#i foresee that problem raising its head again

[captain-hawks]

Happy spicy, sweaty sleepover!

I just know you’ll write something so, so delightful for band!AU Jean with a broken AC. Like, I know know it.

💋mojogojocasahouse

jean kirstein x f!reader

c: 18+ only, exes to lovers speed run, band!au jean, masturbation, fingering, oral sex, anal fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v, creampie

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — HEAT WAVE EDITION

There has to be correlation, somewhere, between one’s innate penchant for masochism and the subsequently awful, irresponsible, downright terrible decision to call one’s ex-boyfriend to help fix a busted appliance.

But alas, here you are, sweating to death in the midst of the worst heat wave the city’s seen in years with no qualified, local repairman available any time in the foreseeable future—because clearly your broken air conditioner is somehow considered fucking trendy right now. 

The thing is, it’s not the first time the machine has let out an ominous death rattle before the motor inside fell into an ominous silence. It’s not even the second time it’s happened, or the third.

But every other goddamn time it did, Jean still lived here in your shared apartment. And his deft fingers, paired with years of tinkering with guitars, amps, speakers, and pedal boards, somehow led him to find the fix time and time again. 

It’s been three months since your messy breakup, three months of deafening silence and empty space in your one-bedroom apartment. He’s been living with Eren and Conny, though half of his clothes are still strewn about in your closet—until he finds his own place. 

You have half a mind to drag the pile out shirts out and toss them at him one by one, if only to cover up the torturous sight you’ve been subjected to for the better part of an hour.

Jean Kirstein, for all intents and purposes, is an attractive man. And you were prepared for it, the slight inconvenience of the sight of his soft brown hair, sharp jaw, intense eyes, and tall form standing in the hallway when you opened the front door.

But Jean Kirstein standing in the middle of your living room, muttering a string of expletives under his breath as he swiftly bats a hand against the temperamental air conditioner before standing up straight to peel off his soaked t-shirt? The reminder of the way the tattoos covering his arms and chest and back look when they’re coated in a slick sheen of sweat? The ripple of his muscles as he twists a wrench? 

That’s another fucking problem entirely.

“You don’t look too hot.”

Jean’s voice spears through your thoughts, and you look up from where your hands are folded in your lap to see him standing in front of you in the kitchen. Seated atop the kitchen counter if only for the relief of the cool marble beneath you, one of your idly swinging feet nudges his knee. 

His voice is a bit rough, and you can only assume that he came right to your apartment from band practice. 

(You try not to think too hard about how he knows exactly what that voice does to you—the way you barely made it past the entryway most times coming home after his shows, your skirt shoved up as he fucked you up against the wall beside the coat rack.)

(The way he’d call you late at night while he was away on tour, his voice a low rasp as you hung on to his every word and touched yourself for him.)

“I’m very hot, actually,” you reply with a raised brow, though you’re well aware you probably do look like an overheated, exhausted mess—you’ve hardly gotten any sleep all week, even with a fan right beside your bed. 

Jean steps closer and leans in, standing between your spread legs, and your heart feels like its lodged in your throat as he holds your gaze. Slowly, he brings his hand up to rest against the side of your neck, fingers easing their way against your damp skin one by one in a way that makes your breath catch. 

“You should take a cool shower,” he suggests, his thumb ghosting over the front of your throat before he swiftly steps back and walks away, heading back into the living room.

Fingers clasping the edge of the countertop, you inhale sharply.

Admittedly, Jean was right about the shower—you feel a bit more steady on your feet as the water washes over your face and trickles down your naked body, washing away the uncomfortable, sticky layer of sweat. 

Maybe it’s a little misguided, the way you let your thoughts get away from you as you glance down at your soapy tits, remembering how much Jean used to love how sensitive they are. How he’d groan and curse over the way you’d writhe when he toyed with your pebbled nipples, the way you’d whimper and moan as he sucked on them.

Running your hands over the swell of your breasts, you sigh, letting your back rest against the cool tiles as you stroke and tease the tender buds until they’re rock hard beneath your touch. You grope and caress yourself, imagining that it’s Jean in the shower with you.

You're tempted to make a mad dash for your room, to lock the door and stuff the fat dildo in your bedside table into your wet cunt, to quickly fuck yourself on it until you’re sated enough to face the shirtless man in your living room without being distracted by stray thoughts of laving your tongue against the hollow of his throat.

It’s a half-baked plan seasoned with nothing but the delirious power of your lust-driven thoughts.

It's stupid.

It’s reckless.

And it almost fucking works, almost, until Jean suddenly comes barging into the bedroom in the middle of you face down on the bed, frantically humping the dildo like your life depends on it, the slick silicone lubricated on nothing but your gushing arousal. 

Jean stops dead in his tracks and stares at you, speechless for what may very well be the first time in his life.

You stare back at him, shaken from your stupor only when the dildo suddenly slides out of your pussy with a lewd popping sound. 

“Jean, what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, some part of you almost proud of how steady your voice comes out.

He blinks several times. “I needed a new shirt,” he gestures toward the door, “and the bathroom door is shut, I thought you were still in there.”

You blink back at him, all too aware of the filthy, slick arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. “Oh.”

He glances up at the ceiling for a moment, toward the closet, and then back to you. “Do you…” he trails off.

“Do I…”

“—need a hand?”

You could probably blame it on the heat, the way you almost robotically nod. The way you hardly bat an eye when Jean climbs up on the bed behind you.

It’s surely a symptom of heat exhaustion, perching on all fours atop your mattress as your ex-boyfriend presses a hand into the small of your back while he thrusts a dildo in and out of your sopping wet cunt.

That stupid fucking air conditioner is definitely, absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt to blame for what happens next—when you flip over onto your back and spread your legs wide, gazing up at Jean’s lust-blown pupils as he continues to fuck you with the toy.

Your breakup was so goddamn stupid and petty and shortsighted—and you were both too stubborn to admit it in the aftermath. 

“Please let me eat you out,” Jean exhales, dragging a hand through his messy brown hair to push it out of his face.

You nod, fervently, though you’re still tempted to drag his hips flush against yours, to tell him how badly you need to be fucked instead. 

But when he laps a broad, firm stroke through your slick, creamy folds with his dexterous tongue, your mind goes blank in a haze of pleasure. 

Jean has always been far too good at this.

He alternates between lapping at your slit and licking his way into your tight entrance, and sucking on your clit as he plunges two long digits in and out of your wet hole, one hand splayed across your abdomen to hold you down as you whimper and buck your hips.

“You taste so good,” Jean groans, his own hips jerking into the mattress as you gasp, your entire body arching up off of the bed when one of his slick fingers slides beneath you and begins to stroke the rim of your ass.

He eases your other tight hole open, saliva and your sticky arousal running down his chin as he messily fucks your cunt with his tongue.

“Jean,” you gasp when he finally sinks a finger deep in your ass, your gut engulfed in a wave of white-hot pleasure.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs, tongue tracing firm circles against your clit while he curls his fingers and strokes the spongy, sensitive wall atop your tight channel.

You come with a shout as the coil of pleasure inside of you snaps, clear liquid spraying from your cunt as you tremble and shake and gush all over Jean’s fingers and face. 

“Holy shit,” Jean groans, hips rocking even harder into the bed—it always did drive him out of his mind when you squirted.

As you come down from your orgasm, Jean leans back into a sitting position, unzipping his pants and letting his throbbing, hard cock spring free from the confines of his boxers. He crudely spits into the palm of his hand, groaning your name as he tosses his head back and begins to fuck his fist, spreading the precum leaking from his tip with his thumb. 

You don’t think twice about the way you scramble forward and climb into his lap, nudging away his hand and wrapping your fingers around his length. 

Waiting a beat, you meet his gaze, somehow still not entirely sure if he actually wants to fuck you.

Jean chokes out a laugh, reading the uncertainty in your eyes and reaching up to cup the side of your face before he leans in to rest his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, words he stubbornly couldn’t bring himself to say months ago.

“I’m sorry, too,” you murmur, and you mean it.

And then all it takes is the familiar grip of his hands on your hips to guide you down onto his cock, your cunt rapidly pulsing and contracting at the searing, intoxicating stretch, and both of you moan in unison.

Jean kisses you hard, his mouth engulfing yours and swallowing down the gasping, whimpering sounds you make as he fucks up into you, bullying his cock as deep as your greedy, needy pussy will take.

“I fucking missed you so much,” he rasps, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, one hand reaching up to grasp your tits.

It’s so goddamn hot in your bedroom, and it’s downright filthy, the slick slide of Jean’s sweat-soaked skin against yours, the way his hair is damp with it, the salt you taste on your tongue as you press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the tattoo that wraps around the side of his neck.

It’s hot and filthy and sweaty and you’re not sure if you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so ridiculously wet, each plunge of Jean’s cock punctuated by the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy. 

“Jean—” you whine, dizzy with desperation and need.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, cradling your body as he switches your position, laying you down flat on your back as he continues to thrust in and out of you.

And maybe it’s the way he begins to toy with your clit again.

Maybe it’s the sight of the creamy ring of your arousal coating the base of his cock.

Maybe it’s the look in his eyes as he stares down at you beneath him.

—either way, you’re helpless to do anything but cry out and moan as another orgasm breaks through the heady dam of pleasure flowing inside of you, your vision nearly going black as he fucks you through it.

And you can tell he’s close, too, you can feel it in the way his thrusts suddenly grow sloppy, the way his breathing goes ragged.

“Inside,” you breathe out.

Jean’s answering groan is absolutely wrecked as he slams his cock in you to the hilt, spilling rope after rope of thick, hot cum in your fucked out cunt until it’s overflowing and dripping onto the sheets below.

When he eventually collapses beside you on the bed, you’re not sure if it’s intentional—the fact that he ends up on the side that was always his. 

But you don’t question it, not now.

Not later when the morning sun is peeking through the blinds and he’s snoring softly beside you.

Not even when you wake again to the sound of the air conditioner sputtering to life in the living room, the mattress dipping beside you as Jean pulls back the sheet and tugs you back against his chest.

[strawwritesfic]

Takeshi Yamamoto x Female!Reader: But Uh-Oh Those Summer Nights [Ch. 1]

Summary: “Summer lovin’ had me a blast / summer lovin’ happened so fast.”

Challenge: “10 Summer Events” by someone on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (Sexual humor; sexual dialogue; summer vacation; comedy; fluff; eccentric grandparents; Grease references; Takeshi & Hayato & Tsuna; Takeshi & Hayato & Tsuna & Reader; Reborn & Tsuna; Reborn & Reader; Original Character & Reader)

Pairings: Takeshi Yamamoto/Reader

Tag List: @imaginesfire​​

Notes: This was so bad, I actually wound up pretty much rewriting the whole chapter line-by-line anyway. Of course, this means there’s likely to be more typos, so don’t be shy about telling me you found something.

Master List

Chapter 1: Meeting

“Here we are, Miss.”

Your driver’s voice barely cut through the haze you found yourself in while sitting in the back of his car. The brain fog remained as you groggily gathered your belongings and the car slid to a smooth stop. Yawning, you stepped out into the thick heat of Japan with only the vaguest memory of the long flight and subsequent car ride that had deposited you just outside your grandmother’s house in Namimori. You’d hardly noticed your arrival before your driver left you there.

You felt strangely vulnerable without the car there to protect you. After all, you had never been to Japan before–had never really planned to visit– but when your parents had decided to go for a spur-of-the-moment second honeymoon, two months ago, no one had been able to look after you for the summer other than your father’s secluded Japanese mother.

All the time you’d spent sitting in one place to get here, and you still didn’t know what you were going to say to the grandmother you’d seen only a handful of times. You’d been very young then, too. And it wasn’t just her you worried about. What were you supposed to do in this strange country for the next month and a half? Sure, your father had taught you the language, but communication wasn’t the only problem you could foresee raising its ugly head.

Some of your fears, however, were relieved by the relatively normal-looking neighborhood that met your eyes. You heaved a sigh of relief before you looked at the paper with the address jotted down on it. This was indeed where your grandmother lived. 

But before you opened the gate, you looked behind yourself once more. Someone was watching you. Weren’t they? You could see no movement at all. After a moment or two of searching, you shrugged, got a better grip on your suitcase, and made your way up to the house.=

******

“Oh, I’m just so glad you decided to visit!” the small, silver-haired woman called over her shoulder as she bustled around the kitchen, making the tea you had not actually said you wanted. “We two girls will have such fun! We have so much to catch up on!”

You forced a smile as you took the steaming cup from her hands. Who on earth would want something so hot when just outside was even warmer? Even placing the mug on the table in front of you didn’t seem to get rid of the steam.

If your grandmother noticed your chagrin, she didn’t show it. She just shuffled over to the other side of the table to settle in. She grinned at you again, and you smiled back, though less enthusiastically than you had when you had entered the house roughly two hours ago.

