) bon appetit ☀️

They were hopeless – completely, and utterly hopeless. Most who wished to court did so at the first few stolen glances, but not Y/n and Legolas.

Apparently, a year’s worth of peril on the road did nothing to invoke revelations. The Fellowship journey may have introduced them to one another, but it did nothing to bring them together. No, that was entirely up to them – the worst two to be left in charge of their own romantic fates.

Although, that’s not to say they entirely went their separate ways in the aftermath. Y/n had stayed behind with Legolas, in Ithilien, where they sought to restore the trees.

The whole process was full of cleared throats, deep blushes and shy smiles. Gimli, on the occasions he would visit, rolled his eyes, and groaned aloud.

“Ye still on yer dove dancing, are ye?” he taunted one day.

However, all the pair could do, was look away from one another. Y/n simply felt herself too inferior to his royal status, as to make the first move. Legolas, on the other hand, felt himself too high maintenance to even begin asking her if she minded his princely upbringing.

It was a vicious cycle, but one the four Hobbits sought to destroy, following their next visit.

“So, we are all aware of our roles?” Frodo asked, as the four friends strolled across a wooden bridge, and into the Ithilien forest.

Frodo had enjoyed the distraction, and appreciated the time away from his cooped-up desk greatly. Any chance to rid himself of the journey’s memories, was a chance he’d take.

“Aye!” Pippin confirmed. “Merry and I are tackling Y/n, and you and Sam will handle Legolas.”

“By nightfall, those two will be married!” Merry agreed, nodding resolutely.

However, stifling the Hobbits’ laughter, Y/n and Legolas appeared from nowhere – greeting them by the creek’s bank.

“Who’s getting married by nightfall?” Y/n sweetly asked, squinting under the bright morning sun.

“I don’t mind a wedding,” Legolas added on, smiling down at Y/n. “If it’s someone we know, perhaps we ought to go. Could borrow some cake?”

“I don’t think they’ll be wanting it back, somehow,” Y/n laughed, sharing the Elf’s smile.

Watching as they grinned brightly, and laughed together, the four Hobbits nervously looked at one another.

Oh, how desperately they needed their plan to work. Y/n would shrivel from mortality, before they even had a chance to marry themselves!

“Alas, we’re being rude,” Y/n dismissed, immediately moving forwards to hug all her friends. “It’s been so long since our last visit to the Shire! We’ve missed you all so much!”

“Likewise,” Sam warmly replied, hugging her tight. “We quite enjoyed the trek on over here too.”

“Oh, really?” Y/n excitedly asked, pulling back. “Legolas and I have been working on the trail leading in all year! We finally managed to grow the petunias you sent over as well.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Frodo smiled, now walking in tow with the girl and Elf, as they led them away. “So…speaking of news, has anything as of late occurred in Ithilien? Any news of courtship, perhaps?”

“From whom?” Legolas tightly asked, not at all liking Frodo’s sly connotation.

“Oh, no one in particular,” he lied, sharing a smile with the other Hobbits.

“Of course…” Legolas dismissed, nonetheless answering, as he walked through the botanical gardens. “Well, not to our knowledge, no…oh, but a wonderful pair of deer mated recently! We are expecting fawns any season now.”

“So are we,” Merry grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Having heard, with his Elven hearing, what the Hobbit said, Legolas confusedly glanced over his shoulder. Nonetheless, he merely only creased his features, before stealing a glance at Y/n. He then looked back up front, as they pressed on walking.

“Well, there is much ground to cover,” Legolas changed the topic, glancing up at the glittering trees. “We ought to start here first, so that we can make it back in time to-“

“Actually, Legolas,” Frodo interjected, coming to a halt, and causing the others to do the same, “we were thinking, on the way over here, that we ought to maybe split the group in half, so that we might finish earlier this time?”

Blinking down at the Hobbit, Y/n and Legolas knitted their brows. They then unsteadily looked between one another, before Y/n herself piped up again.

“Uh, sure…we can do that,” she said. “Any reason why, though?”

“Well, we do want to see your restoration project, and permaculture,” Merry began answering, chewing on the end of his pipe, “but, we’d prefer to spend some time with just you two as well. You know, at dinner and such. Don’t forget, we need supper as well.”

Looking between one another once more, and silently communicating, the two taller friends discreetly shrugged.

“Very well,” Legolas sighed, returning his attention to the Hobbits. “Frodo and Sam, you two can come with me. Merry and Pippin, you join Y/n. Oh, and Merry? Discard the pipe – there’s no smoking in Ithilien.”

Upholding both palms in surrender, Merry tucked the pipe away. As he and Pippin began following after Y/n, they both shared a sneaky grin with Frodo and Sam. They each all resolutely nodded at one another, before turning around to face back up front.

~

“Oh! Oh! Look!” Y/n excitedly pointed out.

Looking upwards, both Merry and Pippin observed a courting pair of bluebirds. They flew around one another, and landed in a little brown nest, high up in a tree.

Grinning brightly, Y/n breathed in the soft spring air.

“Oh, don’t you just love this time of year?” she wistfully sighed. “The courting animals, the romantic lighting, the little boats on the lake-“

“THAT’S IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” Merry exclaimed. He clamped his ears tight, with both hands, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Merry?” Y/n asked in concern, swiftly turning around to observe him. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s WRONG?” Merry seethed, finally re-meeting her eyes. “YOU ARE, Y/N, THAT’S WHAT!”

“I beg your pardon?” Y/n bit back, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes. “What did I do?”

“It’s more like what you haven’t done,” Pippin elaborated, ever-so-casually. “Actually, both you and Legolas, to be perfectly candid.”

Feeling heat rise to her cheeks, Y/n stammered over her words.

“I-I don’t understand-“ she tried to say.

“Yes, you do,” Merry interjected, using a series of hand gestures to further his point. “You like him. He likes you. It’s been like this since Rivendell – BEFORE we all set out for Mordor, mind you! Somehow, destroying that little ring was easier than getting you two to admit your feelings!”

Y/n was at a loss for words. Had it all really been that obvious?

“Yes, it really has been that obvious,” Merry piped up again, apparently having read her mind.

Slumping her shoulders, Y/n ran a hand along her face, and complained.

“This is really humiliating…” she said. “Do you think Legolas knows too?”

“Y/n, not to alarm you, but I’m pretty sure all of Arda knows,” Pippin winced.

Finding a park bench, Y/n sat herself down in a flush, and groaned.

“Well, whatever am I to do?” she asked, as her two friends each took a seat beside her. “I ought to tell him, I know that much, but I just simply cannot muster the courage.”

“Y/n, I’ve seen you slowly decapitate an orc’s head with a picnic knife,” Merry deadpanned, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I think you can handle telling your one true love how you really feel.”

Rolling her eyes at his choice of cheesy words, Y/n soon reeled them into her lap, where she picked at her thumbnail.

“Aye, that is true, but…” she pressed on, “well, look at me, guys. I’m a commoner, and no amount of true love is going to change that. He’s a prince, at the end of the day…what would everyone think?”

“What does it matter what everyone thinks?” Pippin encouraged, holding her other shoulder. “We, the Fellowship survivors, know above all else just how short life is. You can’t spend it worrying about what others will make of your happiness.”

Seeing the cogs turn in her mind, Merry squeezed her shoulder harder, and urged her to look at him.

“You love him, Y/n…you can’t delay any longer,” he said.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Y/n creased her brows. It was true, she loved him, more than anything else. Why should she deny herself that, based purely on what others would think?

“You know something? You’re right!” she resolutely declared. She stood upwards quickly, and squared her shoulders. “I love him, and I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks of my status! I’m going to tell him – today!”

Whooping and hollering, Merry and Pippin also both jumped to their feet. They pushed her along, as she began jogging away, to where she knew Legolas would be.

“That’s the spirit, friend!” Pippin cheered. “Go and tell him! And please make the cake red velvet at the wedding!”

Waving over her shoulder with a grin, Y/n pushed her legs faster, as to find Legolas, and finally reveal her heart to him.

~ In the botanical greenhouse, Legolas, Sam and Frodo all stood around – inspecting the many different pot plants.

“And this one is a young fern,” Legolas explained, holding a tiny plant up high. “I grew it myself from a seedling. I’m hoping it’ll soon have sprouts of its own, and raise a family, and-“

“Oh my goodness…” Sam sighed, folding his arms, and shaking his head. “You really are hopeless, you know that, right?”

“Pardon?” Legolas confusedly asked, lifting his eyes from the fern. “My apologies…if you do not like ferns, I could show you the-“

“Legolas…I think you ought to sit down for a moment,” Frodo interjected, gesturing to a wooden chair in the middle of the greenhouse.

Furrowing his brows, Legolas warily glanced between the two Hobbits. They stood in front of the chair, and folded their arms – very serious, indeed.

Slowly, Legolas made his way on over towards the chair, and sat down.

Instantly, the two Hobbits closed the greenhouse curtains all around, save for one. The only window left open served one ray of sun, which purely basked Legolas, and Legolas only, as if he were under an interrogation spotlight.

Squinting his eyes, and craning his head to move out of the light, Legolas spoke.

“Is the chair really necessary-“ he tried to say.

“Right, let’s cut to the chase,” Sam interjected, standing in front of Legolas with Frodo. “Y/n. You like her. She likes you. Now, why haven’t you courted her, and made beautiful children yet?”

Staring wide-eyed for a moment, Legolas parted his lips. However, swift in his archer’s mind, he soon sighed. Next, slumping his shoulders, Legolas responded.

“I suppose I haven’t been as discreet in my fondness as previously thought…” he mused.

“Not in the slightest,” Sam and Frodo said at once.

Twitching his lips to one side, Frodo softly stared down at his friend, and pressed on.

“Legolas…why haven’t you told her of how you feel yet?” he asked.

Lifting his eyes, and wincing them, Legolas considered his thoughts. He knew how much Y/n enjoyed her freedom, and he knew how restricting a royal life could be. He loved Y/n enough to not impose such a confining lifestyle on her – that was why he held back.

Exhaling again, Legolas knew he could no longer hide his feelings from his friends, and responded.

At the same time, just outside of the greenhouse, Y/n ran up to the door. Stumped for a moment, as to why the curtains were all drawn back, she nonetheless moved closer. However, upon hearing muffled voices on the other side, speaking of her in particular, she halted, and listened in.

“Are you jesting, Frodo? She’s a commoner,” Legolas said in frustration, shocking the girl outside. “Y/n and formalities simply do not mix. How could anyone ever love someone so different from themselves? Nay…I wouldn’t brew that situation.”

Having stumbled backwards in hurt, Y/n felt tears prick at her eyes. She raised both hands, and held them over her chest.

Before she could freely cry, she turned on her heel, and ran away. However, as she did so, she failed to hear the end of Legolas’ sentence, which defined the entire context.

“That’s why I can’t marry Y/n…she deserves better than what I could give her,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish for someone so free to be tied down to someone like me...I’m far too different from her.”

“Does Y/n not also get a say in the matter?” Frodo sincerely asked, studying his friend apologetically. “Y/n loves you, Legolas…you ought to at least give your courtship a chance, regardless of formalities.”

“Aye, Frodo is right,” Sam added on, nodding at his raven-haired friend. “You ought to at least speak to her. It can’t hurt…well, it can, but you’ll never know until you try.”

Sucking on his lower lip, Legolas knitted his brows. He considered his friends’ words, and mulled them over. It was true, he loved Y/n, and he was almost certain she him. Perhaps Frodo and Sam were right – simply talking couldn’t do much harm, could it?

Nodding his head, Legolas met the Hobbits’ eyes again.

“Aye,” he agreed at last. “You’re right, I ought to at least ask her!”

Swiftly standing, Legolas moved out from the chair, and headed towards the greenhouse door.

“We’re proud of you!” Sam cheered, giving a mighty few claps of his hands.

“Good luck,” Frodo smiled, nodding at his friend.

Nodding back once, Legolas beamed bright, and headed outside.

~

Having run away far enough, Y/n now trekked angrily through the forest. Her jaw was set, and her eyes burning. How could he be so nice to her face, only to say such horrible things behind her back? She cared not, for she would maintain the entire other side of Ithilien, from now on.

She, a commoner, would not dare stay with someone who cares so little for her. However, she soon heard a bright voice calling from behind. Turning around, she spotted Legolas swiftly jogging towards her.

“Y/n!” he called, wearing an excited smile.

The moment he jogged up to her, Y/n grew cold in her stance. She revered him with distrust, and anger.

This did not go unnoticed by Legolas, whose features dropped, and his mind wiped. He now sought to ensure she herself was okay.

“Are you alright?” he sincerely asked, brimming with concern.

Laughable, Y/n thought. How dare he pretend to care – right to her face as well!

“Never been better,” Y/n seethed, turning on her heel.

Stammering over his words for a minute, Legolas shook the odd mood in the air away. He followed after her, and shyly spoke – though, his words were hasty.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he began. However, Y/n wanted none of it.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, your highness!” Y/n snapped, turning around once more, and angrily pointing at him. “I heard enough earlier.”

“You heard what I said?” Legolas repeated in horror, suddenly feeling his palms grow clammy – for more than one reason.

“Every last word,” Y/n replied, glaring across at the Elf.

Shocked by her attitude, Legolas was simply at a loss. He shook his head at the ground in confusion, and spoke.

“I-I thought you would have understood?” he said, lifting his puzzled eyes once more.

“Oh, I understand!” Y/n sarcastically started, rolling her eyes. “Just like you said yourself; how could anyone love someone so different?”

Truly hurt by her words, Legolas parted his lips. His eyes brimmed in anguish, as all his hopes were suddenly stomped on, and buried beneath the dirt.

“But…I thought that wouldn’t matter to you?” he said in a small voice.

“Yeah, well…I guess you thought wrong,” Y/n replied, scrunching her nose in disdain.

Turning on her heels, Y/n stalked away. Where she was heading? She didn’t know – all she knew, is that she could find some better and more loyal company, with just herself.

Left alone, Legolas stood in silence. What had just happened? She truly did not wish to court him, purely because of his royal status? Very well, then – he could do just as fine by himself.

Matching her anger, Legolas too stalked away, but in the opposite direction.

~

Sat down in the grass, and enjoying a picnic by the lake, Frodo and Sam basked in each other’s company. Merry and Pippin were off who knows where, and doing God knows what. However, all tranquillity soon came to an end, the moment a furious Y/n stomped past.

Staring between one another, and blinking in confusion, the two Hobbits quickly dropped their sandwiches. They rose swiftly, and chased after her.

“Hey! Hey, Y/n!” Frodo called, jogging to meet with her. “Have you found Legolas yet? There’s something you need to know. We spoke earlier, and-“

“Yes, I know you all talked earlier,” Y/n snapped, now recalling exactly whom Legolas spoke with before. She halted, and glared down at the two friends. “You’re all very good comrades, aren’t you? Well, if you are all such good brothers in arms, how about you go find him instead, and leave me alone?”

Noticing that she made a move to stalk away again, along the edge of the glistening lake, both Frodo and Sam confusedly looked between one another once more.

“I beg your pardon, Y/n,” Sam tentatively spoke up, watching her leave, “but I think you may have the wrong end of the stick here?”

“Oh, no, I think I have the exact right idea,” Y/n seethed, rolling her eyes. “I hope you all had a lovely time, speaking about me behind my back – and just a commoner? Really? We can’t all be from Bag End, Frodo.”

Confused, but only for a moment, the context suddenly clicked in Frodo’s mind. Racing forwards, he held Y/n’s hand, and kept her in place.

“Wait! You DEFINITELY have the wrong idea!” he exclaimed. “I know what you’re angry about, but you have to listen! He wasn’t talking about you in that regard – he was referencing his distress over taking you from your farming life, and placing you in royal formalities!”

“What are you talking about-“ Y/n had gone to say, with a yank of her hand out of his. However, Frodo’s words quickly met her mind, and ceased her tongue.

Oh.

Oh.

Well, now that made more sense.

Feeling a wave of shame wash over her, Y/n bared her teeth in cringe, and winced her features.

“Oh my…” was all she could say.

~

A little further off, but still heading towards the lake, and Legolas could be found in the same situation – however, only a few steps behind.

“You all come into our home, and plant ideas in our heads,” Legolas seethed, striding away from Merry and Pippin, “only to leave poisonous weeds instead! I don’t know what you’ve all done behind the scenes, but you’ve certainly made nothing better since your arrival!”

“Please, Legolas! Just tell us what happened!” Merry begged, struggling to keep up.

“Well, that’s just the thing, isn’t it? I don’t know!” Legolas exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “One minute, the last time I was with Y/n, mind you, and we were happy! But the second I see her again, after she spent her morning with you two, and she turns like the tide on a wintery day!”

“That just doesn’t make any sense…” Pippin whispered, creasing his brows. “When she left us, she was on her way to tell you all about how much she wished to court you, and-“

Halting in his tracks, Legolas paused. Snapping his head over his shoulder, the Elf questioned the Hobbit, who quickly clamped his mouth shut.

“What?” he pressed. “What do you mean she was coming to tell me of courting?”

Looking between one another, Merry and Pippin sheepishly bared their teeth. Figuring the cat was already out of the bag, Merry turned back first, and revealed their agenda.

“Well, we somewhat…nudged…Y/n, to tell you of her love for you,” he said. “Last time we saw her, like I said, she went to find you in the greenhouse.”

Knitting his brows, and mulling the new bouts of information over, Legolas responded through a confused shake of his head.

“But that just doesn’t make any sense,” Legolas continued. “What could have soured her perception, from her journey between you, and the greenhouse-“

The greenhouse.

Oh.

Oh.

Having caught his own words, Legolas immediately knew what went wrong. She had thought him to be insulting her status, and he thought her to be rejecting his.

Running a hand over his face, Legolas growled in frustration. Why must love be so hard? Surely, beyond courting, marriage and children, things would be easier, would they not? Well, Legolas wasn’t so certain he’d find out now – not unless he tracked down Y/n in time, before their rift planted roots too deep.

“I need to find her,” Legolas frantically began, looking all around himself. “I have no idea where she’d be – she could be on the other side of the forest, for all I know!���

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Merry interjected, staring behind Legolas with Pippin.

“How would you know?” Legolas confusedly asked, though, his frustration edged his tone.

“Just a hunch,” Merry said again, pointing behind the prince.

Looking over his shoulder, Legolas’ formerly hardened features softened. Y/n stood in the near distance behind him, and anxiously stared in his direction – like a deer caught in the headlights. She chewed on her lower lip nervously, and waited by the lapping water’s edge.

Catching both Frodo and Sam’s eye, Merry and Pippin each awkwardly began stepping away, as did the other two Hobbits.

“Okay, we’re just, uh…gonna go now, yeah…good luck,” Merry said, dragging his younger cousin away.

Swallowing his nerves, Legolas suddenly felt his knees buckle, and his palms grow clammy. Nonetheless, if he was old enough to court, then he was old enough to resolve relationship issues.

Breathing in a shaky breath, and releasing it through pursed lips, Legolas forced his feet across the grass, to where Y/n stood.

Feeling her own heart hammer, and sweat cling to her temples, Y/n shifted on her feet. She frequently looked between an approaching Legolas, and the lake beside her. Was love meant to be this scary? Would it always be like this? Or was this the end?

She figured she would soon find out, for the prince now stood before her.

Both said nothing. Instead, they merely stole glances, like so many times before, and looked at the rippling lake.

The sun basked them in a warm glow, and the wind blowing through the leaves nearby met their ears. Soon, however, a chilly afternoon breeze rolled through, and darkened the sky overhead.

With a shiver, Y/n wrapped her arms around her form. She rubbed up and down, as to bring the warmth back. She hadn’t been wearing a cloak that day, for she figured she needed none. This was, of course, against Legolas’ advisement earlier that morning.

Sensing her cold, Legolas finally studied her again. With a sigh past his nose, he shed his own cloak. Next, stepping forwards, and accelerating both her heartrate and his, he wrapped the green material around her shoulders.

Immediately, the cold of the world was blocked out. It even appeared as though the sun above had made a comeback – breaking through the otherwise grey clouds.

He held her shoulders, as he adjusted the cloak, and secured it over her form. Y/n watched his features, as they creased in both concentration, and consideration.

“Why would you do that?” Y/n asked, after a moment of quiet study – breaking the silence finally. “Won’t you now be cold?”

Although he did not feel the cold the same way she did, Legolas used the moment as an advantage – a hoist to deliver his most inner thoughts, in a way.

“Perhaps, but…I’d prefer you to be warm,” he said, having initially jolted at her sudden words.

“Why?” Y/n tightly asked. She knew why, but she wanted to hear him say it.

Swallowing down his nerves, Legolas slowly met her eyes. They brimmed with nerves, but also adoration – a combination of which Y/n shared. However, hers also bore eagerness, and anticipation.

“Because…” he began in a small voice, swallowing once more. “I…I, uh-“

“Yes?” Y/n whispered, leaning in closer.

Sighing, Legolas buried his nerves away, and did the most un-Elven thing possible. He swept Y/n into a tight embrace, and hugged her warmly.

Shocked for a minute, Y/n widened her eyes. However, she soon melted into his touch, and hugged him back.

“Because, I believe a partner should ensure theirs is okay,” Legolas finally revealed.

“Partner?” Y/n repeated, in a very small voice. “And by partner…you mean?”

“Someone I love dearly, and care about most ardently,” he softly replied, kissing the top of her head.

Stunned by his small gesture for a moment, butterflies fluttered in Y/n’s stomach. She then hid said nerves with humour.

“Well…that is definitely hard to misinterpret,” Y/n attempted to joke. However, her joy overwhelmed her, and she squeezed the prince harder. “If it’s any consolation, I love you too…and I’m sorry for my brash behaviour earlier.”

“Aye, I am as well,” Legolas grinned, swaying her in the sun. “So…this may perhaps be an ambitious request, but…will you court me? Royal status and all?”

“Of course,” Y/n grinned back. “But, will you court me, commoner status and all?”

Smiling brighter, and closing his eyes contently, Legolas continued on hugging the girl by the shore. He then softly answered, whilst the sun basked them both in a placid glow – perhaps a tell-tale of the many good days to come.

“Without question,” he said at last.

[kingofkingdom-archive]

So Much Like Stars - Part TWO

Pairing: Boba Fett x Female Reader

Part TWO (Read Part One HERE)

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Summary: During a trek through the mountains, you discover new things about both Boba and yourself.

Warnings: Explicit sex, p-in-v sex, hand feeding, breathplay, choking kink, power dynamics/power play, royalty kink (?), dom/sub dynamics, pool sex (kinda you'll see), unprotected sex, coming inside (do not do this in real life), age difference, dirty talk, spit kink, offscreen oral sex, AFAB reader, safe to read if triggered by pregnancy

Word Count: 10k+

A/N: Major apologies in order for the delay on this one! It's been up on AO3 (here) for a hot minute but it took me a bit longer to get around to posting it here. Anywho... here it is. Let me know what you think! I love to get reblogs/comments/messages so very much. As always, no use of Y/N, and please heed the warnings. <3

The early hours of the following day fly by like ash in the wind.

You and Boba leave as soon as you are able, gathering necessary supplies into packs and preparing for the grueling trek ahead of you. You notify your father of your departure - he is not happy about it, but he learned long ago that he has little sway over the decisions you make.

You also find Boba a cloak that fits over his armor and that doesn't hinder his ability to reach his weapons. It's thick around his neck, which is why you'd insisted he wear it.

He'd stopped complaining once you were about a kilometer out from the village gate.

The howling wind swirls around the two of you, snow and ice collecting on your clothes. The journey is not an easy one, but with Boba's natural strength and your knowledge of the terrain the two of you handle it better than most.

Boba's steps are always audible behind you, even when the air around you seems to be screaming. You appreciate his closeness, because far too often people have been lost and never found because they fell too far behind.

It's easy to become lost in a place like this. Being found tends to be a matter of life and death.

The sheer cliff faces and shifting dunes of snow present the most hazardous challenges on your journey. One single misstep could have either of you tumbling down, and as you walk you only gain elevation, increasing the distance between you and the ground below. It's terrain that you've traversed plenty of times, but you don't know how well-suited Boba is to such harsh elements.

You glance back at your companion when you come to a turn, sheltered from the biting wind and driving snow.

"Faring alright back there?" You have to yell to be heard, but Boba nods.

"I'm doing just fine, princess. Seen worse than this."

You raise your brows, even though he can't see your face through your mask. "If you say so. We'll be on this trail for the rest of today and most of tomorrow. Then we'll turn off and find the source."

There is, of course, the risk of encountering an ongrol. The idea of it looms over your journey like a dark cloud, and you keep alert to any shift in the wind or in the landscape ahead. The constant drone of air around you would typically mask the sound of any movement, but your ears have become attuned to listening for things outside the wind. Footsteps, especially those of a creature larger than yourself, will be obvious. The ongrol are not known for their stealth - if they want to attack, they'll do it with a thunderous leap and a swipe of razor-sharp claws.

You'd been telling the truth when you told Boba it was rare to escape an encounter with one alive. Boba had shown you the fire-blaster on his arm, and the two of you have no shortage of weapons, but still you worry. You keep alert, listening to the world around you.

Though your focus has a tight hold on your mind, you can't help but let your thoughts wander to Boba, and to the events of the previous night.

In all your life, you've never met a man quite like Boba.

Not only did he sense your needs intrinsically, it seemed as though he saw right through you the moment he laid eyes on you. You recall seeing his visor tilt toward you in the meeting room; you hadn't known it then, but now you can imagine what he'd been thinking. Boba saw your presence at that table and immediately knew what kind of girl you are.

It doesn't speak well to your sensibilities as a village leader, if you're being honest with yourself. This is the first foreigner to visit your people, and you let him into your home, between your legs? You suddenly feel rather guilty about it, but a small voice in your head reminds you how good it felt.

How good he felt.

Maker above. Nothing in your life could ever compare to the things he made you feel last night. Armor against skin - ice against fire, rough edges against smooth curves. The smell of him in your nose as he pleasured you, unkempt and raw. The splay of his hands on your hips as he took, and took, and gave you so much in return.

Boba knew exactly how to take you apart. And you'd only met him that day.

You didn't delude yourself into believing this could continue. He does not belong here, and you certainly can't leave. Above all else, your people need you, and to leave the planet would be to abandon them.

You steel your heart into acceptance. You'll enjoy Boba's company for as long as he's here, and then things will return to normal. You'll figure out how to hide the kyber and no one will bother you. Your people will live on in peace.

Whether you will ever find peace after knowing what it is to be with Boba Fett is another matter entirely. But you can't dwell on that, or you might decide to do something drastic.

You let that thought slip from your brain quickly, replacing it with memories of last night. Despite yourself, you smile beneath your mask, surely blushing as well. Though your steps forward are certain and sure, your center heats up at the thought of his hand around your throat, of his thick cock moving wickedly inside you.

From the depths of your mind float up a few words he'd said, a phrase you'd forgotten until just now.

Come for your king.

Odd, his choice of wording. It sends a shiver down your spine, but then you give it a moment of thought. Surely he didn't mean king in the context of you, of your village - that wouldn't make any sense. But then again, he couldn't mean --

You furrow your brow. Yes, it was the heat of the moment, but he still said it.

There's a possibility of something more there, something much more than just a bounty hunter in search of a handful of credits and some relief for the night. You remember how he'd asked if you knew his name, like he'd expected you to.

Do you know the name Boba Fett, princess?

Boba Fett. No, you have no knowledge of that name outside the armored man trekking behind you.

Who is he?

You frown, but decide to keep your questions to yourself for now. You're nothing if not careful - keeping your cards close to your chest is a skill you've more than mastered.

Boba Fett, no matter who he is, will be none the wiser to your doubts.

-

That night, once darkness begins to envelop the air around you, you lead Boba to a small, secluded, empty cave safe from the cold wind. There's a dark scorch mark on the ground, evidence of a past campfire.

"I've used this cave a number of times," you explain as you take off your pack, setting it on the ground with a groan. The weight on your shoulders never gets lighter. "The cold shouldn't reach us here, especially once we get a fire going."

Boba hums, unrolling his bedroll, which is a collection of mats and blankets identical to yours. "I know a few other ways we could stay warm, princess."

You look over at him. His back is turned to you, large and imposing in the dim light.

"Do you?" you ask, light with a hint of a sly smile in your voice. You lean your staff against the cave wall and crouch to begin extracting your own bedroll.

Behind you, you hear a gruff chuckle. The deep, rumbling sound of it makes your breath hitch. Boba Fett may be an enigma to you, but that doesn't mean you feel any less strongly for him now than you did last night.

In fact, the close quarters of this cave mean his words are more than just teasing.

You turn and spread your bedroll out beside the spot where you'll set up the fire, and you see that Boba has set his up so that it's perpendicular to yours, the corners overlapping.

Next you take out the meat and bread you brought along, as well as flint, some firestarter, and a few bricks of coal that will burn through the night. You prop yourself on your knees to get the fire started, and once the flames have sprung to life, you lean forward to set up the small spit to cook your meal.

You're just arranging the cut of meat on the metal spike when you feel movement behind you. The fire beneath you is searing, so hot that when you feel hands on your hips, you lean back into them to escape the heat.

Boba's hands grip your hips tighter and you yelp as he drags you backwards. His fingers land on your thigh, grasping at and arranging you until your back is flush with his chest. Your legs are tucked in between his, which are spread out in front of the two of you.

You look up at him. You're seated in his lap, but the layers of clothes and metal between you prevent you from feeling anything distinct.

He reaches a hand up to tug at your face mask.

"Let me see you," he murmurs.

You let him remove the cloth covering your mouth and nose, and then he slides your goggles off of your face. You're sure you've got marks around your eyes from wearing them for so long, but Boba doesn't seem to mind.

In return, you place your hands on the bottom of his helmet, fingers curling under. He allows you to press the small latch beneath your index finger and slide his helmet off, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your face as soon as you can see his mouth.

You lift Boba's helmet all the way off and set it to the side. He puts a hand on your waist, firm and grounding, fingers curled tightly into your ribs.

"I've been many places in my time, but I admit I've never met anyone quite like you, little one."

His words are smooth as silk, soft and tender in your ear. You smile and raise your brows, glancing from his eyes to his lips and back again.

"Surely you've met more than a few pretty girls in your travels," you reply.

Boba scoffs. His grip on your thigh tightens, pulling you close.

"I have. You…" he shakes his head, and you watch as his gazes slips down to land on your mouth. You bite your lip and your heart races at the way his pupils dilate at the sight of it.

"You're different, sweetheart."

The new pet name makes you shiver, subconsciously pressing closer to him. "Is that right? I can hardly believe I'm much different from anyone else."

You're baiting him, goading him into saying something more. You've never been one for compliments - they've always felt forced, almost disingenuous. Not with Boba.

"The girls I've known either want my head on a pike or can't look me in the eye," he tells you. You chuckle softly - you don't blame them.

"Is that 'cause you'll shoot them if they do?"

Boba grunts and pinches your side, making you squeal. You laugh, full-bodied and silly, at your own joke, spurred on by Boba's tickling.

He leans down, large body curling over you. Your giggles peter out as his lips press against your ear.

"What if I said yes, little one?"

You blink. Slowly, you turn to face him, so close that your noses are brushing.

"If you said yes?" you whisper into the air between your lips.

He hums.

You take a moment to study the scars on his face before grinning, soft and lazy. Your hand, resting on his knee, gives a gentle squeeze.

"Then I'd tell you there's more than a few men in that village who can't look me in the eye."

Your words seem to take Boba by surprise for a moment, from the way his eyebrows bounce up. It's true - when you were younger, boys in the village would try things, stupid dares and pranks you took none too lightly. There's one in particular who, if he looked at you funny, would get a blaster shot to the knee thanks to the shit he's pulled in the past.

They've learned their lessons.

"Is that so?" Boba's voice has gotten slightly deeper. It rolls through you like thunder, filling the small cave with its resonance.

You nod, a smirk playing at the edges of your lips.

His eyes flit down, gaze following the subtle movement of your mouth. It's too much - the closeness, the heat of the fire and of his body and of the way he's looking at you. You bring your hand up to rest on his shoulder, gripping his armor.

And you kiss him.

You press your lips against his, open and pliant, unable to save yourself from how much you want him. Boba groans and returns the kiss, tongue sweeping into your open mouth, licking into you like he's a man starved and you're his next meal. You savor the taste of him, because you can't pinpoint exactly what the flavor on his tongue is, and you know that must mean it's something uniquely Boba.

He shifts his hands to rearrange you, placing your legs on either side of his own so you're straddling him. Your palms come up to rest on his neck and jaw as his land on your hips, pulling you down so you're sitting right on his codpiece. You gasp at the feeling of it through your clothes. Boba bites at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, before releasing you.

You open your eyes, not having realized you'd closed them. Boba is staring at you, but you can't read the look in his eye.

"What?" you murmur, searching his expression for any hint of what he might be thinking.

He hums, hand on your hip flexing, squeezing. "Nothing, sweetheart, just…"

You wait for him to finish his thought. His brows furrow ever so slightly as he looks back at you. Behind you, the meat sizzles from the heat of the fire, filling the space with its aromatic scent.

Boba shakes his head. "Nevermind."

Before you can respond, he presses forward to kiss you again. You want to encourage him to share what he was going to say, but it only takes a swipe of his tongue against your own to have your eyelids fluttering shut and your thoughts quieting.

He kisses you like the sun - hot and insistent, reminding you how fleeting it all is. You've only ever seen the sun a few times in your life, but its brightness seared your mind in a way not dissimilar to the way Boba's laying his mark on your heart.

You let him kiss you deeply, unhurried, until your brain clicks on long enough to remind you that there's food cooking behind you.

You extract yourself from Boba's hold, which makes him grunt in displeasure until he sees what you're doing. In your pack there's a plate and a cloth, both of which you retrieve and bring back to the fire. Carefully you take the meat off of the spit and put it on the plate, along with the bread.

Boba watches, legs still spread as he sits, leaning back on his hands. You take the plate and sit between his thighs again.

You make to tear a piece of the tender meat off, but you feel a hand on your arm, preventing you from doing so. Confused, you look up at Boba, who simply rips off his own bit of meat. But instead of bringing it to his lips, he raises it to yours.

Wordlessly, you lock eyes with him and open your mouth. His stare is hot, intense, as he feeds you, your lips closing around his index finger and thumb, tongue licking the excess juices off his skin. You take a moment longer than is strictly necessary to taste the pads of his fingers, hollowing your cheeks and sucking his digits like you might something else of his.

You chew the meat once he's pulled his fingers from your mouth. He watches intently until you've swallowed, and then he takes a piece for himself.

As he eats, you find yourself full to the brim with curiosity about him. Once he's finished with his bite, you ask the first question you can think of.

"Last night you mentioned your father. I'd like to hear about him."

Boba raises his brows. He tears off another chunk of meat, offers it to you, and you take it. He speaks as you chew.

"His name was Jango. I -" he seems to consider his words, eyes darting down to the ground as he thinks "- he wasn't technically my father, but he raised me as his son. I traveled with him as a boy, until he was killed by a Jedi."

You frown. "What's that?”

Boba looks at you funny, tilting his head. "You've never heard of the Jedi?"

You shake your head no. "Are they human?"

"Some are," he explains. "They're Force-users, claiming to fight for peace and justice in the galaxy."

His voice is bitter, but you don't blame him, if what he says is true. "But they killed your father."

Boba nods. "They will tell you they fight for what's good and right. But they are no worse than those they call enemies."

"Who are their enemies?"

"The Empire. Dark users of the Force." Boba studies you as you take in this information. You've heard of the Empire, and the Republic, but clearly some information was omitted from your village's records.

"And the Force is…?"

Boba shifts, grabbing some more meat for himself, which he eats before replying.

"I've never fully understood it myself, but from what I gather it's an energy present in all things. The Jedi and the Sith can manipulate it to their will."

You have so many questions, but you know asking them will only make you more confused. Energy in all things? That sounds… well, it sounds overwhelming, to be truthful. It sounds like magic, which your father always told you was the stuff of fairy-stories.

Boba feeds you another morsel and you eat, thinking.

"Can they 'manipulate' blaster fire?" you ask once you've swallowed.

"I don't think so. They tend to deflect it with their lightsabers, which are swords powered by kyber, coincidentally."

You wrinkle your nose. "Swords? I'd take a well-timed blaster shot over a sword any day."

Boba laughs, hearty and full. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, pressing his lips to your temple.

"That's my girl," he mutters. His words send a shiver down your spine.

Boba continues to feed you as he tells you about his father and his own travels. You learn about his time on Kamino, where Jango's DNA was made into clones, and that Boba himself is an unaltered clone of his father. You learn about Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, legendary Jedi who proved difficult for both Boba and Jango at various points through the years. He tells you about meeting Fennec Shand on Tatooine and about another companion of theirs, a man who just goes by the name Mando.

He doesn't tell you about the scars, so you don't ask.

When you're falling asleep, eyes drifting closed as your head rests on Boba's chest, you wonder at the life Boba Fett's led, how such excitement and pain ultimately finds him here, holding you close.

All you've ever known is this planet, your people. Perhaps the universe, in its vast, unknowable expanse, is really here beneath you, in Boba's stories and his scars. You think maybe it's okay that you aren't meant for more than your cold village, because at least you can travel through the galaxy just by listening to him.

At least you can know the taste of the stars just by kissing him.

-

The next morning is decidedly less relaxed than last night. You and Boba pack up hastily and you're on the trail when the first light of the morning is just beginning to show.

Hours pass in much the same way that they did yesterday. Snow and wind beat at you, but you press on until you reach the area you're no longer entirely familiar with.

You see the map in your mind's eye as you lead Boba across the rocky terrain. You're sure of your path, even though it's beyond any place you've been to previously. Somehow you just know, like the trail is programmed into your feet. Everything seems normal until the wind shifts and you catch the sound of something else on the air.

Throwing an arm out, fist closed, you immediately come to a halt, and Boba follows suit.

You're in an open expanse of snow and ice, still trekking upwards, but now a good distance away from any sheer cliff faces. You tighten your grip on your staff and listen, ears drowning out the howling wind to pick out the other you'd just sensed.

Something's ahead of you. Something large. You can hear the shifting of its weight, the silence of the space it takes up.