“So,” she said, patting her thighs with the palms of her hands. “What are you planning on doing this summer?”

“Do?” you asked, bewildered.

“Well of course! I remember what it was like to be a girl your age. Surely you don’t want to spend the entire summer in the company of someone as old as your grandmother!”

Now your discomfort grew so great that you couldn’t help but squirm. You did not want to admit that you had thrown a bit of a snit about just that very aspect of being sent across the world for vacation. Your parents had refused to let you stay back home with one of your friends and had instead chosen to send you to a completely unfamiliar country. How were you supposed to make friends in a town full of strangers? But admitting that sounded rude without you so much as opening your mouth.

Your grandmother nodded as though she could hear your thoughts anyway. “You can’t expect me to get out and about as much as you would like. No, you need to get out there, make some friends, meet some boys!”

“I don’t know about that, Grandma,” you said weakly.

“Why, sure you do! Go to the park, or to get noodles, or something! Anything! It’s summer break here, too, you know, and kids your age will be crawling out of the woodwork.”

“Well…”

“Well, what? A bright kid like you, you’ll make friends like that!” She snapped her fingers. “And not being able to talk to them is no excuse. We’ve been speaking Japanese since you got here, and you haven’t had any trouble at all!”

“But what if–”

“No, no worrying. Worrying does not all you to act.” Your grandmother stood up, motioning for you to do the same. 

You did. 

Without warning and with surprising strength, the old woman pushed you toward and out the front door, then slammed it before you were able to turn around and step back inside. A snick indicated she’d locked you out.

“Grandma!” You banged on the door with one first. “Grandma! Let me back in!”

“No, not until you make some friends, [Name]!” 

With that, you heard her march away from the door. You hit the door once or twice more, but knew it was a futile effort. Your father had warned you that your grandmother could be quite adamant about the strangest things.

You were now outside in the sweltering heat, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and your socks. You could simply choose to sit down in the shade and wait until your grandmother came back to see if you had left, but you were unsure if she would be able to see you from another window, or if she even would let you back in when you clearly had refused to try.

Deciding that it was best to just get the attempt over with, you made your way down the sidewalk and back onto the street you had left mere hours before. As you left the gate, you looked around, scratching the side of your head. There were no kids here. Old people usually lived amongst other old people, didn’t they? 

Maybe you would have to go somewhere else to find people your own age to talk to. Your grandmother had not, after all, given you a curfew or any limitations to your wanderings. After looking both ways across the street, you chose one direction and set out that way, trying to ignore the way your shirt stuck to your skin and how each step turned your socks and even darker gray.

You saw no one. You heard no one. Either your grandmother had lied about the number of students milling around with no school to attend, of the entire population of Japan had agreed that it was too hot to bother with going outside. March and march and march you did. Only upon finding a shady spot against fence did you finally decide you’d given enough effort and needed to rest.

“Hey. What’re you doing out here alone?”

When had you closed your eyes? At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, you jumped about a foot in the air and opened those eyes to find your nose a mere two inches from that of a tall boy with messy dark hair, brown eyes, and the biggest smile you’d ever seen. 

He took a step back, still grinning and clearly without a care in the world as to how badly he’d scared you. Well, you thought your fright ought to be obvious enough. You were breathing heavily and looking at him like he was completely insane.

“So?” he asked.

“So what?” you replied.

“What’re you doing out here alone? It’s kinda hot to just be sitting there.” 

You frowned. He was taller than you by quite a bit, but he looked to be your age or around it. Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

“My grandma locked me out until I found some friends,” you explained.

“Oh, are you new in town?” the boy asked, his smile never faltering. “You can play mafia with us!”

“Tch! Don’t invite strangers to join the family, baseball idiot! Besides, that’s the Tenth’s job!” said a new voice.

“Ahahaha, I didn’t think Tsuna would mind,” the boy in front of you said.

You inched to the side and saw that you were not as alone with the tall “baseball idiot” as you had originally thought. Two other boys stood behind him. One had shaggy silver hair; the other, an impressive bush of brown hair rising from his scalp. Upon closer examination, there appeared to be four of members of this group. The brunet had what appeared to be a baby wearing a suit and a hat perched on his shoulder.

“Anyway, I’m Takeshi Yamamoto,” the smiling boy said, his smile only widening when you looked him in the eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Um, [F Name] [L Name],” you said.

“She can play with us, right, Tsuna?”

The smallest of the boys eyed Yamamoto and opened his mouth to speak, but the baby on his shoulder answered first:

“Of course. We’re always looking for new family members.”

“Re-Reborn! Don’t just decide things like that!” the boy, Tsuna, stammered.

“See? It’ll be fun! Come on!” Yamamoto said as he returned his attention to you. Apparently he did not even consider the fact that people your age generally didn’t play “imagination games” a problem. 

The silver-haired boy made another “Tch!” sound and looked away. 

“This is Tsuna.” Yamamoto gestured toward the brunet. “He’s our “boss.” And this,” he motioned toward the other boy, “is Gokudera.”

Gokudera didn’t even bother to look at you. He merely kept his arms crossed and looked adamantly away from both you and Yamamoto.

“So come on! It’ll be fun! And then your grandma will let you back inside, right?”

You hesitated.

His cheerful smile never faltered. "Summer break is best spent with friends."

This time, you looked at the silver haired boy, still pointedly ignoring you, and grinned yourself. “You know what? I’d really like that.”

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Just saw Animorphs is getting a movie. Any thoughts?

I never keep track of media news, so asks like this are the only way I learn anything about movies.  I went out and did some research and...

Listen.

I’m going to try to go into this with an open mind.  I’ll read all the reviews and Internet comments when it comes out, and I might even go see the thing in theaters, if theaters are a thing again by then.  I work hard not to be completely consumed by my pessimistic nature about stuff like this.  I’ve been wrong about movie adaptations before--maybe I’ll love it and watch it a hundred and fifty times and finally revel in the Animorphs Renaissance I (and they!) deserve.

However.  First problem I foresee, the last two things that were made by Scholastic were Goosebumps and Clifford the Big Red Dog.  I am not optimistic about what that portends for a book series best known for gore, body horror, war crimes, moral ambiguity, and the grim realities of how there is no such thing as a just war.  Offhand, I can’t think of a way to make a G or PG live action Animorphs movie that is...good.  Maybe if you bump it to PG13, we could talk (admittedly, the guy in charge of Picturestart has been involved with a lot of blockbuster YA movie adaptations, all of them with serious problems in my opinion but not always, like, ruinous problems, eg: Hunger Games, Divergent) but even then, they’ll probably end up cutting back on a lot.  Okay, I’ll live if they cut the body horror (I’ll complain, but I’ll live) but it is a series about war.  There’s only so much you can cut to get under a rating and preserve the actual point of the story.  This is the short version of my long ramble about how an animated Animorphs series would be better and more functional in basically every way.  Which brings me to...

Second problem I foresee, how much are these fools planning to adapt????  On the one hand, I think you could very competently turn The Invasion into a full length movie without, A, a huge amount of dull filler breaking your pacing into tiny pieces, or, B, losing any important plot or character beats.  On the other hand, I absolutely do not trust movie studios and I’m concerned that their desire to have Ax for the Alien Value will make them over-ambitious and try to do multiple books.  Don’t do multiple books.  The Invasion is plenty of plot for a movie.  If you desperately desperately want to shoehorn Ax in there (I don’t think you should do this!!!!  Scholastic, are you looking at my post?  Are you there, Eric Feig?  It’s me, Starlight.  Don’t do that!  And if you HAVE to do that, call me to check your plans!), you can just pop him on Elfangor’s ship and have an emotional beat about Elfangor’s death, or else have Elfangor give the kids an exact location and make it their first Morphing Caper to go get an alien.  Don’t do multiple books.  One book.  If this movie covers more than one book, I am going to be Very Upset, and I will without a doubt have reason to be Very Upset, because it will be a mess.

As some just...general concerns: 

I’m concerned that they’re going to make everyone a one-note character.  Specifically, I’m concerned that this is going to be a movie starring Protagonist Boy, also featuring Clown Boy, Nice Girl, Mean Girl, Alien, and Cautionary Tale.  

I’m concerned that they’re going to strip back the moral ambiguity to the wire, which is to say “everyone but Tom is A Bad Guy, no complications needed.”  I know everyone gets a lot of jokes in about the Oatmeal Book, but that book and others like it make the requisite legitimate points about the issues with fighting Controllers.  Those are real people!  Make sure you mention it!

The Yeerk Pool scene at the end of Invasion is an outstandingly good moment to underline that.  Hell, you can dredge up the later Yeerk Pool scene of the temporarily free Hork Bajir and humans forming a wall of bodies to buy the kids time to run, shove that in there (because we’re not going to do multiple books, right Scholastic????).  Foreshadow the absolute shit out of it with Tom and the other Controllers (hell, if you gotta, have Jake discover why Chapman is voluntary when he scopes out his office), and then come out swinging with the free hosts protecting the kids with their own bodies, and you’ll be able to minimize the “gore” rating while preserving the “body snatcher horror” aspect.

I’m concerned they’re going to overplay the humor.  These books work because they understand how to balance humorous scenes with serious scenes, and how to employ dark humor during dark scenes, and when there shouldn’t be any fucking jokes.  If I hear one joke during Elfangor’s death scene, I’m suing.

Basically, I’m concerned about these books getting the Percy Jackson treatment (or, apparently, the Artemis Fowl treatment), by which I mean that I’m worried they’re going to make an objectively terrible movie, which will be righteously hated by the fans and critics alike, and then they’ll go “okay, these books are poison, we will never adapt them into anything again.”  Which would be tragic on a lot of levels, most of all that it will mean I never get the animated Animorphs series we all deserve, ideally featuring one episode per book (except the Invasion, which obviously deserves a double-length pilot) and directed by, I dunno, Noelle Stevenson or someone else who will give us the bisexual Marco and gender-confused Ax and deeply traumatized Tobias I crave.  I would trust the She-Ra team implicitly with the Animorphs.  Not so much the companies that gave us The Maze Runner and fucking Clifford.

[dameronology]

'' you're the only one who's ever going to see me this way. '' '' this way what? '' '' this happy. '' [beat] '' not counting our wedding day. '' + steve? :) maybe the end of s3 when it’s all over. or when he and robin are on drugs, you pick

i loveeee this

The night after the fire at Starcourt Mall was the first time in weeks that Steve Harrington had slept properly.

It wasn't all over. Not yet. There was still the question of how the hell anyone was going to cover up the last few weeks; how they were going to cover up the deaths; how anyone in this sleepy little town would truly take anything other than the truth as an explanation. The best part, though? It wasn't his fucking problem. He could relax now, knowing that the Upside Down - at least for the foreseeable future - was dealt with.

The morning after, ironically enough, was bright and warm. The sun beat down on Hawkins, streaming through the windows of Steve's bedroom and causing him to rouse. You were still passed out beside him, curled up in a ball with your arms desperately wound around one of his. Because yes, things were fine now, but this wasn't your first rodeo with the Upside Down. You'd been clinging onto him at night since the first time you'd seen a Demogorgon. It was second nature now; you attached to Steve, with his entire body wrapped around you. It was all in an attempt to protect you - from what exactly, he didn't know.

He rolled onto his side, letting your sleeping form flop with him. Steve couldn't help but let out a smile - honestly, he was just glad you were still here. There had been times where you had either a) run head first into danger and he thought he'd truly never see you again or b) he missed a date one too many times due to alternative dimension commitments and he was convinced you were going to dump his ass. There were moments where you had come close to both.

"The fuck you wriggling for, Harrington?"

His chest rumbled with a chuckle, shaking you awake. "You're making my arm go dead, babe."

"The world nearly ended yesterday," you grumbled, returning your head back to its rightful spot in the crook of his neck. "I needed your shoulder for emotional support."

"The world did nearly end yesterday," he nodded. His dark eyes moved from you to the ceiling, just pondering for a moment. The trauma of it all was definitely there - had been since the fall of 1983.

You peeled open one eye, raising your head again to analyse your boyfriend. His face was still littered with red marks and scratches, but his eyes wasn't as swollen anymore. Despite everything - the injuries, the kidnapping, the fucking torture - he had a big ol' smile on his dingus features. Tilting your head to the side, you propped yourself on your elbows and thinned your eyes at him.

"You're real smiley all things considered."

He peered over at you, grin widening. "You're the only one who's ever going to see me this way."

"What way?" you frowned.

Steve reached his arm back out towards you, wrapping it around your shoulders. You hit his chest with an oof! - you couldn't get annoyed though. He was too much of a fucking goofball.

"This happy," he said with a content sigh. He paused for a moment, then pressed a kiss to your temple. "Not counting our wedding day."

"I just threw up in my mouth a little-"

"- you're such an asshole!" he cut you off, squeezing you even tighter. "C'mon, admit it!"

"Admit what?! That you're about to SQUEEZE the life out of me-"

"- that you luuuurve me!"

"I do not luuuurve anything, because I am not a fifteen year old girl in a John Hughes movie-"

"- okay then."

Steve grabbed you again, flipping you on your back. He pinned your arms above your head as he did, positioning himself above you. His hair dangled over his face, catching it in the morning light. He was fucking perfect.

"Admit that you love me," he said. "Just love - plain ol' love, with the right amount of o's and u's and e's."

You smiled. "I love you."

He leant down and pressed a kiss to your lips. "I love you more."

[no-droids]

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt.  You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours.  But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to.  You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did.  Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints.  Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does.  Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it.  But truthfully, you didn’t want to.  You were worried about him—still are, actually.  But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on.  He’s been through way worse, and you know it.  You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers.  He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening.  Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure.  All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation.  After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield.  It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips.  The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards.  To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster.  “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you.  “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code.  My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound.  “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment.  “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it?  You blink.  No, it doesn’t.  You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name.  You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever.  “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not.  “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show.  Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here.  Something could’ve happened.  Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it.  Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina.  Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot.  “They’re fodder.  Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.”  He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass.  “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions.  Tied specifically to Guild contracts.”  Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare.  “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties.  Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him.  “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace.  “Not sure I’d care too much if you did.  It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit.  Shit.  What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed.  Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company.  He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied.  Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence.  Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy.  It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this.  Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve.  Karga is a nice guy, right?  He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando.  And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too.  How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder?  You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?”  You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?”  He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice.  Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly.  You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way.  You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity.  “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it.  “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you.  If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice.  If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it.  You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal.  “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head.  “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out.  “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold.  It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to.  It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando.  You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave.  You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides.  He said he wants to help you?  This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?”  He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head.  The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?”  You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours.  “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously.  “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances.  You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment.  “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away.  He helped you out, you’re halfway through this.  Now comes the exchange.  Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you.  “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far.  Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late?  He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face.  “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table.  There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task.  “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…”  Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it.  This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here.  He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it.  “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you.  “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay.  Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much.  Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again.  Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.”  You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you.  “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay.  Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly… 

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it.  Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck.  It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward.  You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?”  You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs.  “Of course you don’t.  Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit.  This is not at all how you expected any of this would go.  You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request.  There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary.  Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum.  “You said you’re here on his behalf.  You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits.  It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table.  You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here.  It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!”  He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good.  Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t.  You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you.  You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach.  He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him?  Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried.  Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before.  Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp.  The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him.  “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend.  The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air.  Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now.  You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all.  It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe.  “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer.  It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet.  Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense.  You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him.  You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!”  A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab.  Right in fucking front of him.  “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck.  Great.  Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t.  You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out.  Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now.  You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it.  Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

*** 

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried.  You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual.  You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing.  Was there a confrontation, you wonder?  Is he okay?  He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though.  As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you.  Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view.  The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace.  He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?”  He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down.  “Are you alright?  Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say.  How are you going to tell him?  He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say?  You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh…  I-I’m sorry, I just…”  But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him.  “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?”  He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him.  “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out.  His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him.  If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands.  “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you.  Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess.  “It’s okay.  You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak.  He’s lying for your benefit, he must be.  When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—”  You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…”  His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?”  You have to think about it.  Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already?  You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility.  “Um… no?  I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?”  He asks, taking a small step forward.  “You don’t know?  Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes.  You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now.  It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…”  Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him.  “I don’t know, I’m not like you.  I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better.  I think he was probably just being normal.  He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb.  This is what’s bothering him?  Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work?  It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played.  He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them.  How are you supposed to take that?  Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning?  You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?”  You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest.  It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason.  He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you.  Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.”  He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly.  Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him.  “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.”  His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?”  You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm.  In another weirdly stupid, primitive way.  You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it.  Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode.  Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before.  You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now.  He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.  “Maybe.  He could’ve just been trying to be friendly.  What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit.  “Did he scare you?”

“For me?”  You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards.  Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless.  “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?”  Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze.  “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds.  The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid.  Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you.  Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you.  You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours.  You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now.  Achy.  Hot.  Needy.  Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?”  He asks you after a prolonged silence.  His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained.  Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you.  “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice.  Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards.  He wants to do this here?  Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word.  Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?”  You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck.  You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought.  Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to.  It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker.  You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it.  Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long.  You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you.  You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?”  Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner.  You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him.  He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss.  Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this?  Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?”  Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you.  Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull.  Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment.  You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you.  “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet.  This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest.  Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling.  “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need.  Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point.  You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?”  Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him.  You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing.  Nothing.  You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing.  Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time.  Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability.  You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better.  His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again.  You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view.  Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass.  The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time.  His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open.  You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit.  His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you.  The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here.  If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body.  You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it.  You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort.  Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most.  Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this.  You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too.  It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too.  Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place.  You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace.  Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance.  You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him.  He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you.  Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can.  It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning.  You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer.  His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting.  Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?”  He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it.  “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could.  He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle.  You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to.  You could struggle.  If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it.  You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time.  Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him.  You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more.  It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too.  Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t.  Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock.  Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him.  There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin.  You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you.  You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears.  Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways.  You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb.  Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off.  You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up.  The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours.  Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works.  Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too.  At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly.  You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal.  You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face.  “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do.  Easy.  He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed.  Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body.  You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep.  He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal.  The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again.  You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation.  Come on, work.  Move forward.  Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly.  Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled.  Ran over by a truck.  Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful.  This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart.  The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones.  You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs.  It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever.  It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it.  “Hey.  Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know?  You figured you’d be way ahead of him.  You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here.  The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over.  You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point.  It’s easy, you like it.  Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back.  Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway.  It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin.  Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine.  He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin.  His bar of soap, not yours.  They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize.  How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone.  The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not.  Hot water, not freezing cold.  Standing upright and supporting you.  Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue.  You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again.  Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this.  Skin to skin contact.  Someone to hold.  Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar.  Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest.  You want to tell him not to leave.  Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay.  You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed.  You don’t know.  But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.  

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know.  You know.  From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection.  But you know him.  You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return.  You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you.  Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary.  Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to.  It wasn’t said so he could say it back.  It just is.  Some things don’t need explanations, they just are.  You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it.  You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word.  It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels.  There’s something hidden underneath.  You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired.  You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless.  He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber.  “I’m…  not allowed to ask.  I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense.  Was that a translation?  Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest.  It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it.  You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows.  “You can.”

[2jaeh]

ORPHIC : YUTA X READER

genre: smut, angst

warnings: mature themes, enemies to lovers kinda, kinda toxic theme, multiple smut scenes, swearing, alcohol, toys. 

slight jenoxreader 

word count : 17,5k (sorrry he’s my ult)

author: sin! 

You and Yuta never had a good relationship within your group of friends. The closest the two of you ever came to even slightly caring about each other was...in bed. After some friendly advice you decide to venture out of this toxicity and an old friend comes to the rescue. Thinking things will finally settle and you are ready to move on, Yuta comes to the realization that he wasn't a fan of you leaving him for someone else. 

A/N: WHOA this took me so long to write and rn its 2am and I barely proofread anything and just wanted to post it already! ALSO I just wanted to add Jeno is practically my ult as well and I wanted to use him for this scenario ! I promise Ill make it up to you guys with a full length fic of him lol Anyways enjoy. 

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You couldn’t understand why you hated him so much. Was it the way he did his hair ? The way he rolled his eyes at every snarky remark you directed at him ?

Or was it the way he stared at you from across the room, a smirk on his face signaling that it was going to be one of those nights.

You joined this collective of artists or the “blank space” as you were known to the public, a year ago. The team did everything from clothing to organizing crazy exhibitions, and the best part of it all was that the team members remained anonymous.

Now some of the members were already in the spotlight for their personal artworks and collections but anything under blank space was under that name only, promoted only under its respective social media accounts. The collective was founded by Taeyong, an introverted guy you met at a fashion show you once worked at. He approached you the night your art hit the runway and you’ve been working for him ever since.

You didn’t know everybody under Blank Space except for the people Taeyong trusted the most. Which from possibly 50 designers, only reduced to a total of nine close friends.

Taeyong, Johnny, Ten, Renjun, YangYang, Doyoung, Sungchan, Lucas and You.

And then, there was one person you called a friend when the mood was right. When he was not being an absolute pain in the ass.

Yuta Nakamoto.

————————————————————————

“So there’s a launch happening this weekend over at the shed” Taeyong announced to your friend group who were barely paying attention thanks to Yangyang attempting to stuff four marshmallows into his mouth. “Come on you can do one more” Lucas edged him on while Renjun shook his head disapprovingly and Sungchan tried to suppress his laughter.

“Guys please pay attention” Doyoung, the only type of authority around here spoke up, finally quieting down the room and allowing his best friend to speak.

Taeyong cleared his throat and shifted nervously as all eyes were focused on him again. “I’d like all of us to attend, maybe look for a new recruit” the timid pink haired boy spoke and everyone nodded knowing the routine of these launches at this point.

“Can we party hard or is this just one of those save face kinda gigs ?” Yuta raised his hand and the spark in Lucas’s eyes indicated that he may have had the same idea.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your leg over the other, “Yuta’s having a dry spell he wants to find some damsel in distress to get into his bed” you turned to him and he only smirked at your snarky comment.

“Well now y/n it’s only because you haven’t been in the mood for my dick lately” he pouted and Renjun threw his head back, followed by groans from both Johnny and Ten.

“I’m not in the mood for the two of you today seriously” Ten chimed in, rubbing his temples just waiting for this group meeting to be over. “Yeah me too” Johnny added, “you two fight the entire week then hook up over the weekend, we are tired.”

“Why are you guys tired ? Are you doing the fighting and fucking ?” Yuta scoffed and Doyoung jumped to his feet, folding his arms across his chest as he looked down at the scowling black haired man,

“This is a work meeting. If it's not about work” Doyoung eyes moved to you, “then we don’t want to hear about it.”

You nodded after getting reprimanded but Yuta being Yuta just snickered and downed the rest of his coffee, unbothered by what any of the people in the room had to say about him.

“Okay then well I’ll see you guys Friday night, if you find a possible recruitment just text the group chat and we will decide as a team then and there” Taeyong wrapped up the meeting and everyone dispersed back to their work stations to finish up any outstanding projects.

Blank Space had its own office block but you guys were the only ones with a private floor at the very end of the hallway, far away from the part-timers.

Everyone had their own cubicle made up of makeshift drywall, so it was private but not private enough. Taeyong felt that closed offices made no sense for a room of creatives and when working on bigger projects it was easier for members to move their stations to their partners' cubicles.

Your cubicle though had the unfortunate fate of being placed in front of Yuta. The members had tried to swap with either of you but neither of you budged. Moving meant there was a problem and showing that you had an actual problem with the other person meant it could sabotage the team and things may go sour.

So both of you conceded. Trying your absolute best to stay out of the other person's way during work hours. But it was impossible when bickering was just something you guys did.

From the very beginning You and Yuta had disagreed on almost everything. Both of you were pretty stubborn people and had a very similar mindset. Then on a random drunken night Johnny suggested that you and Yuta needed to release your anger in bed and the next day you’d be best friends. Yuta was pretty adamant on the idea and not only did you hook up once, it became this ongoing hell of fighting, building up your anger and releasing it during mind blowing sex.

Neither of you questioned the abnormality of your relationship. Rather, you ignored the red flags and the toxicity of it all and just assumed attraction only happened through liquor, high sexual needs and boredom.

“Hey y/n sorry about snapping like that earlier” Doyoung stepped into your cubicle, his gummy smile showing as he nervously scratched his head.  “It’s no problem, I’m sorry about my stupid comment” you pressed your lips together feeling a tad guilty that it all started because of you.

“You guys really love riling each other up don’t you?” Doyoung took a seat opposite you which was a bit unnatural for anyone who walked by. Doyoung was a very reserved person and never bothered to converse with any of you besides Taeyong. Unlike the rest of you Doyoung was recruited to handle finances and foresee the operation. He appreciated the arts but never delved in it, hence his awkwardness with the openness and unhinged personalities of the group.

“I get that it can be...exhausting” you sighed, propping your elbows up on the counter and pouting.

“Then why do you continue ?” Doyoung quizzed and you shrugged, “stress relief ?”

Doyoung chuckled at your words and pushed his spectacles up his bridge, “you guys are the ones stressing each other out,” Doyoung turned back to look at Yuta who was busy sketching and turned back to face you,

“All I’m saying is that maybe it’s time to look for a stress reliever that doesn’t result in anger the very next day, you guys need to move on.”

Move on.

Doyoung’s words swam in your mind hours after the short conversation had ended and you wondered if it was indeed time to move on. You looked up from your desk and to your surprise Yuta’s eyes were locked with yours as he twirled a lollipop in his mouth.

The issue was, as much as you hated him you couldn’t deny he was so goddamn hot. From the long hair to the edgy attire, physically he was your type. Personality on the other hand, it was like nails against a chalkboard.