You glance back to Boba and nod. Carefully, quietly, he walks up to stand next to you.

"Up ahead," you tell him, voice as low as possible so as to not be heard by anyone - or anything - other than him. "Something big. It has to be -"

Your mouth snaps shut when you see it. Up ahead, a pair of glowing blue eyes emerge like beacons out of the fog, looming over you even before you can see the rest of its body. The ongrol moves forward, massive steps fading in and shaking the ground under your feet. You clench your jaw and ready yourself for what you know is coming.

You look over at Boba, and when the visor turns to face you, an unspoken agreement passes between the two of you, perfectly clear despite lack of words and facial expressions.

The ongrol doesn't allow you a moment longer, though. Its massive form is now visible through the driving snow - white fur with glowing blue stripes, pointed ears with long, flowing tips, and massive fangs.

You draw your blaster.

The moment it senses the two of you, it looks down and roars. Immediately it's charging forward and you fire off a volley of shots, though they don't seem to do a whole lot of good. Boba's hand comes down like durasteel on your arm and he jerks you back, positioning himself between you and the monster. He aims his fire-blaster at it, hosing it down with a torrent of flame. The ongrol yelps, then snarls, and you watch as it raises its massive paw, claws extended, piercing blue gaze zeroed in on Boba.

In that split second there's a feeling that comes over you, a gut instinct that pours over your body like warm water. It fills your skin, your nerves, your bones, so fully that your mind goes quiet in the wake of your body taking control.

As if you'd done it a thousand times before, you plant your feet and thrust your hand towards the beast, palm open. A feeling like electricity surges through you - not painful, but equally powerful and all-consuming.

The ongrol flies away, launched through the air, as if pulled by some invisible force.

Its cries echo against the mountainside as it falls, tumbling and rolling down a cliff face you can't quite see.

Boba whirls around to look at you, and the last thing you see is his visor coming closer as you collapse and the world goes dark.

-

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the warmth surrounding you. It's everywhere, like you're lying in front of a fire, and your immediate instinct is to turn over and fall back asleep. Your tired brain wants nothing more than to bask in the heat and enjoy it for as long as it will last.

But then your eyes flutter behind their lids, and you catch glimpses of something glowing, bluish-green in a way you've never before experienced. With considerable effort, you open your eyes wide, and the sight before you brings your mind to full awareness. You struggle to tuck an arm under yourself and push up slightly, getting a better view of where you are.

You're lying atop your bedroll, your staff on the ground next to you. Immediately in front of you is a pool of water, still and steaming, that glows a bright, shimmering combination of blues and greens. No, wait… the water itself isn't glowing - rather, it's reflecting light from the walls.

Walls lined with crystals.

You still feel exhausted, despite having just woken up, but the sight of the kyber makes you jolt to a sitting position. Your head swims, dizzy and drained.

From behind you, you hear Boba's voice.

"Woah there," he murmurs, a hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder. You squeeze your eyes shut to block out the rocking motion of the world around you.

When you open your eyes again, Boba's sitting to your left, facing you.

"What happened?" you ask, your memory of the events of this morning still foggy and distant.

Boba hums. "Well, you tossed that cat across a mountain with your mind."

You frown and look up at him incredulously. His helmet's off - in fact, he's also taken off the rest of his armor as well as the top half of his flight suit - he's left in his pants, undershirt, and boots.

His arms are bare. It's the most of him you've seen - his biceps bulge, large chest straining against the tight shirt he wears.

Your thoughts circle back to what he just said.

"Run that by me again," you mutter, searching his face for any hint of a lie. Boba blinks, raises a brow, and stares back, keeping the eye contact.

"You used the Force to kill that lion, princess."

His face is stone-straight. He's not lying to you, not that you can tell.

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut and rubbing the heels of your hands across them roughly. Stars erupt on the back of your eyelids, and for a moment, your nausea abates. It comes back to you in flashes - the creature's eyes, the sound of its roars on the wind, the feeling that overcame you when you watched it raise its deadly claws at Boba.

It's nothing you've ever felt before in your life.

"So…" you pause, trying to sort through the situation. "So - does this mean… how is that possible?"

Boba puts a hand on your calf, firm and grounding. "You want my theory?"

Hands still pressed to your eyes, you nod.

"The water. It's infused with kyber, which is what has healed your people, but it must have also awoken a Force-sensitivity in you."

You take a few deep breaths, the exhaustion and nausea slowly leaving your body with each exhalation. Boba's thumb rubs your skin softly, a simple back-and-forth motion that brings your racing mind back down into your head.

Carefully, you take your hands from your eyes. The world has finally stopped spinning. You look over at the pool to your right, into its calm, tranquil waters. Steam rises from its surface and dissipates before it can reach the cavernous ceiling above you. Kyber dots the walls, green and blue all around you, mesmerizing and radiant.

Sweat is beginning to gather under your eyes and on the back of your neck and between your breasts. You belatedly realize Boba has undressed you to your undergarments, so you sit there in little more than your underwear and a sleeveless top.

You stare at your hands, fidgeting between your thighs, and look up at Boba again. A million questions are floating through your mind, but you're not sure he'll be able or willing to answer them all. You bite your lip, brow furrowed.

"Does this mean I'm a Jedi?" It's the most pressing question on your mind, because if what Boba says is true, you're not so sure you want any part in your newfound gifts.

Boba shakes his head. "No, little one. All Jedi are force-users, but not all force-users are Jedi. Or Sith, for that matter."

In your lap, you turn your hands so your palms are facing up, cradling one another. Nothing has changed about them - still the same jagged patterns of lines as always. Still the same, but with this new… sensitivity, they feel foreign.

The Force feels like a new limb, a new sense that's now made your body a stranger to your mind.

"What do you remember from yesterday?" Boba asks, rough voice a soothing balm to your racing heart.

You tilt your head, trying to gather your memories together. "I remember walking up the mountain, and then there was the ongrol. I tried to shoot it, but that didn't work, and then you pushed me behind you. You threw your fire at it, and then it -"

Suddenly, you feel yourself getting choked up. It washes over you like a gust of cool air, returning to the emotion you felt in that moment on the mountainside. You blink a few times, swallowing down your panic and fear at the thought of it.

"And then it raised its paw, and I thought you were going to die."

Boba says nothing, just waits and lets you continue.

"All of a sudden this feeling came over me, like an instinct, and then there was this… this buzz that I felt. I just did it. I don't know how I knew how to."

Boba nods. He's looking at you with an expression you can't quite place, soft and severe all at the same time. It makes you shiver despite the heat that surrounds you.

You avert your eyes, instead focusing on his hand where it lay on your leg. His fingers nearly encircle your calf. You reach out and take his hand in yours, drawing it close to you, running the tips of your fingers over his knuckles, his wrist, the silvery scars that interrupt his tan skin.

"From what I understand," Boba murmurs, curling his fingers into yours ever so slightly, "it's supposed to take years of training for a Force-user to wield that sort of power, princess."

You glance up at him. He's smiling at you now, dark eyes sparkling.

Something about his expression, combined with what he just said, hooks into your brain and sours the taste on your tongue. You recall your doubts from earlier, doubts about who he is. Why would it matter if you - a village girl from a desolate snow planet - have more of a gift than most? Why would he care?

Your immediate reaction is that he's flattering you, like he did the other night in front of the fire. For some reason, your instinct tells you this is different, that he's got motives beyond those he's revealed to you.

Instinct has proven to be on your side lately, so you follow it headfirst.

"Why did you call yourself a king?"

Boba's smile vanishes, and the tension between you grows tenfold.

You grasp his hand firmly. Your faces seem so much closer now.

"What?" he asks, even though you know he heard you perfectly well. You narrow your eyes, not liking whatever game he's playing at. Boba Fett doesn't seem to be the type to play dumb, and you're certainly not the type to fall for it.

"You heard me," you say, voice calm and monotone. "Why did you call yourself a king when you were fucking me?"

Boba chuckles, a deadly sound that would have unnerved you if you were anyone but yourself.

He raises a brow. "Interesting question. Didn't you like it?"

"I liked it a lot less when I realized you had no reason to say it, bounty hunter."

Your voice is acidic, like venom hissing out from between your teeth.

"Or am I mistaken?"

Boba hums, but it feels more like a growl with your close proximity to him. "You sure you want to fall down that sarlacc pit, little one?"

You clench your jaw, giving your answer in the way you stare unwaveringly into his eyes.

His eyes flit down to your lips and back up again. You lean back slightly in response, refusing to let him distract you.

"It's not an official title, if that's your concern," he says.

"What sort of title is it, then?" you ask, guarded heart racing once again.

Boba tilts his head to one side, taking a long moment to look at you. His breathing is slow, steady, and you try to match your own to it, but his next words throw you off balance.

"A stolen one."

You blink, a fluttering sensation erupting in your chest - and not in a good way. It's as if your heart has tripped over itself in an attempt to flee him.

He brings his free hand up to cup your cheek, tender and authoritative as he runs his thumb along your lower lip. "I killed the man who last sat on my throne, so the title is now mine."

You frown, despite the digit near your mouth. "What's your kingdom, then? Who are your subjects?"

"Those like me," he responds, without hesitation. "Hunters. Mercenaries. People who are willing to do most anything for some credits."

The dots are beginning to connect in your brain, and you're not sure you like the picture that's forming.

"Criminals. You're - you're a crime lord," you mutter.

Boba chuckles again, a smirk forming at the edges of his lips. "Something like that."

A conflicted feeling rises in your chest. You twist your chin out of his grasp, looking away and into the waters beside you. Had you known this was the man you were dealing with, would you have let him between your legs that first night? You'd like to think not. But then again, a voice in your head reasons vehemently, you knew he was a bounty hunter, and how is that any better?

You purse your lips. At the moment you're not entirely sold on what your conscience is telling you to do, which is to cut him off now and end whatever it is that exists between the two of you.

In your lap, you're still holding his hand in both of yours.

"I want to trust you, Boba," you admit. He puts his other hand on your thigh as you turn back to face him. "But I'm not daft."

He opens his mouth to speak, but you aren't finished. "I know it may not be in your nature, but I would appreciate some clarity here. What does this... this Force sensitivity really mean? I'm not some spoiled, naive princess, either - despite what you may say."

Boba is silent - his brown eyes are as intense as they are unreadable as they look at you. It drags on long enough that you get restless. You let go of his hand and turn away, tucking your feet up under yourself to stand.

The water has been calling to you each time you’ve looked at it, and you can no longer resist its draw. Tentatively, you touch a toe into the shimmering pool, marvelling at its warmth.

You walk forward. With each step, you feel as though you're gaining life, absorbing energy you hadn't known you'd lost.

The water is up to your thighs when Boba finally speaks.

"The Force will die in you if you remain here for the rest of your life, princess."

That gives you pause. You turn around. Boba is shirtless now, but he's still reclining as he was. It takes a major effort not to let your eyes drop down to his abdomen, enticing like a beacon in your periphery.

"You want to know what I’m thinking, is that right?” He asks the question like he half expects you to say no.

You nod. Around you, the warm, steaming water is rippling with your movements, but it shimmers in a manner more than can be described as distinctly natural. Almost without thought, you step backwards, submerging yourself further in its enticing warmth. Your fingers and palms skim the surface.

"I wanted to ask you to join me. To come back with me."

It almost makes you laugh, the way he says it so seriously. A disbelieving smile crosses your features.

"You know I can't leave my people," you reply. "You've known that since the start."

Boba sighs. "I have. I was still tempted to ask, regardless. Ever since the tavern."

That's interesting. This whole line of conversation is peculiar - you get the feeling he rarely needs to explain himself in such a way to anyone.

"Why? What use am I to you?"

He stands, but does not follow you into the water. Instead, he walks over to another part of the cave and leans against the wall, observing you.

"It's always been selfish," he admits. "At first I just wanted you as a crew member. You have a way for negotiating, or at least the type of negotiating that would be useful for my sort of operation.

“But then you revealed yourself to be this needy little thing, so desperate for me to fuck you, and I could just picture you in my ship, or in the palace, spread out and wanting me wherever I am.”

Those words, low and promising, cause a certain sort of wetness to pool in your underwear, one that can’t be blamed on the water that surrounds you. By now, you’re up to your collarbones in it, hands no longer visible to him as they remain at your sides.

You hook a thumb under the waistband of your panties and slide them off, slowly floating down as the water pulls them from your form. When they get low enough, you tuck them under your heel to hide the garment away.

Boba gives no hint that he sees, so you assume he cannot tell.

“You wanted to bring me back as a rare specimen, to show off to the criminals who work for you,” you retort, though something deep within you preens at the idea.

Something hidden and unknown until that night in front of the fireplace.

He just hums. “Yes.”

You can’t decide if his blunt honesty is a fault or a virtue. Right now, it’s mainly serving to bring heat to the space between your thighs. To hide your arousal, you narrow your eyes, trying to focus on why exactly he thinks he can just… whisk you away to some strange planet.

“And now,” you reply, “what's your reason for asking me to come back with you?”

He shrugs. “As I said, without training, the Force will die in you. I have connections to nearly any type of creature in this galaxy, Force-users included. I am your only hope if you want to keep your gift. If not, we go back down this mountain and it’ll be as though I was never here.”

That does present an interesting twist. The gears in your mind turn a bit faster, thinking on what exactly this may mean for you.

You consider where you are in the present moment - the reason Boba is even here in the first place. You consider your duty to your people, and you consider the long life your father has ahead of him.

How much time you have before you'll need to take his place.

How little time you might have if someone else realizes what this mountain holds.

"You said this kyber puts out some sort of signature, one that others can pick up on."

Boba raises a brow, and you see that he catches on to what you're proposing.

You continue, because if you don't, you'll convince yourself the idea is foolish. "This Force-user could teach me to hide the signature, no?"

"I don't see why not," Boba replies. In his eyes you see a glimmer of humor, like he thinks he's got you wrapped around his little finger. The way you're talking, you're on the verge of agreeing to return with him. He's got it in stone - his negotiator, this girl who needs him so strongly.

You see through him, though. He's tough to read, but you're learning to look between the lines.

Boba Fett is a criminal. For your whole life, you've studied law and order, learning the diplomatic ways of other planets and societies. To go with him would be to align yourself with everything you should hate, everything you should fight against.

But you are, after all, more than just a meek princess. You're a leader, a role model, a strong woman and lover of your people. Are you willing to dispense with your morality in favor of this Force training? In favor of following this man who has stolen your heart like he stole his throne?

"Say I did go," you start, and he doesn't even bother to hide his small grin. "Say I go with you. What does that look like for me? I will not be reduced to some pleasure slave, hidden away in your palace."

Boba shakes his head. "You will be free, my dear. You and I will work together, for both of our benefits. When I need a kind, unrelenting negotiator, you will speak on my behalf. In return, I find your training."

It sounds too good to be true, especially considering the major aspect to your relationship he has not yet mentioned.

Your eyes finally flit down to his chest, broad and thick in a way you never knew you'd like so much. His arms and shoulders are equally as enticing, the knowledge of how strong he is only serving to make his body more attractive to you. He is scarred, long-healed gashes across his skin the echoes of unimaginable pain and fire. As your gaze drops lower, tracing the skin of his abdomen as it disappears into the waistband of his pants, you feel something tighten in your chest. In the space between your hips.

Seeing him like this is intimate, almost more so than that very first night, and he hasn't even touched you.

"And what else might I expect, traveling with you?" You ask it knowing he sees the way you're looking at him.

Boba hums, as though he's giving the question some thought. He pushes off from the stone wall he was leaned up against.

"You know where this will go, princess."

His hands drop down to hook into the front of his pants, fingers toying with the clasp there. Your eyes follow the movement, entranced. The tendons and muscles in his arms flex and ripple as he works his hands, movement capturing your eye like a mouse to bread.

"I do," you reply, "but I want you to tell me."

His gaze darkens at your words. You watch as he deftly unfastens his trousers and pushes them down, stepping out of them and towards you. He moves unhurriedly, but with clear purpose.

You feel like you're one of his bounties, caught in the crosshairs of his rifle. Trapped.

Excitement courses through your veins.

"The first place I'll fuck you will be the ship," Boba says as he walks forward into the water, his thick thighs flexing with each step. You're too caught up in watching him approach to think to respond.

"Before we even leave this planet, I'll have you screaming against the durasteel, begging for my cock."

Your brain goes a bit fuzzy at his words, at the force of the arousal that hits you. It's like the moment he starts speaking to you like this, all higher function in your mind shuts off, full only of the images he conjures with his voice.

Boba's getting closer, and before you know it, he's within arm's reach.

All at once his hands are on you, rucking up your top to search out your bare skin, warm under the water. You reach up and put your hands on his shoulders, savoring the heat of his skin on your own.

"Once we get to Tatooine," he continues, pressing his lips close to your ear, voice like honey flowing over you, "I'll get you the most expensive dresses credits can buy, and we'll go to the clubs and cantinas and everyone there will want what's mine."

Your grip tightens, nails digging into his flesh. Boba finally pushes your top all the way up and off. He absentmindedly tosses it behind him, landing with a wet smack against the stone floor of the cave. His palms find your breasts and he squeezes them, kneading, flicking his thumbs over your nipples.

The feeling of it, like sparks shooting through your chest, makes you gasp, light and breathy.

"You'll sit on my lap at the sabacc table, and all those filthy criminals will know exactly how much you love getting fucked."

Boba runs a hand down your side, the other still toying with your breast, and you watch his face as he realizes you're no longer wearing your panties.

His jaw clenches as his fingers curl into the meat of your hip. He dips his head down so his nose brushes against yours, his breath cool compared to the heat of the water.

"You're a temptress, little one."

You can't help the small smile that floats across your lips. "What was that about how much I love getting fucked?”

He hums, dark and deep, the sound nearly a growl with the way it reverberates around you. Boba slides his hands down beneath your ass, and then he's hauling you up and pressing you against the wall to your left. You squeal at the sudden movement, legs locking around his waist and hands gripping his shoulders even tighter to keep from slipping away.

You feel the heat of a cloth-covered bulge against your burning, most sensitive skin. The sudden pressure of it makes you gasp, smiling, breathing in the air he's just exhaled with how close your mouths are.

Boba holds you with such ease. It's as though you're floating, featherlight in his arms.

"Watch it," he mutters, leaning in to graze his lips against the shell of your ear, the broad plane of his chest covering your own.

"Or what?"

It’s clear that Boba is more turned on than annoyed by your teasing, despite his words. He adjusts his grip so his broad palms fit even tighter around your hips, pressing his erection solidly into your bare core once again, rolling his hips wickedly. The water enhances everything - the throbbing in your cunt is amplified tenfold and you can hardly contain yourself.

His words only serve to drive you madder, lips and teeth pressed against your neck.

“Or I’ll make sure every last man in that village sees the limp in your walk before I take you away,” he growls.

You moan at the thought of it, at the thought of walking past your friends and fellow townspeople in such a state. The things they'd say - the whispers - would never get back to you, for you know they respect you too much, but oh, would they talk.

Boba shifts, reaching down to finally free his cock from his underwear. Almost immediately, you feel the hot length of it pressed up against your pussy.

“Yeah,” he mutters, moving his hips and torturing you with the drag of his dick. “They’ll all see how well I’ve fucked you - how good their little princess takes a bounty hunter’s cock.”

Your eyes slip closed as you cry out, shaking with how much you need him. “Please, Boba!”

His shoulder muscles ripple under your palms and he groans. "I need to get you ready for me, little one --"

"No," you cut him off, voice little more than a whine, pulling him closer as best you can in your desperate state. "I can take it. Right now, I need it, I need you, Boba--"

With a grunt, Boba lines himself up, hands like durasteel on your hips as he pulls you close in tandem with the thrust of his cock. You moan, high-pitched and uninhibited, when you feel his hot member pierce your cunt. Your folds part easily for him, the head sliding into your pussy like it was built just for this.

Your legs tighten around Boba's waist as he starts fucking you, dirty promises and filthy imaginings rolling off his tongue. His voice strains with each thrust, and it all just feels so divine.

You think you could live like this, if he'd let you. Get addicted to the way his cock moves inside you and never spend another day without it.

"That's it," he mutters, teeth bearing down on your neck, surely leaving marks that'll turn black and blue in a day or so. On a particularly sharp thrust, you're jolted back, legs trembling in his hold.

"Maker, Boba." You open your eyes and see the way he's looking at you, teeth slightly bared and brows furrowed. He looks vicious as he uses you.

"You're so tight, princess. My fat cock fits in your little cunt so well," he grits out, your body still jostling with each thrust. Your eyes are fixated on his face, on his mouth, watching the words spill out from behind his lips.

For a moment, your brain provides a sliver of sass, making your eyes sparkle with mirth, even as your tits bounce against Boba's bare chest.

"You fuck pretty good for an old man."

Boba growls, a deep chuckle combined with a moan sounding from somewhere deep in his chest. His thrusts slow and he leans back, taking in the way your body is wrapped around him. Your hands fall to your breasts, pressing them together and flicking your thumbs over your nipples.

He snaps his hips up, hard, slamming his cock into you and forcing a whine from your throat. You can feel his balls smack your ass, even under the water. "You're desperate for it, princess. Desperate for this old man to fuck you like you need."

He rolls his hips again, rhythm slow and steady and deep. The air around you seems to rock in tandem with him.

"Yeah, you'll love Tatooine," he drawls, exhaling through his nose. "I could take this sweet pussy right on the throne and no one would say a thing. They'll all watch their King fuck a woman young enough to be his daughter."

You moan loudly, silken walls clenching and fluttering around his cock as it pounds into you.

He hums. "You like that, huh, little one?"

Despite yourself, you nod, squeezing your eyes shut again. Boba's left hand comes up to grip your chin, fingers like iron against your jaw. His thrusts get shallower, lazy, like he's become distracted from the fact that he's currently balls-deep inside you.

Your hands find his chest, getting your fill of his searing hot skin against your own.

"Open," he demands, and you do, tongue resting on your bottom lip.

Boba hesitates for a moment, and in that split second, the world around you is still once again. "This mouth," he murmurs, "is just begging to be filled, isn't it."

The words make you clench around him, an involuntary reaction to the thought of putting his cock in your mouth, of laving it with attention and worshipping it like it deserves.

Your eyes are still closed, so you can't see as he closes his mouth and works his jaw for a moment, gathering saliva on his tongue. You only feel the jarring sensation of spit landing in the back of your throat, filthy and debasing.

"Swallow it, little girl."

Eyes fluttering open, you do as you're told, and you know you'd do it a million more times if it means he'll look at you like he is right now, eyes dark as space itself.

"Thank you, my king."

You don't know what compels you to say it, other than the fact that it just feels right. Boba smiles, a sly thing that makes his dark eyes sparkle with something dangerous, and he begins fucking you again.

His hand slips down to your throat. Not tight, just resting there, a reminder.

Boba Fett licks his lips before speaking, the steam from the water around you making his face look almost eerie in the glow of the kyber. "You take me so well, my queen."

He picks up the pace again, and soon he's jackhammering into you with the same fervor as before. Your mind melts into a puddle inside your skull, only able to focus on the push-pull within you and the building crescendo that accompanies it. Boba's fingers tighten ever so slightly on your neck, and you respond in kind, curling your nails into the meat of his pecs like claws.

The fire within you is licking up your legs, winding through your ribs, and you gasp when it feels so close it's unbearable.

"Boba, I'm gonna - I need --"

He cuts you off with two simple words: "Touch yourself."

And so you do, the fingers of your dominant hand flying down to rub your clit and draw your orgasm to its inevitable peak. You press the pads of your middle and ring fingers to the bundle of nerves and frantically work to bring yourself off.

The sparks that shoot through you at the feeling of your own touch, combined with Boba's continued movements within you, force you up and over the edge of your climax in rapid succession. You cry out, the sound of it echoing far above your heads.

There must be something about the water, because the sensation is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. Your whole body seizes, straining against the hand that's wrapped like durasteel around your neck, and a tingling sensation shoots down your arms and legs to your toes. You've heard tales of the afterlife, of nirvana, of pure euphoria, and you think this must be it, because you can hardly comprehend the full-body pleasure that engulfs and drowns you.

When it passes, you go limp in his arms, head draped against his shoulder.

Boba finishes not long after, spilling into you. His spend is hot where it fills you, hotter than the water, and it's like an ancient lock has been fastened shut inside your cunt.

Your king carries you back to the dry stone floor. He lays you down and kisses you softly, heatedly, passionately. He kisses you as a lover should, like you're consummating a bond. A contract, signed in the twist of his tongue against yours.

The two of you do not leave that cave for a long while, taking the time to explore one another's bodies in every way you can dream up. You finally taste his cock, swallow his cum and find you love the taste, and Boba likewise licks and eats your pussy like he's a man starved.

When it's time to depart, you do so a changed woman. Boba Fett's body has left its touchmark on your soul. Now that you know true pleasure, the gratifying gift of submission to him, you couldn't imagine not going with him for at least some time. Leaving with him has become a need more than a want. You'll return someday, to rule and guide your people as you should, but not before you explore life with Boba for a while.

He promises so much, so many experiences and pleasures and truths. You can't let those promises go unfulfilled.

-

When Din enters the throne room, he surveys the space, as he always does when he walks through a doorway. Little is out of place.

Boba is seated upon the throne, conversing with a supplier, helmet betraying exactly as much emotion as Din's own does. From the grip Fett has on the arm of the throne, however, it's clear the negotiations aren't going to turn out well for the snivelling merchant.

Shand is leaning against a wall, jar of spotchka clutched in one hand, gesticulating with the other. She's smiling, which is rare for her, as she speaks in a tone Din can't quite hear.

Next to her is a girl Din's never seen in the palace before. She's dressed rather strangely - a thick cloak with fur trim over dark clothes, pants tucked into leather boots and some sort of shirt-tunic on her torso.

Certainly not suitable for the weather on Tatooine. In fact, Din would wager that's the clothing of someone from a snow planet.

He walks further into the room and catches the attention of Fennec and her friend. They both look at him; Fennec only for a second, but her companion's gaze lingers. Din thinks he sees something akin to curiosity - perhaps surprise - in her eyes, but it's hard to tell.

Her head turns to look directly at Boba, eyebrows raised. The other bounty hunter dips his head in acknowledgement.

Din stops in his tracks, unsure of the dynamic he's just walked into.

"You're excused," Boba barks, waving a hand at the supplier, who yelps and scurries out of the room.

He then rises from his seat and makes his way down to where Din's standing. He removes his helmet - an action that still makes Din tense up, even with everything that's happened - and tucks it under an arm. He sticks his other hand out and Din shakes it, nodding once.

"It went well, I assume?" Boba's almost smiling, which is a rare sight to see on his usually sullen visage.

Din nods again. "Yes. He's doing… he's doing great."

If he took his own helmet off, Din's smile would be clear as day.

Boba claps his hand against Din's shoulder, an amicable gesture that Din must remind himself is a sign of friendship, not posturing. Old habits die hard.

"I've got someone I'd like you to meet, Djarin," Boba says, turning towards the women who stand, watching them, not too far away.

They walk over. Fennec takes a sip of her spotchka, while the girl glances between him and Boba. For the life of him, he can't figure out where she might have come from, or what her role will be here. She's pretty, that much he will readily admit. Her eyes are bright and alert in a way that tells him she sees more than she lets on, and her stance is simultaneously relaxed and braced for conflict. He knows it well - it's as easy as beskar to spot.

She holds herself like a warrior.

She’s also young - certainly the youngest in the room.

Boba's voice pulls Din out of his thoughts. "This is our newest crew member. She'll be helping us with our… over-the-table dealings, in exchange for training."

Confused, Din tilts his head. "Training? What kind of training?"

"That's where I'd hoped you'd be able to help," Boba tells him. The girl looks from Fett to him, eyes focused right on his own through the visor.

"I need guidance in the Force. Boba said you have connections to people who could help me master my Force sensitivity."

Well, he supposes that's at least somewhat true. Ahsoka may be willing, but given how it went with Grogu, he wouldn't count on her.

"I'll see what I can do," he responds. As is his habit, he props his hand on his belt, hip jutting out just so.

The girl's eyes flicker down and back up again.

Boba clears his throat. "In the meantime, the princess and I have other matters to attend to."

He reaches out to her, and at first Din thinks he's going to grasp her shoulder in his firm grip like he tends to do with all of his close acquaintances.

Din quickly sees that this girl is much more than just a close acquaintance.

Boba’s hand finds its place on her neck, thumb tucked under her jaw and fingers wrapped around the base of her skull, tangled in her loose hair. As if they’ve done it a million times before, they lean towards one another. The girl’s eyes flutter closed, a soft smile on her face, while Boba’s study her unabashedly.

Their lips connect, heatedly, and Din knows his surprise shows in his movements. He glances over to Fennec, who just smirks at him.

The couple in front of him kiss one another completely without shame. Boba’s grip tightens to the point it looks almost painful, but the girl simply presses closer in response. She brings a hand up to rest on his chestplate, the only bare skin visible besides her face and neck.

Despite how warm his cheeks feel, Din can’t look away. He feels a rush of blood out of his head at the sight in front of him.

Boba and his lover kiss for another long moment before pulling away. He slides his hand to her hip, casually pulling her along as if he’d simply taken her by the hand.

She falls into step beside him, looking more comfortable than Din’s ever seen anyone next to Boba Fett. As they walk away, the girl glances back at Din, her observant gaze piercing right through him. Right through the beskar of his helmet.

And then she turns back, content in the embrace of the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy.

[wannaholdhandswithfictionalmen]

Omg can you do aether or venti? Ik aether isn’t like the most popular character but I love him ;-; how about reader falling asleep on them?

A/n: First of all this is adorable and I did both for you lovely Anon. 💕💕 Hope I did okay with writing Aether. Putting it under read more because these basically turned into full drabbles.

Genre: Straight up fluff

Warning: None

Word count: 1,056

Aether was astoundingly resolute in every adventure you embarked on together, there was always more to do, quests, commissions from the adventurer guild, people who needed help. No matter who it was the small task to the toughest challenge -- oh, a chief needed help hunting, so you spent hours searching for boars and wildlife scared off by Hilichurls. Bringing back even more raw meat than asked for, just in case.

An old woman wanted apples from a tree too tall for her to reach. Aether would climb up and toss them down to you, for you catch them in the basket you held. A small village was getting harassed by Hilichurls, well it was time to wipe them out. A haywire ruin guard was wreaking havoc after treasure hoarders set it off. It would be handled.

Aether wanted to help so much, it was one of his  endearing qualities to give, give, give every bit of aid to others. And there was no one you'd rather spend your days with giving him your own support while he offered his own to every passing stranger. However without a doubt it was exhausting all at the same time.

It made you worry because for aether there was always one more ingredient to gather, material to collect, creature to fight, dungeon to explore. His particular energy seems endless and always moving forward -- it squeezes your heart in a serpentine grip, tighter, tighter, would he push himself too hard? Would he just keep going and going one day and leave you behind? Too slow to keep his pace. 

Today you and Aether have kept very busy, chasing the vague hints in all of Teyvat from some ancient myth said to lead to a grand treasure. You had fought through Hilichurls, treasure hoarders, Fatui agents all racing against each other to find the fabled treasure. It's midday, and your muscles ache fiercely, beyond sore. New bruises and cuts cover your body. 

Aether turned to you, looking you over, brows furrowed with concern, his usual silent stoic determination softens as he gazed at you. 

"Let's rest for a short while." 

"But the treasure?" 

"It can wait. Venturing into danger while tired will do us no good." 

Aether sets up a small camp quickly, sitting down he beckons you to join him. It's a surprise when you seat yourself beside him. It doesn't take long for the depths of your fatigue to hit you full force like a fatal blow from a ruin hunter. Feeling how heavy your eyelids are you can't keep your eyes open and this close you know Aether hears your yawn as you lean against him, sleepily mumbling. "The- the treasure it's very- super important." 

Aether simply smiles, listening to your breathing slow down, seeing your head resting against his shoulder. He brushes his fingers over your forehead, easing the remaining tension in the furrow of your brow with a gentle rub. 

Treasures will come and go, but you? There is only one (Name). Aether wants to make sure you are taking care of yourself, he knows you work hard to keep up with him on a daily basis and you never complain. Always worrying over him, having his back, defending him. You mean so much, words almost feel inadequate to encompass how much he appreciates and adores you. 

"You are far more important. Rest well." 

Venti was spinning some tale of his past, he was open to sharing as you knew of his true nature as a god. It was always exciting to hear each one, Venti as a bard knew how to weave stories that had you in the moment as if you had been by his side even then, witnessing it all with him yet through him. Wonderful and fantastic glances back to centuries ago and sometimes Venti was very forthcoming and certainly proud with his own tales of giving freedom to others, the chance, the choice to change their lives for the better. 

You enjoyed hearing every single one, perhaps his most earnest and enthusiastic listener. 

Venti found one of his new favorite things was seeing your eyes full of glee and wonder at his tales, hearing you gasp in surprise or shock, giggle in amusement. Oh and seeing you smile, wide and bright. He liked that too. 

You were always eager to listen to him, tell a story or sing a ballad new or old. Venti enjoyed the feeling of you watching him so intently. 

Today however, you are too tired, fighting through several camps of Hilichurls, getting attacked three times by those annoying treasure hoarders, a elemental mishap when Venti accidentally pushed you into Cider Lake with a misdirected gust of wind and you spent an hour or so drying out your clothing with your own flames. It was a trying day, still fun though nothing was ever dull with Venti.

You couldn't stay wide awake not even for Venti, you felt your eyes drooping low, blinking rapidly as your head kept falling forward snapping awake just as soon as you fell asleep. Eventually sleep was the foe that bested you today and you leaned on Venti, your cheek pressed on top of his head, his soft hair serving as quite the pillow. 

"And-" Venti paused in his retelling when he felt the weight of your body slumping over on him, confused at first, he shifted slightly, stilling once he heard how slow, soft your breathing has gotten. 

Venti bites back his instinctively gasp of was my tale that boring? Realizing you had looked rather exhausted during the final trek back to Mondstadt. "You are very lucky that I am so fond of you," Venti mumbles with a playful roll of his eyes. "It is quite rude to fall asleep during a bard's tale, an insult to my skills really." The content grin on his lips really seals the deal, anyone else might have offended him but you never. 

Venti thinks he should wake you up, get you somewhere far more comfortable to be resting but he also wants to stay like this for a bit longer, he thinks this is adorable.

"Just a few more minutes." Venti reaches for your hand, entwining your fingers with his. He hums a tune while watching the sparkling stars lit up the night sky. 

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Return Her pt.8

The dreams persist and continue to get worse, but they can't know about these supposedly prophetic night terrors... especially after what you've just seen.

It seems that your promise of a kiss really did motivate Bofur, because not even 10 minutes later are you all reaching the other side of the lake. 

As soon as it's put to shore and you all file out, Bofur looks to you expectantly and taps the side of his face. 

You, being as you promise, waste no time and leaning down and pecking his cheek gently, giggling at the way his cheeks reddens slightly and a huge smile breaks out on his face. It's pretty cute, you have to admit. 

"There you go, now no more complaining about not getting a kiss, okay? From now on there will be no negotiations." You tell them decisively, adding afterwards, "I will distribute them when I see fit." 

Bofur nods happily and goes back to the boat to grab some of the supplies, meanwhile Kili looks at you with a frown, "But what about me?" 

"I told you already, you got one." 

"Yes, but I can't remember it! Surely that isn't fair." He complains, glancing over at his brother and Bofur who are taking things out of the boat. 

"It's not my fault you can't remember it." You shoot back, stepping around him to take your backpack out of the boat. 

Kili stares at you for a few moments with the same displeased expression on his face before grumbling out, "It's not fair." 

You glance back at him again while you put on your bag, sighing internally before stepping back and pecking his cheek very quickly. "There! Now no more complaining or I'll go right back to Bard-" 

They don't even let you finish your sentence before they're all yelling, "No!"

It seems you've gotten your point across.

---

The journey to the mountain is long and horribly arduous, and you can tell that it's taking a toll on Kili since he's begun to sweat and his breath is coming out in shallow pants. 

When you notice this you skip over to Fili and jump in front of him, successfully making him, and everyone else, halt their trekking. 

"Y/N? What are you doing?" Fili asks, looking up at you with furrowed eyebrows. 

"Fili, dear, your brother is struggling an awful lot over there. I think we should take a break so he doesn't, like, pass out or anything." 

Normally, they would argue with you and tell you you're being too sensitive and worrisome, but with all the things you've been right about recently, Fili concedes and nods his head in agreement, "Alright." 

A huge smile breaks out on your face when the first answer isn't 'no' for once, and right away you clap your hands together excitedly and pat his shoulder, "Excellent." 

"We can rest beneath those trees for shade, and Oin will change his bandages." Fili states decisively, looking up at you with a small smile on his face since your joy is rather contagious. 

You drop your hand from his arm and bound over to the trees he pointed out with a new vigor fueled by the desire to take a freaking break. 

Right away you settle onto the ground and take off your backpack, patting the spot next to you when Kili limps over with Fili and Bofur on either side of him (incase he collapses or something). Oin walks over much slower and with less enthusiasm, though he does appear to be pretty pleased about having a break too.

Kili sits down next to you without hesitation and stretches his legs out in front of him, looking over at Oin wearily since he doesn't much want anyone to touch his still healing (and very tender) wound. 

"I'm going to need you to lay down, lad." Oin tells him once he takes a seat, pulling out some things from his bag (supplied to him by Bard and Tauriel) like more stuff to wrap his leg and some cleaning stuff. 

The brown-haired dwarf sighs shakily a and slowly begins to lay back, fully intending to stretch out on the hard, dirty ground. 

"Ah, wait." You tell him quickly, scooting closer and offering your lap up as a pillow. 

He, of course, doesn't pass up the offer and settles himself down with his head resting on your thighs and a way too pleased expression on his face. 

Oin chuckles lightly before going business mode and carefully removing the wrapping Tauriel applied to his leg, careful not to hurt the young dwarf as he does so. 

You reach up and card your fingers through his hair gently, looking over at Oin's calculated and gentle movements with a slight frown on your face. On the bright side, at least it's not horribly infected anymore. 

Kili hums appreciatively when your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, the noise bringing your attention back to his face. 

You smile half-heartedly and ask, "Does it hurt at all?" 

"Only a little." He replies easily, folding his arms to rest on his stomach while he waits for Oin to finish up. "Don't worry, I will be fine." He assures, practically reading your worry ridden mind. 

"I-I know, but..." You trail off as you glance over at the scabbing and hideous hole in his leg, biting your lip lightly while you think over your words, "You were so sick..." 

"Careful there, Y/N, or I might begin to think you're worried for me." There is obvious humor in his voice, and from the smile on his face and the way Fili and Bofur laugh they all think it's funny; but you only look at him sourly. 

You reach down and pinch his nose none to gently, replying cooly, "Oh don't even joke about that! Obviously I was worried. We all were!" 

"Yes, but we didn't all cry." Bofur teases, leaning back against the tree with his hat covering his eyes. 

You glare over at him quickly and stick your tongue out, feeling your cheek heat up despite your attempt to remain cross and nonchalant. 

"You cried?" Kili asks quickly with wide eyes, forgetting all about the uncomfortable sensation of having Oin cleaning his arrow wound. 

"No!" You deny it with no small amount of embarrassment and indignation, pointedly avoiding looking at Kili since it's not the most dignifying thing. "I did not. Why would I even cry anyways? You were only writhing on the ground... screaming and practically sobbing any time any of us even got close to you..." It's not a memory that you want to hold onto for long, but what really gets you about it is how vividly you can remember his pained screams and agonized yells. 

 "Y/N..." Kili mumbles quietly, glancing over at his brother and Bofur who are looking at you with sympathetic expressions on their faces. 

"Oh, shut up! This isn't even about me, so worry about yourself." You huff, pulling on the ends of his hair lightly before saying hurriedly, "Look! Oin's all done! I'm going to take a nap, now." And with that, you push his head off your lap and immediately lay down with your head on your bag, covering your face with your hood and wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Kili sits up after you shove him off of you and looks at your curled up form with slight annoyance, speaking with a bit of humor to hopefully ease your tension, "Oh sure, go and push me off, thank you for that." 

"You're welcome, dearie." You reply without hesitation, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips in spite of the slight sadness creeping into you mere seconds before. "Hush now, I'm sleeping." 

He snickers at that but doesn't bother you anymore, so Fili speaks up and tells everyone, "30 minutes should be enough time for a break." 

Nice. 

---

There is only black when you first open your eyes. 

You cannot see anything, though you can hear the crazed yells of a man. 

He yells of the Arkenstone. 

Of treachery. 

Of distrust and wanting to keep something safe.

You feel a weight on your wrists suddenly, and when you look down you see transparent chains binding you to a throne, and more clearly this time you hear, "My key. My charm of good fortunes." 

And then that voice turns angry and you hear a vicious yell, "Throw him from the ramparts!" 

The black makes way for a blinding light, and when you look up everything around you shifts. 

The light dies upon you and you feel an emptiness spread from your chest throughout the rest of your body. 

Now, everything is gray.

The sky, the stone all around you, the blue-tinted ice beneath your feet, everything. 

Very slowly you turn, eyes meeting that all too familiar sight of a raging battle below and a grand castle settled upon the Lonely Mountain.

The screams from the awe-inspiring town meet your ears once more and are very faint until suddenly it all stops. 

Now all you hear is silence. A horrible, deafening silence that stretches out all around you. 

And then, oh so softly, comes the broken, "No..." Of a man witnessing something truly dreadful. Something that, still, you cannot see. 

Your body moves upon it's own accord, turning with a careful and painstakingly slow rotation, and once more you're met with the sight of Thorin, Bilbo, and Dwalin all staring ahead with matching hopeless and devastated countenances. 

There is no other sound even when you see their mouths opening as they scream and cry, for the only thing you can hear is the painfully loud roaring of complete, deathly, silence. 

You try, oh you try so hard, to look toward the source of their anguish, but like the night before your head refuses to abide by your wishes, and it's not until your vision zooms in automatically on that white hand and the chest of whoever this person holds that you can move. 

You turn your head up to catch a glimpse, just a quick peek, at the face belonging to whoever this person is, but the sun blinds you mostly still and all you see is messy, braided, blond hair. 

You know that hair.

Then you're back on the ground, looking down at the limp, bloodied body of somebody else, a gaping hole in their chest and a blur of brown hair and a short beard in your peripherals. 

You know that figure. 

In contrast of your dream from before, this time you get more than a quick look at someone getting stabbed in the chest, for you see a broken figure of someone laying lonely on ice until the soft sound of someone running towards you both reaches your ears. 

You want to see who it is, and you try very hard to clear the haze and see their face, you  and kind of get what you were wishing for.

His eyes are all you can see but still you know who it is.

You know .

Then your eyes fall upon Bilbo. 

"Why are you just standing there?" He yells, walking up to you, seeming so much bigger than he actually is as he grabs your shoulders in a bruising grip. "Why didn't you do anything? How could you just watch them die?" 

You shake your head and try to defend yourself, but when you open your mouth to reply, you find that you can't speak, and your cheeks begin to feel hot as tears run down them with record breaking speed. 

"You could have stopped this!" 

Once more you shake your head no and try to push his hands from your shoulders, but the hold stays and his yells grow louder. 

"Wake up." 

What?

"Y/N, you need to wake up! It's only a dream!"

You jolt awake and your eyes snap open quickly, your gaze flickering around above for a moment as you try to make sense of what's around you. 

The first thing you see is the confused and very worried faces of Fili and Bofur, and the first thing you feel is the hotness of your face and the dampness of your cheeks. 

Then, you see Kili and Oin just behind them, and your throat feels hoarse as your heart throbs painfully as the dream replays behind your eyes and the the hints that littered throughout your terror come back to you. 

The realization you come to makes you sick to your stomach, but you push down the bile and sit up slowly, entangling your hands into your hair and putting your head between your knees as you try to force away the unpleasant nightmare. 

Vaguely you feel a heavy hand pressing against your back and rubbing slow, soothing circles between your shoulder blades as you try to calm your breathing and rub away the tears staining your cheeks. 

You stay in that position for a small while, until all the crying is done and over with and you can form a proper thought once more. 

When you slowly sit up normally once again, you meet the worried stares of four others and immediately feel quite a bit worse.

"I'm fine." 

The words leave you before you can even think of any explanation for what just happened, but truthfully after what you just saw you're not so sure you wanna share that with anyone else. 

"Clearly you aren't." Fili challenges without hesitation, his eyebrows furrowed as he observes you carefully, "Your dream was distressing enough to make you scream and cry in your sleep, which isn't something that happens very often, especially not for any normal night terror." 

You look away sharply and weakly shrug your shoulders, avoiding all eye contact. Not even wanting to see them after what you'd just witnessed in your unrestful state. 

"Y/N..." Bofur mumbles your name sadly, reaching out to place his hand on your shoulder gently. "What has you so sad?" 

"I-It was just a stupid dream." You insist once more, shying away from his gentle touch. "It's nothing..." 

"It's not nothing! Why won't you tell us?" Kili asks sadly, adding after, "You've always told us before."

You shake your head slowly and say much softer this time, "Please... I don't wanna talk about it. Let's just go, okay?" 

None of them seem to much like the idea of dropping it and heading out, but the clock is ticking and you all really need to get going before nightfall. 

"Alright, alright. We will not force you to discuss it if you do not wish to." Fili tells you softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders despite your hesitance to touch any of them. "We'll get going, and hopefully the hike will help your head to clear." 

A relieved sigh leaves you and you nod your head quickly, "Yes, thank you." 

---

Your spirits lifted after a little while of walking, and you actually found that you no longer feel so upset anymore.

I mean, only two thing from your odd dreams has actually happened, and those are things you already vaguely knew would occur anyways. You decide that it's nothing and you should just forget about it, especially since they're right in front of you now.

Some small talk with Kili and Bofur made helped you to forget, and Fili gave you a couple of encouraging and sweet words too that Oin backed up with a big smile and a confirmation of his own. 

Suffice to say once you all arrived at Erebor, you were feeling much better. 

And your happiness only multiplies when you find everyone still alive and kicking inside of that mountain. 

Kinda. 

Bilbo approaches you all before anyone else, and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, "Stop! Stop! Stop! You need to leave. We all need to leave." 

You look at him weirdly and reply in confusion, "What are you talking about? Bro, we literally just got here?" 

The hobbit shakes his head and shoots back, "I tried talking to him, but he won’t listen."

This time Oin speaks, and he's just as freaked out and confused as you all, "Wh-what do you mean, laddie?"

"Thorin! Thorin. Thorin, he’s been down there for days." He takes a breath, still walking backwards while you all push forward, before continuing, "He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats. He’s not been himself, not at all. It’s this…it’s this place. I think a sickness lies upon it.

Your eyebrows furrow and you scratch the back of your head lightly, "That doesn't sound right..."

Fili looks distracted suddenly, and you follow him with your eyes as Kili asks, "A sickness? What kind of sickness?"

As soon as the younger dwarf says this, his brother rushes down the stairs while Bilbo calls after him, "Fili? Fili!"

You all rush after the blond dwarf, he's acting so strange all of a sudden, and that's when you see it. 

A sea of shinning and shimmering gold before you, huge jewels and golden goblets, a room of beauty beyond belief, and a single dwarf standing amongst it all with a cape of fur and a shiny crown to match. 

"Gold. Gold beyond measure, beyond sorrow and grieve."

Oh, yikes, that's kinda...

He notices you all looking, which makes you even more concerned that he's speaking to himself like that, and then bellows in a welcoming voice, "Behold, the great treasure hoard of Thrór." After he says this, he throws a piece of gold or something and Fili catches it, then he continues, "Welcome, my sister’s sons, to the Kingdom of Erebor."

Now, you're no mathematician, but something here ain't addin' up. 

"Right... well this is all cool and fun and stuff, but where is everyone else?" You ask loudly, successfully gathering everyones attention onto you. 

Thorin, not very surprisingly, seems to not know where they are, so Bilbo pipes up, "Follow me." 

You all do except for Fili who stays behind with his uncle. 

Please, god, don't let this get out of hand... 

[def-initely-soul]

house rules {1}

pairing: jimin x reader (f.)

genre: fluff; angst; roommates au; kinda new girl au; smut; f2l au

rating: explicit

warnings: sexual content; mention of emotional abuse; mention of manipulative relationship; mention of body issues; explicit smut

words: 26.3k

summary:

↠ {living with two guys has always its pros and cons. Pros being someone will always get you popcorn for your midnight cravings. Cons being you might like one of them…?} ↞

or alternatively, the shenanigans of five friends, where two of them are in a loving relationship, one is Kim Seokjin and the other two don’t know what the fuck they’re doing

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The clock on the other side of the wall keeps ticking, each second driving you closer to madness over the insistent sound.

You click your pen open and closed. Open and closed. Open and closed.

And yet you still have no freaking clue on how to begin this godawful novel.

Godawful as in the mere effort it takes for it to come to life is starting to make you want to flick yourself off from a window.

Like, god, you’ve been staring at an empty piece of paper for almost two hours now, your coffee’s gone cold.

And yeah you write in paper. No laptop, no typewriter, just you, your pen and a currently empty piece of paper. It seems more direct, more intimate this way. Put you in front of a blank screen and your brain will surely follow it.

Although, today it doesn’t seem like you have much luck with paper either.

With a tired sigh, you rest your mighty pen on your desk, taking out your noise-cancelling earbuds and stand up from your chair.

You stretch out your limbs, your back already killing you from hunching over your desk for two hours now and you trudge over to the living room where the rest of your friends are having a movie night.

“Guys, the old crone decided to join us…” Hoseok comments from his side of the small couch as you drag your feet to your designated spot beside Jimin on the big couch.

“Quick, hide your popcorn, and hide your jelly beans!” Seokjin joins in on the mocking as Jimin scans through Netflix for a decent movie none of you has seen yet.

You know you’ll end up watching Dirty Dancing again because the chances of finding a movie none of you has seen yet are nearly non-existent.

 “Ha, ha, your superior sense of humour is astounding…” you mumble as you sit cross-legged on the couch and Ana turns to you from her spot next to Hoseok.

“No luck with the novel still huh?” her eyes are looking at you sympathetically and you grumble a response, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, it’ll come to you eventually,” Seokjin says, stretching his hand from his armchair to your right to nudge your knee and you let a deep breath infiltrate your lungs once he retracts it.

Jimin gives you a side glance before his eyes return to the screen. “Yeah, until she gets a different idea and the cycle repeats itself.”

“Hey!” you lightly punch your best friend in the ribs, earning a groan from him, “I just have to find a way to start this bloody thing and then it’ll turn out to be the greatest book in the century, you’ll see!” you defend your cause, eyes wide and challenging on Jimin who simply smiles at you with a winning smirk.

“That’s more like it…” he replies, the glint in his eyes your only hint giving away the intention behind his words and again you groan. Refusing to let the smile on your lips appear.

“I hate you when you do that…” you mumble, a small note of fondness only Jimin can distinguish, hiding in your voice as he finally picks his choice of a film with a smile hanging from his lips.

“Shh, the movie’s starting!” Ana interrupts everyone when -surprise surprise- Dirty Dancing starts playing. All of you have a certain liking towards the movie- I mean what’s not to like? Summer romance? Patrick Swayze with half-open shirts? Heated dancing? With Patrick Swayze?- but you can say for certain Ana takes the cake as a Dirty Dancing fan.

“How can you still be this much excited for this movie?” Hoseok comments from beside her and even though he sounds judgey there’s only lovesick fondness in his eyes when he looks at Ana.

Although when Ana turns to look at her boyfriend, she looks completely serious. “Keep this up and no sex for a month. We don’t condone this kind of behaviour in this house.”

You and Jimin try to suppress your giggles as Hoseok’s eyes widen in fear. “You can’t do that, what about you?!”

Ana simply smiles back with too much sweetness. “My hands aren’t just good for making you cum, babe.”

Disgusted protests come from the rest of the group as you’re sure you won’t ever be able to unhear this.

“Why, why did we have to hear that?” Jimin complains as Seokjin makes a gagging sound next to him.

Hoseok just smiles. “Oh, come on Jimin, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy tapping this hot piece of ass!” and another round of puking sounds emerges in the room.

Truth is Ana didn’t date Hoseok in the beginning. In reality, she got added to your group only after she started going out with Jimin in the second year of college. And even though she and Jimin didn’t work out in the end, she had already become an essential part of your group and they even remained great friends after the breakup.

Not long after that Hoseok asked her out. And you swear no couple ever made more sense than those two. Although you really hate when they get down and dirty in Hoseok’s room which is right next to yours.

You first started living with Hoseok and Jimin in the first year of college, five years ago. Jimin was a guy you barely knew from high school but he was the greatest of options you had when looking to share an apartment with someone. You didn’t want to live in a dorm but it wasn’t like your parents were rich or something, so there was no way for them to afford an apartment just for you. So looking for a roommate was the best solution.

Hoseok came a little bit afterwards. You and he shared a class and you became friends fairly quickly. So when he told you the situation at his dorm was unbearable, you couldn’t help but think of the empty bedroom in your apartment. And the rest is history.

Seokjin became a part of your group only months before Ana did. He and Jimin worked at the same part-time job as waiters in a local restaurant. And while Seokjin went forward to run his own restaurant and Jimin followed his passion as a dance instructor their friendship persevered. So it wasn’t long before he joined your group.

And it wasn’t long before you got this stupid crush on him.

Not that it matters anyway. He doesn’t know and you don’t plan on ever telling him to be honest. You know how easily things could go wrong and you’re fine with simply being his friend.

“Okay, babe, that’s enough for now…” Ana quiets down her boyfriend with a small kiss on his lips and finally pipes down to focus on Patrick Swayze’s biceps.

Your eyes rest on the screen as another exhausted sigh escapes you. This novel is your chance of having something of yours published. What if you can’t make it in time? What if it’s shit? What if you finally realize after all this time that being a writer was never what you were supposed to be and all those years believing that were in vain? What if-?

Your thoughts get interrupted when you feel a palm laying across your knee and squeezing it gently.

The fog in your head clears a bit when you find Jimin looking at you with a soft smile. One that tells you not to worry. Jimin could always read you like a book so it’s no surprise he could sense you spiralling.

And it’s not a surprise that with a single look he can calm down your racing thoughts.

He’s one of your closest friends after all.

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.

“Hoseok you can’t keep using Ana’s departure as an excuse to not help with cleaning up!” you yell towards the couple saying goodbye at the front door, while Seokjin giggles as he dries out some of your plates.

“Shut up, you heathen, this is true love we’re talking about! Also, I can and I will!” your roommate yells back and you roll your eyes. On the other side of the room, Jimin picks up several empty beer cans as Ana kisses her boyfriend.

“Go on, babe, before they drive a stick through your ass,” she chuckles.

Hoseok pouts, the gesture almost etched to his features by now. “Oh, and you haven’t even done it that thing you wanted yet!”

“Again keep your weird sexual life out of this god-respected household,” Jimin comments and at once everyone turns to stare at him confused.

He stares back before, “Okay, yeah, I just heard it…” then he proceeds to take the trash out.

Ana chuckles before pressing another kiss on Hoseok’s lips. “Okay, I’m off. Bye guys!” to which you all respond with a chorus of “byes”.

Hoseok closes the door with a dreamy sigh before trekking over to the kitchen island to watch as you and Seokjin clean up. “Is it weird that I miss her already?”

Seokjin coos at the same time you react too. Although your reaction comes closer to a gagging sound and now both of them look at you like you just kicked a puppy.

You clear your throat, “oh, I- I meant… ''awww”...” you reply quickly, avoiding their stares to clean up the rest of the plates.

“Don’t mind her Hobi, she's just jealous,” Seokjin comments as he rests his towel on his shoulder.

At that, you scoff. You’re not jealous! You just hate corny things!

“Jealous? Pff. Who says they miss someone right after they leave? That’s just cheesy! I mean, yeah, you and Ana are perfect for each other, you’re cute together and you complete each other, and there’s intimacy and feelings and mutual respect…” your voice becomes sadder at the end and ultimately fades out, leaving you staring at the floor.

Where were you going with this?

The guys look at you with knowing glances and you groan out loud.

“Oh, shut your faces. I’m not jealous!” “Who’s not jealous?” Jimin asks once he’s back into the apartment.

“Y/N, of our relationship,” Hoseok’s quick to respond.

“Yours and mine?” Jimin queries.

Hoseok rolls his eyes but he responds in all seriousness “No, Ana’s and mine.”

Jimin just shrugs. “Makes more sense.”

Your eyes narrow and you scoff. “No, it doesn’t because I’m not jealous!”

Seokjin places his palm on your shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find someone someday to be grumpy with.”

You pick his hand and drop it off your shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Besides I got my novel to write, I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’d marry rich if I was expecting anything of that novel!” Hoseok comments with a laugh but everyone freezes, including you. Is that what he really thinks? That you’re not gonna make it?

All of you turn to look at him, but Hoseok remains oblivious of your stares for a few moments. But when he realizes you’re all looking at him, he looks confused.

“What?” he asks, visibly perplexed.

Jimin’s eyes widen, disbelief in his voice. “Dude!”

Hoseok shrugs though his eyes widen in almost fear. “It was a joke!” his voice is one pitch higher as slight traces of panic are evident in his words. When no one responds, he turns to you, desperation and honesty in his eyes. “Y/N, really, it was just a joke.”

You stare for a moment too long, before you nod, giving him a smile to spare him from his misery, deciding to not let such a simple comment affect you. “Yeah, yeah, I know, of course!”

“I didn’t mean any of that okay? It was a stupid joke!” Hoseok nearly screeches, regret in his words as he doesn’t seem at all convinced by your answer.

You force a laugh to calm him down.

“Hobi, I’m fine! Don’t worry too much,” you smile at him, patting him on the back and moving to put the plates Seokjin dried out to their respective cabinets.

He still doesn’t seem convinced and he’s ready to pester you some more before Seokjin intervenes, sensing you’re starting to feel uncomfortable with all the attention. “Anyways, Hoseok you said you wanted my opinion on something?”

Hoseok’s attention turns to Seokjin once he speaks up. “Ah yeah! Actually, my three-year anniversary with Ana is coming up and I’m all out of ideas,” he responds sheepishly as he rubs the base of his neck.

“Ehm, hello? I’m her best friend, why don’t you ask me?” you complain, putting your hands on your waist with one eyebrow cocked up.

“Y/N your most serious relationship lasted two months and it ended because you fought over which peanut butter spread is the best,” Hoseok raises an eyebrow at you as he and Seokjin walk over to the couch, trying to brainstorm ideas.

“I’m sorry but whoever thinks smooth is better than crunchy is simply not human,” the memory sends a shudder through you and you look at Jimin for confirmation and he’s quick to nod his head and agree.

“Oh, yeah, that relationship had no future after that,” he washes his hands at the sink as he looks over to Hoseok who simply giggles.

“Okay, yeah, I can give you that one. But you really have no idea of relationships, so I’m sorry but I’m not taking any suggestions,” he softens the blow with a flying kiss in your direction.

You scoff, indignant. “Rude. True but rude!” you admit as you finally place the last of the plates in its place. Hoseok and Seokjin are now deep in conversation, throwing one idea after the other and if he decides to go with any of these, you’re sure Ana will dump him before he gets the chance to utter “break up sex”.

Seeing as there’s nothing else left for you to do, you decide to head off to sleep, making a mental note to talk to Hoseok about his date ideas and salvage whatever you can.

“Okay, I’m going to bed, goodnight guys!” you wave them goodnight before turning to the hallway when Jimin comes towards you.

“I’ll walk with you,” he says, following you into the corridor.

You walk in silence, not that it’s weird or anything. You and Jimin have reached that point in a friendship where you don’t have to fill the silence to be comfortable around each other. You could be in the same room, doing completely different things, not talking at all, and still, you wouldn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

Once you reach both of your rooms, as they are right across from one another, you ready to say goodnight when Jimin interrupts you.

“Ah, wait…” he stops you just as you reach for your doorknob and you turn around. “What is it?”

He sighs before, “look, I know you know Hoseok didn’t mean any of that but I also know words tend to get into your head…” he begins, voice gentle and eyes cautious on you as you fidget on your spot uncomfortably.

“And I just want to say-”

“What?” you cut him off with a tired sigh, “everything will turn out okay? That suddenly I’m gonna be blessed with divine inspiration when I least expect it?” you give him a weak smile, crossing your hands on your chest.

What you don’t expect is Jimin to laugh. “No, no, all of that is just a pile of crap!” he chuckles and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

“I wanted to say that whatever goes through that little mind of yours shouldn’t keep you from writing. That’s what you do, you write! And, yeah, some of it may come out as complete bullshit, but that’s just how it has to go before you get better,” he says simply, voice filled to the brim with honesty and you rest your eyes at your feet, suddenly feeling very self-aware.

“Because I know you’re gonna get better. You just need a push,” he finally smiles softly at you, warmness spreading through your heart as if his smile is a portable heater, radiating warmth to the people closest to it.

“Thanks…” you mumble back, letting your eyes find him to truly express how thankful you are.

You aren’t good with expressing your feelings, not when it’s not on top of a piece of paper. Everyone knows this, Jimin even more so. You know you don’t have to say anything for him to understand how you truly feel.

And so he smiles back and nods as if to say “you’re welcome”.

And for a few moments, you stay like that. Both of you leaning on your doors, staring at each other as another silence fills the corridor.

But this one is different. Still comfortable but there’s something else hanging in the air. It’s the way you look at each other, basking in each other’s presence, comfortable and not ready to say goodnight yet.

It’s the way Jimin’s looking at you. Smile slightly fading as his eyes remain on your face, ever serious, ever intense as if they’re saying something his lips can’t, something you can’t quite understand, something that makes you feel-

Jimin breaks the stuffed silence with a shake of his head. “Anyways, um… goodnight, Y/N…” he says, voice thick with something and his words seem to revive you as well as he opens the door to quickly go into his room.

“Ah, yeah, goodnight, Jimin,” you reply casually before you enter your bedroom and close the door behind you.

That felt… weird.

As much as you try to put a name to what you felt out there, you can’t. The situation felt too foreign, too much for your drunk mind to comprehend.

You shake your head, passing it off to the many beers you had and without giving it much of another thought you go to sleep.

.

.

Although, three weeks pass after that talk and you still can’t get it out of your mind.

You figured you would’ve forgotten about it by now, blaming it on the amount of alcohol you had consumed that night but no. Those last few moments before you parted in the middle of your hallway still linger in the crevices of your mind, not unlike a bunch of vultures scavenging for prey.

Even now, at Seokjin’s birthday party, it’s all you can think about instead of paying attention to the birthday boy himself and the subject of your affections. If he even knew you weren’t focusing on him on his own birthday party he would flip.

Did Jimin want to say something to you? It seemed so but since then he’s made no indication as to show he wants to talk to you. It’s been three weeks and there was no other talk of that weird conversation outside your bedrooms. No sign that it ever happened. You wonder what was going through his mind at that time. You wonder what he’s thinking about it now, if he even thinks about it still like you.

“Earth to Y/N! Hello?” a floating hand breaks your inner monologue, Ana looking at you with scrunched eyebrows and a glare to match. The two of you are currently alone amidst the crowd of partygoers as Ana dragged you aside to excitedly tell you about the amazing anniversary Hoseok had planned for them, last Saturday. You guess you lost focus somewhere in the middle.

“What?” your voice gets defensive and Ana’s glare seems more intimidating as seconds pass by.

“You stopped listening!” she slaps you lightly on the arm and a yelp comes out of your lips as a form of protest.

“I didn’t!” you try to defend your guilty self as you rub the afflicted spot.

“Yeah, no, I thought so at first “Y/N would never just stop listening” so I started casually throwing Seokjin’s name into the conversation, that always worked like a charm to get you to focus, but you still didn’t listen!” she retaliates and you shrink back in shame.

“Sorry…” you mumble in all honesty, biting your lip in embarrassment. “But I heard the most important parts!” you perk up, “And the whole concert then cooking at home date idea was really insightful and cute! And full disclosure, if I hadn’t interfered and let Hoseok listen to Seokjin, you would’ve ended up at a screening of cats!” you shake your finger at her and she giggles out loud.

“Although I gotta admit, Hoseok cleaned up really well on its own…” you smile at her and she nods with a dreamy sigh before taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh, and you have to thank me for stopping Hoseok from using his “free Hoseok love” coupon as a gift.”

Ana’s eyes widen in grave seriousness. “Oh, he did use that…”

You wince at that. “Oh god, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t fret too much about it, he also bought me that cute pair of boots I wanted!” she pats you on the back before she bites her lip as a child that’s about to get scolded, “~and… I also kind of enjoyed it…” she says with a wink and you roll your eyes at your friend.

“The leather ones that were really expensive?” she had rumbled over the course of a week about how she fell in love with those boots but their relationship would’ve never worked (in simpler words she couldn’t afford them).

She nods at you. “Marry him,” you respond with urgency and Ana laughs at you.

But as her giggles die down her face turns solemn once more.

“Are you okay though? It’s not like you to not pay attention, even more so when it’s about Seokjin…” she says with a chuckle at the end, yet her eyes remain cautious and you sigh.

“Yeah, it’s just that Jimin-”

“Y/N, wait… I’m sorry but you do realise that I was talking about Seokjin, right?” her stare is a bit weirded out, “and that we’re currently at his birthday party and you choose to hang out with me instead of talking to him?” she skillfully observes, making you feel uncomfortable at how her words trigger something you haven’t acknowledged before and you’re certainly not ready to do so now.

You shrug. “I guess I don’t know what to say…” you choose to say instead, hoping it’s enough of an excuse to get out of this conversation.

“What do you mean? You never had a problem with that before…” she counters, genuinely confused at your bizarre behaviour and you press your lips in a tight line as you shrug once more, not really knowing how to address that.

At your hesitation to breach the subject, something seems to click in Ana’s mind and she sighs in realization.

“Can I tell you what I think without you getting all grumpy and defensive?” she asks, eyes careful and hands in the air as if to pacify you. You shrug again, albeit a bit curious about what she has to say.

“I don’t think you really like Seokjin- ah, ah! Let me finish!” she shushes you when you begin protesting, “I mean not anymore, it was pretty obvious you were crazy into him when I first met you but now…” she takes a breath, eyes looking at you wearily as she prepares for the finishing blow, “now I think you cling into the idea of liking him because it’s comfortable. Because it’s easier to fall back into the safety net of liking someone and not doing anything about it than making yourself deal with the fear and uncertainty that comes with meeting someone new.”

Your cheeks flush as you stare at her, feeling vulnerable as if someone cut you open and went through your most inner thoughts, even when you feel like there’s something else that neither you nor she hasn’t been able to pinpoint.

Ana’s observation finally put what you’ve been feeling for a while into words. You haven’t realized it but the more you think about it, the more sense it makes.

And yet you still stubbornly act like it’s not the case at all.

“I… I’m not afraid to meet new people…” your protest is as weak as your voice and Ana looks at you unimpressed and thoroughly unconvinced.

“Really? Then you’ll have no problem talking to Seokjin’s friend from high school,” she points at the tall, blond hunk with the glasses and the cute dimples currently chatting with Seokjin.

“Namjoon?! Are you nuts?! He’s way out of my league!” you screech in panic. Namjoon is a sight to be held and in your opinion, people should pay to see him up close. Would that be considered a fucked up way of prostitution? You’re not sure.

Ana rolls her eyes. “First of all, “leagues” aren’t a thing and second of all, you’re totally scared boo!” she says plainly with a victorious grin and you flinch instinctively.

“I’m not! I just don’t have time for a relationship!” you say, still trying to get out of this conversation even though Ana doesn’t seem at all deterred.

“No one talked about a relationship, you baboon, it could be just sex. But, out of simple curiosity, how long has it been since you had sex? Seven, eight months?” she retaliates, in all ways but physical backing you up into a corner.

You groan, hiding your flaming face behind your hands.

“This is the perfect opportunity to hook up with someone and never having to talk to them again for the rest of your life. No strings attached, no awkward first dates, no phone calls. Just one night of drunken sex to get you to relax a bit and who knows? Maybe it’ll help you get your inspiration back,” she concludes with a tilt of her head. And the more you think about it, the more you realize she’s right about everything. About Seokjin, about using him as a distraction, about needing to relax and this being the perfect opportunity for it. It’s been a while since you’ve felt any sort of attraction for Seokjin. No excitement or accelerated heartbeat, no sweaty hands, no unbearable giddiness when he decides to throw a visit.

You guess somewhere along the way those feelings faded out, giving place to the love and comfort that comes out of a years-long friendship. You’re not attracted to him anymore.

And Ana’s suggestion does seem kind of appealing. You suppose some sex would help you get rid of all the nerves that come with writing a book.

And Namjoon is kinda hot. Okay, scratch “kinda”, “unbearably hot” is more fitting.

You just worry if he’ll able to surpass the last time you had sex. For some reason, you’re almost convinced he won’t.

“Okay, you’re right, I’ll do it,” at that Ana squeals and claps her hands happily.

“But I have to talk to Seokjin first,” you continue, resulting in a confused expression masking Ana’s face.

“What? Why?”

You shrug. “I spent those four years crushing on him, I feel like I need some kind of closure,” you chuckle and Ana stares at you dumbfounded before she shakes her head.

“Fine, do what you have to, but don’t take too long! Namjoon is like a walking modelling billboard, most of the people in this party have their eyes on him. Boy, if I wasn’t dating Hoseok would we be doing things right now…” she reveals as she stares at the man in question while biting her lip and you stare at her disapprovingly.

“What? I said if,” she says as if abdicating all blame and you shake your head at her with a laugh. Hoseok wouldn’t mind and to be honest they’d probably be talking about how to convince Namjoon for a threesome.

“Okay, I’m going, wish me luck,” you announce as you begin making your way towards Seokjin.

“What you need is alcohol, not luck,” Ana yells at you as she goes to find her boyfriend and you give her one last smile before turning your attention to the birthday boy.

Only now realizing what you’re about to do and, great, your hands are trembling. Maybe you did need some alcohol.

But it’s too late to make a run for it when Seokjin spots you and a smile graces his lips.

“Y/N! Come over here! You know Namjoon right?” he rushes to include you into the conversation, eyes wide with hidden meaning as he nudges you towards Namjoon and the man with the dimples smiles at you.

“Ah, yeah, we’ve met before. How are you?” you smile back at him and the longer he smiles, the deeper his dimples become and the more adorable he is.

“Can’t complain. How about you?” he chuckles, the sound almost illegal, as he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Oh, right, he also has a deep and mellifluous voice. How is this man not famous for something?

“Pretty well I’d say. Um, do you mind if I steal the birthday boy for a bit? There’s something I need to talk to him about…” your hand is already dragging a confused Seokjin away, even if you’d rather be doing that to the other boy.

Namjoon blinks at you, as perplexed as Seokjin before “Ah, yeah, sure…”

“Thanks!” you yell over the music, although you’re sure the man mustn’t have heard you as you’re already making your way down the corridor towards the back of Seokjin’s apartment.

“Ugh, Y/N? What’s going on?” Seokjin’s voice is beyond weirded out as you finally reach his bedroom, that’s off-limits for the party. You push him in and close the door behind you.

“Sorry, I just needed some privacy for what I’m about to do…” you admit with shaking hands as Seokjin’s eyes widen in fear and confusion.

You take a breath before fixing your posture and stare bravely at the man in front of you. “This may come as a shock to you but I…” you take one final breath, “I used to like you-” you begin, dreading the moment Seokjin decides this is too odd for him.

“I know.”

Seokjin’s voice takes you by surprise as your mind processes the words that just left his mouth, a different kind of dread overwhelming you.

He knows?

“What? What do you mean you know?” your voice comes out offended, as Seokjin puts down his drink with a sigh and turns to look at you.

“I mean I know. You weren’t exactly subtle with the stares and all…” he comments calmly although your mouth falls open to join your feet at the ground at the absurdity of the situation.

He knows. All this time, he knew?!

“Well, why didn’t you say something?” you throw the words at him accusingly and he rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you! I figured since you hadn’t said anything that you didn’t want to act on it so I never said anything either!” he defends himself, voice high-pitched in true Seokjin fashion.

“Oh my god, that’s so embarras- Wait,” you cut yourself when his words strike you as odd and another thought makes itself known in your mind. “You mean that if I had said something…?” you look at him weirdly and Seokjin sighs, eyes already confirming your suspicions.

“I might… not have said no to a date…” he admits, scratching his ears and your mouth drops open.

You could have dated the Kim Seokjin and you didn’t because you were too scared to make a move?

Wow, your past-self would be seriously pissed at you.

Seokjin rushed to explain. “But that was back then when I didn’t know you that well!”

You gasp at the offence, crossing your arms on your chest. “You mean now that you do know me, I'm not that dateable, Kim Seokjin?!”

He groans, rubbing a palm over his face. “I just meant that back then I was willing to risk our friendship because we weren’t that close in the first place! But now we’ve been friends for almost half a decade and even though you are extremely dateable” he says with a roll of his eyes but you’re still satisfied, “I just can’t see you in that way. And even if I did I wouldn’t be willing to risk our friendship over something like that,” he concludes with a sigh.

“Oh,” you reply simply, satisfied with his answer before you continue.

“Well, that’s good actually, because I just wanted to tell you that whatever those feelings were… they’re gone now. So I just… wanted to come clean I guess…” you admit softly, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

“So, we’re okay?” Seokjin asks with hope and you smile, lightly punching his arm. You find yourself relieved after Seokjin’s confession and you know you’ll be fine.

“We’re okay,” you nod and Seokjin smiles back.

“That punch was lame,” he retorts and you gasp. “Do you want me to punch you for real, you masochist?”

His smile widens. “No, you freak of nature, I want a hug!”

Immediately, you begin protesting. “No, no, no, no, no. No hugs, you know this!” you begin moving away from him as he comes closer with a predatory grin. You absolutely hate hugs. They’re unnecessary long and intimate, you never know where to put your hands and you always end up having someone’s hair in your mouth.

Seokjin pouts as he nearly chases you into the hallway. “Come on, I just found out I’m not your crush anymore! Do you know how much of a hit is that to my ego!?” he says, standing in front of you, effectively blocking your way to freedom.

You sigh, already regretting, the words you’re about to say but seeing no other way out.

“Fine, but you have to promise me to not tell anyone! I have a reputation to upkeep!” you yield, shaking a threatening finger at him but his grin only grows bigger.

“Deal!” he squeals, eager to grasp this rare chance of affection from you, seeing as he has tried numerous times to get a hug from you but being unsuccessful. Till now that is.

His hands wrap around you in a soul and bone-crushing hug as your arms end up being squished between your bodies. You try to control the smile on your lips as you struggle to break your arms free and wrap them around his impossibly wide shoulders. Actually, this doesn’t feel so bad. It feels like being enveloped in a giant, fuzzy blanket. If that blanket had an unquenchable thirst for strawberry shortcakes.

A few moments pass before you begin to pull back. “Okay, you giant carebear, that’s enough,” you giggle as Seokjin retracts his hands.

“Now, wasn’t that refreshing?”

“If I let you know, I’ll have to kill you,” you mumble fixing your clothes and Seokjin’s trademark laugh echoes throughout the corridor, making your smile grow.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he throws you a cheeky wink.

You shake your head at him with a laugh before another thought crosses your mind and you bite your lip. “So… about Namjoon…”

Seokjin’s mind instantly follows your train of thought but he lets out a surprising -to say the least- groan. “Seriously?”

You find his reaction a bit too odd for your liking. “Why?”

“Uhm, you dragged me away to my bedroom at my own birthday party. He probably thinks we jumping uglies right now,” he fixes you with a disappointed stare. Fuck, you didn’t think of that.

You grunt in frustration. “Great, now what?”

Seokjin’s eyes glint when he comes up with yet another brilliant idea. “If we split we’ll find him faster!” he exclaims enthusiastically and your eyes widen.

“Genius thinking!” you declare before you sprint down the hallway, the both of you looking for Namjoon.

.

.

You would think it would be easy finding Namjoon in an apartment as small as Seokjin’s. But it’s not. It’s anything but.