Unbearable.

You kept your eyes locked with him until he slowly pulled the sweet out of his mouth, licked his lips and blew you a cheeky kiss from across the room.

“Moron” you mumbled and shook your head trying to ignore his devilish motives and get back to work.

Doyoung was right. You definitely needed to find someone to distract yourself from Yuta’s hold over you.

———————————————————————-

It was the night of the launch and everybody showed up with their own rides and  began mingling with former clients and partners. You arrived with Ten and Lucas who already decided to pre-game drinks just in case ‘there wasn’t enough at the party.’

“Hey please do us a favor and not hook up with Yuta tonight” Ten wrapped his arm around your shoulder as the two of you maneuvered through the groups of people. “Not planning on it” you replied in his ear, “and besides Doyoung already beat you to that pep talk.”

“Doyoung ?” Ten wrinkled his nose before ordering the two of you a mojito from the open bar.

“Yeah he said that I should move on, possibly find a new hookup” you shrugged, retrieving the drink and headed to a balcony that overlooked the first floor of the launch party. There were bodies of people everywhere, networking, checking out merchandise or just getting plain wasted.

“Seems like Lucas has already been cut off from the open bar” Ten pointed out, watching the tall man try to push his way back to the bar but the bouncer refused him to do so.

“Let me go help him out, I'll catch up later” Ten sighed and gave you a pat on your shoulder, “and yeah find a new hookup, if Yuta gets to sleep around so can you.”

You watched Ten disappear into the crowd and twirled the glass in your hand wishing what he had said was that easy.

There were no rules about hooking up with other people or just any reinforcements in general when it came to you and Yuta. But you we’re well aware of his loose sex life. There were many times where Yuta ended up going home with some random person if he wasn’t in the mood to hook up with you. But You on the other hand, never bothered these days because you were either too busy or whoever you met just ended up boring you to death.

“Y/n ?” You heard someone say from behind you and to your surprise it was a face you hadn’t seen in years.

“Jeno ? Oh my God” you quickly gave the blonde boy a quick hug, taken back by how much he had filled out since high school.

Jeno used to help you out from time to time during proms and fashion shows, lending out his strength to build anything from sculptures to installation art in the city.

“I was wondering when I was going to bump into you at one of these shows” his bright smile turned his eyes into crescents as he joined you at the balustrade. The Jeno you knew in high school was a lanky shy kinda guy but the Jeno you saw now was confident, mature and outright gorgeous.

“I’m quite surprised seeing you here actually” you chuckled shyly, “I didn’t know you’d pursue anything in this field to be honest.”

“Wow” Jeno mouthed and cutely grinned, “hmm that kinda hurt considering I’m the one who made the centerpiece of this entire launch”

Your eyes widened as you looked down at the structure of colored sharpies bound together to create a giant rubix cube in the middle of the party. “Holy shit that’s awesome my boss would absolutely love you” you gasped, knowing Taeyong absolutely loved installation art especially at a large scale like this.

“Oh who’s your boss ? I’m actually a free agent right now” Jeno replied and you quickly remembered the reason you were even at the launch in the first place. “Wait! We’re looking for recruits right now, let me just tell the others about it” you said excitedly, handing Jeno your drink and pulled up the group chat on your phone.

A few minutes later everyone confirmed the meeting place of a private room located on the second floor, quiet enough for a quick interview and decision. The best part of this job was everyone was so connected that there was no need to go through the process of a full portfolio look and a million interviews, all you needed was a trusted ally within the group to vouch for you and you were already one foot in.

“Ten and Yangyang took Lucas home after he tried to challenge the bartender to an arm wrestling match” Johnny entered the room and sipped his whiskey while Renjun and Sungchan followed close behind him. Taeyong and Doyoung stood in front of the room discussing something amongst themselves while you and Jeno took a seat on the burgundy couch.

Yuta entered shortly after, drink in hand and you noticed his eyes narrow in on Jeno who sat close to you. “Okay everyone who’s able to make it is here let’s get started” Taeyong clasped his hands together, “everybody this is Jeno Lee and a long time friend of y/n.”

“Not that long but yeah we did work together” Jeno chuckled and got to his feet, “well I’m an installation artist, I actually made the centerpiece in tonight’s launch.”

“Wow, it's amazing!” Renjun complimented and Sungchan agreed, giving Jeno a thumbs up, “yeah man that piece is brilliant.”

Jeno smiled from ear to ear as the meeting proceeded with everyone going through a few of Jenos works and what he could bring to the team. While your teammates concentrated on Jenos work all you could concentrate on was Jeno himself.

You wondered if Jeno knew how gorgeous he was in his effortless tank top and denim jeans combo. You hoped no one caught you staring but someone was well aware of your actions.

Yuta watched how you looked at the young guy, he wasn’t stupid, he knew when you found someone attractive and the way you were ogling Jeno right now, he didn’t like it at all.

The meeting ended and everyone welcomed Jeno to the collective. Johnny gave him a few pointers on which coffee to order from the cafe next to the office and Sungchan exchanged gamer tags with his new friend.

“I’ll see you guys on Monday” you waved as everyone exited the meeting and before you could make your way to catch up with Jeno and Sungchan you were being pulled back into the room.

“Your place or mine ?” Yuta mused and snaked an arm around your waist, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“Neither” you responded, “I’m gonna hang with Jeno and head home, you should find that little damsel to play with”

“Don’t be difficult y/n we're long overdue for our therapy session now” he groaned, pressing his lips to your ear and jaw. As much as he aroused you by just breathing you thought about what Doyoung had said, you needed to move on from this mess.

“Listen I think we need to just stop our sessions” you stepped away from him leaving Yuta slightly taken back from your actions, “let’s move on, be out of each other’s way and not make the group uncomfortable okay ?”

Yuta watched you press your lips together and finally make your exit, leaving him completely alone. You denied his advances for the first time since the two of you started sleeping together and something in him broke.

————————————————————————

Monday came around and the whole team buzzed about Jeno joining the team. Usually a new recruit would hang downstairs with the part time designers but because Taeyong trusted your judgement on Jeno, he was able to integrate with the team.

“Man that Jeno guy seems real chill” Yangyang hopped alongside Johnny and Yuta who were doing the morning coffee run. Yuta kept his composure despite knowing he wasn’t a huge fan of someone new joining the team and throwing off the dynamic. Hands in his pocket he ignored Yangyangs endless questions about the meeting, allowing Johnny to entertain the eager young boy.

“All I know is that having Jeno around means I don’t have to do all the carrying when Lucas bails on me” Johnny sipped his drink as they made their way back to their office. To their surprise Jeno had just arrived, looking like a lost puppy as he examined the names of the floors next to the secretary desk.

“Speak of the devil” Johnny threw his arm around Jeno, startling the boy and led him over to the elevator, “we’re at the top floor newbie, make sure to get an access card from Taeyong.”

“T-thanks” Jeno grinned and bowed politely to both Yuta and Yangyang before stepping into the elevator. The other guys barely bothered with Yuta’s reaction to Jeno because he rarely liked anyone enough to show any sign of enthusiasm. Jeno wasn’t going to change that.

The elevator opened to the top floor and Jeno awed at the chilled atmosphere you all had created here. From Ten’s thousands of plants around the room, Taeyongs fish, a pool table brought in by Lucas and gaming stations set up by Sungchan, it looked like paradise.

“This....is so cool oh my God” Jeno stepped in, his eyes wandering all over the place until it locked on you hanging over at the fish tank with Taeyong.

“Y/n!” Jeno jogged over and you greeted him with a wide smile and a tight hug, “Jeno you made it!” You gleamed. Jeno quickly shook Taeyong’s hand unsure of how formal of a boss he actually was.

“Whoa I feel like a principal” Taeyong giggled as he dropped a few fish flakes for his babies. “Wow, does everybody have their own cubicle ?” Jeno strolled around the room taking a peak at the vast versions of decor each cubicle adorned.

“Yeah” you responded, “but I don’t think yours is ready yet right Doyoung ?”

“That’s right,” Doyoung replied and folded his arms across his chest, “you don’t mind sharing for the week do you ?”

Jeno shrugged and looked over at you, “I was hoping to catch up with y/n anyway, I don’t mind sharing if it’s okay with you ?”

“It’s perfectly fine” you assured him and gestured over to your cubicle, “me casa is su casa.”

“I’m just gonna need some admin stuff sorted Jeno can you join me for a bit ?” Doyoung asked and Jeno nodded, giving you a quick hug before heading off to the administration offices with Doyoung. You watched the blonde guy exit and something just felt so much brighter in the office. You felt a sense of excitement of what’s to come now that Jeno was back in your life. But like all sunny days there always comes a thunderstorm and yours was staring you down like he was waiting to rain on your parade.

“What ?” You blinked, and Yuta shrugged as he peeked into your cubicle. “It’s a bit small isn’t it ? Don’t think two people can work in here” he raised his brow and looked over at you.

“It’s fine” you sighed and pushed past him, “it’s only for a week and he’s not a stranger to me, why do you care ?”

“I don’t” Yuta mumbled, dragging his feet back to his cubicle leaving you questioning his slightly odd behavior. Your mind quickly snapped out of it when Jeno had made his way back, that bright smile spread across his face and suddenly it felt like sunshine filled the room once more.

“I’m back!” He sang and pulled a chair opposite you, retrieving his laptop already looking like a regular in the office.

“Did Doyoung tell you about tonight ? Our little welcoming party over at Kleo’s Sky Bar ?” You asked, skimming through your emails for the day. “Oh, yeah he did, I mean you guys don’t have to do all of this” Jeno chuckled shyly, those pretty eyes distracting you for the third time that day.

“Nah we do it for everyone, and it’s better you know everyone drunk to avoid future surprises” you pointed over to Lucas who was coaching Yangyang through a trick shot at the pool table.  “Gotcha” Jeno nodded, as he watched one of the balls fly off the table and nearly knock Renjun in the back. It was chaos absolutely everyday in the office and you knew Jeno was going to love it here.

But even with Jeno in front of you, your new distraction, your new beginning, like Doyoung and Ten had said you needed, it was a habit at this point to look across the room, wondering what Yuta was up to. You watched him remove his cardigan, exposing his arms in those loose tank tops he always loved to wear as he concentrated on a sketch in front of him. Thankfully he was fully immersed in his work for once to take notice of your eyes on him. You continued observing him, watching him nod along to probably some alternative song blaring in his headphones as he sketched away on his iPad. He was so effortlessly attractive when he wasn’t aware of it.

You needed to snap out of this daydream.

“So are you seeing anyone these days ?”

“Hmm ?”

Jeno laughed as you finally realized that he’d been talking to you and you mentally cursed yourself for even being distracted by Yuta of all people.

“I’m sorry..Uhm no I’m not seeing anyone” you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and Jeno nodded cutely, “uh good...uhm not good that you’re alone but I was hoping you weren’t...God I’m still so bad at this”

You felt your cheeks heat up seeing Jeno fumble over his words and get nervous about asking you such a question. He was so adorable and something in you also wondered if he was like this in a relationship, or in the bedroom.

Was he dominant ? Was he passive ? Yuta was very dominant and you’d even rile him up to the point of him making you shut up with his actions.

“Y/n ?” Jeno waved his hand in front of your face and you shook your head, you couldn’t believe you did it again. What the hell was wrong with you ?

“Oh my God Jeno I'm so sorry...these emails are just a pain in the ass” you lied but thankfully Jeno took the bait and nodded, “it’s okay I’ll let you get back to work, I was going to go down to the cafe, do you want anything ?”

“Yeah a cafe latte would be great thank you” You felt guilty but it was still only two days since you decided to cut off Yuta so adjusting was going to take a bit of time.

Jeno had left for the cafe and you quickly dove straight into your work, hoping the time would just fly by. That was until you heard a knock and watched Yuta saunter into your cubicle and take a seat right in front of you. You watched him prop his elbows on the table and his piercing eyes narrowed down on you as if he were waiting for an answer.

“Why are you here ?” You questioned him, doing your best to divert your attention from his chiseled arms and exposed chest.

“I want an explanation,” Yuta said calmly, his voice deep and monotone.

“To what ?” You knew fully well what he was talking about but you were really  not in the mood to talk to him about this.  Yuta sighed and cocked his head to the side, clearly annoyed by your response. “Why the fuck are we calling it quits when we are nothing to each other ? Can’t we just hook up and ignore each other as usual ?” You sensed the annoyance in his voice. Denying him that night was indeed eating him up since you’ve never done it before.

“Yuta that’s the whole point” you rubbed your temples, “if we are nothing to each other then we shouldn’t be hooking up, it just ties us together for absolutely no reason.”

Yuta stayed quiet for a bit and eventually just nodded, “fine do whatever you want I guess.” You watched him walk out, not bothering to give you a second look and you wondered if the unsettling feeling you were experiencing in this moment was how he felt two days ago.