When you finally do find him after almost 40 minutes looking for his perfect ass, it’s with his mouth stuck against another person’s neck so any hopes for a one-night-stand are going down the drain. So instead you resort to drinking the rest of Seokjin’s sparkling rosé collection until you have to pee your weight in alcohol.

You abandon the living room where the party is still going strong, in search of the holy grail that is Seokjin’s bathroom right now, hoping you get to relieve your misery.

But as you approach the door, you fail to register the voices coming from inside. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to live through the impending embarrassment.

Instead, you bust the door open in your haste to pee, but all of that goes to shit once you see Jimin inside the bathroom. Or, more precisely, Jimin’s mouth sucking on the pulse of some blonde’s girl neck -who feels oddly familiar- like he’s a fucking vampire.

Your eyes widen, meeting with fear Jimin’s livid ones before “OhmygodImsorrypretendthisneverhappened!” you yell in one breath, anxious to get out of there as fast as possible and before Jimin gets the chance to curse at you, you close the door and disappear down the hallway.

Ugh, oh my god, why are you so awkward?

You rub your hands on your face as you walk down the corridor, wondering where you’re supposed to pee now. Couldn’t they bone at Seokjin’s room? 

Though, among your thoughts emerges one particular one that makes you stop dead in your tracks as you finally realize why that girl seemed familiar.

She wasn’t just some random girl. No, she was a very specific blonde girl, one that happens to be the pure personification of evil on the face of the earth, one that you’re sure hides horns beneath that perfect hair.

Jimin’s ex, the girl who manipulated and abused him repeatedly, the girl who broke up with him nearly a year ago to be with someone else, after he caught her cheating. The girl who broke his heart.

Dinah.

Fuck.

.

.

You remember the first time you met Dinah, although she hadn’t left any particular impression on you. She was a high school friend of Taehyung, with whom Seokjin shared some classes with and were kinda close. It was your fourth year in college when Taehyung was still hanging with you guys before he found a job opportunity overseas and left. Now he texts every now and then or visits even more rarely.

Seokjin’s birthday party is one of those rare visits, hence why Dinah was also present last night.

The first time you met her, almost two years ago, was in a scheduled study group in one of the local cafes. It was you, Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok and Dinah, most of the guys, studying to prepare for their last year through college and Ana couldn’t make it so honestly, you were relieved you had another girl to go through together the boys’ antics.

Although if Ana was there, she would’ve probably spent all of her time being coupley with Hoseok and that kinda defeats the purpose.

Dinah was studying for a math exam and Jimin had offered to help her since she wasn’t very good at it. You didn’t think much of it, mind already going haywire over your new novel idea so you didn’t really pay much attention to anyone.

It had been when Jimin left for the bathroom when you saw her scrolling through her phone that you decided to help her with a problem even Jimin couldn’t quite get.

Only her reaction was a tad bit different then what you’d expected. She had interrupted you even before you got to tell her you wanted to help, with a kinda sharp tone saying she didn’t need your help. You had backed off then, kinda bummed out about it but you could already tell she was into Jimin and wanted his help specifically.

But as you had turned to pay attention back to your novel, your gaze couldn’t help but fall on her open notebook. And there it was, in a hidden corner of the page in messy scribblings the solution to the problem. Her handwriting.

You didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t your cup of tea to hide your intellect to raise the ego of the boy you were into and besides feeling a bit sad for her, you didn’t do anything else. Who were you to judge?

It wasn’t until the two of them started going out that you started feeling some sort of dislike towards her. And not just you, the rest of the group as well.

It was obvious to everyone how shitty she treated Jimin. At first, of course, there were no signs as if to warn you of Dinah's manipulative nature, they were still in the lovey-dovey, honeymoon phase. But as time passed, Dinah’s facade began to crumble. Jimin’s interaction with the opposite sex were limited due to Dinah’s extreme jealousy, which meant you and Ana barely got to be around him, let alone talk to him. Her snide comments and judgey behaviour made him feel inadequate over everything. How he got her the wrong gift, how the movie he chose was stupid, how the restaurant he picked was disgusting, and the list goes on and on.

At first, Jimin tried to talk to her about those things, certain she would understand what she was doing once he’d brought it up. But when you’re in love it’s easier to ignore all the red flags. It’s easier to blame yourself for everything when you can see no fault in the person you’re in love with.

Soon the relationship turned toxic. Dinah became similar to a parasite, sucking the life and happiness out of Jimin, as he fell prey to her every whim. Making him even more insecure in himself when she knew he already had some issues he was trying to work on. But that didn’t deter her. Instead, it gave her leverage, to use all the ugly, little things Jimin thought of himself against him.

At some point, it had gotten so bad Jimin refused to eat.

It was then that all of you tried to intervene.

Unsuccessfully that is.

It had gotten pretty ugly in the span of a few minutes with how angry you and Hoseok were at Dinah and at Jimin’s unwavering loyalty to her. Soon it had become a yelling match between the three of you as Seokjin and Ana had tried to bring some sense to all of you. In retrospect, none of you handled the delicate situation well.

In the end, Jimin had stormed out of the apartment, furious at all four of you, to go to Dinah or to the only one that got him as he had put it.

Only to find her in bed with someone else.

He had come home hours later, stinking of alcohol, telling you what had happened through red eyes, tear-stained cheeks and hiccups.

You had put him to sleep and the next morning Dinah was breaking up with him over the phone.

The next few months were awful. But he survived them. He survived and realised he deserved better, not this hell Dinah made him go through. That wasn’t love.

After all of you encouraged him to talk to someone about everything, Jimin went to a therapist and he came out stronger. Sure, some of the issues were still there but so were the rest of you. He knew you’d be there for him if he ever needed you.

That’s why you’re so pissed this morning.

Ana and Hoseok look at you like you’re a ticking bomb about to explode at any minute from the other side of the kitchen island as you munch on your cereal and send death glares at Dinah, currently sitting on Jimin’s lap on the dining table.

If only “death glare” was a bit more literal.

You can’t understand Jimin. He was supposed to be over this. Doesn’t he remember what she did to him, how miserable he was?

“I haven’t seen you staring so long at something since that time you tried to microwave popcorn with your mind,” Ana’s hushed whispers reach you as not to alert the couple and Hoseok almost sputters out his milk.

“Did it work, though?” Hoseok’s eyes stare at her expectantly and you roll your eyes.

“Not gonna dignify that with a response,” is her cryptic answer.

“Seriously, am I the only one who’s pissed over this?” you say through gritted teeth, the happy couple wholly oblivious to your little conversation. Ana and Hoseok seem too calm, given you have a fucking demon at your dining table.

Ana sighs. “We are too, Y/N, but let’s face it, what can we do about it?”

You look at her in disbelief. “Talk to him?!”

“Yeah, and look at how that worked out last time…”

“They broke up.”

“After he caught her cheating…” her words are slow as if talking to a child, “and it wasn’t even him who initiated the break-up! If Jimin wants to be with her we just have to accept it and be there for him if something happens again,” she concludes, taking a sip of her coffee and you can’t believe your ears. She can’t be serious.

“Hoseok, what’s your say in this?” you ask, rather loudly might you add, so you steal a glance making sure Jimin hasn’t heard.

Hoseok shrugs in answer to your question. “We all know she was the devil incarnate. But maybe she changed. Let’s give her a chance.”

Your mouth hangs open when your last possible ally walks over to enemy territory. “Give her a chance? She’s not Andrew Garfield in the Amazing Spiderman!”

Ana’s expression gives away her utter bafflement. “I have so many questions…”

You shrug. “Everyone hates him but I think he was a great Spiderman.”

Hoseok’s incredulous stare doesn’t last for long. “Anyways, all I’m saying is Jimin went through a lot…”

“So he should know better!” you retort.

Hoseok doesn’t seem amused, “So there must be something that changed his mind! He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. If he gave her a second chance, so should we.”

Ana nods at her boyfriend’s words and they both return their eyes on you, waiting for confirmation of your part that you’re gonna be nice.

You regard them with an ominous glare, “Traitors…” you mumble before you groan. “Fine. But I’m gonna be watching her every move. Like an owl!”

“I’m fairly positive it’s supposed to be “like a hawk”...?” a confused pout takes over Hoseok’s lips.

Ana chuckles, “It is “like a hawk”.”

Your confusion is evident. “Really? But owls are nocturnal animals, therefore have better eyesight!”

Ana rolls her eyes at you, tired of all the bird talk. “Even so! Please promise you’ll behave!”

You take a deep breath when a shrill laugh echoes throughout the apartment and you can already feel yourself fuming.

“I promise.”

.

.

After the two “lovebirds” have left your apartment for an impromptu date, which the declaration of had you nearly barfing on sight, you crawled back into your room, in search of inspiration, daring to take another shot at your mostly unfinished novel.

You gather your hair up in a messy bun, glasses on top of your nose, iced coffee next to your papers, preparations all ready to freely embark on the raging seas of creativity.

If writing a novel was that easy.

After writing another three chapters, well after the sun has settled in the horizon and your eyes are barely keeping themselves open, a knock thrums against your door. But before you get to reply, the door creaks open and Ana pops up behind it, walking in with observing eyes and a bag of cheddar-flavoured chips.

“Why do you even bother knocking?” you sigh, taking off your glasses to rub your exhausted eyes.

“The knock is a warning, not a request for entry,” she plops on your bed with a smile, crossing her legs on your duvet and pats the space next to her. 

It’s not uncommon to have Ana spending the entire day here, after all, she is one of your closest friends, an elementary part of your group and Hoseok’s girlfriend.

You get up from your desk, limbs aching for the various positions your body has been in the midst of writing, and with a tired smile you sit down next to her.

“No luck with the book still?” she asks, passing you the chips and you hum appreciatively, your tongue already tasting the divine taste of those chips.

“Well, I’ve written some stuff… just not any particularly good stuff,” you munch through the snack with a grubbled noise of satisfaction and Ana nods in understanding at your words, “and honestly that whole “Dinah” thing is infuriatingly distracting! I’m still pissed and I can’t even stop thinking about it.”

“Wait…” Ana interrupts you and if her face says anything is that she just came to a sudden realization. One she doesn’t seem to particularly enjoy.

“Are you sure this isn’t because of…?” her words hang in the air as she regards you with careful eyes, waiting for you to grasp the meaning between her words.

Though you’re none the wiser. “Because of…?” your utter obliviousness is infuriating and Ana groans, rubbing her palms on her face, pinning you with a ridiculous look.

Right then, it’s as if a moment of clarity strikes you and you finally understand what she means.

Your eyes widen in horror.

“What? Ew, no! Why would you even think that?!” you immediately protest, entirely disgusted by the mere notion of what Ana is implying.

She doesn’t seem at all bothered by your extreme reaction. “I’m just saying, it happened!”

“Yeah, eight months ago!” she can’t be serious. There’s no way she actually believes that.

She cocks an eyebrow. “It was also the last time you had sex.”

You let an exhale drop from your lips, as you take a trip down memory lane, all the way back to eight months ago.

It was April, four months or so after Dinah had broken up with Jimin, leaving him a complete wreckage in her absence. It became a group activity, trying to get Jimin back on his feet. Making sure he ate, taking him outside for some fresh air, helping him get out of his funk.

One night, you took him out for drinks in a bar close to home, to help him get over her through alcohol and hopefully some meaningless sex with a stranger. And Although both of those things happened, it wasn’t a stranger lending him a helping hand that night. Or a helping mouth if you want to be accurate.

You had woken up the next morning in his bed due to the unsettling feeling of dread curling in the pit of your stomach. What the hell were you thinking? What if this changed everything? You were best friends and roommates, what now?

But when Jimin woke up, everything seemed to be back to normal. You were relieved things didn’t become weird, his words immediately putting a rest to your worries over your possibly ruined friendship, joking lightly about the whole thing and how the others might react to the whole incident. It wasn’t a big deal because you never let it become one. It was but one night of mindless sex, one that left you both satiated and you could both agree it meant nothing. Jimin just needed some rebound sex and you… well, it had been a while. And you had needs.

Although you did get a lot of teasing from the rest of the group for the next few weeks. That wasn’t anything fond to remember, especially when you were still thinking you were into Seokjin and he had a large part in said teasing.

But that was in the past. You never felt anything for Jimin in the first place.

“It’s not that, okay? She’s just an awful person and I don’t want to even think about the consequences of her doing Jimin dirty again,” your calm voice and demeanour finally convince Ana as she lets out a relieved breath.

“Okay, good. Got scared there for a second, things could get really messy,” she admits with a small smile.

“You don’t have to worry about that. If anything that’s the least of your worries right now,” you say munching on some more chips as you eye the clock on your wall.

Ana looks at you perplexed. “What do you mean?”

You press your lips together. “Hoseok is alone in his room right?”

Ana looks even more baffled now, not sure where you’re going with this. “Yeah…?”

You press your lips in a tight line. “It’s 10 o’clock…” you relay, a sense of urgency in your voice.

Ana’s eyes widen. Hoseok’s latest obsession is watching Glee reruns on TV, which wouldn’t be that bad if he didn’t insist on singing every episode’s songs for the remainder of the week.

‘You can still stop him if you run…” you offer and Ana is immediately off your bed.

“Hoseok put down the remote!” she yells, running out of your room, down into the living room as you giggle and munch on the chips she left behind.

Your mind travels back to Ana’s worries about your feelings but you laugh them off.

You and Jimin? The entire idea is utterly ridiculous. He’s your best friend, you could never look at him that way.

Although, you too can admit he can be a sexy piece of ass when he wants to.

With a sigh, you throw the empty bag of chips on the floor and get under your covers, your mind too tired out to continue writing.

You just hope this thing with Dinah is only temporary. How long can a fling last when you already know the bad side of your lover?

.

.

When another week passes and they’re still going strong with no prospects of a breakup anywhere on the horizon, you realize it can be long.

Very long.

You wake up each day to giggles, picking thrown out clothes off the couch, listening to their yucky canoodling as they insist on making out on every surface of the apartment like a bunch of delinquents. While the rest of you are still present!

You swear if you hear another one of her obnoxious laughs you’re gonna drive a glass dildo through your ear canals to stop yourself from hearing altogether.

“I can’t take this anymooooore…” Hoseok whines quietly as you, he and Seokjin are crammed in the two-seat couch, while the lovebirds currently occupy the entirety of the big sofa.

It’s not that there’s no space for you to sit there as well. More like their insistent snogging effectively grosses the rest of you away.

“Me neither, but what can we do?” Seokjin whispers back while shuffling on the sofa, trying to find a more comfortable position and instead, managing to elbow both you and Hoseok in the process as an episode of Brooklyn 99 plays on the TV.

At the other side of the coffee table, Ana smiles triumphantly at you as she crosses her legs on top of the only armchair in the room. She was faster than the rest of you, that mean son of a bitch.

Hoseok squints at her with hatred before leaning in to whisper. “Is it wrong that I’m turned on by how mean she looks?”

Both yours and Seokjin’s protests of disgust are immediate.

“Lower the tent you perv,” Seokjin makes a face.

“Too late, this tent is the sturdiest thing ever built. I mean it’s so strong, so efficient, this stick is never gonna go down-”

“Okay, we have to do something or else I’m gonna finally kill Hoseok. After all those years of putting up with his weird sexual energy… this is gonna be the last straw,” your serious eyes turn to Seokjin to stress out the gravity of the situation.

Hoseok giggles mischievously and Seokjin sighs almost like he’s on auto-pilot. “Okay, okay, what do you propose?”

Hoseok pulls a face. “Really? That’s what convinces you? I’m hurt and as your friend of nearly four years I won’t stand for this kind of dishonour of my name!”

You both stare at Hoseok for a minute, no reaction whatsoever.

“Okay, I have a plan,” you ignore Hoseok in favour of turning to Seokjin and Hoseok groans, mumbling a grumpy “fake friends”.

“For the last time, Y/N, I refuse to be involved in your -honestly frightening- lust for murder,” Seokjin gives you the stink eye.

You gasp, offended. “I never said anything about murder!” you exclaim and Seokjin’s shoulders drop, looking somewhat remorseful.

You bite your lip though, knowing full well he’s not gonna like this suggestion either. “I just said we could sedate her and put her in Jimin's room.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, entirely disappointed but not surprised. “No.”

“Why? It’s a win-win situation! We don’t get to hear her and the couch is free!” you protest but Seokjin’s eyebrow raises.

“How’s that a win-win situation?”

“It’s a win-win situation for us! None of the wins is for her,” you shrug before Seokjin flicks you in the forehead and you yelp in pain.

The sound somehow alerts the couple and they both stop kissing to look over to the three of you weirdly. You and the boys immediately stop talking, trying to look as inconspicuous as ever. Which only makes you look even more suspicious.

“You guys okay there?” Jimin asks, voice questioning and wary.

All three of you smile at the same time, which honestly gives you a creepy “Stepford Wives” vibe, and you speak up when an idea pops into your head.

“Yeah, it’s just that this couch is kinda um… small for the three of us. But we’re fine!” you feel Seokjin staring at you wildly and you discreetly nudge him to play along.

Jimin’s face falls. “Oh, I didn’t realize! Some of you can come sit here.”

“Oh, no!” Seokjin waves his hands dismissively, “You guys seem really cosy there, we don’t want to ruin that!” he says, finally following your line of thought and you nod quickly as if to agree with him.

“Ah…” Jimin replies, voice soft and a second passes where his face hardens. But then it’s gone and he taps his finger on his chin as he thinks it through before-, “Well, you three can sit here and we can sit on the smaller couch if you’d like.”

The three of you are already standing up, ignoring the pout and slightly sharp glare Dinah is giving you.

Suck it up, demoness.

“Well, if you’re sure-”

“We’d really appreciate it-”

“Aren’t you two the sweetest-”

Jimin smiles at you, probably already knowing what’s going on and yet he says nothing, urging Dinah to stand up and follow him on the smaller sofa.

You and the boys fall to the bigger sofa with moans of appreciation, finally free to spread out your limbs without touching each other.

“Oh, yeah… that’s the stuff…” you moan as your arms lie limblessly to your side, not touching Hoseok’s or Seokjin’s for just a few centimetres but even those little centimetres of distance come as a blessing.

Ana chuckles at your antics and Seokjin sends her a glare.

“You don’t have laughing-at-the-rest-of-us rights, anymore, Brutus!” he shakes a finger at her but Ana’s smile doesn’t deteriorate.

“I’d let that Brutus impale me with her blade anytime…” Hoseok adds unnecessarily and you groan.

Jimin takes a pause for having his soul sucked from his mouth from the dementor next to him, to look mildly curious. “How would that even work?” he asks and Dinah looks less than thrilled to not have his whole attention anymore, making you feel somewhat in the mood to gloat.

Ana rushes to explain. “Well, you see it can happen when you have purchased a specific type of-”

Seokjin immediately shuts Ana with his palm over her mouth. “Did you have to ask?!”

Jimin giggles. “I just wanted to know!”

“Yeah, and I wanted to not be traumatized by that image at 8 o’clock on a Thursday night but here we are!” Seokjin interjects and an involuntary laugh escapes your lips before Hoseok joins you.

And then Ana and Jimin do too before Seokjin relents as well at the sound of your laughter and you all end up cackling like maniacs in the middle of your living room.

Well, all except one.

Dinah sighs a little too loud when your giggles don’t seem to die down and she slowly gets off the couch. Her sullen face, an indication she visualised this whole evening to play out a little differently.

“I think I’m gonna head home…” She addresses Jimin and he stands up too.

“Oh, no, so soon?” your sarcasm can’t be helped. Hoseok elbows you in the ribs in return and you just barely conceal your groan.

“Why? Stay a little while longer…” Jimin pouts at her, that one specific pout that makes him seem like a kicked puppy, therefore makes him irresistible to refuse. You purse your lips as you guide your attention to the latest adventures of Jake Peralta but your treacherous ears can’t help but follow the rest of the conversation.

“I can’t. I have to be at the office early tomorrow…” she sounds remorseful as her hands rest on Jimin’s chest. But as said before you’re definitely not looking at them, so you can only guess.

“I’m sure those kids can wait a little- You know what, I felt bad for saying that, so forget I ever did,” Jimin says quickly as he circles his hands around her waist. Again you guess.

Ah, yeah, you forgot to mention. Dinah is a damn paediatrician. How could a person as evil as herself be something in such close proximity to children will forever escape you.

She smiles at him before- “Buut… you can come over instead if you’d like…” she says in a low voice and your eyes widen. You drag them away before Jimin’s surprised ones find you.

He can’t do that! Well, obviously, he can but Jimin wouldn’t do that to you-.

“Actually I promised Y/N we’d watch Space Jam tonight…” he tells her somewhat apologetically but still you feel relieved. Watching Space Jam is kind of a tradition between the two of you. It was a favourite movie of both, a feel-good movie if you will and long ago you’d promised each other that when things got rough for one or the other and you needed a little pick-me-up, you’d watch the movie together. You didn’t have to say anything else, just ask if the other one wanted to see the movie. And whatever the two of you had planned instead didn’t matter, you were always there when the other needed you.

You asked him this time. Your novel wasn’t going that well and some serious doubts over your writing skills had plagued your mind. You needed a getaway. And you weren’t about to let her get that away from you.

“Oh… okay…” she responds, face crestfallen and sad eyes looking at her feet and you almost scowl. She’s doing this on purpose! She knows it’s a tradition between the two of you and by acting like this she hopes Jimin will bail out on you.

Well, joke’s on her, because that won’t work on-.

“But, I’m sure Y/N won’t mind if we do that some other time!”

You freeze. Did he just-? No, Jimin wouldn’t. But the smile on his lips, so hopeful, says otherwise.

You can feel everyone staring at you, waiting for an answer. Do they seriously expect you to be fine with this?! Jimin knows how much this means to you, what it exactly means about your state of mind right now! Is he seriously about to blow you off?!

Ana is staring at you with alarm, sensing you’re about to explode, warning you against it. She knows it’ll just hurt Jimin and you know that too, but what about you?

You ignore her stare, opening your mouth to give a piece of your mind when you meet Jimin’s eyes.

There’s no sign of ulterior motives in their familiar brown, just expectation as your best friend waits for the answer. You forget what you wanted to say and you just stare back. Why is it so damn difficult to say no to him?

A few seconds pass and Jimin, having sensed your hesitation, opens his mouth with a sigh. “Nevermind, we can just-”

“It’s fine! You can go!” you exclaim surprising everyone including yourself. Jimin turns to look at you flabbergasted but you just smile at him. You don’t know what drove you to do that. You just couldn’t bear to hear the disappointment in his voice while knowing you’re the one causing it.

“Are you sure…?” his voice is cautious, not wanting to go if it means it’ll get you even a little bit uncomfortable. Sweet Jimin, always thinking about others’ feelings. You smile again to spare his feelings, disregarding completely your own.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply and the sweetest smile takes over his lips, making all of this seem worth it.

“Great! Thank you!” he says, rushing to press a quick kiss to your forehead, taking you by surprise before turning to Dinah, “Just lemme grab some stuff,” he disappears down the hall into his room.

He reappears a few minutes later with a small bag over his shoulders, the smile still present on his lips.

“Ready to go?” Dinah asks as Jimin gives her a peck on the cheek and nods.

“See you tomorrow, guys. Y/N, again thank you,” he waves at all of you and flashes you a smile. You smile back, waving as well as he exits the apartment first.

Dinah though stops before walking out the door and then she turns to you with a grateful smile.

“Y/N, thanks for that, I knew he wasn’t gonna come if you weren’t okay with it. And I’m sorry for stealing him away. Have a good night,” she addresses you before moving to exit the apartment.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome…” you reply and as soon as the door closes behind her you continue, “...you little bitch!” you move wildly to get out of the couch after her at that blatant display of her having Jimin wrapped around her little finger, while Hoseok and Seokjin are immediately trying to hold you back.

She did that on purpose! She knew what that movie represented, she just wanted to spite you! You don’t care how sincere she looked, she did that on purpose!

“Hey, hey, calm down, they’re gone!” Ana steps in front of you to calm you down and slowly your breaths even out. Your tired limbs fall lifelessly on the couch, not anymore resisting Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s hold.

Once you’ve calmed down, all of them stare at you cautiously. You hate that. You hate the pity in their eyes, you hate how they know exactly how much this hurts you, you hate feeling like you need their help.

You hate feeling vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” you snap, shaking their arms off, even if your own still have a slight tremble and you stand up.

They exchange stares and you press your lips together as you stare at the ceiling. Taking a deliberately slow breath to control your trembling.

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, your tone final, not waiting to hear their responses before you leave the living room for the safety of your own room.

None of them makes an attempt to follow you and you’re grateful for that at least.

You stomp into your room, closing the door loudly before grabbing your laptop and sit on your bed with a huff.

You don’t need Jimin to watch Space Jam and feel good afterwards! It’s the movie that makes you feel okay, not the person you’re watching it with. That’s what you try to convince yourself as you search for the movie on Netflix.

But as you sit there fuming through the first few minutes of the film, you can’t concentrate. You feel pushed aside as if you don’t matter, from none other than your best friend.

You press pause and with a sigh, you push the laptop aside. Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like this. You were supposed to watch your favourite movie with your best friend, to make jokes and laugh with Bugs Bunny, to feel better for once in the entirety of the last month. To feel comforted and safe in the presence of your best friend instead of moping miserably on top of your bed and feeling worse than before.

Instead, you grab your phone from your nightstand, scrolling through media in a poor attempt to distract yourself.

That’s how you spend your Thursday night and before you realize it you fall asleep with your phone still on your hands.

.

.

“Y/N. Y/N, wake up…” a soft voice brings you back from your slumber and you sleepily open your eyes to see Jimin hunched over you with a small, tender smile.

“What… What time is it?” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes and Jimin’s smile widens ever so slightly.

“It’s twelve past one. Come on get up, you’ll be dying in the morning if you sleep like this…” he responds quietly, urging you to abandon your current sleeping position for one that is more comfortable under the warmth of your covers. You’ve been curled up like a cat next to your laptop that’s still paused on Space Jam.

Jimin’s careful eyes flee to the screen, only for a second before they return to you, ever so gentle.

“Oh, okay then…” you mumble kinda dumbly in your sleep-infused haze and Jimin looks at you expectantly for a moment too long before he pushes you further across the mattress, to leave what you belatedly realize is more space for him.

“Scout over…” he whines, voice still quiet and you look at him perplexed. Why does he wanna sleep here, he has his own bed.

“Why?” you ask, purely confused and not at all hurt by the previous incident as Jimin expected but nonetheless his smile saddens before he stares shyly at your duvet.

“I was thinking, perhaps, we could still see the movie if you’re not too tired…” he mumbles, eyes wide effectively nailing the “puppy stare” he’s infamous for and naturally you find resolve crumbling. The previous anger is long gone when you stare at him so you smile back as you move aside and draw the covers for him to get under.

“Get here, you rascal,” you whisper back and his smile matches yours when he obeys and climbs in, dragging the laptop forward to restart the movie.

The both of you get comfortable against your headboard, Jimin’s arm hanging loosely around your shoulders as you watch Michael Jordan get sucked down a golf hole to the Looney Tune’s world.

The truth is you’re extremely tired and you most probably will fall asleep during the movie but you don’t mind sitting next to Jimin as the movie plays in the background and you bask in his warmth. Because at last, you feel the raging sea of your thoughts subside. Your mind is once again calm and serene, all your worries thrown aside in the favor of this one moment that makes you feel content. 

Ana’s warning faintly echoes through your head but the words are not enough to dampen your mood or make you spend a little more of your focus on them, even though Jimin’s arms feel safe. Feel like home.

A small smile stretches your lips. Even when you feel your eyes heavy with sleep, you still snuggle closer to your best friend.

.

.

{Jimin’s POV}

He’s a terrible, terrible friend.

The thought repeats inside the crevices of Jimin’s mind like mockery as he drives. His fingers tap against the leather of the steering wheel impatiently, matching his haywire of thoughts in a weird kind of fucked up way.

He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have made the subtle request in the first place. He knew you needed him, how could he not? It was stupid and selfish of him to leave you behind when you needed him.

But when Dinah gave him a distraction, a way to keep himself occupied… that’s what he wanted. Right? A distraction from everything, something to keep his mind off of things, to keep him from making any mistakes.

But even as he was lying on Dinah’s couch he couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how he left you behind in a time he knew was difficult for you just so he can finally breathe freely, focus on something else other than-.

Dinah was good at that. Making him forget.

But as awful of a friend he was, he’s apparently an even worse boyfriend.

When his thoughts got too much to handle, too much for him to ignore and pretend he didn’t feel any remorse for abandoning you, he left Dinah’s with an excuse. It was a stupid one, he knew, she knew but still, she let him go. Because, as much as she made Jimin go through before, she changed. Jimin could recognize that in the way she acted, the way she talked, even the way she kissed him. That’s why he gave her a second chance in the first place.

And then he goes and probably ruins it by being the worst boyfriend. A stupid decision really.

He parks his car in front of their building and he locks with a sigh.

It’s late, too late for you to still be awake. And if you are awake at such an hour, it’ll probably be because you’re writing and you most likely won’t want to be disturbed.

But Jimin can’t help it. His guilt is killing him, eating him up from the inside so he has to at least check.

When he softly taps on your door and gets no reply, he pushes it open.

He finds you fast asleep, curled up on top of your covers, phone still on your hands and laptop still open next to your form.

He smiles softly at the image before he approaches you quietly, taking the phone from your hands to place on your nightstand before he wakes you up.

“Y/N. Y/N, wake up…” he whispers softly, unable to keep the smile away from his lips at your adorable sleeping form. Waking you up is a necessary evil; otherwise, the next morning will consist of your sore muscles and your grumpy behaviour in all its glory.

“What… What time is it?” you ask quite drowsily and Jimin is relieved to see no sign of hurt in your voice. Nothing that exposes any malice or grudge hold against him.

“It’s twelve past one. Come on, get up, you’ll be dying in the morning if you sleep like that…” Jimin pushes you softly to move under the covers when his eyes find the screen of your laptop.

Paused in the first few minutes of Space Jam.

His chest constricts uncomfortably and he moves his eyes away in shame. The pain in his chest can only feel like a blade has impaled him with all the implications of how much of an awful friend he is. God, great job, Jimin.

But as you move over your mattress and under the covers, completely serene and calm, Jimin decides to make it up to you.

Towards the end of the movie Jimin realizes you’ve fallen asleep.

You’ve been quiet for a while now but it isn’t until he turns to point something out that he realises your eyes are closed.

You’re breathing slowly, snuggled up next to him, face pressed into the pillow as your chest rises and falls ever so gently.

His lips stretch into a smile, pushing a stray hair out of your face. He picks up the duvet to properly cover you and the movement makes you shift closer to him, to press your face on his side as if searching for him even in your sleep.

His smile widens. And then it falls.

God, he wants to-.

He stops the thought before it emerges.

His movements are deliberately slow and as quiet as they can be as he gets out of bed. He closes your laptop, leaving it on top of your desk before he walks to the door.

He stops then. He turns to take one last look at you and then he leaves.

.

.

{Y/N’s POV}

Next morning you wake up feeling fully rested.

You rub the sleepiness off your eyes before sitting up, hands landing on your soft covers, toes on the cold floor and you wiggle them back to life as you stretch your back with an appreciative moan.

You check your phone for the time, shocked when you find it’s too early for anyone to be awake on a Friday morning and you contemplate diving back into the haven of your covers. But the truth is you don't feel sleepy anymore and you were never the person to loll around in bed either.

So with one last yawn, you put on your slippers and make way to your kitchen. Since you’re the first one up, you could cook breakfast for the boys, reminding them of how much of a good roommate you are and riding them with guilt about the fact both of them haven’t bought any popcorn this last week.

Oh, maybe eggs and bacon? They’d love that! And plus, the tastier the recipe, the more prominent the guilt. You’ll have popcorn to spare for the rest of the year.

But as you make the turn for the kitchen, someone else is already banging pots and whisks in their attempt to concoct a delicious breakfast.

Jimin’s humming some song, whisking some batter as a pan rests on top of the stove, eggs already crackling on top of the boiling oil and the smell fills your nostrils as you get closer. 

Dammit, no free popcorn for you. But at least you won’t have to cook.

“God, that smells amazing…” you comment as you take a seat on the kitchen island and Jimin turns around, eyes wide in reaction to the sudden noise but quickly smirks once it realizes it’s just you.

“Morning to you too,” he chuckles with a roll of his eyes as the whisk never stops moving in his hands. He quickly looks back on the stove when the crackling gets louder and he puts aside the batter with a curse to inspect the eggs.

“Want some help?” you can’t help the soft smile on your face, surprisingly ready to step up and aid his ministrations despite feeling relieved earlier of not having to cook.

He blows a stray hair out of his eyes before he relents. “Please.”

With a giggle, you abandon your spot to help the poor man as Jimin finally finds some time to drink some water. “Where do you want me, chief?” you ask with your hands on your waist.

Jimin chokes on his water, coughing uncontrollably and worry fills you as you’re quick to pat him on the back.

“Hey, easy with the water bud!” you joke and once his coughing stops he gives you a weak smile.

“Got it. Um, you could whisk the batter as I fry the bacon. It needs some more stirring…” he turns to take the done eggs out of the pan, face red from the coughing fit and you mumble a quick confirmation before taking a hold of the whisk.

The kitchen is then filled with the sounds of your whisking and the crackling of the oil in the pan, as Jimin continues humming that unfamiliar song. You gather your hair up in a ponytail to get them out of the way as you continue whisking next to Jimin. It’s been a long time since the two of you have been like this; cooking together, spending time next to one another and still feel close even when you say nothing. The comfortable silence stretches around you as sun rays lighten up the space, hitting at all the right spots to illuminate the two of you.

Your eyes move on their own accord, fleeting to Jimin’s concentrated face as he adds another bacon strip. His brown eyes are focused on the task ahead, eyebrows scrunching whenever a particularly loud crackling sound emerges and your lips move into shaping an involuntarily smile. The sun streams run through his hair, flecks of dust floating in the air around him, almost like a halo, bathing him in an almost ethereal glow. As if you’re his lover and he makes you breakfast after spending the night together, tangled between the sheets.

Your mind short-circuits and you blink when the thought catches up with your reason.

What the fuck was that?

At that moment Jimin leans almost too close to your face, as he ducks to avoid some oil spitting out of the pan.

Your eyes widen at the close proximity and you suck in a breath, realising your mistake as soon as his natural scent infiltrates your lungs.

God, he smells so good. It reminds you of the fresh scent of rain and flowers and something so obviously him.

Jimin leans away immediately and you almost lean forward.

Y/N, what the fuck?

His smile is blinding. “Sorry…” he says before taking out the bacon strips, and you shake your head to get the weird thoughts out of your mind.

“It’s fine…” you mutter, returning your eyes to the batter.

Suddenly very aware of Jimin next to you.

.

.

After you’re done with cooking and putting some aside for Hoseok when he wakes up, the two of you sit down on the kitchen island to finally eat.

“So how did you sleep, Y/N?” Jimin’s voice is coloured with a teasing timbre as he regards you with wiggling eyebrows.

You groan out loud. You remember falling asleep during the movie very clearly and he’s never gonna let you live that down. But you’ll be damned if you let yourself go down without a fight. Or at least bringing him down with you.

“It happened once! Plus I wasn’t the one ditching my best friend to go get laid!” you tease him back, although a bit of your bitterness over last night’s debacle slips through your words, the jab at him a little more serious than you intended at first.

Although your pettiness quickly ebbs away once Jimin’s smile falls and he looks at his plate with a downtrodden face. You suddenly regret saying anything, realising how much of a jerk you’ve been to bring it up when you already decided it wasn’t worth to keep a grudge over. You don’t want to be the reason he looks like this.

“I was just joking, Jimin, I’m not really mad,” you rush to comfort him, placing a tentative hand on top of his palm.

You feel at ease when you don’t feel him pull back. Though a grim sigh rolls off his lips.

“Maybe you aren’t, but that does not make the way I acted last night okay…” he admits, voice low as he rubs the base of his neck with his other hand. He bites his lip in thought and your eyes stick there for a moment before you shake your head back into reasoning.

Thankfully Jimin doesn’t seem to catch up on that. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was a terrible friend. I knew you needed me and I decided to leave. Please forgive me?” he begs with a pleading smile and damn it, it’s difficult to refuse anything to these eyes.

You sigh dramatically, tapping a finger on your chin as you pretend to ponder on it. “Say I do forgive you. How do you plan on replenishing those hours of agony I was forced to spend due to your absence?” you say with a mock-strict voice and Jimin smiles, already knowing you forgave him.

“I’ll do anything you want. Consider me your personal Genie,” he jokes, jutting his chin out and puffing up his chest.

“Does that mean I get three wishes and a spectacular musical number?”

He’s quick to glare at you. “Let’s not stretch this too much, okay?”

You chuckle when an idea pops into your mind. Oh, he’s gonna hate this, perfect.

The smirk that graces your lips can’t mean anything good, Jimin realises with a sigh.

“How about a little competition…?”

Jimin’s eyes widen in fear. “You don’t mean-?”

“A Just Dance Competition!” you announce loudly, grin threatening to split your lips as Jimin stares at you with a fond smile.

“Oh, god, I should’ve expected that…” he chuckles, the sound resigning as he shakes his head.

In your first years of college, competing on Just Dance choreographies was almost an everyday thing. You and Jimin would give your best dancing moves and Hoseok would judge. Although after many times cheating and being overly competitive to the point of threatening the poor judge, you decided to leave the activity behind.

“Come on, just this once…” you hold up one finger and bring out your best puppy stare to sway him. Jimin just stares at you with crossed hands on his chest.

“You said anything…” your voice visibly loses its excitement as your face turns a bit crest-fallen.

He doesn’t last for long.

“Fine. We can do this, I guess…” he relents.

“Yes!” you do a little victory dance at Jimin’s answer.

“But just this once! And no one else can see but Hoseok!” he protests, shaking a finger scarily at you and you groan but agree nonetheless.

“Okay! It’ll just be the three of us. Partners in crime!” you declare, enthusiasm ruling over your body, standing proudly with your hands on your hips.

Jimin shakes his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m your friend…”

You stick your tongue out to him. “Because you looove me,” you sing-song, pecking him on the cheek, with a loud smack.

Jimin’s frame remains still for a moment. Staring at you as you climb out of your stool to wake up Hoseok and share the news before he reaches out.

“Wait…” his hand grasps your arm, halting your steps as you turn around to him with a questioning look.

He takes a deep breath before a smile befalls his lips. “I just… I never got to thank you.”

You stare back, confused, trying to think of what he wants to thank you for, but as time passes and you come by with nothing, you get more and more perplexed.

“About what?” you sit down again, kinda curious of what is so important to him that he wants to thank you.

His smile is grateful. “You know, for being so considerate with this whole situation. I mean, we all know Dinah… And I appreciate you being so cool about it,” he says calmly, thankfully as he takes your empty plates to put them on the sink.

His words send a fresh wave of guilt through you and you bite your lip. You need to tell him the truth.

“Actually about that…” you turn to look at him, trailing off and unsure of how to tell him you actually, kinda, sorta hate his girlfriend with a burning passion.

“Yeah?” Jimin’s unaware eyes and sweet smile meet your shameful and guilty ones. He looks so oblivious and so happy. You can see he likes her, you can see he wants to make this work and even you can admit Dinah’s behaviour has changed. Maybe this is it for them. Maybe all that shit had to happen so the second time around they’d know better of each other and themselves.

Maybe they were meant to make it work from the beginning.

A lump gets stuck in your throat.

“... Of course,” you smile through the sickening feeling in your chest, one you choose to ignore, despite its magnitude, “I’ll always be there to support you no matter what.”

Jimin’s smile turns wider, radiant and you feel like it swallows you.

Like it’s the only thing you see.

.

.

It’s the next evening that you put on your dancing gear and get ready to beat Jimin’s ass. 

Saturday is one of the few really free days you have. Jimin has no classes scheduled to teach today, Hoseok’s radio show isn’t scheduled for Saturdays and you’re just a writer with time to spare.

True to your words, you haven’t said anything to the other two friends of your group, keeping this little event strictly between the residents of this house. Although to be fair, there was another reason for the missed invite.

It’s not the first time during those two days that Ana’s words came to haunt you. To nag at your mind, making you wonder if there’s any truth to the accusations. Those accompanied with your behaviour around Jimin yesterday can only spell trouble for you and your dynamics.

No, there’s no way you feel anything else for Jimin besides cordial friendship. Ana just messed with your head, putting all those silly ideas in it to confuse you, hence why you can’t stop thinking about him naked.

Oops, did you say naked? You meant “in all those domestic scenarios where he’s your lover”.

You sigh. That doesn’t sound any better.

Okay, focus. You don’t like him. There’s no way.

Making your way into the living room, you find your roommates already in the area. Hoseok searches for Just Dance videos on youtube while Jimin stretches on the floor, leaning forward to touch his toes while granting you a perfect view of his plumpy behind.

God, what did I just say?!

You shake your head. That doesn’t count! You can still be attracted to someone and regard them only as a friend. Right?

Bottom line is you don’t like Jimin.

“Are we ready gentlemen?” you shot them a confident smile, already pumped up for this.

Jimin regards you with self-assurance colouring his features. “Ready for you to eat my dust? You bet I am,” he boasts, a sly smirk gracing his lips and you snort out loud.

“We’ll see about that…” is your collected comeback, not really worried about the outcome of this competition. You know you’re about to serve him his ass on a platter.

“Your trash talk sucks dick. Thank god I’m not the judge of that, both of you would be slammed to the ground right now…” Hoseok retorts with impassiveness as he puts a video on queue.

“You’re not here to roast us, you’re here to judge buttercup, so shut your hole and judge,” you bite back, the rush of the impending competition already getting you lightheaded, as you stare Hoseok down.

His eyebrow twitches in return. “Do you want me to change the song?” he challenges you.

At that, you and Jimin turn around immediately to see Twice’s Feel Special tutorial staring back at you from the screen and you realise that no. You don't.

“You’re fucking kidding me…” is Jimin’s less than excited response at having to dance the one song you’re a thousand times better than him.

This is gonna be a piece of cake.

.

.

“No, I’m done! You clearly cannot appreciate my natural charisma, which is simply a blasphemy! A blasphemy, I tell you! People would beg to be judged by me, you degenerates!” Hoseok bursts out of the couch, the dancing tutorial still echoing softly in the background.

“No, Hoseok, please! We promise we’ll be good!” you beg with not as much as a tiny speck of sympathy for your deteriorating dignity.

Jimin scoffs, crossing his hands on his chest. “We? I had no part in this disrespectful disruption and that should be duly noted!” he rushes to save face. Truth is you’ve gone a bit too far.

“Y/N, you threw your phone at me!” a sheepish smile takes over your lips as Hoseok’s eyes marvel at your completely nonchalant behaviour.

“I didn’t… throw my phone at you per se....” you struggle to find an excuse, “I… threw it to you!” you explain with a giggle once your words make somewhat sense.

“What?” Hoseok’s furrowed eyebrows are a clear indication he’s not buying your shit.

“I threw it to you, not at you! So you could... film us! And naturally, the competition would be fairer!” you say in explanation, making your story on the way though it seems none of your roommates believe you.

You suppose that’s fair.

“I would’ve believed you if you hadn’t screamed straight to my face, -and I quote-, “What do you know of judging you freaking cocksucker?”,” Jimin lets out a snort, one he’s quick to hide behind his lips once your ominous glare finds him.

“Well, that leaves us with no judge and we’re currently at a tie, so what will we do?”

Hoseok simply shrugs before heading off to the corridor. “Not my problem anymore, compadre!” he beams at you before disappearing into his room.

Another heavy sigh tumbles from your lips as the song in the background changes into a softer ballad and you turn around to Jimin.

“Well, I guess this was for nothing then…” you huff out but Jimin simply smiles.

“No, I don’t think so…” he responds cryptically and before you can question him about it, his hand grabs yours.

“Come on, let’s dance…” he mutters quietly as he drags you forward closer to him.

Your breath hitches as your palms rest on his chest, heart suddenly beating wildly out of rhythm. You try to chase away Ana’s suggestion, blaming these feelings only on the fact that he’s hot. That’s all. Nothing more.

“But it’s a ballad. It has no tutorial…” you sputter, panic lingering in your words in a futile attempt to get rid of that unexplainable warmth enveloping you as Jimin’s hands end up encasing you.

“So we’ll slow dance…” is his simple answer, clearly not at all as affected as you.

You don’t know why that drives something ugly through your chest.

There’s nothing else you can say to get out of this without making it weird, so you simply let him guide you.

It’s easy to fall into a routine, slowly swaying to the beat of the music as you rest your chin on Jimin’s shoulder. You let your hands find their way to Jimin’s back, sliding upwards to rest on his shoulder blades as his own spread comfortable warmth to the small of your back.

It’s easy to pretend like this. Easier to close your eyes and let the beat slowly fill your ears, as you bask in the safeness of Jimin’s embrace. Like it’s nothing but another normal Sunday night, and not a favour to you because he left you to go hang out with Dinah.

Dinah. The name brings a pang of dull ache in your sternum.

There’s a small lump in your throat that you swallow away.

You’re just worried for him.

A small voice wonders when you’ll grow tired of this.

Jimin’s audible sigh brings you back to reality. You lean back to find him staring at you. His eyes bore into yours and you can’t look away.

There’s something in them, something unreadable but it makes your cheeks scorch with the attention. Though you’re unable to avert your gaze from them. They remind you of that night, outside of your doors, when you were sure he was about to say something but ultimately choose not to.

Again, you wonder what that was. If he’s about to say it now.

But his lips remain pierced shut.

When the silence gets overwhelming you decide to break it.

You clear your throat. “So, uhm, have you done your christmas shopping yet?” you mumble, eyes zerowing on your feet that step side by side to Jimin’s.

His eyes still seek your own. “No, not yet…” he replies casually, hands soft upon your waist. “What about you?” he asks and you’re glad for the more than welcome distraction.

“Oh, yeah, I’m done with mine. Just haven’t figured what to get for Seokjin yet… You know how he gets about presents…” you mumble with a smile before you accidentally step on Jimin’s foot.

He hisses and your eyes widen as you rush to apologize.

“Shit, I’m sorry, maybe we should stop…”

Jimin shakes his head, “No, it’s fine…” he says, though his voice is a bit stiff and his eyes avert your own.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop dancing with you.

Again, there’s silence between you, only the sound of the song wafting through the living room. But this time it feels as if something else is floating through the air. Something tense.

You’re quick to fill the silence with a question that’s not easy to ask but it’s the only thing you can think of.

“So… you and Dinah, huh?” you just barely cover your shaky voice.

Jimin’s eyes find yours again. “Oh, uhm, yeah… I mean who would’ve thought, right?” he says with a surprised chuckle, “I mean after everything you’d think I would’ve stayed clear of her…” he says bewildered and an uneasy chuckle escapes you.

“Well, yeah, to be completely honest, we all were caught off guard…” you dare to say, remembering seeing him and Dinah in Seokjin’s bathroom that night. Only now thinking of his lips on her skin makes your stomach clench uncomfortably.

Jimin chuckles in response. “Yeah, I know. And I’m glad you are this civilized about it. I admit it wasn’t supposed to go this far, she was just there when I wasn’t okay and needed a distraction. She was familiar and comfortable. But then we ended up talking and… she’s really changed, Y/N. She kept apologizing for everything and I couldn’t help but think about how it would be if we tried again. I mean everyone deserves a second chance, right?” he concludes with such clarity and insight.

There’s a part of you that wants to say he’s stupid and naive for believing her. But the truth is he’s right. Everyone sane can see she has indeed changed and it reflects on their relationship as well. Jimin returns from their dates feeling happy and content.

You don’t know why that feels like a punch in the gut.

Your lips tug into a forced smile. “Right… wait, why weren’t you okay?” you ask, finally realizing you have no recollection of that. If he had been feeling less than okay at Seokjin's party, you can’t recall.

Jimin laughs your worries off, even though the nervousness in his features is obvious. “It was nothing. I just… saw something I shouldn’t have…” is his evasive answer. His eyes find yours again and they don’t dare to avoid you. Neither do you.

There’s something tense between you, something unspoken. You don’t think you can take any more of this without going mad.

But Jimin’s gaze doesn’t deter. It remains on you, as his hands tighten on your waist. The traitorous fluttering of your heart progresses and you mask your trembling inhale just barely. And suddenly an unexpected yearning blooms inside your lungs. One that’s swallowing you whole, threatening to take hold of your reasoning, threatening to push you forward and-.

Another Just dance tutorial comes into the screen and causes you both to jump in surprise and break apart.

Warmth spreads through your cheeks as you realize what you were about to do.

You were about to lean in.

Jimin clears his throat, eyes searching for his phone and he checks the time. “Oh, shit, I promised Dinah I’d go over there after we’re done…” he mumbles and you can’t help the slight sting that grows in your chest.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead…” you wind up saying, “I mean there’s no one to judge so technically there’s no competition anymore…” you try to get rid of the uneasiness with a chuckle.

Jimin looks at you with a carefree smile as if nothing happened. And you don’t know what hurts more, Jimin’s nonchalance about it or that nothing actually happened.

“Great, then I’m off. Bye, see you tomorrow!” he says, grabbing his phone and keys before stepping out of the apartment.

You stand there in the middle of the living room, eyes stuck on the closed front door. Knowing he went to find her and your chest constricts painfully.

You place your palm to steady your beating heart but it does not work. Not at all. Not when you keep wondering, wishing it was you in her place.

With terror, you realize you’re in deep shit.

.

.

You avoid Jimin as much as you can after that. December progresses, people flooding the streets to either buy presents, meet up with loved ones or visit the Christmas market at the centre, spreading love and warmth through an otherwise cold period.

Sadly that liberated flux of emotion cannot penetrate your tough walls of “perpetual desolation”, as you had once drunkenly described, and paired with the newly-realized feelings for Jimin, it renders you a real-life Scrooge.

That’s how Wednesday finds you with Ana and Seokjin, holed up in a cosy, little coffee house while trying to plan out this year’s New Year’s party.

It’s been a tradition of some sorts for you and your friends to host a New Year’s party at Ana’s apartment, given it’s the most spacious one, inviting all the people you know to celebrate the start of the new year in the best way possible.

You normally would be really pumped up about organizing the event, getting a small taste of the thrill the party would be weeks before. But today your mind isn’t at all able to focus on the preparations. Not that you could focus on anything else besides Jimin since Saturday.

“Okay, I’m sorry but we have to stop. Y/N clearly isn’t paying attention,” Seokjin acts out, his loud whining succeeds in startling you and you finally turn around to realize both of your friends stare suspiciously at you.

Seokjin is just confused, you can tell but Ana’s eyes tell a different story.

That night, after Jimin left for Dinah’s, you immediately called your friend, voice full to the brim with panic as you explained with a nervous stutter what happened. What you had realized and she tried to provide comfort in the best way that she could. She came over with a tub of ice cream, ready to talk it out with you and figure out what your plan was going to be. You also plead with her not to tell Hoseok, the boy couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

So you’re left sitting here, trying to plan out a party and instead wondering what your course of action should be.

And also wanting to tell Seokjin, hoping he’d have something different to say than Ana. Her suggestion was not what you wanted to hear. Not in the slightest.

“What’s going on?” the man in question asks once he deciphers the mild look of despair in your eyes, voice a tad more empathetic than before.

Your eyes find Ana’s.

She lets out a sigh, before closing her notebook. “Guess I’ll have to say it then…” she muses and a grateful smile masks over your lips. It’s still quite difficult for you to wrap your head around this sudden, inconceivable situation, let alone utter it out loud.

Seokjin’s confusion reflects in the state of his eyebrows; scrunched in, twitching upwards as his eyes zero in on Ana.

Ana rolls her eyes, takes a breath and then-.

“Y/N realized she’s in love with Jimin.”

“Ana!” you protest with wide eyes at her choice of words, feeling your cheeks redden as Seokjin gasps in astonishment.

“Okay, okay, “likes” Jimin,” she reformulates although she doesn’t have you convinced she believes this.

“Jimin?!” the man’s wide eyes are filled with disbelief, mirroring your own sentiments about the current turn of events.

You nod quickly yet somehow bashfully as another gasp falls from Seokjin’s lips and Ana mumbles a quiet “I know”.

“What? How? Who? No, wait, we know who,” he cuts off himself but not for long, “When? When did your feelings change? Was it after your one-night special of passionate love-making? God I have so many questions!” his whole form is trembling with excitement, giddiness over the newly discovered news that leaves you sort of confused.

“I don’t know actually…” you mumble, overly self-conscious and yet you push yourself to continue, to pour out everything that came rushing over you in the last couple of days. Maybe it’ll help. “It feels more as if… as if those feelings were always there? Only I hadn't realised them until recently…” you mutter, eyes on your cup as you stir the now-cold americano.

It still amazes you how much of those words are real. You like your best friend and in some way, you think you always did. Though you guess you were too dense to ever really pay attention to that bubbling feeling in your chest every time he was near.

Not until Ana pointed it out.

“How did you realize it then?” Seokjin’s query is deceptively calm and you figure from the insistent nail-biting, he’s holding back to not scare you off. An act you greatly appreciate.

“Well, Ana and I had a talk the other day which gave me a lot to think about… And after spending some time with Jimin alone and I started to observe myself and my behaviour around him… how he made me feel… I realized it for what it was. For what it is…” you stare at your cup while stealing careful glances at Seokjin, who looks ready to burst with whatever he wants to say but refrains from doing so.

You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “You can talk now.”

A loud gasp tears through his mouth before, “Oh my god, this is so exciting! I already ship it, you’re perfect for each other! If I’m being honest here I never made a move on you cause I also thought you had something going on with Jimin, oh sweet baby Jesus this ship is sailing itself. It’s canon! I-”

“Wait, Seokjin, I think you forget a very important detail,” Ana interrupts him, gaze stern as ever and Seokjin visibly hesitates.

“What?”

“Dinah,” Ana answers and Seokjin’s eyes glaze over with recognition before his shoulders drop.

“Oh, right…” he remembers solemnly and steals a glance at you full with guilt.

You smile although a bit saddened. “It’s okay…”

“But, Y/N… Are you actually in love with him? Or was this just something Ana said to tease you?” he regards you with wary eyes.

You rush to answer the question, minutes before so certain of your answer, only for your lips to remain shut with uncertainty. “I… I don’t know. I mean I thought it was just a crush but I’m not so sure anymore. He’s all I can think about, all I could think about even when I didn't know I liked him, something he said, or the way his voice changed, wondering what the cause of it was. I catch myself actively wishing to be in Dinah’s place, to be the one Jimin goes home to at the end of the day, the one to get to call him hers…” your feelings catch up with you and you find yourself needing a moment to breathe. A moment when you realize it’s not just some stupid crush.

You take a shaky breath. “Fuck, I’m screwed…” you say, the consequences of your breakthrough taking over you like a tidal wave, as you come to a startling conclusion. “I need to tell Jimin.”

Ana takes a tense breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But you don’t listen, just like you didn’t after your talk. “I’m not expecting anything out of it so it’d be okay either way, then I can move on at last.”

She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Y/N, no, you don’t know how he’s gonna react! He’s not some rando you happen to stumble upon the same bar four nights a week. He’s your best friend with whom you live together. If things head south, it wouldn’t be as simple as just changing your hangout spot to avoid him! He’s always gonna be there.”

Her words sound ominous and, more frighteningly, reasonable, slightly wavering your resolve but you don’t back down just yet, turning a blind eye to the worst possible outcome even if the chances of that happening are so much more than the opposite. “It’s Jimin, no matter what happens between us, we always have managed to work through it.”

Ana sighs, eyes sad as she stares at you, once again having to fight her way through to make you see reason. “Honey, this is not as simple as him stealing your cereal…”

You swallow the lump in your throat, stubbornly refusing to let it go. “Yeah, but what if-”

“There’s no “what if” Y/N!” Ana lashes out, eyes wide half with irritation half with concern as both you and Seokjin are left to simply stare at her. “There’s no way to tell if he’s feeling the same and he’s currently dating Dinah, who he’s happy with! All you’re gonna achieve now is getting him all confused and uncertain. Do you realize how that may affect your friendship afterwards? Do you really wanna jeopardize what you have over a “what if”?” Ana’s rant is over and finally, you can’t hide behind your finger anymore as her words echo in your mind. Although there’s a large part of you that wishes to deny it, you admit with a heavy heart she is right.

You can’t tell Jimin. Not right now.

You bite your lip as you avert your eyes, trying to suppress your tears as you shake your head, to show you finally see reason. Even if it hurts like hell.

Ana sighs, regret filling her otherwise soft voice. “I’m sorry for being so blunt, if the situation was any different I would be right there with you, being the first to support you in your decision to tell him. But it’s not. And I just don’t want to see either of you getting hurt…” she confesses, as she reaches her hand out to tentatively cover your own.

You let her as you swallow the lump in your throat. The one that makes you feel like you’re drowning.

“I have to agree with Ana on this… I think it will be for the best if you didn’t tell him for now. But whatever you decide to do…. We’ll support you…” Seokjin adds with tender words, that Ana nods furiously to agree with, as he squeezes gently your other hand.

A sad smile manages to find its way onto your lips as you give them both a gentle and thankful glance.

“Thank you, guys…” your voice is barely audible. Then you shake your head, blinking the tears away and slap your cheeks to get rid of the choking in your throat.

“Okay, enough of this. Let’s go back to what we actually came here to do!” you exclaim with a smile and Ana and Seokjin smile back as they open their notebooks once more.

You might be going through a heartbreak but at least for now, you’ll be fine.

.

.

After that conversation, Ana and Seokjin took it upon themselves to help you find someone else, even if you told them a thousand times you weren’t interested.

Ana proposed Seokjin could give Namjoon your number but Seokjin was quick to inform you he was currently seeing someone. Ana tried to hook you up with a work friend but to be honest, there really was no spark with Youngjae so you gave up on that fairly easily. But there’s this guy you see a few times a week at your favourite coffee shop and just a few days ago he approached you asking for your number. At first, you were hesitant to give it but you knew Ana and Seokjin were right on the whole dating thing. If you want to get over Jimin, you need to give another person a chance. So you gave your number to Jaehyun and now, a week later after your talk with Ana and Seokjin, just two days before Christmas, you’re getting ready for your date. Seokjin had suggested you had the date at his restaurant and the probability of being somewhere familiar, somewhere comfortable was like music to your ears.

In the meantime, your avoidance of Jimin hasn’t subsided. There are moments when you think he’s on to you, or that he thinks something’s weird but whenever he tries to bring it up, Seokjin or Ana or your disappearance halt him.

The truth is you hate it. It feels awful to avoid your best friend, it’s horrible pretending as if you don’t see the hurt in his eyes when you dismiss him. But you don’t trust yourself enough to not spill anything to him yet. And Ana was right, you can’t afford to risk it.

So that’s your plan for as long as needed. Avoid, avoid, avoid.

Although when the front door closes with a loud bang, you have a feeling it’s not gonna be that easy today. Hoseok’s over at Ana’s as she promised to keep him there to give you and Jaehyun some privacy. So the only other possible explanation is Jimin returning earlier from his date.

You peak out of your bedroom to see him marching down the hall. His eyes stare stubbornly, intensely at the floor as if they try to burn holes through the carpet as his heavy steps boom through the apartment. That vein in his forehead is pulsing, threatening to burst at any moment, his lips pulled into an angry frown as he takes off his jacket. He tries to rip it off with hasty movements as if it’s something tangled to him, choking him.

“Jimin, is everything okay…?” you ask cautiously as he still struggles with his jacket in front of his bedroom.

He curses through clenched teeth, ripping the jacket off his hand with one sharp movement. “Yeap. Everything’s okay. More than okay! Perfect! Everything’s perfect!” he exclaims, even though the irony in his voice doesn’t do much to convince you.

“...Do… you wanna talk about it?” your voice is careful, wishing quite selfishly and guiltily he doesn’t, because you know if he does want, there’s no chance you’ll be able to deny him, date or no date. 

He huffs before searching for his phone. “What’s there to talk about? That my girlfriend is a successful doctor that apparently gets paged in the middle of our date? That children need her and I can't complain? That I’m searching for my phone and I can’t fucking find it?!” he bursts before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Your stomach flips uncomfortably in response to the hurt hiding in Jimin's eyes. His face is filled with worries, marking the space between his eyebrows and you want to smooth your thumb over the lines. Your chest constricts in a bothersome matter when you spot his glassy eyes. It’s not an image you like to see on him.

So, against your better judgement, you do what you’ve tried so long not to.

You talk to him.

“You’re not a bad person for feeling angry. As long as you don’t put the blame on her you’re okay. It’s normal. You just want to spend some time with your girlfriend…” you respond, trying to hide the sadness colouring your voice at the word “girlfriend”, as you walk out of your room into the hallway to talk properly to your friend.

His eyes, filled with something akin to shame, find yours and you wanna wipe that frown from his lips with yours.

But you control yourself. You’re not an animal.

“Also, check your jacket…” you point at the article of clothing with a soft smile, and as he follows your advice, he gives you a small, closed-lip smile. But it’s still a smile.

With a tired chuckle, he finds his phone in one of the pockets and shakes his head before his eyes find yours. Although as they land on your form, the chuckle fades out, confusion written on his skin.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asks, pointing to the mini black dress you’re wearing and sudden heat scorches through your cheeks.

“I, uhm… Yeah, on a date…” you chuckle nervously, rubbing your arm, eyes on your feet. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m going, the guy’s too hot for me…” you try to joke but Jimin has none of it.

“Bullshit, you’re too hot for him! You always do that, you put yourself down, thinking you’re not good enough, but Y/N, they’re not good enough for you! You’re amazing, funny, smart, kind and, yeah, sometimes grumpy as hell, but you deserve more than feeling like one of someone’s many choices. You’re the only one. So treat yourself like one as well.” Jimin interjects, voice serious and kinda fed up but his last words soften. He looks at you with such tenderness you can almost pretend he feels the same. You can almost pretend he wants you too.

Almost.

You clear your throat. “Thanks, sport…” you respond with a chuckle, trying to chase the tension away, but Jimin’s eyes won’t budge. They seem uncertain as if he’s trying to figure out something, but their intensity only tortures you more and you have to say something to break free from them.

“Uhm, yeah so I have to go now…” you move back to your room to get your purse and coat and Jimin’s eyes finally move away from you with a cough.

“Yeah, uhm… Yeah, of course…” he rushes to say, eyes fidgeting anywhere but close to you as he struggles to open his door.

“...Unless you want me to cancel?” you propose, knowing full well if he says yes, there’s no way you can say no to him. And that Ana is probably gonna beat your ass.

Jimin almost chokes at that, face flushing, turning his body towards you yet his eyes look at the floor. “What? Why? Why would I want you to cancel?” he stutters, eyes fidgeting between you and his door.

“Well, I figured you’d want to talk some more about Dinah…” you say softly, thinking you must have hit a nerve on his pride but he visibly relaxes at your words.

“Oh, uhm, no, don't worry about it, I’ll be fine. Go enjoy your date, and say hi to Seokjin from me,” he responds with a smile, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

But before you get to ask him if he’s sure, or how he knows the date is at Seokjin’s restaurant, he’s already hiding in his room, behind his closed door.

You sigh. Maybe he wants to be alone. To be alone and think it over by himself. Yeah, he’ll be okay.

You don’t do a good job of convincing yourself as you put on your coat and walk to the front door.

He’ll be fine.

.

.

20 minutes later, you find your way back into the apartment, throwing your keys on the glass bowl next to the door, taking your shoes off in front of a very confused and suspicious Jimin who watches a movie on the couch.

You take off your coat and plop yourself down next to him, as he keeps on watching you weirdly.

You pick up some of his popcorn, before. “What are we watching?”

Jimin presses his lips together in a poor attempt to conceal the grin threatening to spill all over his lips before he schools his face into a strict expression. “I told you I’d be okay…”

Your eyes are glued to the TV as you feign ignorance. “I know. And I didn’t bail out on him. He did,” you said, sudden interest in the movie piqued.

Jimin’s eyes widen, shuffling on his spot with newly found vigour. “What? You want me to talk to him for you?”

That takes you by surprise. You turn to look at him only to see his eyes stuck to you, as serious as ever. Does he even know Jaehyun?

Oh god, he shouldn’t talk to him.

“Ah, no, no, he didn’t do it on purpose! He just… had somewhere to go. We’ll just reschedule,” you reply knowing full well you’re not gonna do that.

Even if Jaehyun was entirely too eager to do that when you told him you had a family emergency.

Truth is you didn’t drive too far before you yielded and texted Jaehyun to cancel. Thinking Jimin would’ve been stuck at home alone and sulking didn’t sit well with you.

Jimin’s suspiciousness doesn’t leave his eyes but he visibly relaxes. “Oh, if you’re okay then…” he simply says before his smile reappears. Then he goes on to answer your previous question, informing you about the movie playing in the background.

You rest your chin on your palm as you listen to him intently. Absorbed by the excitement in his voice, the glint in his eyes as he explains the plot to a movie he clearly enjoys. His cheeks are flushed, heated up by how quickly he’s talking, voice melodic and excited. His hair falls on top of his forehead, messy and shiny, moving slightly with every tilt of his head when he’s thinking over something. His lips form a pout when he’s uncertain over a specific detail but the truth is you don’t care.

Not about the movie.

.

.

It’s towards the end of the movie when you feel Jimin turning towards you.

You copy his actions, turning to face your best friend with a questioning glint in your eyes. “Spill it out, champ.”

Jimin smiles at your words, resting one arm at the back of the couch, behind you. “I just wanted to thank you for staying-”

You gasp, once again pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. “I told you the date got cancelled, I had to come back! Didn’t you listen, you dingus?”

Jimin’s smile widens, looking away with a low chuckle. “Right…” he says, though not looking very much convinced. “Even so… you being here means a lot, so thank you…” he concludes with soft eyes, a kind of tenderness you’re not used to seeing reflecting in his gaze, at least not directed towards you. But it’s not foreign, not even one bit.

A gentle smile graces your lips as you answer. “Of course. You’re my best friend,” you respond in an as-a-matter-of-fact way while you give him a playful nudge on the ribs.

He chuckles, eyes falling to his lap. “You know, I might be joking about regretting being your friend when you annoy the shit out of me…” you both laugh at that, as you shuffle in your spot, “but if I’m grateful for anything in my life is the years you’ve been a part of it. I wouldn’t risk our friendship for anything. You’re the best friend I could ever have and I hope I’m at least half as good a friend to you,” he concludes, words filled with emotion, even though his voice is serene and soothing.

The display of emotion tugs at your heartstrings but when it’s your turn to return them words fail you. You can’t even begin to put what Jimin means to you into words, newly-discovered feelings put aside. What his friendship means to you, what those years spent together made you cope through and how they changed you, those things are bigger than the strict barrier of words.

So, you do what every self-respected awkward human being would do.

You joke about it.

“Did you swallow a Barbie DVD or something? Where did that come from?” you chuckle in borderline embarrassment, as you try to get off the couch.

“No, Y/N, I’m serious,” he reacts, voice stern as he rests his palm on your leg to stop you from leaving. 

Though both pairs of eyes widen at that.

Because you never changed out from the mini black dress and when you moved earlier the fabric had ridden up your thighs.

So now Jimin’s palm lays on the top part of your smooth, bare thigh.

Instant heat washes over you, as you barely manage to mask the gasp bubbling up in your throat. Your eyes fall to his fingers, not daring to meet his gaze as you feel the warmth of his skin spreading through to yours.

Your heart beats wildly inside your chest and there’s a certain, familiar discomfort in the pit of your stomach.

He doesn’t move his hand. You can feel his eyes on you and there are goosebumps where his gaze trails on your skin.

You let your eyes find his own.

You’re not at all ready.

Not for the darkness in them, not for the haziness and tension, certainly not for the dark part in you that tells you there’s more to them than those things. No, not for the intensity and lust hidden in their dark depths.

No, you’re not ready.

But their existence is as tangible as it could ever be.

You can’t move, not an inch and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You’d choose not to. The heat in his stare sends chills down your arms, your cheeks scorching and your gaze falls to his plump lips, a sharp yet quiet inhale escaping you at just a small peek of his tongue.

And then you swear you feel-.

“Sup, guys? How have you been?” Hoseok’s voice fills the apartment as he steps inside from the front door. The sound of his cheerful entrance has you both instantly jumping away from each other in panic.

“Uhm, fine, we’ve been fine!” you struggle to reply, voice an octave higher as Jimin looks away and nods with you.

Hoseok takes off his shoes nonchalantly, not having a single clue about the thick tension in the air when he notices your outfit. He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “Did you go somewhere?”

You swallow nervously, foot tapping the floor. “Ah, yeah, I had a date…”

Hoseok looks ever more confused now for some unknown reason. “You did?” he asks, eyes moving to Jimin.

Jimin rushes to explain. “It got cancelled.”

“Ah… I see,” Hoseok replies as if somehow this makes more sense.

But you’re too preoccupied with Jimin’s proximity to question Hoseok’s reaction, instead focusing on trying to appear calm and not at all flustered and worked up as you are. You stand up from the couch as calmly as you can. Though you admit it’s not very much calmly. “Uh, yeah, so anyways I should go change. Goodnight guys!” you mumble quickly, eager to escape and you run off to your room.

Hoseok’s confusion is back when you disappear into your room and he turns to Jimin who also gets up and discreetly readjusts his pants. “What’s up with her?”

“Wouldn’t know. Actually, I’m quite sleepy too, so goodnight!” Jimin rushes to exclaim and then he’s off, walking rushedly towards his room.

Leaving Hoseok alone in the living room and baffled as hell.

.

.

Your legs can’t take you into your bedroom any faster and you rush to close the door with a slight lightness of breath.

Oh, god.

What just happened?

Your knees still feel weak, legs trembling and you immediately sit on the floor. Not trusting your limbs to carry you as far as your bed is, eyes and mouth wide in shock as you bring your hands to cool your heated cheeks.

You’re not crazy, you couldn’t have imagined this. You swear it wasn’t just your wishful thinking. No matter how much you want this, there’s no way your mind could have imagined such an intense way of staring. His eyes seemed like black holes, swallowing you whole and you would’ve gladly let him if Hoseok hadn’t interrupted.

Which reminds you. Right before Hoseok walked in you’re certain you felt the edges of his fingertips moving. And not away, as if belatedly realizing of his slip up.

Moving upwards.

“Fuck…” is your breathless realization, biting your lip as heat pools between your thighs. Making you reminisce of your little rendez-vous eight months ago and all the ways he made you feel, of how he felt pressed against you, inside you, drawing moans out of your lips as if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

How his mouth felt against your skin.

You slap some sense into yourself.

No! What were you thinking?! What was he thinking?! He has a girlfriend! A girlfriend whose sudden departure had him feeling upset merely hours ago. Maybe this behaviour was just a cry for attention caused by this event and you shouldn’t encourage it.

There was attraction, that is true. If there wasn’t any attraction between the two of you, you wouldn’t have slept together all those months ago in the first place. But this is not the time, nor the place. Not when he has a girlfriend and not when your feelings are so much more than just that.

It’s bad news and you gotta do your best to nip it in the bud. Crush it before the frustration gets any stronger and threatens to take hold of your sanity.

You let a deep breath infiltrate your lungs. As if the fresh air could bring a new sense of logic, resolve and determination to help you get through this unscathed.

You get up off the floor to get ready for sleep.

.

.

Only, it’s close to 4 am and you still can’t sleep.

You fuss around in your bed, the rustling of the sheets the only sound breaking the otherwise calm serenity of your dark bedroom.

You huff in annoyance, throwing the covers off of you, suddenly too warm for your liking. You’ve been trying to sleep for three hours now, but instead of blissful numbness, when your eyes close your mind is filled with the look in Jimin’s eyes from this afternoon. Turning you on despite your best efforts.

You sit up, back on your headboard, hands crossing over your chest as you tap your fingers on your arm. The shorts you wear to sleep feel uncomfortably stifling with sweat and you shuffle quickly out of them.

Only a particular movement has you clenching your thighs from the pleasurable friction on your clit and you bite your lip to keep the moan from spilling out.

Jimin’s dark eyes come to mind once more.

You inhale deeply, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, now dressed in only that and your panties. You bite your lip once more in thought and concealed shame.

You shouldn’t.

But your inhibitions don’t stop you from recalling that night.

{{You throw another shot down with a blissful smile as you watch Jimin do the same, only with significantly less enthusiasm than you. It’s already been one hour since you’ve been here, drinking your guts to help him move on, and already two girls walked away from him. It might be the way he slouches on the bar, droopy face that screams “recently dumped and still in love” but you refuse to leave here tonight without Jimin getting laid. Or at least having some fun.

“Come on, I’m sure someone else will approach you!” you nudge him playfully and Jimin scoffs as he proceeds to order another drink.

“Yeah, right. If anything I’ll just make a fool of myself again…” he grumbles, eyes focused on the empty shot glasses on the bar.

You throw an arm around his shoulders, determined to cheer him up. “Well, it’s because you’ve gotten rusty, bud! Give it some time, you’ll get better!” you observe vigorously, poking his cheek but the gloom expression doesn’t abandon him.

“I don’t think I will…” he mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear, but you do.

“What? Why?” your perplexion is audible in your words and Jimin lets out a breath.

“I just… I don’t get why would anyone bother to approach me. What’s there to like anyway…?” he admits quietly. His eyes avoid yours but you can see the sorrow, the defeat lacing their edges. The response fills you with unbridled rage over how her insistent verbal abuse has seeped into his mind and made him question himself and his worth like this.}}

Even now, that rage hasn’t subsided completely, finding yourself getting pissed at how much his previous relationship with Dinah had ruined him.

{{“Follow me for a second,” you say through gritted teeth as you drag him out of his stool to a more quiet place of the bar.

You step into the hallway that leads to the rooftop with a pretty begrudging Jimin trailing after you. The corridor is currently devoid of people, hence rendering it the perfect spot for what you're about to say.

“Why are we here?” Jimin asks like a weary teenager, crossing his arms on his chest as he rests his body on the wall.

“We’re here because you’re a freaking idiot and people would’ve probably stared if I laid it on you back there! You seriously cannot believe there’s nothing likeable about you!” you scold him with your hands on your waist.

Jimin’s eyes fall to his shoes, a pout forming on his lips.

“Well, there isn’t…” he responds genuinely and you swear you’re gonna swat him with a broom.

“Well, better buckle up soldier ‘cause I’m about to send your princely ass to confidence town,” you declare with ferocity and Jimin regards you with a confused but amused smile.

“So am I a soldier or a prince, I’m confused.”

“You’re both, you’re a prince who served on the front line in the dragon war,” you respond, deciding to humour him, seeing at least that brings a smile back on his lips.

“Is that from your book?” he asks back, a very carefully-hidden smirk gracing his face.

“No, it’s not, I- Hey!” you stop once you realize what he’s been doing, “Stop distracting me! Now stop and listen to me you bastard!” you point your finger at him and his smile shows he’s not in the least sorry.

“People go crazy about you everywhere you go! Seriously you’re the most likeable person I know, I could see that even back in high school when we didn’t hang out as much! You’re just… You’re the most perfect human being ever!” you exclaim with zeal, desperate to make your best friend see himself as you do.

Jimin shakes his head even if a small blush starts to bloom on his cheeks. “Now you’re just messing with me…”

“No I’m not!” you interject, taking a step closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’re the kindest and smartest, I mean you passed your college exams with flying colours!” a shy smile graces his lips at that, “And on top of that, you’re so handsome! I mean look at your lips dude! People literally pay to get their lips like this!” an impromptu laugh escapes him and resonates in the empty hall, “And the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh is just plain adorable, but on the other hand girls - and guys - would kill to lick those abs, or have a grasp at your pecs,” you cite all of Jimin’s great characteristics, but in your desire to show him how perfect he is, a slight slip of the tongue happens.

“And your thighs-” you begin but instantly stop, regret filling your mind as soon as you realise what you were about to say.

Truth is you always had a weakness for his thighs. You admit, his body is pretty phenomenal as a whole but his thighs, in particular, are a certain weak spot for you. In shame, you admit you fantasized about them trapping you between them more than once.

But, alas, Jimin catches on that and he stands up straight, a questioning look in his eyes.