Nothing made sense.

————————————————————————

The evening arrived and everyone was in good spirits because you were all headed to one of your favourite spots in town. “Lucas you gotta do karaoke tonight” Sungchan threw his arm around the large brown haired man as they entered the bar. “Hmm give me a few rounds of drinks first” Lucas stuck out his tongue as he gestured to the waitress to get the gang the usual table.

Thankfully tonight the bar was fairly empty which meant that the gang could really loosen up without the prying eyes of strangers wishing you’d all just leave.

“Wow this place is pretty cool” Jeno gleamed, allowing you to enter the booth first like a true gentleman before scooting right in next to you. Yuta opted for the seat at the very end as usual, so he could sneak off to smoke without bothering any of friends every couple of minutes. The position also gave him a clear view of you and Jeno who were snuggled up in the corner already lost in your own private conversation.

“Beer ?” Johnny nudged Yuta, snapping him out of his fixation. Yuta nodded and slumped back in his seat trying his best to focus on whatever Renjun and Yangyang were talking about. It’s not like him to feel this way. Usually by now he’d be seated next to you, annoying the shit out of you until he saw those pretty eyes glare at him with rage. Then after you’d have a few drinks you’d be leaning on his shoulder, playing with his rings until he offered to take you home, and then-

“To Jeno!” Lucas yelled, lifting up a shot glass of God knows what and rallied everyone to join in on his toast.

“To Jeno” you grinned leaning into Jeno’s side and clinked glasses with him. Jeno felt warm, comforting, he made it so easy for you to just enjoy having him around rather than it being a task. That’s what a healthy relationship was like wasn’t it ?

“Jeno Im glad and also sorry that you have to join the most annoying group of people ever” Doyoung half smiled and Taeyong waved his hand, “we’re not that annoying Jeno I promise” the pink haired boy reassured him despite Renjun and Ten agreeing with Doyoung’s words. Jeno just laughed it off and turned to you with a bright smile as he draped his arm over your shoulder,

“Kinda feels like fate that I bumped into you huh?”

You know he may have been joking but Jeno was really unaware that his presence really was the antidote to getting rid of the Yuta situation. The team loved him, he was someone you knew and could trust, it was all right there for you, written on paper. Nothing could possibly go wrong… right ?  

“Fourth round is on me” Taeyong held up his card to the waitress despite his tired eyes were quite evident. Everyone was well over tipsy and Lucas had already entertained the bar with his beautiful rendition of “Starboy” by The Weeknd and Johnny stepped in as his air guitar player in the back.

“Gotta go to the bathroom!” You whined while Jeno helped you to your feet as you pushed your way past a sleeping Renjun and a spaced out Sungchan. You could tell tonight was going to take a toll on everyone tomorrow morning.

You quickly exited to the back where the bathrooms were located. You walked down the dim hallway, mentally thanking yourself for not overdoing it with the alcohol as each step became darker and darker.

“Watch your step” someone said and you turned around to see Yuta leaning over a railing with a cigarette sticking out of his mouth.

“Yeah” you managed to say and entered the bathroom before he could say anything else. The lack of alcohol didn’t stop the intrusive thoughts of Yuta filling your mind as you stopped to wash your hands. All you could think about was if he was going to be there when you walked back. Was he going to say anything ? Was he going to do anything ?

Were you going to do anything ?

You stepped outside, head a little more muddled than when you walked in and your first question was answered, Yuta was still there leaning up against the wall looking ahead of him. You slowly began your journey back, keeping your head down to avoid any type of confrontation with him.

“Y/n….” He mumbled, reaching out until he had a grip on your wrist causing your eyes to look up at him. Why did he look so goddamn breathtaking right now, with his stupid black hair all messy and his eyes luring you in like a lion to it’s prey.

“W-what ?” You replied, unsure why you still allowed him to hold you or even have the nerve to stop you from getting back to the rest of your friends. Yuta pushed himself off the wall and turned your body so you were now pressed against the concrete and his body was pressed against you. Your breathing hitched as he ran his fingers lightly down your arms. His eyes concentrated on his movements while yours focused on his face, watching him bite down on his lip as he took in the position the two of you were now in.

“You remember a few weeks back and I had you up against this wall moaning my name ?” His voice was so low that it aroused you, making you mentally curse yourself for the lewd thoughts.

“Yuta…” you sighed but there was a hint of desperation in your voice surprising yourself but not really phasing Yuta at all.

“Yeah just like that” he hummed before pressing his lips to your jaw, and peppered kisses all the way down to your neck. You felt yourself willingly giving him access, melting into every kiss he placed on your warm skin. Yuta’s hands grabbed your waist and pinned you against the wall while your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck and into the soft tufts of his hair.

“Yuta…we shouldn’t…I shouldn’t” you breathed, feeling yourself pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

“Tell me no and I’ll stop y/n '' Yuta said into your ear to which you responded by pulling him by his belt buckle and pushed yourself up to capture his lips. Yuta’s dominance finally showed when he slipped his leg in between yours, giving you the chance to gain a bit of friction your core so desperately desired at this point. You felt Yuta’s smirk in your kiss when you began grinding down on his thigh showing him the obedient whore you were for him. Nothing Yuta loved more was for you to beg for him, beg for his touch, need him. That was until the two of you heard footsteps and to your dismay it was the last person you’d ever want to see you trapped against a wall with the man you hated.

It was Lee Jeno.

“I’m sorry I - I’m sorry I’ll leave you guys alone-“ Jeno stumbled, he felt his cheeks heat up and made his quick exit out of the hallway.

“Jeno!” You called, pushing Yuta off and tried to neaten yourself. Yuta felt a heated sensation overcoming his body the moment he saw the look in your eye when you saw Jeno and the way you pushed him off like he was a piece of trash. Like he was nothing.

“You know maybe if you’d stop pretending like you don’t wanna fuck me then we can go back to normal” Yuta spat, not caring about the unfortunate situation that had just unfolded.

You turned around to face him and the next words that came out of your mouth you weren’t sure if you were going to regret it or not.

“You’re right Yuta that’s all you are to me and that’s all you ever will be, a good fuck for about an hour and that’s it. Other than that there’s no use for you. At all.”

You stormed away before Yuta could respond, but by now you would have heard his curses echoing throughout the hallway, the whole damn bar would’ve heard it. But there was nothing.

Absolute silence.

———————————————————————

It had been two weeks since the interaction with Yuta at the bar and what you had to him still resonated with you, wanting so badly to apologize. But each time you saw him at the office he paid you little to no attention, going on about his day peacefully and you didn’t want to interrupt that.

Jeno thankfully understood the situation and was more than willing to be the rebound guy, his only rule being that besides work related matters you needed to cut off communication with Yuta altogether.

‘It was the only way you’d get full closure and my mind would be at peace’ Jeno had said after you gave him the rundown of everything that had happened.

Jeno and you agreed to just casually date, nothing official and nothing too serious. You guys went on movie dates, cafe dates and kept the physical aspect to a minimum. It was simple. Laidback. A very normal form of dating.

“Y/n I’m gonna need you on a photo shoot set in a few hours” Taeyong peeped his head into your cubicle and you looked up at him with a frown, “I thought we were working on that rappers record party ?”

“Yeah that rapper wants you, Yangyang and Yuta to tag up the wall for a video segment of his photo shoot” Taeyong replied with a shrug and left you bewildered.

Yuta. From all the damn people he could’ve chosen you had to work beside the person who practically called trash in your last meeting.

Great.

You wrapped up the last of your work and headed downstairs to the parking lot where an Uber was waiting for you. Thankfully Yangyang  could talk anyone’s head off because just sitting next to Yuta during the car ride felt tense. Normally he’d be pushing you into Yangyang or commenting on how his tattoos were better than yours. But all he did was look out of the window watching as the buildings moved past, keeping his airpods in to avoid any type of communication with anyone.

“You guys are finally here! Good Mark Lee is waiting for you at the shoot location” a woman dressed in all black led you into what looked like a gymnasium turned into a giant canvas.

“Are we going to paint all of this ? Man this is going to take forever” Yangyang gasped as the three of you walked through cans of paint, staff members and models.

“You guys are the designers from black space who did that painting over at Jynx Club ?” A young guy approached who you quickly realized was the new hot rapper around town, Mark Lee.

“Uh yeah, that’s us” you chuckled shyly and looked around, “are we really doing up the entire room ?”

“Oh hell nah just the backdrop behind me” Mark waved his hand, “we just laid everything out for a few cgi effects but you guys, do ya thing over there!” You watched the hyped boy get called over by the director leaving the three of you faced with a gigantic piece of white board and no idea.

“Since you guys are uncultured and probably don’t listen to Mark Lee, let me be in charge of this piece” Yangyang pulled out his iPad and began scrolling through some of his sketches. “Be my guest” Yuta shrugged, completely disinterested in the topic and most likely just wanted to get done and go home.

Yangyang finally settled on something that utilized all three of your styles and you all put  on your white overalls, immediately getting to work.

The vibe of the whole job was quite chilled and because of the fumes most of the staff had left the gymnasium leaving the three of you to work in peace. “God I need to pee so bad,” Yangyang groaned as he dangled from a ladder, an aerosol can in hand and a nearly completed section in his corner.

“Dude take a break we’re way behind you anyway” you walked over to steady the ladder as Yangyang finally made his way down. “Thanks guys, be back in 20” he shot you a thumbs up and disappeared into the tunnel leading to the gym lockers.

The tension returned but it was somehow worse than ever before. Even though Yuta was minding his own business for the first time while retrieving a paintbrush he looked at you. There was no unsettling glare or the feeling that he was pissed off at you, he just looked at you like he’d look at anyone else.

And somehow that felt even worse.

“Yuta…do you mind if we talk for a bit” you cleared your throat and he looked over at you and removed one of his airpods signaling to you that he was listening.

“Okay Uhm well I want to apologize for what I said that night” you bit down on your lip, “I didn’t mean it, and it was selfish of me to even think of you like that after coming onto you in the first place.”

Yuta blinked and eventually just nodded, “apology accepted, and I can see that you like Jeno so I’m trying to stay out of the way” he shrugged and continued painting as if this conversation wasn’t that deep to begin with.

“Are you not going to get me back? Are you sure you’re Yuta ?” You raised a brow and Yuta’s manic laugh echoed throughout the gymnasium, “you want me to be mean to you ? Wow y/n that’s truly some kink you got there”

“Ugh you know what I mean” you shoved him playfully, unaware that the brush you were wearing was still wet and now Yuta’s jaw adorned a light shade of orange.

“Oh shit I’m sorry” you quickly said but Yuta had already responded by swiping his red painted fingertips across your cheek and smirked, “now we’re even.”

“Hey mine is way worse than yours!” You grumbled and flicked more paint at Yuta which then enabled a paint war between the two of you. Yuta giggled so much that for a second you forgot how silent he actually had been the past two weeks. He was back to his usual self and so were you, playfully making a mess with him until Yangyang emerged from the tunnel and yelled,  “What are you morons doing ?!”

You and Yuta stood still in the middle of the room both covered head to toe in paint but the scene was way too comical to hold in your laughter any longer.

“Yangyang we’re so sorry but look, it gave the canvas a little more color” you gestured to it and you weren’t lying, it actually did look a lot better than before.

“Fine you two can go on break, I'll finish up so we’re not sitting around until midnight” Yangyang huffed and returned to his masterpiece. “Is there a place to clean up here ?” Yuta asked and the woman from earlier on walked in and pointed to the tunnel located in the back of the gym, “there are bathrooms and showers back there, our crew provided fresh towels as well so go ahead” she smiled and you silently thanked her before heading to the tunnel with Yuta.

“God I have paint everywhere” you whined as you took a look at yourself in the mirror. Yuta chuckled as he began inspecting himself, looking at the peculiar fingerprints all over his face and neck. “This shit better not stain my skin” he grumbled as he picked away a piece of paint from a crevice in his ear.  “Tell me about it” you responded and began removing the overalls. All you could think of was jumping into that shower stall and allowing the hot water to melt away all the grime and paint when you noticed Yuta was already down to his boxers.

Your gasp made Yuta snicker to himself as he walked around the bathroom looking for the ideal stall to take his shower in.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before” you heard him say before hopping into one of the stalls and drawing the curtain. Despite his words being correct it still made your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You guys were comfortable like this before, not now, not with Jeno in your life.

You shook your head and entered a stall opposite Yuta and a few rows down, just so you weren’t close to him but not far enough that made you feel alone.

“Fuck how is their paint on my ass ? That’s impossible!” Yuta groaned and you couldn’t help but laugh, “TMI, Yuta” you replied and Yuta scoffed, “says the person who’s responsible for this.” The banter ended and again all you heard was the sound of both showers hitting your bodies simultaneously, the air filled with steam and more unusual tension.

“Y/n ?”

“Yeah?”

Yuta was silent for a while and then you heard his water turn off. “Do you uhm mind checking if I got all the paint off my back ? I’ll uhm put my boxers on” he mumbled and you felt your heartbeat speed up.

First of all the Yuta you knew would’ve just walked over butt ass naked and pulled your curtain aside not caring at all. The way he acted now was out of character, but somewhat familiar.

“Yuta I’m still in the shower and naked” you chewed on the inside of your cheek while you waited in silence.

“I’ll close my eyes, I just don’t want this shit to dry up when we get back to work later” he replied and you heard his light footsteps coming toward you. Quickly moving your hair back and holding the curtain against your body, you slowly peeled back the material to reveal Yuta with his back facing you and with his eyes closed, like he said.

You peered down at his golden skin, taking in his broad shoulders and tiny waist as you inspected for any more signs of acrylic paint.

“Uhm yeah you have a little on your shoulder blade and lower back”

“Do…you mind…”

You bit down on your lip knowing this was already crossing the line. But you had just made up and it was your fault that he had paint on his back in the first place. It was innocent. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself while staring at one of the sexiest people you had ever met.

You began rubbing away pieces of the paint, ignoring Yuta’s whines when you used too much pressure. Your hands traced down to his lower back, settling in the dip as you tried to remove a very stubborn piece of paint.

“Ugh this one is not coming off” you scratched at it and to your surprise Yuta had let out a moan instead of the usual wincing.

“I don’t mean to kink shame but-“

Yuta spun around and glared at you, challenging you to finish your sentence but you were more concerned at the fact that the only thing protecting your nude body from Yuta right now was a thin piece of fabric.

“Yuta!” You scolded and he rolled his eyes, “oh please y/n I’ve seen it all, now can you please help me with the paint ?”

You watched wide eyed as Yuta stepped into the shower going back on his word to close his eyes and face the wall. You couldn’t believe what was happening right now but the quicker you removed the paint the quicker he’d be out of here.

“Aren’t your boxers…going to get wet ?” You watched him step closer to water already allowing his hair to soak up the warm stream. “Well you’re not gonna let me take them off with you in here and I’ll probably just go commando when we get back to the office” Yuta shrugged and you should’ve known that was one of his options since he has done it in the past.

You sighed and let go of the curtain allowing your naked body to be free and go back to work on his paint splatter. Yuta was calm and collected throughout the process, you silently commended him on his restraint, that was until he decided to turn around and look at you.

“Y-Yuta you promised” your voice was small but you still didn’t do much to cover up your body. Yuta leaned against the cold ceramic wall as he stared at you, his stare was dark, inviting you in like that night at the bar.

“I’m not going to do anything y/n unless you want me to” he reassured you, still maintaining a distance and doing absolutely nothing to persuade you. But did you need persuasion when all he needed to do was be in the same room as you?

The two of you stared in each other’s eyes for a few minutes and you had no idea who actually made the first move but there you were in the center of the shower stall, in a random gymnasium, kissing Yuta Nakamoto.

Yuta’s bare body was pressed against yours as the two of you fought for dominance in the kiss. You placed your hands on his chest to which he responded by wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until his hardened member twitched against your stomach. There were no words, just actions. Each kiss only made you more desperate for him, not feeling this type of arousal since that night at the bar. He was the only person who could turn you on to the point that every image of Jeno was erased from your mind.

You tugged down his boxers with urgency and Yuta helped you quicken the process, quickly kicking away the piece of clothing and had you pushed up against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist. Yuta pulled away from your lips with a sultry bite on your bottom lip and lined up his member with your core. He kept his eyes on you the entire time from the moment he slipped into your wetness to the harsh thrusts he was now giving to you against the coldness of the wall. You felt like you were complete, filled with the right amount of passion and ecstasy. God you hated to admit it but nobody could fuck you the way Yuta did. Absolutely no one.

Yuta slowed down his thrusts and you brought your feet back to the ground, gesturing for him to take a seat on the floor and got on top of his member once more. Yuta threw his head back as you rode him relentlessly, grabbing onto your ass as he tried to meet your rhythm. The sight of him partially under the water and his swollen lips was delicious, you couldn’t ask for a better view right now. Yuta on the hand was also enjoying having you bounce on his length, quickly realizing that the women he had bedded during his time without you were not worth it. Not a single one of them made him feel the way you did. Even the times you guys were fucking around he’d sleep with other women because he didn’t want to admit that you are his best. You will always be his best.

“G-gonna cum” you panted and Yuta quickly rubbed circles on your clit to help you reach your orgasm. He watched your body spasm and you threw your head back with a soft moan. The sight alone made him come undone straight after you, filling you up completely.

You slowly got to your feet with the help of Yuta offering his hand and managed to finally catch your breath.

What the fuck did you just do ?

“Before you say this was a mistake and you hate me, hear me out” Yuta spoke up, “I need to know something”

You bit down on your lip. “Yeah?”

“Do you like me ?”

“What ?” You quietly questioned and Yuta sighed, rubbing his temples, “do you like me y/n ? actually like me ? Or is it you just like fucking me ?”

“I don’t know Yuta you know that I’m seeing Je-“you began explaining before Yuta quickly cut you off. “Don’t say his name, listen I know you like fucking me because that’s what happened right now despite whatever feelings you have for…Jen..him.”

“So what am I supposed to do ?” You asked, still unsure of how you were even going to face Jeno back at the office after this.

“Use me,” Yuta deadpanned, “keep me as your dirty little secret and I won’t tell a soul. I just don’t want this to end. I’m fucking addicted to this, and clearly you’re in need of me just as much as I need you.”

Yuta took a step forward and cupped your cheek with the palm of his hand. “I just crave you all goddamn day and nothing is fulfilling that need until right now.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about but you couldn’t bring yourself to share how much you ached for him. Late nights when you were alone you even pleased yourself with memories of him. You were unsure if it was lust at this point or you actually missed being around him. Despite every fight and argument the two of you had, there was something always drawing you in.

“First of all I don’t hate you” you sighed and he chuckled dryly before you continued, “I don’t know if this is a good idea but I’m only agreeing because Jeno and I aren’t serious yet and if we are-“

“I’ll back off I promise” Yuta quickly added and you nodded, “he can’t know about this, nobody can.”

“You have my word” Yuta pressed his lips together and for the first time he looked absolutely serious. Something in you made you trust that he wouldn’t fuck this up, because that would mean the one thing he wanted most right now would fall through.

You just hoped that this little need the two of you had for each other wasn’t turning into an…obsession.

————————————————————————-

“You guys are finally back” Ten stretched his arms above his head as you, Yangyang and Yuta returned back to the office after quite an eventful afternoon.

“Wanna see pics ? It turned out great!” Yangyang grinned quickly, running over to the older guys, showing off his artwork. Jeno was over at the game area with Sungchan completely invested in beating his friend in a round of Call Of Duty.

“Hey you” you sunk into the beanbag next to Jeno who shot you a quick glance before concentrating on his next move, “your hairs wet, why ?”

“Showered after the painting session” you answered diligently hoping there were no follow up questions. Thankfully he was way too invested in his video game to care much, you really weren't in the mood for an interrogation after half a day with Yuta.

Jeno asked a lot of questions when he felt insecure about something. Even though time had been short with him, it still somehow felt like a 2 year relationship. For a young guy Jeno was pretty old fashioned, he made you pick all the date places and never bothered to make the first move physically until you hinted to him that it was okay.

He was so different to what you were used to and you were afraid that if you didn’t speed things up with him this little secret with Yuta would turn into a reality.

“Hey y/n can you help me with lunch ?” Doyoung called from the makeshift kitchen area a few feet away and you silently thanked him for distracting you from your thoughts.

“Hey Doyoung” you smiled as you began opening containers from the Chinese delivery you guys frequented. “Just wanted to check in with you” Doyoung sweetly said as he grabbed a few utensils, “you and Jeno huh ? Was that part of my advice ?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Yeah I guess so, it also helps that I’ve known him for a while now and he did actually have a thing for me in high school” Doyoung cocked his head at your words and leaned in, “and you liked him back or you’re seeing something in him now that you didn’t see before ?”

“U-uhm I think he’s hot” you chewed on your lip and Doyoung chuckled softly, “you know not everything is about looks or…hooking up, do you enjoy his time ? His interests ? His company ?”

You turned back to where Jeno was still playing his video games and you did feel a little confused as to what you guys actually did have in common. “I mean…” you began, crossing your arms across your chest, “we’ve only been seeing each other romantically for two weeks I think it’s too soon to tell.”

Doyoung combed back his hair and instead of bringing forth his insight in order to make you see things clearer he just nodded.

“You’re probably right, well I wish you guys all the best, it’s better than being with someone who doesn’t care emotionally right ?”

You slowly nodded and with that Doyoung began taking the food to the dining area leaving you with more confusing thoughts than you had before.

Lunch and the rest of the evening went on smoothly. Yuta stayed out of your way and there was absolutely no sign that the two of you we’re together that day. It was easier to fake seeing Yuta since the group knew the two of you would’ve been bickering straight after hooking up. It was the perfect illusion.

“Mark Lee’s party is at 9pm tomorrow night you guys, don’t forget” Taeyong looked around the room until he heard a confirmation from every single mouth.

“9pm ? Shit would it be okay if I only stuck around for an hour ?” Jeno sighed and looked over at Taeyong, “my brothers in town and I promised I'd get him from the airport at 10:30.”

“Well you’d have to show one of the guys here how to turn the installation on” Doyoung’s worried look matched Taeyong.

“I’ll be there to turn it on I’ll just need to leave straight after” Jeno assured them and squeezed your hand under the table, “it’s all really sudden but you’ll be okay right ?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m probably going to head home after the music video airing anyway” you smiled at him and he placed a soft kiss on your forehead earning a whistle from Lucas.

Yuta awkwardly shuffled at the sudden PDA and he hoped no one at the table noticed but it caught the attention of none other than Johnny Suh who narrowed his eyes at his coffee run mate.

The evening had wrapped up and everyone had already headed home except for Yuta and Johnny who were adamant on finishing a photography project for a band they were working with.

“Trouble in paradise ?” Johnny hummed as he edited an image on his laptop. Yuta, who was busy sorting out the Polaroids, turned to face his large best friend with a lost expression.

“Huh?” He raised a brow to which Johnny shook his head still staring at his screen.

“I can’t believe this, after all these fucking hellish months now you realize you like her?”

Yuta leaned in on the desk. “What the heck are you on about Johnny ?”

“Y/n” Johnny sighed and your name made Yuta’s heart race a bit, hoping Johnny hadn’t found out about the shower incident. God you’d hate him forever if anyone found out.

“Listen Johnny we-“

“You like her! After all those months of fighting I knew you were secretly in love and now” Johnny threw his hands in the air, “now that Jeno has entered the arena you have ruined your chances. Way to go buddy.”

“Wait what ?! I’m not in love with y/n!” Yuta scoffed. Saying that sentence out loud felt like a lie even though he couldn’t fully convince himself.  Was he in love ? Was Johnny mistaking love for just lust ?

That’s all it was and ever was right ?

You enjoyed fucking around with him and he was okay with it. That’s what he wanted too. Even if you didn’t answer his question of whether you liked him or not, it was okay. Whatever you wanted was okay as long he got to be with you.

“I’m not in love with y/n.”

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

You and Jeno arrived at the party with Yangyang and Sungchan all helping carry equipment for Jeno’s installation. The piece was a pixel art board that formed Mark Lee’s latest EP cover, and once plugged in it gave it an animated effect, basically bringing the EP cover to life. You marvelled at the hard work Jeno had put in, it was just a shame that he wasn't sticking around to receive praise from everyone who attended.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay here ? I know how much you hate these parties” Jeno pressed his lips together as he brought you into a tight hug. You hummed and looked up at him smiling, “Only been dragged to one of these parties a million times, another round won't hurt.” Jeno responded by pressing his lips to your forehead before joining Sungchan in setting up the installation. You always wondered why Jeno opted for your forehead instead of your lips most of the time despite already having your first real kiss. You understood he wasn't big on PDA, but the only time you ever got to kiss him was at your apartment door when a date had ended or when you sneaked in a kiss at the cinema. As much as you liked his chivalry, God at times you just wished he took initiative and bent you over your kitchen counter and had his way with you. It was kinda humorous how Jeno was the ideal type of any women out there but for you, you needed an unhinged, sex-crazed maniac to match your energy.

You needed Yu-

“It looks really good Jeno.” Your breathing hitched when you heard Yuta’s voice from behind you. You turned around but to your surprise he wasn't alone. Yuta was accompanied by a familiar face, Mei, a part-time designer from a few floors down. The way she held onto his arm made something stir inside of you. Your cheeks burned up and you dare say it for the first time you felt...jealous.

You were used to seeing Yuta with many different girls but it was always some nobody that he never bothered to introduce to the group. He always made sure none of them integrated with his work life but Mei, Mei was the first person you actually knew.