“What about my thighs…?” he asks curiously, eyes regarding you with interest as they dare you to continue. You swallow nervously and the movement has Jimin’s eyes glint with sudden realization. 

“Um, they… um,” you lose your train of thought as the look in his eyes changes to something darker and he takes a step closer.

“They are...um, toned!...” you say in relief at finding a pretty innocent word but Jimin doesn’t slow down. You take a step back.

“And…?” he demands, not at all satisfied by your explanation, unrelenting and asking for more. He takes another step forward to cover your own, diminishing the distance between you.

“And firm and… sturdy…” you mumble as if in a daze as the predatory glint in his eyes only grows.}}

In real-time, the look in Jimin’s eyes matches the one from earlier tonight and you rub your thighs together for some needed relief.

{{“And…?” he asks, voice low and commanding as he effectively traps you against the wall, palms resting on each side of your face, dark eyes pinning you in place.

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling a sudden emptiness between your legs as your eyes fall to his plump lips.

“And... thick…” you finish softly, breathlessly as your chest moves quickly with each intake of breath, struggling to keep your head straight.}}

Your hands find their way down your body as if they have a mind of their own.

{{“So you like my thighs then…” he whispers, his breath fanning over your lips, a soft gasp rolling off your tongue.

“I- I don’t…” you don’t even manage to convince yourself and the predatory smile returns on his lips.}}

Your hand rests on the hem of your underwear.

{{“Really?... So…” he trails off, smirk ever-present as he slowly moves his right leg. “... it wouldn’t matter if I did this?....” he teases and presses his thigh against your clothed centre.}}

They move the article of clothing aside to press at your aching clit.

{{You don’t manage to conceal the gasp that trudges over to a moan, as his toned muscle presses against your panty-clad clit underneath your skirt. Your hands fly to grab at his biceps and a low chuckle falls from his lips as his face lowers towards your neck.

Your cunt clenches over nothing and your hips buck into his thigh desperately.

“Do you want more…?” he whispers with a tantalizing hum, intimately beneath your ear and a shiver runs down your spine.

You feel his thigh flexing against you as if teasing you about what’s to come if you say yes.

In your drunken and lust infused mind you can’t find a single reason to say no.}}

Your fingers move slowly, rolling the swollen nub between them as a quiet sigh breaks free from your lips, remembering the way his thigh felt against you. Your movements are soft, careful, not wanting to rush it as even more memories flood your mind.

{{It doesn’t take long for Jimin to take you home after you say yes. You drive back in his car, barely keeping your hands to yourself as he drives. It takes all your willpower not to make him stop the car and ride him in the middle of the street. Instead, you only let one hand palm him through his jeans and the other dive beneath your skirt to toy with your folds. Pleasuring both of you at the same time and having Jimin going completely mad with want, a promise hiding in his eyes as he drives.

Once you reach your building, you’re immediately on each other, not caring who might see. You climb up the old stairs in a haze, hands exploring each other’s bodies, grabbing at the tender part, lips tracing the exposed skin until you reach your apartment. Your back hits the front door, a moan rolling off your tongue and Jimin swallows it eagerly as his lips devour yours.

His hands are rough at your hips, grinding his crotch against you, your bare thighs rubbing against the roughness of his jeans as you blindly search for your keys.

“Could you- could you stop for a second and help me get the door…” you mumble against his mouth when your fingers finally grasp at the metallic key in your pocket.

Jimin doesn’t stop kissing you though. “Honestly, I don’t mind fucking you senseless against it,” he growls at you, biting your bottom lip as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Fuck…” the image his words paint arouse you a great deal more than what you’d like to admit. Your head hits the door as the image floods your mind.

“No, we can’t…” you say, still somehow self-conscious, “People might see…” you mumble with closed eyes as Jimin leaves open-mouthed kisses on your collar bones.

“Let them see then…” he responds with confidence as he grips at your chin and forces you to look at him.

His eyes are hooded, completely dark under his heavy gaze on you. He licks his lips as he stares at you like he wants to ravish you and you lean your head down to capture his thumb between your lips.

You stare at him innocently through your eyelashes, sucking the digit into your mouth. Jimin’s eyes widen even more. You roll your tongue teasingly around him, making sure your eyes remain on him, as he breathes heavily and then you let it go with a loud “pop”.

Jimin stares back at you. Tongue running across his bottom lip before-.

“Fuck, okay, okay. I changed my mind. I don’t want anyone seeing you like this but me.” he curses softly, before taking the keys from your hands to open the door.}}

Your fingers are faster now, soft whimpers falling from your lips. Too quiet for anyone to hear as your other hand travels beneath your T-shirt to grasp at your breast.

{{You’re a mess of limbs and kisses as you stumble towards Jimin’s room. Jackets have been discarded somewhere in the living room and you don’t even bother on closing the door. Hoseok’s is bound to spend the evening at Ana’s, so you don’t have to worry about being quiet either. You have the place to yourselves.

“I want to suck you off, can I suck you off?” you mumble between kisses, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. You can’t wait to feel the weight of his length on your tongue and judging by how he’s straining against his jeans you’d say he can’t wait either.

Another curse rolls from his tongue as he rushes to help you undo the last few buttons. “Yes. Fuck yes,” he grunts in anticipation once his shirt is off.

You push him to sit at the edge of his bed, too impatiently. You kneel between his legs, hands running up and down his thighs as he leans back, palms supporting his weight against the mattress as he stares at you lazily, biting his lip.

You let your eyes wander over the expanse of his smooth chest, taking in the sight of his sturdy muscles, his perked up nipples and his sculpted abs. A high pitched whine escapes you at how absolutely perfect he is. You want to ruin him.

Jimin smirks lazily at you. “Like what you see?”

You only nod, licking your lips and indulging yourself.

You move upwards carefully, placing a few butterfly kisses against his chest, letting your tongue roll over his nipples, which he greatly appreciates if his loud moans are anything to get by.}}

You roll one perked nipple beneath your fingertips. A quiet moan comes off your lips in response and you buck your hips into your hand, aching for something more.

{{You move lower, letting your tongue trail the edges of his abs. The warm muscle drives the man insane by the traitorous pace it takes as his chest rises and falls with every breath.

His hand winds up tangled in your hair, threading through the lock to tug softly at the roots and making you groan in arousal.

You’re quick in unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them downwards until they’re off. Anticipation rolls over you in waves as you move to the waistband of his boxers and Jimin tucks some strands away from your face.

You let his cock spring free and it taps against his stomach. Your mouth salivates at the sight. Pulsating veins run down its shaft, its head a pretty pink, tip glistening with precum and you lick your lips with wanton. He’s not very big, not in length, but the size of his girth seems to compensate for that more than enough. He’s thick, thicker than what you’re used to and even if you had some lengthier ones, you’re sure this one will put them all to shame.

Jimin’s patience runs low and a low whine echoes in his dulcet voice.

“Don’t just stare at it…” he mumbles and for the first time since the club, he sounds almost shy. Something which makes your stomach flip in arousal.

A smirk meets his eyes as you lower your head, his hand still in your locks and you take a tentative lick at the tip.

Jimin lets out a shuddering breath, eyes never abandoning you or your movements as you rest your hands at his thighs for leverage. You keep on teasing him, feeling his muscles tense beneath your palms and a crooked smile paints your lips.

You lower your mouth again, taking his head into your wet cavern and a soft moan breaks free from Jimin’s lips. His hand tightens its grip at your hair, nudging softly forward, not enough to be forceful but enough to clue you into what he wants.

Instead, you hollow your cheeks and a sharp gasp escapes him.}}

Finally, you move your underwear aside to tease your entrance and proceed to insert one finger into your throbbing cunt.

{{You begin moving your head up and down his length slowly, torturously and his eyes roll back into his head as it lols back. You don’t increase your pace, letting your jaw adjust to his wide girth, slowly letting each inch delve into your mouth. 

“Fuck…, you-” Jimin tries to talk only for another gasp to tear through his lips as you take him deeper. Coating him with your saliva and hollowing your cheeks again. He moans loudly, his hand rolling your hair into a fist, tugging at the roots as you take him fully, feeling him resting heavily on your tongue.

You pick up the pace steadily, bobbing your head and nails digging into the unmarred skin of his thighs. A hiss tumbles from his mouth in response.

You readjust your position to take off your shirt and bra. You then put more weight into your knees to give your full focus on sucking him off. You keep your cheeks hollowed, going faster and faster, a sturdy grip on Jimin’s bare thighs as your eyes remain stuck on his face.

You swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Jimin’s face as he drowns in pleasure. His eyes are tightly shut, scrunched in concentration to not miss the feeling of your mouth on him. His mouth is agape as he struggles to breathe properly, soft gasps escaping his mouth instead.

It strikes you hard; how magnificently ruined he looks. How absolutely wrecked you have him, and the stickiness in your underwear grows knowing he looks like this because of you.

Then he opens his eyes lazily, orbs lost in desire and as they rest on your bare tits, his hips instinctively buck into your mouth with a cry before he stops himself.}}

You take a quick break to stop yourself from finishing too early and instead pay attention back to your clit.

{{“Fuck, stop for a second…” he breathes out harshly, pushing you away from his cock as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Why?” you say thoroughly confused and Jimin chuckles breathlessly at your puppy stare. He then moves forward to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“Cause I was about to cum on your tits and I’d rather do that inside you…” he whispers against your mouth and you find yourself biting your lip to suppress a moan.

“Now please let me taste you…” he mumbles seductively as he forces you up. You stand up in front of him, his head in level with your breasts. His eyes stare up at you, wide and deceptively innocent before he wraps his mouth around one nipple and rolls it with his tongue. You gasp out loud, arching your chest against him for more. His fingers graze your thighs in the meantime, moving upwards to wrap around your underwear and get rid of it, leaving you bare beneath your skirt.

“I don’t…” another gasp interrupts your words as he runs a finger through your folds. “I don’t think I have the patience for that…” you stutter, hips rolling over his fingers.

A harsh suck at your nipple has you crying out loud, grabbing at Jimin’s locks. While he drives two fingers in you, without warning.

“Fuck, Jimin!” your high pitched protest resonates around the apartment and Jimin curses, moving the two fingers slowly inside you.

“Fuck, you take my fingers so well, baby…” he murmurs against your chest, his low timbre sounding like heaven in your ears. His fingers move slowly against your walls, just barely find your g-spot that has you seeing stars.

“You’re so wet, look at you…” he brings the two fingers between you. They glisten in the soft light of his nightstand, strands of your arousal connecting the two digits as he moves them into a V shape. He stares at them, mesmerised before pushing one digit into his mouth. He moans at the taste, before pushing the other finger towards your lips.

Instead, you grasp at both fingers and suck at them obediently, making sure to suck all your slick from his fingers. Your eyes remain on Jimin, whose eyes almost roll in bliss.

“Okay. Fuck, okay. Get that skirt off and get on the bed,” comes his urgent reply as he all but throws you on the mattress after the skirt has joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You lay across his sheets, spreading your legs wide for him and Jimin all but falls on his face trying to take off his boxers, making you giggle in response.

Once they’re off, his movements are more smooth as he steps on to the bed. His eyes are dark, swimming in a pool of desire, never straying away from your face as he crawls towards you. His hands rest on each side of your head, hips pressing against your own as his eyes fall to your lips.

You’re breathing heavily underneath him, chest brushing against him with every breath and you arch your back to press closer against him.

“Do you have a condom…?” you say before biting softly at his earlobe, your hand wrapping sloppily around his thick length.

He bucks into your palm desperately before he nods. He reaches his hand on his nightstand, never leaving the warmth of your body, and grabs the foil package. You take it from him and rip it open with your teeth, too fucked out to wait and Jimin gapes at you as you pretend not to notice the twitch on his dick.

You roll it on him as he lets out a long breath and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Are you sure about this…?” he asks cautiously, giving you one last chance to step back.

You grab at his neck to push him downwards into a kiss. Your lips are rough against him and he presses further, letting his tongue dive into your mouth to find your own. Your kiss is sloppy, urgent, not caring for tenderness. Getting you even more aroused as Jimin instinctively rolls his hips against yours.

“Okay, got it,” is his answer to your kiss. His hand grasps at his cock and giving it a few pumps before sheathing inside you with one sharp thrust.}}

You let two of your fingers dive inside you at the memory, drawing a long moan, quiet enough to be heard only in the confinements of your own room.

{{Both of you moan loudly at the intrusion, feeling complete and utter fullness with the way Jimin is pulsating inside you. It takes a while to get used to him, breathing slowly to help yourself relax as Jimin presses soft kisses to the skin above your breasts.

Soon though his kisses turn hungrier, messier, bordering into bites and you can’t help but moan and clench at the sensation.

Jimin hisses and reacts with another sharp thrust, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull in pleasure.

He starts a brutal pace, slow but rough deliberate thrusts, moving you further into the bed.

He pushes your legs on your chest in a new position, as he leans on top of you and drives his cock even deeper into you. He hits your g-spot almost repeatedly, having you crying out and your eyes well up by how good it feels.

“Fuck, Jimin, fuck, don’t stop…” you cry breathlessly even though Jimin doesn’t seem like stopping anytime soon.}}

In real-time, you pick up the pace of your fingers, driving them deeper to press against your g-spot, as you keep panting upon your sheets.

{{“Fuck. You. Feel. So. Good.” he punctuates each word with a thrust, as they come out in loud, rough growls, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as precipitation gathers at his temples, wet hair hanging in front of his eyes.

You cry out in ecstasy with every rough snap of his hips, shifting your hips to feel more of him, desperate for as much as he can give.

Then Jimin stands upright, grabbing your legs to push them into his chest and away from your own, wrapping around them and using them as leverage. His movements don't stop and he grunts lowly with each thrust, making you see stars each time he hits your g-spot.

He pants above you, driving his hips deeper into you, his muscles taut as he flexes his thighs and his thrusts become even rougher.

“Shit, Jimin…” you plead yet you don’t know what for as his motions make your body move up and down against the mattress.

“What is it, baby? Tell me,” he hisses, eyes furrowed as he stares at your lips. “I’ll give it to you…” he grunts, his thrusts now matching his pants, hands getting tighter at the supple flesh of your hips.

“Jimin, please…” you whine, driving your hand to tap on your clit to clue him in.

He curses again, bating your hand away for one of his own to land against your nub and begin rubbing circles into it.}}

You remove your other hand from your chest to press at your clit as you drive two fingers harshly into your soaked pussy with the other. You feel your high approaching and you don’t dare stop.

{{You scream in pleasure at the added friction, legs moving as Jimin releases them to wrap around his waist. You drive your heels against his ass to press his cock further into you.

“How are you so fucking wet for me, huh? Did my thighs turn you on this much, baby?” he asks harshly as his fingers pick up their pace, sending you into a wholly new sensation.

You moan out loud at his words, nodding your head quickly as if you’ve gone mad. “Yes, fuck, Jimin. I love your thighs, love how thick they are. Wanna rub my cunt all over them, want my clit to go numb with how hard I rub it on them. Want my folds to leak on top of them and stain your jeans. Fuck!” you yelp when your words have Jimin giving a particularly rough thrust.

“Fuck, yeah baby that’s right. Those thighs are gonna make you cum so fucking hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he hisses from above you, spreading your legs, the stretch burning delightful as another groan falls from your hips.

Finally, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming, high-pitched moans echoing inside the room and your cunt begins clenching uncontrollably.

Jimin realises this as his hips move even harder against yours and his fingers are relentless on your clit. “Are you gonna cum baby? Are you gonna cum like the dirty little slut you are?”

His words send you over the edge with a loud cry of his name.}}

You repeat the words over and over in your head until you’re a sobbing mess and come harder than you ever did before pressing your palm on your mouth to prevent any noise from getting out.

You lay on your bed spent and breathless, the memory ebbing away once you’re satisfied and your limbs are relaxed in a blissful numbness.

But, that soon also ebbs away, giving its spot to shame.

You just rubbed one off to Jimin.

And yeah okay you did sleep with him once, but you hadn’t used the memories to pleasure yourself before.

Oh god, this is getting out of hand.

You gotta end this crush of yours before it devours you.

[moonflower-31]

Midnight Visits - Spencer Reid x Reader

Requested? No

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: None

If you were going to be honest, you seriously missed your boyfriend.

Not just ‘I haven’t seen him in a few days’. No. You hadn’t seen him in over two weeks due to the onslaught of new cases back to back. And to top it all off, your boss had made you take those two weeks off since you had so much vacation time built up. So you were bored, lonely, and without any sort of human contact. Sure, you had your roommates, but they liked to bring around frat boys who would do nothing but grab your ass and call you sexy. You weren’t a fan.

Finally, you had gotten the text that read

Just getting off the jet now from Manhattan, but you’re probably asleep. So I’ll come visit tomorrow. - Spencer<3

So now you had the dilemma of having to hear your roommate and the new guy she brought over going at it while trying to sleep while your boyfriend refused to come over.

While it was also true that you could just text him and tell him you were awake, you didn’t want to. Besides, who would ask their boyfriend to come over when there’s a very dick-headed alpha male in the other room? There would either be a pissing contest, or one would scare off the other. And you loved Spencer. You truly did. But you doubted that either situation would go in his favor.

You grabbed the (f/c) pillow from the side of your bed where you had kicked it and pressed it against your head in hopes of drowning out the god-awful sounds just across the hall. You knew you and Spencer weren't even that loud!

You stared down your phone from where you had placed it on it’s charging port hours earlier. You had already had 3 hours of restless sleep when your roommate decided it was the perfect time to start moaning her head off. It was now about 12:30 in the damn morning. And you wanted actual sleep so that Spencer didn’t scold you in the morning for not getting adequate sleep.

Unfortunately for you, the phone never buzzed. Nor did the sounds ever stop. In fact, they only got louder. You didn’t know how your other roommate even slept through the nonsense. But she did.

You threw off the pillow in anger and crossed your arm in a huff. This was stupid. You knew exactly where your boyfriend lived. His apartment wasn’t that far from yours. So you could take a quick trip down to his place. Any place that was quieter than your apartment currently was heaven to you. That and you wanted to see him. Even if you might be disturbing his beauty sleep. Ah to hell with beauty sleep. You wanted him and you wanted cuddles. And you wanted them now.

So in the moment you settled on this plan of action you grabbed your earbuds, phone, charger, and your shoes. You slipped on your soft flats and began to hurry to the door before you heard the tell-tale moan.

Your skin erupted in goosebumps as soon as you entered the cold, Quantico night air. You shivered and rubbed your arms up and down. You’d think the summer nights would be warmer.

But instead of turning back around in favor of warmth over comfort, you began your trek down the 5 or 6 blocks to Spencer’s apartment. It wasn’t that bad. And besides, you always carried a small taser on you. Good for zapping a creep in the balls and getting away quick. Yes, Spencer had given that to you.

 

About 15 minutes or so later, you finally made it to Spencer’s apartment building. It was a tall and quite frankly, large building. You wondered how he even afforded his apartment. But then again, he worked for the FBI, he’s probably got those luxuries. Lucky bastard.

You look up at the building and shiver from a passing breeze. Whelp. No turning back now. You look down and towards the sliding glass doors, and begin your walk inside.

Once inside you saw the lobby was basically empty. So you instantly found the elevator and pressed Spencer’s floor. When you got inside and the doors closed, the nervousness and the reality of what you were doing set in. What were you even going to say to him when he opened the door? If even that? Would he be annoyed with you? No. No, you and him had been together for two years. Thick and thin. He wouldn’t be annoyed. He was always happy to see you.

You took a deep breath, and by the time you came back down to earth from your worries, you had made your way to Spencer’s door. You swallow nervously and raise a fist to knock. Once, twice, thrice. You then began to fumble with the phone in your hand and it’s charger. Curse your anxieties.

But before you could chicken out and basically ding-dong ditch your own boyfriend, the knob turned and the door opened to reveal a very tired, but happy to see you Spencer. “Hey.” He greeted, his eyes already full of love at the sight of you.

You immediately feel all your anxieties and worries fall away at his gaze and incoming smile. There was nothing for you to worry about. “Hey yourself. I just… Uh… I couldn’t wait to see you. Sorry if I woke you. That and my roommates are assholes.” You explained. He let out an amused chuckle and shook his head as he smiled at you warmly.

“I’m sure they aren’t that bad. Though I will have to thank them for getting you so bothered as to seek me out.” He teases. “My bed feels lonely, you know.” You giggle.

“I’m sure it is, Spence. Why don’t I come join you? We can cuddle too. Doesn’t have to be just sleep.” You suggested, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. He raises an eyebrow at your expression and smirks.

“You knocked on my door at 1:12 am, to cuddle?” He teases, giving you a questioning look.

“You complaining, doc?” you tease back. Spencer shrugs at this, finally giving in and opening the door enough to let you in. You grin childishly and race inside, your arms immediately wrapping around him and squeezing him tightly.

“Missed me, huh?” you nodded with a huff, puffing out your cheeks as Spencer put his hand on your head. Yes, you were shorter than him. And he liked to tease the ever loving crap out of you for it.

He chuckled in response, reaching down and picking you up. You let out another giggle and nuzzle closer to him. He carried you to his bedroom, in which you had definitely seen before. He laid you down on his mattress, pressing a kiss to your forehead after he did so. You felt a slight blush appear on your cheeks at the affection. Even after all this time, he still got to you.

Then he turned and headed towards the living room. You huffed and crossed your arms. “What? Are you willingly putting yourself in the doghouse, Spencer?” You tease. You hear a laugh from the other room before Spencer returned with a small, blue, and hard backed book that had small golden embroidery that you recognized. You widened your eyes in recognition and scooted back towards the pillows. You loved when he would read to you before bed. Especially Edgar Allan Poe’s poems.

“I still don’t understand to be put in the ‘doghouse’. I know it’s a metaphor for getting in trouble with a romantic partner, but it still confuses me. H-however the first writings of the saying originate from the Criminalese in 1926. The origin though is more prosaic than the peter pan theory. Meaning someone who is put out into the cold. But it still doesn’t fit.” He explains, taking a seat next to you on the mattress. You smiled up at him as he shared with you another fact that you didn’t know. You loved it when he rattled off on statistics and explanations that not everyone knew about. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

You snuggled closer to him without any interruptions, not wanting to bother his thought process. He soon after wrapped an arm around your frame and held you close. “Either way, I was just going to get this book. What poem were we on?” he asks you. You roll your eyes. He already knew. He’d memorized the whole damn book.

You gently hit his arm teasingly. “Spence.” You warned. He chuckled and kissed your forehead again.

“I know. Just teasing. I know you like this.” He reminds as he opens the small poem book in his large hands. He clears his throat gently and begins to read softly to you. You look up at him tiredly. Now that you didn’t have much distractions or noise, you realized just how tired you were. And just how tired Spencer looked. You laid your head on his chest and listened to his voice tell the short story of Anabel Lee.

“It was many and many a year ago in a kingdom by the sea that a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name of Anabel Lee.” Spencer began, his voice deep and soothing to your ears. His eyes moved down the page slowly so as to read it slow enough for you. “In this maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child in this kingdom by the sea. But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Anabel Lee.” He continued, adjusting his arm a bit. His voice was still just as warm and loving as it was when he began, lulling you even closer to sleep.

“With a love that the winged Seraphs of heaven coveted her and me. And this was the reason that long ago in this kingdom by the sea, a wind blew out of a cloud, chilling my Anabel Lee.” He continued, his eyes tired and slowly drooping with stories of a case I would most likely find out more on tomorrow. “So that her highborn kinsmen came and bore her away from me to shut her up in a Sepulcher in this kingdom by the sea. The Angels, not half as happy in heaven when envying her and me. Yes that is the reason, as all men know in this kingdom by the sea, that the wind came out of a cloud by night, chilling and killing my Anabel Lee.”

You felt your eyelids closing tireously, although you fought back as you tried to stay awake long enough for him to finish the poem. But his voice was so calming, and you just felt so safe, warm, and protected in his arms. You wondered what it was like for him.

 

“But our love was stronger by far than the love of those who are older than we, of many far wiser than we. And neither the Angels in heaven above, nor the Demons down under the sea, can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Anabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Anabel Lee. And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Anabel Lee.” Damn his voice was so soothing. You were already almost asleep. How did he even stay awake with a voice like that?

“And so the night tide I lie down by the side of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride in the Sepulcher there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding sea.” Spencer finished, squeezing you tightly as he closed the book and placed it gently on the nightstand beside him.

“Hey Spence?” You ask tiredly, blinking up half lidded at your boyfriend. He turned his head and gave you a questioning look. You smiled and began to mumble. “Am I your Anabel Lee?” You asked sleepily. Spencer smiled at you and let out a happy sigh.

“Yes you are. Now sleep, (Y/N).” He insists, running a gentle hand through your hair as a relaxer. You smiled sleepily and snuggled even closer to him, happy with his answer.

He yawned and turned to the lamp, turning off it’s light before turning back to you and wrapping both arms around you. He was glad you’d stopped by for an impromptu visit. You made his bed less lonely. And he already had missed you terribly. He really had to thank those roommates of yours though.

Then the idea came to his head. If he was so lonely in his bed without you, why didn’t he just ask you to move in with him? You two had been dating for some time now. And he did want you around more. He would have to think about it some more but he was sure he wanted to ask you. But for now, he was going to enjoy the gift of having you nestled gently in his arms. Right where you belonged.

[itsclydebitches]

Hello, everyone! Can you believe this is the third time I've started the recap for this chapter? Between a dying computer and a mass edit during my monthly state of, "Oh my god get rid of everything we can't let people know that we wRITE!" this project is cursed. This is the version though, I can feel it. Be positive!

Now, where were we? It's been some months (RIP) since I last posted, so I wouldn't be surprised if everyone's forgotten what's going on in this insane novel. A quick recap before the recap then: new teams have formed, no one is happy about it, Sun and Velvet went off to a shady club run by The Crown and — shock shock, surprise surprise — got themselves into a heap of trouble. That's the long and the short of it. We have to wait a while to find out what happens to them though because this chapter is focused on Coco.

We learn that Professor Rumpole has sent Coco and her new team — Team ROSC — out into the desert to take care of the grimm around the city's borders. To say that Coco is disappointed in this assignment is an understatement. We learn that they've been at this for a week straight and have gone without showering or a change of clothes that entire time (no one packed a bag?), so for a second I was hugely sympathetic. You know this vine? 

I feel this vine in my soul. Give me hot water and hot coco or give me death. Besides, work is work and dangerous, physical work without a break or basic comforts is incredibly taxing. Toss in the extreme heat of a desert and I'd be pissed at everything too, no matter how important my work was. That's human.

Yet instead of humanizing Coco like this, it turns out she doesn't care at all about the hardship involved. It's fighting grimm that she's annoyed by. She thinks that "Searching for the person or persons kidnapping innocent people for some unknown but dark purpose was way more useful than fighting Grimm far from the city" and I'm just like, Coco, honey...

Do you know what your career path is?

IT'S TO KILL GRIMM.

Okay, there's admittedly a justification here, but it's a stupid one. Coco goes on to say that "This area was called the Wastelands for a reason." She's snarky about it, saying that it wastes “her time, her talent, and her patience," but the real takeaway is that it's, you know, a wasteland. Deserted of grimm and of people. What's the point of defending an area that doesn't need defending? A huntress' job might normally be to fight grimm, but when those grimm aren't around and kidnappers are, that's a whole new set of priorities.

The problem with all this is that the Wastelands is definitely not deserted and it's definitely not as far from the city as Coco would like to imply. In just a few paragraphs an alarm is going to trip and Coco will find six grimm roaming in a pack. Then she finds a person. Then that person says she needs to get back to see someone in the city within half an hour. So there are grimm, there are people about, and this area is apparently close enough to the border that you can get back to the city proper, on foot, and then get wherever it is you’re going in a bustling metropolis... all within half an hour. By that logic these grimm aren't out in the boonies, they're right outside everyone's door.

Yet Coco isn't convinced, saying that "Post Beacon [killing grimm] had been for a noble cause, but this just felt like … busywork." I cannot possibly emphasize enough that this is the job she signed up for. Not to be a detective specializing in missing people, not a war hero always on the front lines of a battle, but one of many huntsmen who perform the daily, routine, very necessary task of protecting the people from grimm. With "protecting" covering both immediate threats and preparatory work that ensures more threats don't come about — like taking care of grimm outside before they become a larger threat. You know what would have happened if Beacon had a daily chore of students killing grimm within a few miles radius of the school? There would have been far less grimm charging a mass of unprotected students when negativity unexpectedly skyrocketed.

And, as always, I am aware that Rumpole is the likely villain here. From a writing perspective, this is very much presented as her getting Coco out of the way so that she can go about her nefarious deeds in peace... but that doesn't erase the fact that the task itself is a sound one. Rumpole's motivations don't matter here, only Coco's annoyance that she... has to do her job?

I mean yeah, everyone complains about their job to one extent or another, but can you imagine if you stumbled across a firefighter complaining about all the kitchen fires they've had to put out lately? "It's so boring! There are much better things I could be spending my time and talent on. I mean, that inferno that took out a city block last year? Putting that out was noble. But routine fires? House fires? Giving lectures on how to prevent fires in the future? Ugh, I can't believe the department expects me to do this grunt work." Meanwhile, you're sneaking off, hoping that this firefighter is never called to your house, nursing mild worries about how much they're romanticizing the recent tragedy that took so many lives...

Complaints about the job turn into complaints about the teams, which makes far more sense for Coco's character. Anyone's, really. Despite my insistence that it's a good thing they're learning to fight with people other than their three besties, that was absolutely a sudden and rather traumatizing change, just given how attached the teams already are. I'm not at all surprised that Coco is struggling to cope.

She says she misses her friends, obviously, but also "surprisingly, Coco missed being in charge."

...That's supposed to be surprising? Coco, you love being in charge! How is this in any way a revelation?

Apparently it is though, stemming from how bad Reese is as their leader. As with so many things in RWBY, I find myself disagreeing with a perspective that's presented as a fact: "She liked to lead by group vote, which wasn’t leading at all." Yes... it is? We could go down a rabbit hole of literal definitions — to lead is to direct, to direct is to regulate, to regulate is to direct again — but ultimately our understanding of a word does not adhere to the dictionary alone. It's a knowledge built on experience and I would hope that everyone's experience with the term "leader" includes that person considering multiple perspectives before making a decision. A leader doesn't impose their view on a group without due consideration of their preferences and needs — that's a dictator — a leader guides the group based on feedback and their personal knowledge. If that feedback and knowledge results in a standstill, or if their knowledge outweighs preferences, they are the deciding vote because the people have previously said, "We trust your decisions" through the act of making them leader in the first place. 

Asking for a group vote isn't avoiding leadership, it's an act of leadership. Reese decided that these situations warranted a majority rule. She further decided that whatever they settled on was indeed an appropriate course of action. Leadership skills are required to assess a situation and determine whether it's appropriate to vote on in the first place. If I announce to a group that we're voting on whether we go to the movies or the museum, I've done the work to determine that both of these choices are of roughly equal value and roughly equal availability. I haven't hit on any snags like, "The only movies playing are mindless blockbusters and I want this to be an educational outing" or "The museum is too far away. We'll never make it to dinner on time." Figuring out that a group can vote is its own kind of work. This avenue is particularly useful when the group is of roughly equal standing. With a few exceptions (like Ruby and Jaune) huntsmen classmates are all the same age, underwent the same training, and have had the same combat experiences. This isn't a case of one elite huntsmen lending their knowledge to an otherwise green party, it's a school randomly pointing at a somewhat outgoing individual during orientation and saying, "You. You're leader material, I guess, even though you've done little differently than the person standing beside you." Someone has to lead and Vacuo's switcheroo proves that anyone can be the leader if they're just put in that position. Coco claims a group vote is just "passing the responsibility off to your team" and yes! You want to share the responsibility because you are a team. They are a group of four equals working together with one person to guide them, they are not a boss with three subordinates. Why wouldn't Reese utilize the skills and ideas of those teammates? When making a decision, why wouldn't she see if everyone believes it's a good idea to do Thing A as opposed to Thing B? Unless Reese is outright ignoring her own ideas, beliefs, or gut feelings to cater to the others — which there's no reference of — this is good leadership. She's assisting her team in making decisions as a whole, rather than arbitrarily imposing her view on three others of similar skill and experience.

Yet Coco acts like because Reese doesn't go, "We're doing Thing A! End of discussion!" it's not leadership. Which, frankly, says a lot about how the RWBY-verse sees leadership as a whole.

I realize I'm rambling a great deal, so let me quickly provide a different media example. I'm currently immersed in Star Trek: Voyager and in season two, episode 14 "Alliances," Captain Janeway is faced with a difficult choice: align herself with a violent and so far untrustworthy species, or risk traveling through this quadrant of space without any allies. At first she's entirely against the idea of an alliance, going so far as to say that this isn't a democracy. She's the captain, dammit, she makes the decisions! But her first officer begs her to reconsider. Then the crew express disappointment — even disgust — that she won't consider this alternative. Then her chief of security, being a Vulcan, provides a persuasively logical argument for why an alliance is worth the risk... Long story short, Janeway finds herself in the minority and changes her decision accordingly. She attempts to garner an alliance and the fact that she was right — the species wasn't trustworthy and the alliance fails — is entirely beside the point. She realized that the majority voice matters. As far as we know, Reese is already practicing what Janeway learned.

ANYWAY the point is none of it matters because these characterizations are a mess. Coco also throws out that Reese "dressed like she was a twelve-year-old hanging out at the mall" and supposedly acts like one too. We're not given any examples of what that behavior looks like and, sorry, but I'm not personally inclined to judge someone based on their fashion sense. It would be great if this story actually engaged with some of the flaws the characters demonstrated, rather than just throwing them out to exist in this unacknowledged void.

Not that Coco's fashion-focused personality is really that important. Truly, the best thing about all this is how contradictory Coco's own thoughts are. She also listens to her teammates... except when she doesn't. She know when to go with their ideas and when to dismiss them for her own... except when she gets it totally wrong. As with so much in RWBY, this doesn't feel like the author giving Coco deliberate flaws that the story will grapple with down the line, it just comes across as a nonsense philosophy about leadership we're not meant to examine too closely. Coco gets to make references to the fact that her own, supposedly superior leadership is filled with holes, but heaven forbid she engage with that. 

She ends all this with the thought that no matter what she might decide, she trusted her team to "do what she demanded of them” and is now extending that courtesy to Reese. This I'm inclined to praise Coco for. No matter what she might be thinking, it doesn't appear as if she's tried to undermine Reese (well, not yet. More on that at the chapter’s end), and she doesn’t appear to be refusing to listen to that leadership, even if she doesn't like how it comes about. As we're about to see, Coco has her team's best interests at heart, no matter the challenges they're facing.

Her thoughts turn back to her old team and we get... this.

Velvet was with a team that didn’t recognize her awesome capabilities. Fox was withdrawing, having lost his family for the second time. Yatsuhashi was going mad with worry about Velvet and his teammates, knowing that he couldn’t be there to protect them, and worrying he would accidentally hurt someone on his new team.

This is so unnecessarily dramatic. First, how does Coco even know any of this? Because it's been heavily implied that the old teams are barely in contact with one another. See: Velvet refusing to loop anyone in about the club and Coco stuck in the desert for a week. Second, why aren't they in contact, at least those who aren't on away missions? The entire group is acting as if changing teams means they're no longer allowed to be friends — family, as Coco puts it — when the relationship between Team RWBY and Team JNPR creates the opposite expectation right at the start of the series. Clearly, people from different teams can be close. Yatsu's worry that he might stumble using his semblance with new people is the only conflict that holds up here. Everything else has fairly straightforward solutions. Velvet needs to prove herself to new people. Yatsu needs to text Velvet if he's that worried about her. And Fox "having lost his family for a second time" is a pretty ridiculous exaggeration. You're attending the same school! Your family is still living down the hall if Vacuo has dorms like Beacon! In what world are these students unable to interact largely as they did before? They're acting as if the school has outright barred them from hanging out, rather than doing what will no doubt occur the moment they graduate: force them to work with different people. Just catch up with Fox over dinner! 

Honestly, this chapter is pretty short, I'm just continually bewildered by this story.

To get back to the actual plot, something trips a sensor the group has set up and Coco responds to the situation in what I think is both a smart and empathetic manner. Previous experience has taught her that it's likely just a lizard, so she doesn't want to wake up her team for no reason. Disagreements aside, she cares enough to let them rest — "They’d probably appreciate the extra sleep." However, if it's a "rare case of something she couldn’t handle alone" she'd immediately call for help. Great plan! It's not often in this novel that I feel like I enjoy the characters, but this little moment actually had me liking Coco. Which, yes, I realize is a complicated claim. Characters should test the reader to a certain degree, mirroring all the personalities we see in real life, including biased, mean, or contradictory people. It's often a good thing to write a character that your reader is frustrated with. That can be the point! The problem with Myers' writing is that it isn't the point. Coco, as the former leader of our heroes in this tale, should be someone we enjoy spending time with and her flaws should be the basis for growth, or an acknowledgement that she is an imperfect, but well-rounded person. As it stands, flaws in this novel just sort of... exist? They bop around in the RWBY universe with almost no acknowledgement from the narrative or other characters, leaving the reader with little to nothing to take away from the text. Is Coco correct in her judgement? Is this a bias she needs to work on? Is she putting on a facade and her natural instinct to care for her team is the real Coco hidden underneath? Who knows! She’s just frustrating to read about most of the time and nothing comes of that. 

Regardless, she heads out into the desert, using the night vision glasses Velvet made her. 

Now see, this would have been the perfect thing to introduce before Velvet was fixing relay towers after the expert was injured. Remember how I said the novel didn't do enough to establish Velvet's own expertise? Not that a pair of goggles is really comparable to fixing a communications issue, but it still would have gone some way towards convincing me that Velvet is this super impressive tech gal, capable of handling any and all situations that might come her way.

But no, we get this impressive display of skill after Velvet's knowledge was needed in a pinch. 

The glasses help Coco navigate the terrain, allowing her to both see in the dark and zoom in on things in the distance. This allows her to spot the six jackalopes that tripped the sensor, as well as the woman currently fighting them: Carmine, a villain from After the Fall that I know nothing about. Ah well. Note though what I said at the start, that Coco's dismissal of this assignment is based entirely in its supposed uselessness. Yet now here we have a pack of dangerous grimm and an enemy to content with.