“y/n its been a while, Oh my God you look great” she said sweetly and you returned a friendly smile despite your awkwardness. Yuta gave you a quick glance not really paying you any mind as he kept a steady hand on Mei’s lower back, the two of them practically looking like a couple. It made you feel uneasy. After all he had said to you that afternoon in the shower, It seemed like he didn't mean it.

“It’s perfect Jeno you really outdid yourself” Taeyong applauded as the rest of the team finally arrived, all congratulating Jeno on his first big project under Blank Space. Jeno shyly thanked everyone and checked his watch, sighing that it was already time for him to depart.

“You're going now ?” You walked over to wrap your arms around his waist. You didn't care much before about Jeno leaving early, before Yuta decided to bring a date to the party which meant you would definitely be on your own. Jeno pouted and stroked your head, “yeah, we're still on for Sunday though right ?” and you replied with a nod before sinking into one of his very warm hugs. You had no idea why, but the need to ease your jealousy and get back at Yuta was so strong that you ended up pulling out of the hug and kissed Jeno in front of everyone. Thankfully Jeno didn't shy away and maybe the guilt of leaving you made him return the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against your body.

“Get a room you guys” Ten joked when the two of you finally pulled away, and Jeno chuckled shyly before leaning into your ear, “let’s do that more often” he cheekily smiled and pecked your lips once more before making his way to the exit. Johnny watched as Yuta still looked visibly uncomfortable, more so now than before. But Johnny also knew how damn stubborn Yuta was and watched him throw his arm around Mei, departing from the group most likely for the rest of the night.

It was late into the night and Yuta was already way too many shots down to call himself sober. Mei was talking but he was not listening. Mei was a nice girl who had made it known to him that she liked him for a while now, but unfortunately for her she was not you. All Yuta wanted was you and again he cursed himself for being so fucking hooked. He wanted to make you jealous but after he saw you kiss Jeno it just came back to him ten thousand times harder. He came to terms with his addiction now in his drunken state he was scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the only person he cared about.

You.

“Hey I'm going to leave now...do you want to come with ?” Mei nervously bit down on her lip hoping the man she's been pining for months will finally take notice of her.

“Nah im good, I’m probably going to wait until my friends leave” Yuta replied coldly, his eyes still scanning the crowd as he took another sip from his jack daniels and coca-cola concoction. Mei nodded, disappointed that her night had not gone as planned and left silently, leaving her date to finally gain his freedom.

Yuta scanned the crowd for the tenth time until he did a double take at a figure in the back corner, dancing on their own with no care in the world. Downing the rest of his drink Yuta kept his eyes focused on you despite the alcohol blurring his vision and his body feeling heavy, he had to get to you.

You were in the same state as him, most likely worse since Lucas challenged you to a drink off. You had no clue when you separated from the rest of the group so you stuck a little corner hoping to sober up before heading home. As you swayed along to the music you felt someone wrap their hands around your waist and the familiar scent of that Tom Ford perfume made you realize who it was.

“Yuta…” you groaned, pulling his hands away from your body, still remembering how awful he made you feel a few hours earlier. God were you the rebound chick now ? The thought alone was sickening.

Yuta, still blissfully unaware that you were mad at him, still pushed his body against yours until your back was pressed against the wall and you had no choice but to look up at him. You watched him move his face down in order to capture your lips, but you quickly evaded it with a turn of your head. Yuta scoffed and sufficed for your neck, giving you soft wet kisses all the way down to your collarbones until you pushed him off yet again.

“What the fuck ?” He growled in your ear, “I thought we had a deal.” You rolled your eyes at him, there was the side of Yuta you hated the most. You wondered how long it would be until he factory reseted back to an asshole.

“I thought I was first choice” you snapped at him, “all your talk about no one can satisfy you like I can, use me y/n, I only want you” you mimicked his voice and flipped him off with your finger. Yuta knew you were jealous but it was kind of ironic given the situation. You were the one in a relationship, not him. “Oh so I'm supposed to see you suck face with Jeno but I can't have any fun y/n ?” Yuta had you back against the wall, this time his hand was locked on your jaw with his lips against your ear.

“Maybe I should've fucked Mei” Yuta’s voice was dark, you felt him smirk against your ear when his words clearly affected you, “Maybe if I fucked her she would've been so good that i would forget all about you y/n.” Your eyes darted to him and he cocked his head, challenging you, waiting to see how much you could take before you caved. Normally you’d be the one getting Yuta riled up like this. It was common knowledge that Yuta was a very jealous person and just mentioning another man sexually he would lose his mind. Once you were craving his attention and casually mentioned to him that if Doyoung was interested you’d let him screw you on his office desk, and Yuta responded by fucking you senseless in the supply closet until the only name that escaped your lips was his.

But now the tables were turned and you didn't want to hear about Mei. You didn't want to picture her next to Yuta let alone in bed with him. It was selfish on your part considering Jeno, but you wanted Yuta all to yourself.

“Shut up” you narrowed your eyes at him and grabbed a fist full of his shirt and brought him closer. Yuta traced his thumb over your lips and smiled, already knowing he won this round.

“Tell me why I cant fuck her right now y/n, tell me” he coaxed, and you responded by pulling him into a sensual kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth and your hand palming his member until you heard him groan in your ear,

You pulled away from the kiss and pressed your swollen lips to his ear, “Because...you're mine.” Yuta licked his own lips at your words and grabbed at your ass,

“Show me I'm yours, baby.”

You had no idea when and how the both of you got to Yuta’s apartment in one piece but the moment he had his foot in the door, Yuta was tugging your dress over your head. “Fuck why do you always wear the most  complicated things” Yuta whined which you found cute even though you would never let him know that you were well aware of his adorable side. Sighing from victory, Yuta finally got your dress off and pulled you into his familiar bedroom, which you honestly missed so fucking much.

Taking in the familiar scent of his perfume and his slightly messy room, with posters on the walls, and a rack of band shirts - it was his little heaven and you loved it.

You walked over to lie on his bed, sinking into the soft fabric of the bed sheets as a familiar rock song began playing from Yuta’s stereo. You watched him as he discarded his shirt and ripped jeans, showing off his chest tattoos and belly ring, just the sight of him was already making you wet. Yuta was none the better, groaning as his boner pushed against the fabric of his underwear as his eyes took in your body, sexily laid out for him like you used to be.

“Fuck…” his lips parted as he watched you spread your legs, waiting for him obediently. Yuta crawled up onto the bed and nestled in between your thighs, his mischievous eyes looking up at yours before he began peeling away the thin piece of fabric revealing your core.

“You're…so…wet baby” he said in a low voice and leaned in to give your heat a soft kiss. The instant contact made your body shiver, reaching down to play with his dark curls. “Yuta…please” you whined as he continued his light kisses, not giving you the pressure you desired. Yuta looked up with an innocent face and cocked his head, “Why should I do it ?” His fingers traced circles on your hips and abdomen, waiting for an answer.

“Because…you’re mine Yuta, I want you…all to myself…I want to please me, only me” you threw your head back. Not having sex for over a month was really getting to you and the frustration had you saying just about anything. Yuta watched you squirm and after hearing those words he figured it was a good enough reward for his dear fuck-buddy. Yuta kissed your core once more but this time his tongue darted out every once in a while, awarding you with a better sensation. You moaned inaudible words as he began eating you out like a pro, lapping away like his life depended on it before inserting two fingers inside you.

“Yuta wait I’m gonna-“ you grabbed onto his hair, feeling your orgasm come on way too early for your liking as his fingers moved rapidly and his tongue licked away at your clit. Yuta ignored your plea knowing this was only the first of many and honestly he was glad that he was still the only man giving you orgasms for the past couple of months.

Yuta pulled away, a devilish smirk spread across his face as he watched you cum all over his fingers and just as your vision was in focus you had the pleasure of seeing him lick his fingers clean as if he just had the most amazing meal ever,

“Mmmm tasty” he bit down on his lip and winked at you. God he was so damn cocky, and it didn’t take you long to recover from that orgasm to make room for another. You got to your knees and sat back, your face now level with Yuta’s clothed member.

Yuta groaned as you palmed him, his length already twitching against your touch. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but since the night you had called it off with him, his desire had subsided and he wondered if you were the sole reason for his high sex drive. You placed your lips against his belly ring, giving it a kiss before pulling down his boxers and allowing his member to spring free. Yuta cursed as your tongue swiped across the tip and you looked up at him with those large eyes, and Yuta knew exactly what you were waiting for. Positioning your mouth over his tip, you waited until Yuta grabbed a fistful of your hair and guided you down on his length, groaning loudly as you took in all of him.

Yuta’s hips began to meet your rhythm and the grip on your hair tightened, the sudden roughness made you shiver with excitement. You and Yuta always liked it rough, since it took out your anger on each other and any type of nurturing or romance would throw off the dynamic.  

Yuta threw his head back as he released, keeping you on him until you swallowed every bit. He muttered curse words as he pulled out and watched you lick your lips, swiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and sucked it off.

“Yum” you mimicked his words from earlier with a smirk essentially driving Yuta crazy with lust. You giggled as he pushed you onto the bed and attacked you with bites and kisses, leading from your neck down to the valley of your breasts. “How long until you get hard again?” You sighed playfully but winced when Yuta’s teeth sunk into your skin, punishing you for your words.

“Cocky aren’t we ?” He moved back up to your lips and kissed you passionately. Just as you began melting into the kiss, Yuta pulled away and jumped off his bed heading to his closet.

“What are you doing ?” You groaned as you watched him sift through the mess of his closet until he finally retrieved a familiar box. “Yuta you’re literally hard right now, come on let’s just fuck already” you whined, knowing that when Yuta brought out that box it was his way of getting rid of your bratty attitude.

“If you wanna be impatient two can play at that game” he grinned and hopped onto the bed, pulling out his favorite pair of hair cuffs and with ease, cuffed you to his headboard. You watched him look through his box of toys, rubbing your thighs together excited about what his choice will be.

Yuta grabbed something out of the box and discarded the rest onto the floor, making his way back up to your body and pressed his lips against your ear, “you remember the safe word baby ?” Yuta pecked you when you nodded and you watched him insert a mini vibrator in your core and roll off the bed with the remote in his hand.

“I wasn’t even that mean to you” you grumbled, still getting used to the device inserted in you. Yuta shrugged and turned the device on, keeping it on a low setting as he watched you stir in his bed.

“I’m not punishing you for that actually, I’m punishing you for something else you did” he said calmly, pacing around the room butt ass naked.  You frowned and thought back to the party when he had found you, what did you say to him ?

“I’m sorry I pushed you…away” you pouted but a moan escaped your lips when you felt the setting turn higher and you watched Yuta shake his head, “nope that’s not it.” You groaned and threw your head back, unable to even think what the hell he could be on about. Yuta would get mad at every little thing so it honestly could’ve been anything.

“Can’t I have a hint or something ?” You pleaded and Yuta raised his eyebrow and eventually sighed, giving in too easily. “It happened in the beginning at the party” he said annoyingly, and finally something in your brain clicked.

“The kiss ? You’re mad over the kiss ?” Your words fell off when you felt the vibrator go another setting higher, the new speed was decent enough to start building a second orgasm. “You don’t sound like you’re apologizing for it” Yuta scoffed and dangled the remote in front of your face, “this goes up 4 more speeds y/n.”

“Why do I need to apologize for kissing my boyfriend when-“

Another setting higher.

“Fuck wait Yuta” you breathed, it was impossible to even keep focused at the new speed and the sensation was now running throughout your entire body. “You kissed him in front of me to make me jealous didn't you?” Yuta questioned and you nodded frantically, pressing your thighs together to ease the intensity, “yes yes oh my God, I wanted to make you….jealous because you brought someone else…and..fuck” just as you felt your body finally build up a perfect orgasm the vibrator suddenly turned off and you were met with Yuta’s cocky smile.

“You like to have it all don’t you y/n” he hummed as flung the remote aside and knelt between your thighs that were shaking from the orgasm denial. “You want to fuck me, but not let me fuck anyone else, you want Jeno but you don’t want me to get mad over it” he continued as he pulled the dripping wet toy out of your core and tossed it to the floor. Yuta placed his hands on either side of you and looked down at your defeated face and smiled, “Do you want me to fuck someone else?”

You shook your head and Yuta undid one of the handcuffs. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and again asked you another question, “Do you want to fuck me ?” and you quickly nodded, earning your second hand free from the cuffs allowing them to fall to your sides. Yuta placed his hand around your throat and squeezed gently, smirking as you arched your back, thirsting for him so desperately.

“Who would fuck you better, me or Jeno ?” Yuta mused as his hand released a bit of pressure on your throat. “Y-you” your voice was small and Yuta released your throat and his hand moved down to smack your thigh.

“Say it, say who will fuck you better” he hissed.