Also, this is where Coco moves from kindly teammate to overconfident fool. She said she'd call for backup if she needed it... and she clearly needs it! From what I can gather, all of Team CFVY lost to Carmine last time they met up. But now she wants to risk fighting Carmine alone? Go get the others!

She doesn't, of course. Carmine doesn't notice Coco at first. She's talking about how she has to get back into the city. "He’s going to kill me if I’m not back to the Mirage in thirty."

As said, this also implies that Coco isn't nearly as far out as she initially suggested. If Carmine can feasibly finish this fight, cross the desert, navigate who knows how much of the city, and meet up with the mysterious "he" all in under half an hour, then Coco is patrolling pretty much right at the walls. AKA, the area that absolutely needs to be grimm free.

Luckily for those of us who are reading the books out of order, Myers gives a quick recap of Carmine's significance. Last book she had kidnapped Gus and "held off the combined might of Team CFVY in the desert” (oh hey, I was right), presumably escaping afterwards. Now here she is again, likely up to some new, nefarious deed. 

Our of curiosity, I googled to see what she looks like and... 

WHAT IS THAT OUTFIT? 

Coco watches as she works to keep on top of the six grimm, debating whether she should help or walk away, but when Carmine is taken unawares, Coco acts without thinking, throwing herself into the fray.

Sometimes decisions were like that—your body already knew what to do while your brain was still processing the situation. Only in this case, Coco’s body wasn’t necessarily the clearest judge of character. Her brain would have said that Carmine didn’t deserve her help.

Now see, this is a scene I can get behind. The entire RWBY-verse is based around a type of superheroism: people with unnatural abilities, fantasy weapons, and extensive training devote themselves to protecting the people from various threats. Yet too often RWBY fails to convince me that these people are actually heroic, taking the standard flaws of a character and unknowingly exacerbating them to the point where I think, "Is this meant to be a commentary on the anti-hero? Or a critical look at these fantasy formulas? Because we've got the elements of that here, but no indication that the authors realize they're writing something other than that standard story." But this? This works for me. Coco, as a huntress, is so conditioned to help others that her body responds instinctively to someone being in danger, regardless of who that someone is. She outright admits that if she'd had the chance to think about it she would have decided against helping Carmine. The fact that she recognizes this and move anyway says a lot of good about her. Well done, Coco!

We see later that Carmine probably didn't need the help, but between the two of them the grimm really don't stand a chance. What's interesting though is how chummy the two are while defending themselves. Coco comments on Carmine's tendency to talk to grimm (like she does) and Carmine freely offers information about her movements, the fact that she lost her other sword, and that her partner, Bertilak, needs to "recharge a little" before getting back in the game. Carmine asks Coco if she'd like to team up with her instead (she does not) and the two have a number of flirty exchanges to top things off:

“I’ve been dreaming of a rematch with you,” Coco said.

“You’ve been dreaming about me? I’m flattered.” Carmine winked.

***

“Hot date with the Crown?” Coco asked.

“Don’t be jealous, darling.”

I bring all this up not as a criticism of the buddy-enemy dynamic (it's a favorite of mine), but simply because of something that happens next. Before we get to that though, I admit that I am on the fence about the flirting. Given that I haven't read After the Fall (assuming this characterization exists there), I know that Coco is a lesbian mostly via RWBY cultural osmosis, rather than through the text. This is one of the few (the only?) times that I've gotten a hint at her sexuality, yet it's associated with predatory behavior. Carmine, her enemy, is the one who turns an angry dream into a flattering one, the hot date with the bad guy into something to be jealous of. I'm honestly struggling to remember what, if anything, Coco has had to say about women in this book — this is what comes of such slow recapping and I acknowledge that this is entirely my fault — but I'm nevertheless discomforted by knowing Coco's canonical status, knowing RWBY's struggles with queer rep, and then reading a scene where the most overt representation thus far is the bad guy twisting Coco's words into something sexual.

I'm no purist. Give me a good enemies-to-lovers fic any day of the week, but that doesn't mean that kind of dynamic is the best to pull from in a franchise already facing heavy criticism for its queer rep.

Especially since the moment the grimm are gone Carmine turns her sai on Coco.

This is the "something that happens next" that I referenced above. It's weird to have them attacking one another after a whole scene of pretty genuine companionship. Coco doesn't help Carmine as a consequence of defending herself, she willingly gets involved. They tease one another. Carmine appears to answer her questions honestly. There's both implied and overt references to how well they work as a team. Then, suddenly, Carmine is outright trying to kill Coco, not just with her sai but by burying her alive. It's not the sort of banter that Ruby and Roman used to engage in, trading fake compliments and, in Roman's case before his death, legitimate feelings while attacking one another. Nor is Coco prepared for an attack the moment the grimm are gone, and she's not surprised by it. It’s just this sudden change that feels rather jarring. 

Though it's far from the first time BTD has failed to convey the emotion of a scene. Here's another example rnow. As said, Carmine is attempting to bury Coco alive by moving the sand with her semblance. That's horrifying enough on its own, but remember that Coco is claustrophobic. Yet none of that panic shines through here. She comes across as indifferent throughout the attack, thinking back to summers when her brother tried to bury her while she sunbathed, amazed that she could ever consider this fun. You know who Coco sounds like in this scene?

At no point during this attack did I get the sense that Coco believes she’s in serious danger, let alone that she's struggling against a long-term phobia. The only time I even remembered that claustrophobia is meant to be a challenge for her is when she throws out the oh-so casual line, "One of her worst nightmares was being buried alive." Oh really? Because it doesn't seem like it! Coco is calm enough to remember that she used to be able to hold her breath for exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds. That doesn't feel like a character fighting against her worst nightmare.

So this scene isn't exactly compelling. Which is too bad because, as said, Coco as some other nice moments in this chapter.

However, during all this we do learn a little more about Carmine. Prior to getting trapped in the sand, Coco comments on how shockingly strong she is. "Carmine should have been at least a little bit worn down from fighting Grimm," but she's not, "She seemed nearly unstoppable now." Coco hits her full in the face, but she doesn't seem fazed. Earlier in the chapter there was that comment about how she previously took on Team CFVY alone and at the end of the battle Coco observes that Carmine "still seemed as fresh as she had at the beginning of the fight. How was she even doing that?" My basic reading comprehension skills tell me that this is setup for something, likely some change enacted by the Crown. Surely the text wouldn't put so much emphasis on Carmine's strength — have Coco questioning it to this extent, framing it as unnatural — unless we were going to get an answer, right?

But this is RWBY, so I'm not inclined to count my chickens before they hatch.

The rest of Coco's team arrives and it's then that she decides to pull the super dangerous stunt to free herself. Yeah, yeah, I get that she's suffocating and needs to do something now, can't wait to be dug out I suppose, but the timing is pretty ridiculous. The cavalry has arrived, yay! Time to blow myself up.

Seriously. She blows herself up. Using her own semblance, Coco focuses on one of her gravity dust bullets and detonates it, causing all the others in her arsenal to detonate too. It gets her out of the hole and "knocked her Aura down to a dangerously low level."

So... let’s see. Coco can literally detonate a bunch of explosives on her person, after suffocating under stand, after fighting Carmine, after fighting grimm, after a week long mission, and her aura doesn't break... but Yang's does from a single Neo slash?

Okay, RWBY.

Reese and Olive try to attack Carmine together, but end up eliminating one another's attacks. I like that a team actually has some realistic difficulties for once. Coco, however, is internally an asshole, calling them "idiots" and saying that they need to learn to coordinate their attacks. Thing is, she apparently hasn't done anything over the last week to help with that. She's been too busy complaining about Reese's clothes.

Carmine runs off as more grimm show up, drawn by Coco's non-existent panic. To her credit she does thank the others for saving her... but then immediately tries to downplay that. “It wasn’t a fair fight,” Coco spat when Reese (correctly) points out that she's the one who was ambushed. She also starts giving orders and when Reese (again, correctly!) goes to point out that she's the leader, Coco talks over her, saying they can't waste any more time out here because she has reason to believe that Shade has been compromised. She needs them only because she's out of bullets and low on aura, but they definitely need her because "let’s face it, I’m the best strategist around for miles."

Coco's a strategist?

And why does she sound like a villain trying to convince the heroes to work with her? She’s already part of the team!

Putting all that aside for the moment, we're back to this prideful characterization. I liked the well-rounded Coco from a few pages ago who balanced caring for her team with the likelihood of needing backup. Now she's flinching from the idea that she'd ever need help (hello, Sun characterization too) and snatching Reese's role the moment she's given the chance. So much for respecting her position. If the book wants me to believe that Reese is unfit to be leader and this is a golden opportunity for Coco to right a wrong... how about we actually show Reese being a bad leader?

Regardless, yay working together? The chapter ends with them presumably taking out the grimm before heading back to Shade, along with an important revelation. Prior to leaving, Carmine asked Coco why Yatsuhashi and Fox weren't rushing to her aid. It's only now that Coco realizes she didn't mention Velvet. Why? Perhaps because Carmine already knows where Velvet is, which obviously doesn't imply anything good.

And that's the end of Chapter Ten! Can you tell I never know how to finish these recaps? Describing cliffhangers doesn't have quite the same punch as, you know, actual cliffhangers. You all just have to suffer through my mediocre endings with me.

But would you look at that! Turns out the third attempt at writing this was the charm! :D

See you for Chapter Eleven! 💜

[spectrumed]

2. voice

As a child I could not pronounce the letter R. I once complained to my mother for being so careless as to give me a name that had two R’s in it. Fredrik. Or as I pronounced it back then, “Fledlik.” Cute, right? I was a cute child, all blonde and with big blue eyes. At one point, I got surrounded by a group of older girls who forced me to pronounce my name, even though I really couldn’t. They laughed and laughed, teasing me for my inability to pronounce even my own name correctly. If I ever had a reason to develop a fetish for femdom, I think this would have been it.

Like it or not, in speech, there is no room for individual quirks. No, we’ve all got to learn how to speak properly. Historically, that has led to some pretty heinous attitudes towards regional accents, any tongue that was the standard was seen by default as being less or developed and intelligent. Regional accents were seen as practically unhygienic, the worry being that if people just got to speak as they wished, they might end up potentially thinking dangerous thoughts. While I understand the importance of being understood, it’s clear that the stigma that exists around speech difficulties stems from a place of prejudice. If a person has a lisp, do you really struggle to understand them? And while stammering can be quite debilitating, it should be blatantly obvious that shaming people who stammer, suggesting that they are bereft of intelligence, is not the way to help them. Humans are social animals, and language may be the one thing that distinguishes us as a species, it is natural that proper elocution should be treasured. But some people do struggle with their speech, and that should not cost them any respect or kindness.

As a child, I didn’t speak nearly enough. As an adult I am speaking too much. That’s the problem with you, Fredrik, you’ve never understood that there is a middle ground between two extremes. There is a way you can speak that is neither too quiet, nor too loud. It is how normal people speak. Why can’t you be normal, Fredrik? Are you going to spend this whole blog post talking about how difficult it is for you to simply learn to be like everyone else? Self-pitying yourself, much? Back in my day people pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, if they had something they struggled with, they learned to sort it all out, and they didn’t start complaining about society being all mean to them. You’re just spending too much time inside your own head, go take a swim, take up a hobby that requires you to step outdoors, it will serve you well. Don’t be a freak, Fredrik. Be normal, for once.

On a side note, “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” is meant to be understood as an impossible feat. You can’t possibly pull yourself up by your bootstraps, it’s ludicrous to even suggest that such a thing may be feasible. While, yes, there are many things you can do to help yourself, ultimately, you can’t profoundly escape from a sorry situation you’ve found yourself in without some outside help. There is no shame in requiring help. To guilt someone into thinking that if they can’t do it alone, they are weak, is frankly sociopathic. Humans need each other, we take care of each other, we are there for each other. Self-sufficiency is great, but let’s not take it to levels of absurdity by suggesting that needing help from others is anything but normal. No-one succeeds in life without others there to prop them up. Instead of telling someone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, you might as well tell them to go and swallow the sun, which is clearly another impossible task.

Most people will never in their lives experience what it is like to go through a neuropsychological evaluation. Turns out that it is not always such a pleasant experience. Though, considering the popularity of pseudo-scientific nonsense like the Myers-Briggs test, I am sure some folks would lie and pretend to love it. Certainly, there is a charm to being there and talking about yourself for several hours near-uninterrupted, but the exhaustion that you will feel at the end of it cannot be understated. Naturally, it does vary between who does it, and why they’re doing it. But if the stated goal is to find out whether you’ve had a neurodevelopmental disorder since you were but a young babe, then of course, there are going to be some pretty long conversations happening about those early days. Lots of stuff you may not have considered or thought about in a very long time will suddenly become very relevant to your current situation. And at the end of it all, you get some papers detailing your fashionable new diagnosis. Your entire life, all written down. Can make you feel rather wistful. And there’s really quite a surprising amount of typos included in the text, and barely any jokes.

Still, as part of my official diagnosis, there is a reference to my speech at being at times “stilted.” Though, the diagnosis does take very good care to mention that I appear intelligent and thoughtful, exhibiting a wide vocabulary and a good sense of the right words to use at the right moment. It’s flattering, for the most part. Yet, it does irk me that I could be perceived as being stilted. I know that at this point, I am being petty, because who cares if I sometimes come across as maybe a little robotic. I’ve got Asperger’s. Of course I am a robot. The closest role model we folks with Asperger’s ever had for the longest time was Star Trek: The Next Generation’s android named Data. God forbid anyone like me ever turned out to be the protagonist of a series, we’re all doomed to play the part of the robot, the alien, or the socially awkward geek. I should just be delighted that I am high-functioning. I know how much worse some have it. I should be grateful and pleased that I come across as mostly normal, mostly neurotypical. But… I really just don’t want anyone to think my speech is stilted. I don’t want to be Data. I want to be Riker.

It is never enough, you’ll never be good enough. If you fake it, they’ll see through it. If you struggle and if you work honestly to appear more normal, they won’t recognise it. As soon as they get an inkling you may be an imposter, looking like them, but having a neurologically deviant brain, they’ll single you out. For you, normalcy is an illusion. To attempt to be normal is to remake yourself only to receive nothing. Sure, you can be disingenuous, pretend you're not yourself, but it’ll never fool them. In the end, you’ll only lose yourself. Maybe I should just own the fact that my speech sometimes comes across as being stilted. Maybe I should own it. Be proud of who I am. But… sometimes I just don’t want to be me.

I want to be ignored. Sometimes, not always. But that goes for everyone. But most of all, I’d like to be able to go unseen whenever I’m not trying to impress anyone. When I’m just off to buy some milk. When I’m sitting on the bus. When I’m walking through the park. I know it is partly paranoia, but I can’t help but feel like I stick out. It’s always been like that with my friends growing up. The metaphor I used with my therapist is that I felt like a thumb. That they, my friends, were the fingers and I was the thumb. Sure, we’re similar. In many ways we’re the same. You could even say that I was crucial to making the social dynamics work. Who doesn’t like the thumb? What would you do without your thumb? But still, I was different. Some people would do anything to be different like that, to feel special. Some folks feel all invisible and forgotten in the crowd, and I’d lie if I told them that I didn’t envy them sometimes. The ability to go all invisible? That seems swell! There’s this question people like to ask as a sort of personality test. If you could choose a superpower, would you rather be able to fly, or would you rather be able to go invisible? The answer is obvious, as far as I’m concerned. Of course I’d love to be able to go invisible. To be able to exist without anyone seeing me. Without anyone judging me. Without ever having to worry if someone is going to treat me as different. For a moment to feel what it is like not to be some big, dumb, stupid, thumb.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not too anguished. Nowadays, I feel like I am in a relatively good place. But I would be lying if I told you that I still don’t get frustrated at the plethora of difficulties I face just trying to blend in. Even with family members, people who are supposed to know you the best, even then I have to go out of my way to behave a certain way, to exist a certain way, because fundamentally, they just don’t seem to get you. Not in that way. They have an image of you that you need to try and match. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them that sometimes you need to be more direct in your communication to truly reach me, I don’t pick up on the many smaller little social cues they may throw my way, it’s still just me being silly and looking for excuses for why I didn’t understand them the first time around. And I am deathly afraid of hurting anyone’s feelings. A very prevalent misconception about autistic individuals is that we don’t care if we’re being rude. That if we are rude, our rudeness can simply be overlooked because, y’know, we’re autistic. While this sort of thing is commonly represented in media that is supposed to depict autistic characters, in real life, things don't quite work like this. Believe it or not, readers, being autistic is not a free pass to act like a dick. Autistic individuals still very much have to modulate our behaviour if we wish to fit in and be accepted. No-one will ever excuse you for being autistic. To be autistic is living with extra hurdles in your way, thinking that it’s anything but a social handicap is romanticising a diagnosis you clearly know very little about.

When I was a kid, I didn’t speak much. As far as I was concerned, I merely spoke whenever I needed to speak. It took until adulthood for me to learn that my parents and teachers were actually concerned about that. I was made to see a specialist, under the guise of learning elocution, but I’ve later come to realise that those meetings were about more than just learning to pronounce the letter R. Like, what does testing my memory have to do with diction? Yes, her job was partly to help my speech develop more in line with the other kids, but she was also there to evaluate whether or not I was intellectually disabled. I have come to learn that I had teachers at the time that were adamant about me going to a different school, more equipped to handle kids like me, but my mother vehemently defended my right to stay in the school I was in. After all, I did have friends, and to anyone who really knew me, they knew that I was a bright child. Sure, I wasn’t as communicative as the other children, but I clearly had no issues processing information, and it’s not like I was disruptive in some other way. But that was also part of the problem. The teachers that thought that I may need specialist schooling were concerned about the fact that I was too placid and too agreeable. They wanted me to express frustration at my lacking pronunciation, to see me get mad at others for not fully understanding me. That amazes me, if anything. The fact that I was a happy kid they took as some indication that I wasn’t quite right.

My mother delights in a memory of me as a kid once slamming my fist on the table and declaring that “now, I am speaking!” May I remind you that I was a cute kid. Sure, it is the sort of behaviour that parents of the old times would have spanked their kids for. Kids in the past were supposed to be quiet. To be seen, but not heard. I wonder if there’d be any kind of hubbub about my early development if I lived back then. I’d probably be seen as the ideal child, all pretty and docile and never too loud. Still, it was a moment my mother cherished, because for once, I really proved that I did have the capacity to speak. Though, I still couldn’t pronounce my R’s. But it was time for Fledlik to speak.

[ffangirlingsince2001]

The Witcher and the Princess: Fire and Ice

Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: angry witcher, angst, hypothermia reader, skin on skin but not smut, language

She was gone when he awoke.

The bed was made, her clothes were gone as was her pack, and she was nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” he growled scrambling around for a set of clothing, the drunkenness of last night still weighing heavily on his mind.

And he couldn’t find a damn pair of pants. Because of course when he needed them the most he couldn’t find them. He swore he had left them on the ground when he had climbed into bed last night, but that’s where he thought he had left his shirt too, and it was nowhere to be found either. He was stranded, princessless and without any clothes. “Fuck,” he yelled again, throwing his fist into the bedframe, the wood splintering ever so slightly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Gold wasn’t worth it. She could find her own damn way to her godforsaken prince. If he loved her that much, he should have sent a carriage instead of relying on him to bring her. He was going to kill her if he ever saw her again, selfish spoiled brat. If he had anything to say about it he was going to teach her a lesson in some goddamn respect He was going to teach her what fear meant. He was going to-

“Can you unlock the door? I forgot my key.” The familiar voice froze him in his rage, still panting with anger the words he had for her threatened to bubble over. When he didn’t move the call came again, accompanied by a soft tapping that he assumed she considered to be knocking.

He marched towards the door and flung it open to reveal a very innocent looking princess.

“Oh!” she gasped, averting her eyes as quickly as she could, cheeks washing pink. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I-,”

“Where the fuck have you been?” he growled pulling her in by her arm as forcefully as could without pulling her arm from her shoulder.

“You’re hurting me,” she gasped, the parcels in her hands falling to the ground as she struggled to get out of his grip, his fingers leaving tight purple bruises in their stead.

“I asked you a damn question, I expect an answer, Princess,” he spat, eyes blazing with fire, hands shaking with anger.

No. He wasn’t shaking.

She was.

Eyes wide with fear, lower lip quivering as she tried to maintain eye contact. She wasn’t sure if the fury in his eyes or his nakedness were more intimidating, but his eyes were far less foreign.

“Shopping,” she squeaked, glancing at the parcels that littered the floor.

“Shopping?” he snarled, and she flinched away, pulling at his heavy grasp once more, but he pulled her closer, not stopping until her arm was pressed against his chest and his breath was rustling her hair. “Your father might be paying me to take you to your dearly beloved, but he is not paying me to flounce after your every whim. And where are my clothes?”

“Drying in the bathroom.” She was near tears now, but her voice didn’t even shake.

“Why are they drying?”

“I washed them this morning, you said.. you said you wanted to leave early so I thought if washed them we could leave earlier.” He studied her closely, searching for a lie, and when he found none he released her, stalking off towards the bathroom to check for himself.

Sure enough, as soon as he entered he found his clothes hanging from a makeshift clothesline. The stains and the smell were both a thing of the past. As he put them on he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably, not quite use to the feeling of fresh cotton and linen against his skin. It was strange to be anything but dredged in dirt, yet now he stood cleaner than he had in months.

When he left the washroom, he found her huddled on her bed, knees to her chest and watching him tensely.

“Don’t run off again.” She nodded silently. Maybe he should have yelled at her sooner. “What did you buy anyway, we can’t afford to carry clothing, it’ll slow us down.”

“Oh, I didn’t buy clothes, I guess I traded the old one for a new one, but that’s all food,” she rambled bashfully, picking up the parcels she had dropped in his bout of anger. “Venison mostly, but some stuff for Roach, too.” As she stood and stared at him he noticed the dress she had mentioned. Green velvet had been traded for cream colored cotton and golden embroidery swapped for a leather corset that cinched her waist in ways that were far more tempting than the loose style dresses princesses often wore. It was hard to think of her as princess in the way she stood before him, doe eyed and expectant. Standing merely feet away in his bedroom no less. Had she been anyone else he was sure his fingers would be hoisting her skirt while she squirmed beneath him, but she was not anyone else. He shook the thought from his head, nothing good could come from lusting after princesses, especially those were already set to married.

“Why the dress?” he grunted, noting the way she had begun to draw circles in the carpet with her shoe as he studied her, just like she had the night before.

“I thought the princess thing would make us a target for bandits,” she explained and he grunted in agreement.

“Won’t your prince mind your dressed like a commoner?”

“I can always buy a different one.” Of course she could.

He grunted and threw his pack over his shoulder, marching out the door. It took a few moments for the soft patter of her shoes to follow and when they came so did her chattering. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” When he didn’t even offer her a hum of acknowledgement she continued, “It’s just I didn’t want to make you wait any longer than you had to, and I thought I would be back before you woke, and I know don’t really want to do this so I thought I would make it easier for-,”

“Do you always talk this much?” he interrupted as he saddled both Roach and the white horse her father had provided her.

“I’m trying to apologize,” she snapped, her tone a little too privileged for his taste.

“Listen Princess-,”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“Alright, Y/N, listen, out here is my kingdom. I’m the king, it’s my rules, and if you don’t like it you can find a new babysitter.”

“And then you won’t get your gold.”

“Your father’s not the only one with gold.”

“Why did you take it then?” To that he didn’t respond, merely mounted Roach and began to ride out of town. “So, that’s your argument then? Just walking away?”

“I don’t argue with naïve children,” he called back urging Roach forward, not even bothering to wait for her. She would catch up, and if she didn’t no skin off of his nose.

 She caught up of course and the silence that he so desperately craved the day prior accompanied her. Though, it had a lot more tension than he would have preferred. It was harsh and cold, hurt feelings driving it, but the coldness had nothing on the store brewing in the clouds above them.

The snow had started falling a couple hours in and by the time the sun was beginning to set it had turned into a full blizzard.

Wind pierced the travelers hard and fast, pellets of ice digging into their skin as they trekked forwards. It was lucky he had had the sense to tie her horse to his when the storm had first started to pick up because he was sure she would have been left behind long ago. He could feel her horse bumping into his, her cloak brushing against his arm but the sheet of white between them prevented him from seeing any of it. He knew he should have stopped the moment it began. He should have tied up a shelter and them huddle beneath. He should have kept her safe, but pride had prevented it. Pride and annoyance from the morning demanded they keep going. And to make him feel worse she hadn’t complained once.

As requested she had stayed silent throughout the ride, it was only when she could no longer hold it in that the chattering of her teeth began. He should have stopped right then, but he kept moving, insisting mostly to himself that wasn’t that long to the next town.

He knew now they had long since passed the nearest town, and any further hope of warmth. He would have to hope that the horses would keep them warm until he was able to find a spot to hide them in.

“Geralt,” came the first timid whisper of the day, and it sounded terrified.

“We’re almost there,” he lied and silence followed. He knew she knew he was lying so the silence worried him, and the worry only grew when her leg knocked against him as she tumbled off her horse and into the snow. He yanked against the reigns and threw himself off before Roach had even come to a complete stop. Wind whipped through his hair as he blindly felt for the princess, praying that the snow had failed in covering her up. When he found her the shaking was so violent it was a struggle to hold her.

“Y/N you need to get up. C’mon Princess, we need to keep moving, we’re almost there,” he yelled over the snow, but she didn’t budge, there wasn’t even an attempt. “Fuck.” He pulled her into his arms and wrapped the cloak around her before climbing back onto Roach. They continued to ride, her shivering never slowing, even as the wind backed down. Trees began to come into view, and much to his elation so did a crawl space within the knot of a trunk. Wasting no time, he maneuvered his horse towards the salvation and carried her inside.

It barely fit the two of them, but it didn’t allow for any wind or snow either. Though it was notably warmer, she continued to shake, her lips a nasty shade of blue.

“Wake up, Princess,” he pleaded, rubbing his hands against her arms. “I know we should have stopped, just wake up.” When she didn’t stir he began to panic and instincts fought propriety. Everyone who lived in the wild knew, skin against skin, but she wasn’t from the wild, and from the way her gaze had searched for anything other than him her innocence was still very obvious; however, at this moment, her imminent death was just as obvious.

Whispering foreign apologies, he removed his shirt and tugged her dress as high as he dared. The leather corset he had imagined removing taunting him as he struggled to remove it as quickly as possible. As he pulled her against him, he allowed the dress to drape across as much of her as he could manage.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the shaking slow and she shifted against him. Her skin grew warmer and her flesh swelled against him with each breath. This was what he had worried about, how his body would react to her warmth. And react it did. With every movement a wave a relief and terror washed over him. He thanked whoever would listen that she was alive, but it grew harder to control the animalistic urges that normally accompanied soft flesh and pretty faces. The torture lasted for hours, their cave growing hotter with every passing moment, until he was gasping for a breath of fresh air. It seemed to go on forever, until finally she called out to him softly.

“Geralt, are we there yet?”

***

Taglist: @mallorydoesstuff​ @facelessfiction​ @aphadriel-fanfic​

[kellanswritingblog]

Let Me Remember

During their stay at Mikaele Salesa's safehouse, Martin proposes to Jon with a ring he's been carrying with him for their trek through the apocalypse.  But as they leave the oasis behind and Jon forgets their entire stay, he forgets Martin's proposal as well.

Inspired by this piece by @misplaced-my-notes and a conversation with @shorter-than-her-tbr-pile <3

You can read the whole thing below, but I’ll also be adding an AO3 link in the reblogs!

(Spoilers for Episodes 180 and 181)

Martin glanced over his old clothes.  Mikaele had provided them clean outfits, food, showers, and comfortable rest, even if he didn’t yet offer up the cost of such amenities.

For now, Martin didn’t want to think on it.  Instead, he rummaged into the pocket of his dirty, bloodstained jeans, and pulled out a velvet box.  The ring inside still shimmered despite everything its carrier had been through.

It seemed like years ago that Martin had bought it from the small shop in the town nearest to the safehouse, nestled in the Highlands.   When he came home, beaming, unable to stop smiling, he was sure Jon would figure something was up, even without any Beholding powers, given that the excitement radiating off of Martin was so tangible.

He didn’t plan much in terms of a proposal, just making one of the few mortal meals that Jon still enjoyed, then sitting on the couch after dinner and asking him if he would marry him.  Even though Jon had risked everything for him over and over again, Martin couldn’t help but fear that the answer might not be the one he hoped for.  All the same, he wanted Jon to know how much he loved him and that he wanted to spend every minute with him, whether as husbands, boyfriends, partners, or friends.

But when the world changed, so did Martin’s plans.  And when he packed up bags for the moment Jon was ready to leave, to set things right, he glanced at the ring’s hiding place and tucked it into his pocket.

Once they fixed the world, then he could ask.  After the apocalypse was averted, they would have all the time they could ever want, right?

The apocalypse was still going, however, and Martin had no idea what came next.  Neither did Jon, bizarrely, and that did nothing to assuage Martin’s fears.

However, as he held the ring box in his hands and stared at the sparkling metal, Martin realized he knew what he at least wanted to come next.

“You alright there?”  Jon asked as he reentered the room, hair still wet from a recent shower.

“Um, yes.  I am.  I…”  Martin took a deep breath, then closed the box and held it out of view as he spun to face Jon.  “This probably isn’t the best time, but… it’s not like time has really existed while we were outside of here, so…”

“Martin?”  Jon stepped toward him, worry creasing his features.

“Jon, I… will you marry me?”

Martin was so mesmerized by the frozen surprise on Jon’s face that he almost forgot to get down on one knee and take out the ring.  After he did so, the shock in Jon’s expression didn’t change, but instead his eyes glanced between Martin and the ring in equal measure.

“I know it’s not like marriage really means so much anymore, with the world ending and what not.  But… I love you, Jon.  I’ve waited ages to ask you, and I don’t know if there’s going to be a better chance than this, so…”

Jon stumbled over his words a few times, then wiped away a tear, and settled on a simple answer: “Yes.  Yes, of course.”

They were both smiling now, grinning from ear to ear, and crying gleeful tears that washed away the sorrow that so often adorned their eyes.  Martin stood again, then took Jon’s hand into his own and slid the ring onto his finger, before raising his knuckles to his lips and kissing them slowly.

After falling into an embrace for an unknowable amount of time, shuddering with tears for an occasion they never thought they'd be lucky enough to experience, safe in the arms of their lover, Jon pulled away just a bit to look at the silver band.

He chuckled.  “Where did you find this?”

“I didn’t just find it on some Buried bloke and take it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Martin cried, and Jon looked away sheepishly, but said nothing.  “I got it before all of this.”  He gestured around them, to the maelstrom of terror outside the walls.  “I had a whole little plan, nothing special, but… and then…”

“I see.”

“Every time we entered a new domain and you went off to do a statement and I waited… I would take out the ring and just look at it,” Martin continued.  “I told myself each time that there was no guarantee of safety, not even for you, and that I might as well ask you while I still had the chance.  But then you came back, and I put the ring in my pocket and insisted there would be another, better time.  And now… I don’t think there’s going to be any better time than this.  I hoped that if – when – we fix things, then I could propose, but I don’t want to wait that long.”

Jon smiled up at Martin, fresh tears glimmering in his eyes.

“I love you, Martin.  I love you so much.  And I can’t wait to be your husband.  The state of things being as they are, maybe such titles don’t matter, but it matters to me.  And… I’m grateful.  I love you.”

They fell into another embrace, and Martin teased, “Who knew this is what it would take to get you talking about your feelings.”

“Are you complaining?”  Jon asked with a wry smile.

“Not at all.”

“Good.  Because I want to say it again: I love you.”

“I love you too.  God, I… Yeah.  I love you.”

With a giggle, Jon commented, “I suppose we should go find out what Annabelle and Mikaele have planned for us?”

Martin sighed, but he still couldn’t stop smiling.  “I suppose so.”   He paused.  “Wait; wasn’t Salesa a captain of a ship?  Doesn’t that mean he can perform marriages?”

“Talk about a quick engagement,” Jon joked.  “I’m not sure it applies if his ship is destroyed, though.”

“Can we still ask?”

Jon leaned up and brushed his lips against Martin’s, grinning as he did so.  “Of course, my love.”

Hand in hand, the fiancés headed out of the room, ready to face whatever came next, so long as they were together.

*

Martin wanted to stay longer in Mikaele’s oasis from the apocalypse.  Of course he wanted to stay longer.  Who wouldn’t?

It wasn’t as if he’d forgotten about their quest or set aside the knowledge that he and Jon were the only ones that could set this whole thing right for the sake of a warm bed, as tempting as that might have been.  But Martin craved to rest for a few more days – actual, real days – and enjoy some simple meals, to relish in mortality and humanity, to be at peace for a few moments with Jon at his side.

But he couldn’t deny that Jon was getting worse.  He zoned out in every conversation and practically seemed to doze off at times.  When Martin shook him and he didn’t immediately awake, Martin knew that Jon had to leave there.  Martin had complained at first, and a bit of him still wished the situation was otherwise, but, for Jon’s safety, he would lead the way out the door.

Whatever Jon’s connection to the Beholding meant for him in a potential future that wasn’t inhabited by the fears, that didn’t have the Eye staring down from the sky and drinking in all the terror… they could deal with that later.

For now, Martin and Jon left Mikaele’s house behind and headed back into the wasteland.

Jon immediately began to perk up the farther they got from the Eye’s blindspot.  Martin, meanwhile, didn’t feel any such dramatic change in mood or health, but he could feel the fear soak back into him, as if the air itself was tainted with it.

As they walked and Jon’s sight returned to him, telling him the right directions, Martin filled him in on their time with Mikaele as he was unable to remember it.  Hopefully, Jon couldn’t see how Martin’s hands shook as he thought of how heavily Jon relied on the Beholding; and how heavily it relied on him.

The tale of their quick vacation soon came to a close, but then Jon stopped in his tracks.

“What is it?”

Jon raised his left hand to examine it.

“Since when have I been wearing a ring?”

It felt like Martin was kicked in the chest and he couldn’t help but let out a shuddering exhale as he realized that Jon remembered nothing of his proposal either.

“I… I guess part of me hoped you would remember that,” Martin admitted quietly, then stepped back towards Jon and took his hand in his own.  It’s not like it was Jon’s fault that his memory failed him, so he took a deep breath and explained, “I, well, I proposed to you while we were there.”

“You did what?”

Martin chuckled at the shock on Jon’s face, the same expression that he’d worn when Martin pulled out the ring the first time.

“It seemed like the best chance we would have, given the state of the world.  We’d gotten cleaned up and were about to head down to talk to Mikaele and then I found the ring box in my dirty clothes and…”  He shrugged, hoping he’d said enough that Jon could remember for himself.

Instead, Jon looked down at their clasped hands and said nothing for a long moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.  “I’m trying to remember, but…”

“It’s okay.  This just means I get to propose to you again,” Martin replied with a comforting smile, but Jon still stared at their hands, tears forming on the surface of his eyes.

“No, I… I should be able to remember this.  I want to remember everything about you.”  He met Martin’s gaze as the first tears began to fall.  “And that I could forget something so important…”

“You sure you want to remember everything about me?”  Martin teased, wiping away Jon’s tears and gently caressing his face.  “Even when I ran around the Archives in my pants?  Or when I accidentally put ramen in the microwave for thirty minutes instead of three and didn’t notice until it was actively on fire?”

Jon chuckled despite himself and pressed his cheek into Martin’s hand.  “Yes, even those bits.  Every part of you.”

“Well, I can do my best to help jog your memory,” he suggested.   “I’ll tell you what happened, and maybe you’ll remember something?  But first-”

Martin knelt down in the muck, holding Jon’s bedecked hand, and looked up at the light radiating off of him.

“Jonathan Sims, will you marry me?”

Beaming, Jon cried, “Yes, Martin, yes, of course.  I love you.”

“I love you too.  And I will say that however many times I have to so that you remember.”

“Now, that I could never forget.”

Martin rose to his feet, then lifted Jon’s hand to his lips and gave a quick kiss to the ring finger, then another, slower kiss to his palm.

Before either of them could say anything more, the echoing sound of applause came from one of the tombs in the near distance, and Jon and Martin glanced at each other with confused smiles on their faces.

“Seems the individuals trapped here are alright with our nuptials,” Jon remarked.

“First they interrupt our jokes, now our proposal; this is just getting out of hand,” Martin joked, and Jon let out a laugh.  After a few more moments, Martin sighed.  “I suppose we should be going?  Got to save the world and all that, so that I can properly marry you.”

“Yes.  But first…”  Jon wrapped his arms around Martin’s shoulders and kissed him, passing so many memories and hopeful futures between their lips.  “Now we can go.”

“Works for me,” Martin replied, beaming, just before the same applauding tomb-goer offered up an enthusiastic cheer.  “Besides, the audience participation is a little much for me.”

Jon laced his fingers through Martin’s and began to lead the way to their next destination.  As they walked, he asked, “So, tell me about this ring, and how you proposed the first time.  Tell me again, and again, so that there’s no way I’ll forget.”

Martin relayed the story of how he purchased the ring in the village during their brief stay in Scotland, how he held onto it each time Jon gave a statement, and how he haphazardly asked Jon to marry him as they’d gotten cleaned up in the relative safety of that oasis.

But as Martin spoke, he realized that, despite the horrors around them, his oasis was wherever Jon was.  And as long as he was with him, the fears could only do him so much harm.

[fenheart87]

Goats Gone Wild

The rehearsals went perfectly, despite everyone saying that it might fall apart and completely spiral out of control and that would to be expected as it was rehearsal and gave them time to fix it. The flower arrangements were gorgeous, Jagged cried when he saw his official wedding suit and Penny had successfully been conned into taking an actual spa day to relax and have a great time with the ladies in her wedding party. 

Tom and Sabine were of course on cake duty in providing other food and refreshments for the big day. With them in charge no one was concerned that the seasoned caterers would have any trouble. The tables and chairs were tastefully decorated and with just enough 'rock n' roll' vibe for Jagged to not complain too much because Jagged always be Jagged.

Of course, for the power duo of the music world, fate may have approved for them to meet, fall in love and live long enough to plan the wedding but it didn't have to be nice all the time. A small mishap and the power was out most of the night, delaying everything from food to simply getting ready for most of the practical preparations. 

Marinette was running on no sleep, no faith and after the power outage, no coffee. Everyone had their wedding clothes and the weather predicting rain at some point made it seem like a tiny accomplishment. Those who had cars to drive would be fine and most could take extra passengers but it would take some people two trips. She had spoken to her Maman and Papa already, they had put the cake in the deep freeze plus had a gas/solar powered generator to offer a space for others in the wedding party.

She still had no idea who would be escorting her down the aisle to fulfill her Maiden of Honor duty, there wasn't time to meet him now because they were sorely behind schedule. Pushing the thought to the side, Marinette slipped into a chic dress but not the one for the ceremony. That was safely at the venue they had booked just in case they needed a place to relocate. Sending up a quick prayer and a threat that this would be a memorable day, Marinette grabbed her clutch and left her apartment.

Marinette could distantly hear her phone ringing even though it was right besides her. She had yet to exit the safety of her car as she watched the chaos unfold. There was a small zoo of animals running around and Jagged was riding a llama, Fang happily scaring the poor creature. Nimbly she picked up her still ringing phone and answered it.

"H-hello?"

"Is this Marinette?"

"Yes I'm Ma-ma-Marinette… Who are you?"

"Ah I'm Luka the best man, Jagged and Penny paired us to walk down the aisle together. Things are uh pretty chaotic and I haven't seen you yet so just making sure you're not the one getting cold feet."

"No, I uh just pulled up. Where did the petting zoo come from?"

"Jagged's idea."

"You know, sometimes I forget he's technically a Couffaine then he pulls shit like this. Where is Anarka when I need the courage to slam his famous and insured face?" Her neck gave up trying to support her head and she let it flop forward to blare her horn, startling the llama and delighting Jagged as he fought to stay seated.

"I'll come to you." Luka's voice was actually soothing and calmed Marinette's nerves enough to move her head to the steering wheel. Distant sounds of goats screaming at each other and the loudness that was Jagged seeped into her quiet space within the car. A light knock on the window drew her from her quiet place within her mind, and Marinette emerged from her car instead of just rolling down the window.

Luka was tall and slender, ocean blue eyes matched the tips of his hair and would match the color of her dress for the ceremony perfectly. He radiated a soft aura that drew her into staring for longer than appropriate.

"Well hello there fair Maiden of Honor."

"Ah yes hello mysterious Best Man. Would you happen to know how bad things are?" The designer bravely faced the stream of messages on her phone, some only minutes old and others hours old. Asking for an update methodically from everyone individually, she let Luka guide her into the venue.

"Jagged is currently trying to convince Penny to keep a llama or a goat from the petting zoo, half of the guests are either not coming at all or left because of the chaos you see around you. The wedding party is here and just enough people to provide witnesses and news coverage. One of the photographers had to back out and the fill in is allergic to the flowers, his only allergy actually, nice guy otherwise. The goats have eaten some of the décor and their fearless mountain climbing leader took off with the ring pillow."

"Where the rings are sewed on… So at this point, the cake is the only thing safe. I can work with that, first let's find Penny because I'm sure her blood pressure is through the roof, next we need to remove the flowers that are a problem, if Ivan is here then he has the fake bouquets in his van and we can put those inside and have the photographer that's not allergic take the pictures outside. Jagged will be Jagged but when it's time he will behave and only have eyes for Penny so let him do his thing. We need to find the rings so get as many people looking for them as we can. Once I check on Penny I'll figure out the rest, I'm getting updates and rearranging as we speak."

"You know, this is kind of weird for me…" Sky blue eyes met ocean and time suspended again for a moment, "I know Jagged considers you like his unofficial niece so it makes it weird that you are absolutely beautiful and I feel like he might try to kill me for just being around you."

"N-no it's fine! I mean he chose after all, if he has a problem I'll take a page from the captain's book!" A blush graced her pale cheeks, accenting the light blush she had applied earlier. "Now go be a Best Man and make sure the groom doesn't sign his life away and marry a llama instead."

"Aye aye fair maiden." Luka winked and parted ways, leaving Marinette’s heart racing more than it was before.

"Stupid pretty boy with their stupid smiles… Penny, are you in here?" Marinette knocked on the door, waiting until it opened.

"Hey Mari, I knew what would happen when I said yes to Jagged but please no more animals."

"Don't worry, no more animals. The cake is fine but I need to find your rings which I guess a goat ran off with?" 

"Yeah, Jagged wanted to get a picture and the goat took advantage." Penny laughed and resumed her seat where Jean-Luc was already fixing her make-up.

"So this is going to be Plan P?" Marinette teased, taking a moment to change into the other dress.

"You bet! Once the circus is over here we will all meet up at your parents bakery for cake and food." Penny winked carefully, causing the younger woman to giggle.

"Let me go find those rings." Throwing on some flats, Marinette left the room with a wave and headed outside. If the goat was a mountain goat then he was probably hidden with the trees. Hiking up her skirt and trekking through the mud that was somehow everywhere and followed the distant sounds of child-like screaming.

There stood the goat, calming chewing on the ring pillow and staring at her with it's judgmental eyes.

"Okay, you give that back right now."

"MAAAAAA!!!" It bleated loudly before resuming its speedy chewing

"Don't make me do this…" The designer tried to get closer and the goat kept retreating with every step. "Oh come on! You know, what fine!"

"MAAAAAA!!" It screamed again and she took the chance to lunge and tackled the goat into the mud. Trying to get a solid grip on the ring piow was difficult as the goat kept trying to kick here or just rip the pillow in two, she wouldn't mind that much, after all it's the rings she was after.

"Just give me the rings and you can keep the stupid pillow you ugly stupid goat!" Marinette grunted as it became a test of tug of war, the sound of fabric ripping made her panic and kick the goat. It worked to get the goat to let go but it charged her and screamed in her face. The sound covered up the approach of the two men.

"Uh Marinette, why are you wrestling with a goat?"

"Oh you know, thought I would try my hand at it, have you seen these guns from gator chasing," She flexed one arm a couple times, "or how about these legs?" Hiking her skirt up wasn't her best idea ever but it was so worth the blush and cute word vomit from her wedding date.

"I uh well, yeah. I mean- you look hot as IN YOU'LL NEED TO COOL OFF BEFORE THE WEDDING!" Luka groaned and covered his eyes in shame.

"Oi mate, are you ogling my goat?" Dingo slapped his back, nearly causing the musician to topple into the mud with Marinette and the goat who resumed chewing on the ring pillow it had stolen, the rings recovered sneakily.

"Okay, the arch can burn for all I care and maybe fry up some bacon if we're lucky." She accepted Luka's help to get up and onto a less muddy patch of grass. The trio made their way back, Dingo as she learned, was fond of Napoleon and argued the entire way back.

"I'll 'ave you know that pigs are some the best pets!"

"No way, Hamster all the way! You can't even own one in the city unless it's a teacup pig and why would you even want one?"

"Oi! All pigs are cool, you can't just love one kind because that's not true devotion!" 

"Will you two stop-" Luka froze as the smell of smoke wafted closer and squinted thoughtfully. Was that, yup the arch was burning. 

"Great, Plan P is fully in action now!" The maiden of honor groaned, slapping her hands over her mud smeared face.

"Oh god no! Please spare Napoleon! No bacon at this wedding!" Dingo sprinted across the field to where the pigs were kept.

"Well let's find the bride and groom and get the hell outta here." Luka proposed, calmly walking the rest of the way with Marinette keeping pace. There was a firefighter giving directions to everyone to stand far away from the building and the burning arch.

"Well this is not what I expected…" A tall blond muttered to himself, standing apart from the rest of the group.

"Well it is a Couffaine wedding, they are chaos magnets." Marinette joked, attempting to rid herself and dress of the half dried dirt clods.

"Well Jagged has always been… Unique. Good to see you again Marinette."

"I resent that, Jagged is the dumpster fire and Penny is the best and craziest person on earth since she somehow agreed to marry that mess."

"Uh, who are you?"

"Me? Wait, Marinette don't tell me you're mad at me again!"

"Luka what on earth-"

"This is why I told Pa it was better if we didn't show up to his wedding, your anger issues. First you nearly gave poor Nona a scare when you wanted to eat Napoleon, then set the arch on fire and lastly took off after Samuel, a poor defenseless goat."

"Uh how do you know each other?"

"Oh this again?! Lemme tell you, this little spitfire is my wife and she's been pissed at me ever since our arranged marriage was official on paper."

"Luka! That's enough!" The mud on her face hid the blush but the tips of her ears were it began to flake glowed red.

"Baby, you know we're supposed to talk when you're angry with me, that was the agreement."

"Shove it up your ass!"

The wail of sirens startled the three adults but what nearly knocked them over was a blur of neon green, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"HELP ME MATE, I CAN'T GO BACK! IT'S NOT SAFE!!"

The station was filled with a workflow hum as the entire wedding party and a few guests waited in the cell block for someone to explain why everyone had been arrested and brought in. Marinette had made use of the sink and cleared off as much dirt from her being as she could. Penny was steadily ignoring Jagged who at this point had been pleading with her and trying to get a straight answer if they would still be tying the knot or not. 

"Couffaine! You're next!" The Sargent growled, shuffling paperwork around. Roger was slowly trying to inch away to not be caught in the crossfire and pulling the rookie away with him.

"Uh which one sir?"

"What do you mean which one?! Just Couffaine!" The Sargent snapped, taking a deep pull of his coffee. When he looked up to see a group of people his face went stone blank.

"Okay so uh, maybe start with the charges and we can help decipher the correct Couffaine?" The petite Chinese woman bite her lip in nerves, echoed by the blond dressed in a matching pink dress. Glancing around he saw a slender woman holding the hand of said blonde in pink, also in a nice party dress. A man with purple hair to match, oh Jagged Stone, was dressed in a suit with a spin. Another woman with purple hair standing next to him and dressed in the more elaborate gown. He easily recognized Anarka by her grey hair and fierce glare, even if she was cleaned up nicely. To the left of the only one brave enough to speak was a young man, a flower in his lapel matching the one on her dress but with light blue tipped hair. Behind him was a kid with a mohawk that nearly grazed the ceiling and a slender brunette who was trying to keep from bouncing around the cell.

"Sorry Sargent…?" The woman tried again, offering a hesitant smile.

"Sargent Le Grand and you are who?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng  uh Couffaine." He blinked twice and looked back through the paperwork.

"Why the hell did no one even specify male or female for the perp?! Or a first name, even an initial would be helpful!"

"Sorry Sarge, I uh just -"

"Forget it rookie, there are a pile of complaints and I can't read them aloud so why don't you tell me what you're in trouble for and I'll find the ticket?"

"Uh that's just it sir… We were all rounded up at the wedding and brought here with no explanation."

"I do not get paid enough for this." He downed the remaining coffee and left the desk, making his way into his office.

"Oi where are you goin'?! You can't keep us cage like a bunch of goats!" The mohawk kid finally escaped the brunette and rattled the jail bars.

"Someone figure out these charges and get them out of my cell!" Sargent le Grand promptly got up and went into his office, slamming the office door shut.

“Roger, why donna ya be a good boy and let me and me crew out of here? You know we have the Boat Fund for when you’re hoititty rules and our love of chaos clash.”

“Anarka, I really do have to charge the tickets before we can discuss payment. uh, “ Roger glanced at the Sargent��s door and saw it still closed. “Okay so we have one charge of setting public property on fire, one count of illegal animal petting zoo, “

“He said he was rock ‘n roll with her permits!”

“One count  of naming your pig Napoleon, haven’t seen that in a while…”

“Oi! I can name my piggy whatever I please!”

“Two counts of animal abuse, one for feeding the goats pillows and one for what’s assumed trying to bury it alive,”

“Oh please, I had to chase it through the woods and mud because it took off with the pillow in the first place!”

“One count for act of terrorism, this one being related to flowers and serious life-threatening allergy,”

“He was a fill in, he signed the disclosure and those charges are bogus.”

“And to wrap it up, one count of illegally sailing in the city.”

“Give me Liberty or give me death!”

“I’m just going to mark all this down and charge the fund. I do apologize for having to crash your wedding Mister Stone and Miss Rolling, I do hope you have plans to finalize your commitment.” Roger opened the cell door and everyone filed out, Dingo sticking his tongue out before being smacked by three different hands.

“Oi!”

“Oi nothing fashion hazard!” Marinette snapped, moving to the front of the group. “Here’s what we’re going to do, everyone is going to quietly make their way to my parents bakery which is just a couple blocks away. While we are there, we can take turns cleaning up and then enjoy a nice meal and some delicious cake that Papa has worked so hard to make perfect for today. At this point, if someone is ordained and could marry them while at my parents house that would at least complete my to-do list.”

“I got ya mate! Let’s gooooo!” Dingo whooped and took off running while Brielle shared a look with Luka before following.

“Well definitely a memorable day wouldn’t you say Marinette?” Penny asked as she slipped her arm around the younger’s.

“I’ll say… You aren’t thinking of having spawns with him are you?”

“Hey, rock n roll is the life for me, no worries my favorite rock n roll designer!” Jagged chimed in, pausing his argument with the Captain for a moment.

“Aye, with Juleka and Luka that’s all the extra chaos he needs.”

“Uh I can explain…” Luka hunched over and raised his shoulder’s to hide somewhat.

“Wedding first then you can use the rest of the time to explain.”

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Nara Shikamaru/Temari Characters: Nara Shikamaru, Temari (Naruto), Yamanaka Ino, Sai (Naruto), Akimichi Chouji, Karui (Naruto), Nara Clan Additional Tags: Mafia AU, Romance, Eventual Smut, BAMF Nara Shikamaru, Explicit Language, Smut

Hello deers!  I absolutely love Mafia AU's so I got inspired to write one for ShikaTema.  It gets pretty steamy from the beginning and this theme will pretty much carry through the whole story.  Still, I hope that you enjoy it!

I’m going to be updating this post as I add new chapters. :D

Summary:

Money, power, and women were all at Shikamaru's fingertips as the head of the Nara Crime Family. He had all that he could wish for as he ruled his empire with an iron fist. An encounter with a troublesome blonde was enough for him to risk it all on one night.

Chapter 1:  Opening Move

Chapter 2:  Queen’s Gambit

Chapter 3:  Luck

Chapter 4: Castling

Chapter 5: Protecting the Queen

Chapter 6: Deflection

Chapter 7: En Passant

Chapter 8: Capture 

Chapter 9: Checkmate

*

**

Shikamaru’s midnight eyes surveyed the crash of sweaty bodies moving and pulsating to a heavy beat. He took a long drag of his cigarette overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and heavy bass. It wasn’t often that he made the trek out here.  Typically depending on his associates to check on their businesses.  His father told him though that it was important for the king to be seen by his people.  

For so long his family had to operate in the shadows.  That was no longer the case.  The Naras, Akimichis, and Yamanakas ruled this area.  Government officials, police officers, “powerful” people were all on their payroll.  Very few things happened in this city without them knowing.  Everyone knew who they were and they no longer tried to hide it.  

When he was younger he’d complained constantly that this was a drag. He never wanted to become the head of the Nara crime family.  It wasn’t his choice, it was his destiny.  Still, he grew into the role and had accomplished more than they’d ever dreamed. Their empire was now strong and vast. Power and money were his.  And yet there was an emptiness in his chest. 

He didn’t delight in the benefits of being an infamous crime boss. The club was far too loud. The women who threw themselves at him were too troublesome.  A lot of strings and losses came with power. And it was all becoming far too tiresome. 

His eyes continued to scan the room before they fell upon one person in the crowd. His heart began to beat wildly and an excited shiver ran through him. From where he stood he could tell she was a striking blonde but there was something different.  Like a beacon drawing him in. A feeling unlike he’d ever experienced before. 

He studied her for a while.  She was clearly a good worker never taking a minute to rest between drinks.  He typically didn’t involve himself in the day to day operations of their various businesses. He trusted his associates to do thorough background checks and to hire the best. Once he got a name he’d have to check through her file. 

Shikamaru became increasingly frustrated as she flirted and smiled at the club patrons.  They didn’t deserve her attention especially when all of his was on her. His hands clutched painfully around the balcony railing as he tried to keep his anger in check. 

Shikamaru called his security detail over.

“The blonde bartender, bring her to my office.”

“Yes sir.” 

Shikamaru continued to stare as she gazed up towards him with a confused glare. Part of him hoped that when they met she would bore him like the rest. She’d be good for a quick fuck and then he could send her on her way. The intellectual side of him knew that wouldn’t be the case. 

Temari took a deep breath as she followed the large man down the dimly lit hall.  

She’d only started working at the club for a few weeks now.  It was an easy enough job.  She was able to make a pretty decent amount of money, especially from tips.  It was amazing how easily these men opened up their wallets when a pretty girl smiled at them.  

She couldn’t imagine what she had done in such a short time to gain the interests of the Nara clan head. 

When she applied for the job she had already been well aware of who actually owned it.  Their family owned everything in this town. She wasn’t worried though.  What interest could they have in a regular bartender?  As far as she knew it was just a popular club with lines out the door on most nights.  It was a veritable pot of gold.  She needed the money for herself and her brothers. So whatever reason that Nara had for summoning her she knew that she needed to play nice. 

This was despite her natural inclinations.  She had to remain calm and quiet lest she enrages the infamous mob boss.  Their reign and crimes had been known far and wide and she didn’t want to be a victim of his anger. 

The room was small but well furnished.  Despite the fear in her bones it was warm and inviting.  

Temari looked up, finding him sitting in a large chair with a cigarette pressed between his lips.  She’d never known what he actually looked like but he was undeniably handsome.  Sharp features with a hint of darkness around him.  His hair was pulled back away from his face as his deep eyes studied her. The expensive well-fitting suit framed him perfectly. He seemed to be younger than her but his eyes held a lifetime of painful memories.   

The Nara wasn’t what she expected at all.  She’d imagine some sort of large overweight cartoonish figure that wore an obnoxious outfit.  This dark and dangerous man was like something out of her fantasy.

A delighted shiver ran through her. Unlike the fear she had experienced before there was a tinge of excitement and want.  

He placed his cigarette down in favor of leaning forward to stare at her, his chin resting against steepled fingers.  She could see dark swirls of a tattoo peeking from beneath the shirt cuffs. 

 “Your name?”  Even his cool voice was making her wet. 

“Temari, sir.”  Surprising her he grinned.  

“I have enough yes men in my life.  You are allowed to speak freely here, on my honor you will not be harmed for anything you say.”

“You mean your honor as a criminal-”  She bit her lip feeling her stomach drop.  Her father always told her that her mouth would get her in trouble. 

Surprising her yet again he chuckled in response.  “I have no shame in what I do or what my family has done.  Criminal might be an overestimation.  Your elected officials, police officers, those who are meant to uphold the law.  They are all under my command, so who is the greater criminal?  The one who knows the crimes that they commit or the ones that believe themselves to be above them?”

“I doubt that you came here to discuss ethics.”

He smirked at the response, this interaction so different from what he was familiar with.  He strode over, his shadow falling over her.  “Are you not afraid of me?”

There was now hardly any space between them and the once warm room felt far too hot. He was too close and she could smell the cigarette on his breath. “If you were going to kill me, it would have been done already.”  She replied breathlessly but instantly regretted it.  

Despite his promise, she knew that she should still watch her words. The self-preservation part of her was too slow to stop her mouth. Or perhaps she was becoming drunk off his intoxicating scent of pine trees and smoke. She took a deep inhale wanting to commit the smell to memory. 

“You’re sharp.”  Temari breathed a sigh of relief that he seemed to be amused by her.

“You have to be growing up the way that I did.  If you don’t mind, I am on the clock and the time that I am wasting here I could be making money.”  She needed to get away.  This devastatingly attractive man was doing something to her and she wouldn’t be able to take care of it till she got home. 

“How much do you typically make a night here?”

“On a good night $300.”

He pulled out a stack of bills from his pocket before placing it in her hand. “Here, there’s at least a grand.  Is it enough to stop you from trying to leave?”

Despite needing the money her arms crossed.  “I’m not some hired whore.”

“I never said that you were.  Seeing that I am technically your boss, I am just paying you for any lost wages.”  

“Do you always have something to say?”  

His lips curved into a grin.  “My mother always told me that my mouth would get me in trouble.”  For some reason imagining that this larger than life man had a nagging mother made him seem...normal.  

“So, why am I here?”  She prayed that it was for the same reason that she wanted. 

“I don’t quite know myself.  I saw you there and something just made me want to meet you.”  His fingers casually trailed over the length of her throat along to her shoulder.  Traveling over the skin her dress left exposed. Goosebumps erupted where his hands moved. He’d barely touched her and she was already soaked. 

“Why?”  She breathed as his hand came to take a possessive grip on her waist.  “I’m no one.”

“I highly doubt that.  Even speaking with you for just 5 minutes has shown me that you are really something quite special and I've learned to read people quite well.”  He replied as his face buried itself into her hair as he took a deep breath.  She smelled like an ocean breeze and it was disorienting.  

“Do you do this to all the women who work for you?”  Temari demanded trying to keep her wits about her.  

“Jealous?”  He asked as his fingers trailed beneath the hem of her dress.

“Of course not.”  She replied sharply trying to fight back a moan at his warm hands traveled to grab the swell of her ass. 

“Good, because you’re wrong.  This is the first time someone has ever interested me in this way.”  Flutters erupted in her stomach at the idea that she could have captured the attention of someone in his position.  

Taking her own chance, her hands moved up his chest to cross behind his head, her fingers playing with the stray hairs at his neck. Lust and want were pushing her. How long had it been since anyone had made her feel this way? Had anyone even come close? 

“So what now…”

His lips traced along her throat as he pulled her flush against his chest delighting in her gasp of shock.  She was surprised to feel how hard he was and had to still her hips from moving against him.  

“It’s up to you.”  His voice was hot and desperate against her skin.  “Because of the position that I am in I don't get to imagine tomorrows.  So all I ask is just for one night.”

“Just a night”  She panted as he continued to layer kisses along her skin from her shoulder towards her exposed cleavage.  

His tongue and lips left a wet trail along her skin.  

“That’s all.  No strings, no expectations, just us.  Whatever your conditions are is fine.  I need to fuck you and It’s pretty obvious that you want me too.”  She felt his smug smile between her breasts.  His thumbs rubbed the tight nubs.  She held her breath as his hands massaged and manipulated her sensitive tits. 

In spite of herself, she couldn’t help the moan that fell from her lips.  

“Fuck, you don’t know what that sound does to me Trouble.”

“More, please.”  She begged thoughtlessly and his hands made quick work of pulling her dress down below her tits.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”  He breathed before his mouth descended over her.  She cried out as he bit and sucked at her heavy chest. She arched up chasing that delicious feeling. 

Despite what she actually wanted she managed to ground out. “Wait.”

Shikamaru immediately released her, taking a step back. “Sorry, Temari-”

She shook her head before pulling him back. “No trust me that was perfect and I do want you.”  At the admission, he returned to worshiping her heavy mounds.  

She had to bite back a moan to get her point out. “But if this is really just going to be a one-night thing let’s make it interesting.”  

“How so?”  

“Let’s go out, get something to eat.”  Temari couldn’t believe what she was asking for. Yes, a quick fuck would be more than enough. For whatever reason though, she didn’t want the night to end. 

He was in shock and just a bit of awe at the situation.  Most women easily spread their legs if he showed any interest. Why did he relish in challenges?  Why was he entertaining the idea? 

“I don’t just go out or go on dates.  I’m not a good man. I could easily take what I want from you.  Why can’t I?”  He groaned against her flushed chest. 

“You tell me.  You seem to have an answer for everything. Here’s what I think. When I asked you to wait you did.  You’re a criminal but you’re not a monster.”  She told him with a soft smile with her fingers in his hair. That smile could bring him to his knees. 

“You think much too highly of me. Trouble.”  He replied taking deep inhales in her hair. 

“I don’t think that I do.” 

“A date.” 

If he was right and they did only have one night together Temari was going to make it last.  

“That's what I want to do.  And you said that any of my conditions were fine with you.  Maybe get to know each other just a little bit first.”  

His finger slowly grazed her face before drawing her gaze back up.  It was like those teal eyes could see right through him.  “You might not like what you find.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”  He met the challenge in her eyes with his own steely glare.  She was so damn troublesome and it would be much easier to find some other willing woman to help him get off.  That person wouldn’t be Temari though. 

“Fine Trouble if that’s what you want.  We will go out but if you think that this silly attempt at keeping me from what I want is going to stop me you’re mistaken.”

She made a show of fixing her dress before drawing him into a kiss.  His lips were hot and demanding against hers but she responded in kind. Aggressive and lustful, her tongue slid against his. She felt him walk them back. Her back hitting the door so he could put his full weight against her.  

Shikamaru very rarely kissed his conquests. Fucking could be emotionless and raw. Kissing felt far too intimate. Kissing Temari though he couldn’t help but crave.  She was so soft and pliant against him.  It had been so long since he’d had anything so sweet. 

“Are you just used to getting what you want immediately?”  She teased him, her lips still against his.  He hiked her leg around his waist grounding his erection against her overheated pussy. 

“Most people know better than to push me.”  He groaned, taking quick bites along her neck. His cock was already so hard in his pants and this troublesome blonde was only making it worse. 

“Don’t be a cry baby about it. Maybe waiting will make it that much sweeter.” 

“I can’t imagine your pussy being any sweeter than it already is.”  He replied with a grin as his fingers moved up her thigh and towards her wet cunt teasing her hard clit.  Wanting to draw out those sweet cries from her.  

“We don’t have to go out to eat. I can eat your pussy right here.” 

She pulled him back into a demanding kiss. It wasn’t a bad idea but she’d already made her move. “Fuck, your mouth won’t get you in trouble. That tongue will.”  She cried, throwing her head back. 

His thumb rubbed against her kiss swollen lips. “And that’s exactly where I’ll expect it to be later on tonight.” 

“Come on, let’s go.”  After a few more heated kisses Temari was able to pull back wanting to see her request through. Needing just a little space. This man was far too disarming. 

“Well you’ve sucked my tits and felt me up, I think that I deserve a first name Nara.” 

He threw his jacket over her shoulders before leading her back down that dimly lit hallway. His arm wrapped protectively around her waist. 

“It’s Shikamaru.” 

“Shikamaru.” She repeated back and the sound of his name on her lips sent a shudder through him. 

This Temari was dangerous. He knew that she couldn’t actually physically hurt him but the damage could be much worse. Still, when she looked at him with that all too charming grin and excitement in her teal eyes he couldn’t help but want to take the risk.

Once they reached the streets she stopped him to pull him into another kiss. It was far more gentle than the lust-fueled ones that they’d shared.  A genuine smile crossed his lips when she looked up at him. 

“Be careful, a date with me can be quite a drag.”

*

**

I was going to write this and keep it to myself but I loved it too much and I hope that you do too!!  I have another story for Sai/Ino and one in the works for Chouji/Karui that will all happen in this same universe. It's going to go fast because I have no patience or energy for a slow burn. There will be some twists and turns though!  Thanks for reading!  Love, love you all!

Update: I have a Stalemate/ShikaTema playlist on spotify but is there a way to share it but it’s not associated with my personal account?  Hmmm either way if I decide to share it I’ll add a link here.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 72

This is the part where I reiterate if you see something in the tags/warnings you don't like, please just leave the story.

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. | Tag lists are closed | INBOX OPEN

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 72: Ink and Lies

You woke up with a pressure behind your ear and a hand between your legs. The last few mornings since you’ve been crowned Empress, since your wedding, Kylo has woken you up by fingering you and playing with your clit. Basically giving you an orgasm to start the day, not that you were complaining at all. You also tried to happily return the favor, but it was much easier to do some sort of handjob, wrist match name attention mix to get him off since he has really too big for your hands to handle properly. But that is what your mornings consisted of.

You and Kylo had done some work over the last few days but not much, you weren’t going to be able to get a proper honeymoon in the middle of a war, but your love nest was enough. Today was the first day that Kylo would be leaving the ship. The Alazmac apparently had something for him, something of Vader’s that they wanted to give you both as a wedding present. You weren’t exactly happy that he was leaving the ship, as you had wanted him close, he was right in the sense that him guarding you made you feel safer.

In the last few days, you had seen very little of your staff outside a few visits from your ladies-in-waiting and Mitaka, who relayed important messages. Hux was bearing the brunt of the responsibility of the First Order at the moment, not unlike before you were in the picture, but you felt bad.

In the couple of hours that Kylo was gone, you and your ladies-in-waiting did some rehabilitation work. Your body in many ways had taken a beating and you needed to be restored to some sort of functional state.

Eyeing you up and down, scanning over the many, many love marks. “You know you look like you’ve been attacked by a pack of wild dogs,” commented Adlez.

This caused a snort of laughter at the comparison, “If only you knew the truth.” Especially with your new nickname for Kylo. You didn’t mind the beast, especially in bed. But after the last few days, it would be nice to be able to feel the lower half of your body finally.

“Maybe you need to put him on a leash, hmm? Some obedience training? It’s worked wonders on his knights. And the pack of dogs they are.” Again it felt like Adlez was full of surprises. She’s hinted at her sleeping around with the knights, teaching them ‘manners.’

You tried to play off the smirk that was on your face. “All of them or just Cardo?” You knew the rowdy Knight of Ren had a soft spot for her. So much so that Kylo asked you about it.

“All of them.” She shrugged, “But Cardo has been a special boy.” The images that popped into your head were rather... scaring. You were just grateful that you did not have to witness them in real life.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, “Oh my god, didn’t need to know that, but good for you.” You really didn’t, she had her private life, and you had yours.

“You should ask the Supreme Leader about their wedding gift for you two.” Some rather terrifying possibilities jumped around in your head. You almost didn’t want to know, especially if he hasn’t shown it to you yet.

“Do I want to know?” You probably didn’t, but you might be able to get an answer out of her, eventually. “Well, it might just help with that obedience bit. He is their leader, their alpha and now you are their alpha too. Teach him some new tricks.” And the dog imagery was back, you wonder just how much she knows. But for now you wanted to drop the subject all together.

They ended up filling the tub with bacta for you to soak, Kylo had expressed the discomfort about you going to the med bay for treatment. And since none of your ‘injuries’ were severe or life-threatening it was a long bath in gross bacta gel for you. Adlez told you to submerge yourself but that meant Kylo’s favorite love bites would be healed too and you weren’t about to do that, you wanted to wear a few of them with pride.

By the time you got out, you felt renewed again. The only bruises left were those high up on your neck, along your jaw, and of course the one behind your ear. Still marked up for him, still owned, but it wasn’t like you needed it because you had your wedding ring and you doubt there is any place in the galaxy that doesn’t know your face now. You were his and were proud to display his conquest marks. You also haven’t worn any proper clothes in the last few days, if you were just with Kylo you were either naked or wearing just a robe, but if you were meeting with someone you wore a wrap dress. Which seemed to be Kylo’s favorite type of garment on you because he could easily untie you and have access to whatever he wanted.  

After Adlez and Olivia-Rose made you human again you had a meeting with your staff and Hux. They seemed to eye your condition carefully. Not really knowing how Kylo had left you, since you had really only been meeting with Mitaka and your ladies-in-waiting.

“What are my most pressing matters?” You knew you did not have much time to be talking with them Kylo would be back soon, and your rehabilitation treatments took a bit longer than you initially expected. Adlez insisted on you being repaired from head to toe with face masks, hair removal, and the works.

“You still need to meet with Senator Apolin about your education,” said Mitaka. Your thoughts went back to the dinner, and how he treated you. Acting as if you were some idiot girl that tricked her way into Kylo’s bed with the intent to rule the galaxy.

A thought popped into your head, you had new privileges now. “Do I or does being Empress now negate that?”

Hux cleared his throat, “I would say that it negates it. He technically has no right to question you now, I suggest a letter versus a call.” He seemed to have your back in many ways, especially when it came to dealing with Pryde and his friends. You wondered just how much he hated the man.

“Right,” you turned to Lieutenant Amala Graven. “Can you write up something about it? Something along the lines that since he, unfortunately, did not set up a date prior to me becoming Empress that he now is not in the position to review my education?” This made you feel happy, knowing that an old man like him wouldn’t be getting his way this time, and that you had tricked him into thinking he had some power over you.

She pushed up her glasses before she began taking notes, very diligent in her work. “Yes. Would you like it to be formal or semi-formal?”

“Formal, but as much hidden sass as you can put in it. Also, let him know that it was unfortunate that he couldn’t attend the wedding.” You were glad he didn’t. You were honestly surprised you were able to handle Pryde being there, but then again, you didn’t know he was there until after the wedding and consummation of your vows were over.

“But we did not extend him an invitation m’lady,” said Mitaka you could hear the worry in his voice. You don’t know if it was because the invitation was ‘forgotten’ or if it was because you were possibly going to piss off a powerful ally.  

You thought for a moment. Even if he wasn’t invited he still had an expectation to uphold his duty. “Has he sent a gift?” You were sure you knew the answer, one of the rooms that shared your chamber’s hallway was cleared out just to hold all of them, some of them still arriving.

Hux answered for the captain. “No, he has not.” You could see the wheels turning in his mind, you knew he agreed with you and what you were about to do.

You looked between both of them, holding your ground. “Then my point still stands. Shall we move on to the next topic?”

Before you could move on Kylo entered the room and ordered everyone out. He was holding something in his hand that you could not see. He chose not to remove his helmet before speaking to you. The chilling sound of his distorted voice haunting you to the bone. “I must leave.”

Waves of confusion washed over you, with their freezing cold waters. “Leave be you just got back? Where are you going?” Your mind was racing a million miles a minute. You were supposed to be relatively safe now, that other danger was not supposed to happen for a while, or at least that’s what you thought.

“I have something left to do.” The black voids of his visor peering into you, this was no guard dog at the moment, this was something else. You could feel something was wrong.

“But why must you go? Can’t you take me with you?” You didn’t understand what was going on, because he wasn’t explaining anything.  

He stepped closer to you, but with his helmet on, like that it didn’t feel sweet it felt threatening. “No, I must go alone. It would be best for you to return to your home planet.” So he was shipping you back to your home planet, to do away with you?

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” You wanted answers, answers that he never seemed to give you.

You felt them again, inside your mind. You felt the black tendrils forcing themselves to wrap around your brain, stretching, familiarizing themselves with their new home once more.

His voice taking a whole new, unfamiliar tone of harshness with the mask. His hand with an extended finger outstretched towards you, “You will not fight me. You will do as I say when I say it. You will go home to your planet while complete what I must do. Do you understand?” You were being talked down to, like a child but all you could do is nod. Your body involuntarily doing what he asked, were as the small rational part of your brain was struggling to survive. She was losing the battle.

“I will have a ship and the knights escort you back to Earth. Where you will wait for my return.” So that was it, you were a princess being locked away in some tower before your prince in black armor decides to return to you. No more fairytale for you, just the cold harshness of reality.  

He then left you alone, standing there unable to move as the tears fell down your face and the black inky blob in your brain took over. It forced you to sit down while you began to sob, awful ugly tears. All of your hard work was for nothing, as he crushed your dreams in a second.

Your spark, your flame of rationality was loosing against the downpour of black water that was Kylo in your mind.  You blacked out, or you thought you did. When you woke up, you found yourself on board the Steadfast in your old cold and bright chambers. Adlez, Olivia-Rose, and Mitaka were there with you. The black ink creature receding back into the corners of your skull.

You took hold of yourself again. “Where am I?” You knew where you were technically, but your brain wasn’t clicking. How did you get here? You don’t remember a thing.

Adlez had a look of confusion on her face. “You’re onboard the Steadfast , m’lady. We transferred here three days ago. You’ve been with us the whole time.”

You tried to cool your features as panic set in. “Why am I here?” Something was wrong, something was majorly wrong. Why didn’t you remember any of it? The lack of memories for the last few days was terrifying.

“We were to bring you to Earth, the Supreme Leader said that you wanted to visit your family. So that’s why we are headed there. Are you alright m’lady?” Mitaka’s voice was full of concern. You could tell he was able to sense something was wrong and if he could, then Adlez knew something was.

Just as the word No was going to come out of your mouth you felt the black ink creature take hold of your head. “Yes, I’m fine. I just spaced out for a moment that’s all. I think I need to go lie down and rest for a while.” Your body then took you up the stairs, automatically, without your consent. As your head hit the pillow all you saw was darkness, but you heard a voice. His voice. Kylo’s voice.

‘I need to protect you. Let me protect you.’

‘Why are you doing this? You’re hurting me Kylo. You know this!’ The doctor told you as much. He was going to smother the life out of you, for what? You didn’t know.

‘I am protecting you. I do not know what this purpose is yet, therefore you must be protected.’

‘You’re killing me, Kylo. Your killing the part of me that makes me, me!’  You were internally screaming at him now. Crying and begging for him to stop, but the black tendrils only held you tighter.

‘Man serves the interest of no creature except himself, I must do what I need to do to protect you.’ You don’t know what scares you more, the fact that he was doing this or the fact that the voice that he was choosing to speak to you in your mind was that of the mask. He wasn’t even using his own natural voice, this was devoid of emotion.

‘Please… don’t do this.’ You could feel the grasp you had on yourself quickly slipping away. You were losing any control you had and terrifying didn’t even begin to describe it.

‘You are mine.’ While before you thought the mask made him devoid of emotion, this came out as a snarl. The monster was rearing his ugly head in full form.

When you awoke it was like you were staring out of windows, except they were your eyes. You could not move yourself. You could not move your own body. No, he was doing it. You were trapped inside your own mind, watching how the outside world spoke to ‘you’ without it being you.

You realized you were surrounded by dying embers in your own mind, with black rain attempting to wash them away. You were trapped. And your captor was on the other side of the galaxy, claiming to be protecting you, or at least the you that wasn’t you. A man who claimed to love you, but in fact he failed to understand you. The beast, the monster had taken over him, taken over you. But there was no exit that you could see around you, no exit to this nightmare you were about to be forced to witness.

A/N: I even bolded some of the tags you should be concerned with in this chapter.