“You Yuta, you will fuck me better than anyone…better than Jeno” Yuta grinned at your words, a little surprised that you used Jeno’s name in such a blasphemous way. He was in euphoria at this point. It was all he needed to hear after continuously seeing you and Jeno look as if you were in love with each other.

It was all wrong.

You and him loved each other.

Fuck. He loved you. He really did.

Yuta pushed his length into your core and groaned as the realization of his thoughts and his conversation with Johnny all hit him at once. The sight of you beneath him, moaning his name and your confession that you wanted him over Jeno. It was all too much.

You moaned as he thrusted into you, his hips violently hitting against yours as your nails dug into his lower back. The lewd sounds filled the room and for a second the two of you looked into each other’s eyes, both feeling something…different. Usually Yuta would be fucking you from behind, his favourite position because he loved looking at your ass but tonight especially after his sudden questioning, he took care of you differently.

You don’t know what came over you and it was yet another thing you never did during sex but you pulled him down to kiss you. Your lips moved passionately against his, desperately clinging to his body as his strokes became longer and more powerful. Yuta sighed into the kiss, palming your cheek and his movements suddenly became more gentle as if he were making love to you, not fucking you.

“Yuta…I’m close” you moaned into his ear, loving this new feeling of him on your body. Yuta hummed in response and quickened his pace, making sure to sneak in a kiss every now and then until he finally brought you to your long awaited orgasm. You watched him bite down on his lip as he thrusted into you, chasing his own orgasm until he pressed his against your ear and said the words you never thought you’d hear from him.

“I love you y/n”

Your body slightly froze as Yuta finally came and he rolled off your body, mentally cursing himself for allowing those words to escape his mouth at this moment. But it’s what he felt.

Johnny was right.

“W-what ?” You finally managed to say and turned to him. Yuta licked his lips and kept his focus on the ceiling above him.

“You heard me right” he said calmly and you felt your heart race. Where was this coming from ? He was the one who always implemented the no romance rule and he chooses now, the moment you’re seeing someone else to confess to you.

“I have to go” you murmured and jumped off the bed, starting to collect your clothes from the floor. You heard the bed creak and Yuta sat up and watched you dress up. “It’s late now y/n and you drank, stay the night and leave when the suns up” he insisted, eventually grabbing his own boxers,

“Here you can sleep in one of my shirts and you’re welcome to sleep in my bed for the night.”

“Y-you…that was one of the rules…no staying over” you were biting on your nails, everything that had happened in the last ten minutes made no sense. Yuta shoved the shirt into your hands and sighed, “Look, we don’t have to talk about what I said or what happened, just stay the night and you can go back to your perfect life with Jeno.” Yuta began making his way to his door when you grabbed onto his arm making him stop in his tracks,

“Where are you going ?” You asked him softly.

Yuta looked at you and sighed, “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

“Yuta..”

“What ?”

“Stay with me.”

—-—————————————————————

You had no idea why you had told him to stay in bed with you considering all that had happened a few minutes ago. But here you were, curled into his chest listening to his heartbeat as he lightly stroked your hair.

“How…long ?” You broke the silence and felt his heartbeat slightly race, “The realization came recently but I’ve…always liked you y/n” Yuta responded softly.

“Well you don’t have a good way of showing it” you rolled your eyes and Yuta’s soft laughter filled the room. “Well at first you actually were annoying but I did find you cute” He replied and shifted until you were on your back looking up at him,

“You put up with me and we’re not afraid to fight back. You know it’s not even about the sex, I think we’ve always enjoyed each other’s company, we just have a weird way of showing it.” You listened to his words and did a bit of reflection for yourself. You were already well aware that he occupied your mind 24/7 and did not enjoy seeing him around other girls he would eventually sleep with. But was this…love ? You weren't so sure.

“Do you ever think it’s more of an addiction rather than…love ?” You looked up at him, hoping your words did not offend his sudden confession in any way. Yuta sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling deep in thought.

“What is love then ?” He murmured, clearly by the look on his face he had been pondering on this question for a while now. You joined him in laying on your back and looked up at the ceiling, “love is when the other person completes you” you began, “when you’re having a dull day and just the sight of them could turn that around. Love is wanting to protect that person all the time, it’s just love.”

Yuta turned to you, “have you ever been in love ?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”  Yuta shrugged and returned his focus above him, “whatever you just described is how I feel, but maybe I’m just still hung up on the Jeno situation.” You felt a pang in your chest as if you just completely destroyed his spirit. You always saw Yuta as a strong confident presence, yet the person next to you seemed lost, he looked broken. But deep down you knew that whatever he was describing had floated in your head from time to time, maybe it needed to be said out loud for you to finally realize.

“Give me a week”

“Huh ?” Yuta’s eyebrows raised at you.

“Give me a week to figure all of this out and we will have this talk again” you sat up and looked back at him. Yuta propped himself up on his elbows and shook his head, “y/n, if you don’t feel the same way it’s okay I won’t come in between you and…Jeno anymore.”

“Yuta”

“Hmm?”

You pulled the boy by his shirt until you were able to lock your lips with his, slipping your tongue into his mouth and he mimicked your actions before pulling away, a confused expression spreading across his face.

“I don’t know where this is going to go and whether we’re right for each other,” you chuckled dryly, “but I will always want you Yuta, you’re not coming between Jeno and I because the one who wants… .”

————————————————————————

It was finally Monday and you already regretted seeing Jeno at the office since you faked a terrible hangover to get out of the Sunday date, something that wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent the whole of Sunday laying in your bed thinking about the night you spent with Yuta and all that was shared during the morning.

You thought back on your own words about what your version of love was. Protecting someone. You reminisced about the days when Yuta got sick after a night out and you were the one to take care of him despite his protests. You thought back to when the two of you were working on a project, arguing as usual and you managed to slip on a wet paint spot, causing you to sprain your ankle. Yuta was the one to help you around the office when needed, he wasn’t appointed to you nor did he have to use up his own time to help you but he did it anyway.

When you were having a dull day the person you loved would find a way to brighten it up, just the sight of them was enough. There was an occasion where a client got real mean with you in the office, and hated the project you worked almost a month on, refusing to pay you for the labor you had put in. Yuta had seen the commotion and joined you in your booth and the two of you flooded the clients company with hilarious bad reviews anonymously until you were literally tearing up from laughter. That was one of the rare days the two of you didn’t get into an argument and the moment completely slipped your mind. You had  forgotten that Yuta and you actually shared fond memories of each other outside the bedroom.

You thought about every moment you got to the office and Yuta would be sticking his tongue out at you, calling you names and being a jerk as usual. But days when he had to work out of the office felt boring, empty, it wasn’t worth sitting in your cubicle without seeing him across from you.

But then after feeling the warm fuzziness of knowing Yuta felt the same way about you, your phone buzzed with Jeno’s name across the screen. Why were you doing this to him ? Why was Jeno in the crossfire when all he wanted to do was get to know you better ?

All you ever wanted was a distraction from the man you were scared to fall in love with.

“Heyyy you, you feeling okay ?” Jeno beamed when you entered the office, immediately bringing you into a tight hug and ending with a kiss on the cheek. You nodded and the sense of guilt over took your body as you looked up at his cheery smile.

“I heard you guys got so wasted at the party, damn I wish I stayed” Jeno giggled as the two of you walked hand in hand over to your cubicle. “Yeah it was…crazy” you faked a smile before settling in your seat. You looked across, a force of habit and you were greeted by a soft smile from Yuta before quietly returning to his work.

“I was thinking we should go see that new marvel movie tonight, what do you think ?” Jeno’s eyes were so bright and full of energy that everytime you looked into them it just made it harder to keep up your facade. “I’m pretty busy this week but hey Friday you can come over, I…need to talk to you anyway” you bit down on your lip and Jeno’s expression changed from excited to slightly wary, clearly noticing that something wasn’t quite right.

“Is….everything okay?” He asked in a staggered voice, and you slowly nodded and reached to squeeze his hand, “yeah let’s hang out on Friday okay ?” You smiled and Jeno pressed his lips together and nodded. You watched him exit your cubicle and all that was left in your view was the only person you wanted to see today, Yuta.

Yuta looked up and caught your stare, smiling softly as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand and winked at you. It was sweet and innocent, nothing like how he usually acted from across the room. You found yourself blushing and hid your face until you heard a beep come from your phone. Opening the messenger app you were greeted by a picture of yourself hiding your crimson cheeks with the message ‘Cute’ attached to it.

y/n: didn’t take you for a simp.

yutaa: fuck off, I have a folder like this.

You stifled your laughter when Yuta sent a screenshot with a folder just of you in your cubicle. From you flipping him off, to you glaring at him clearly pissed off at something he had said, and one of you trying your best to pay attention to whatever story Yangyang was on about.

y/n: oh my god you’re a BIG SIMP.

yutaa: maybe.

y/n: well I do have ONE of you that I don’t have the heart to delete.

yutaa: oh really ?

You sent Yuta a picture you absolutely treasured of him in your bed fast asleep hugging one of your plushies. It was one of the last nights you had with him before things got sour. Normally you’d never allow him to nap in your bed after a hookup but he looked so at peace and so adorable  that you decided to bend the rules a little.

yutaa: that was a good ass nap. yutaa: simp.

y/n: maybe.

The rest of the day went on and honestly you felt as if you were on cloud nine, chatting to Yuta like he was your high school crush. Smiling every time he texted back and glancing up every now and then, waiting for him to look at you with that cheeky grin. But as reality set in and Yuta’s smile faded, you were still dating another man. Who now had his arms wrapped around your waist peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulder while Yuta looked on, not being able to do a thing about it.

————————————————————————

The team decided to head out for dinner the next day, and something in Jeno had switched. After Yuta had watched him cuddle you until the day was over, you barely even got the chance to talk to Yuta face to face since Jeno offered to take you home. He was being suspiciously clingy and you wondered if he suspected anything.

“You’re okay with sharing a pasta and plate of fries ?” Jeno smiled over at you, one hand rubbing your waist and the other holding up the wooden menu. You nodded and Jeno placed his order in with Johnny who was doing the rounds for everyone. Yuta sat across from you and you could feel his stare on you from time to time, and the moments it felt like he was staring, Jeno’s grip on your waist got tighter.

“Is...is something wrong ?” you leaned into Jeno as he took a sip of his water. Even though he was smiling, his jaw was clenched signaling that he was trying to suppress himself from doing or saying something. “I'm just really tired” he rubbed your back and to your surprise leaned in to capture your lips. It was innocent but your lack of effort to mind his feelings wasn't good enough for Yuta. Frankly he had no idea where you two stood at the moment, for all he knew you could be playing him right now. It probably wasn't the case though, but Yuta was not really used to his life getting a happy ending. The night drove on and the group split with you, Ten, Doyoung, Taeyong and Renjun seated at the table while the rest of the guys were hanging around the bar babysitting their drinks. Jeno was really a changed man since high school. He was so confident, well-built and a good socialite with the team. You watched him lean against the bar counter, drink in hand entertaining whatever story Lucas had for the night.

“So you and y/n huh ? Have you scored yet ?” Lucas raised his brow cheekily to which Jeno chuckled and shook his head, “Really Lucas ? were talking about my sex life now ?” Yuta was in conversation with Johnny and Sungchan but he couldn't help but overhear your name in the chat next to him.

“Yeah man, I'm sure she’s good too after locking down my boy Yuta” Lucas smirked and Yuta flinched when the boisterous man grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled him into the conversation. “Even though they hate each other I just know they had the best hook ups” Lucas laughed despite Johnny trying to make him shut up.

“Well that’s all over now” Jeno’s eyes narrowed on Yuta before looking up at Lucas, “she invited me over tonight and considering the type of pictures she sent me, i'm guessing it’s going to be one hell of a night.” Yuta’s chest felt tight not only at the possibility that you may have invited him over to finally sleep with him but mainly because of the way Jeno spoke about you. He probably only shared that information to appease Lucas but hinting at you sending him nudes was not something you would like the guys to know about.

“She’s really been trying to speed up the process between us too it's cute actually” Jeno continued as Yangyang and Lucas egged him on, “that night after that painting you guys did for Mark Lee she was practically begging me to fuck her after our movie date. God if my brother didn't give me all those errands I would've done so right on the kitchen counter.”

Yuta shot back the rest of his drink and stormed off as Lucas and Yangyang hyped up Jeno, pouring him another shot and laughing erratically in their drunken state. From where you were seated you saw Yuta storm off and watched Johnny run after him worriedly, making you slightly anxious.

“Yuta don't listen to them man '' Johnny huffed as he finally caught up to his friend a few blocks down from the restaurant. “I dont fucking care man I really dont” Yuta chuckled dryly and ran his fingers through his hair, “It doesnt matter because at the end of the day im still the worthless piece of shit and guys like him are God fucking sent.” Johnny watched Yuta’s expression change and he turned around to find you standing there, desperately looking between them for context.

“Yuta what happened ?” you asked in a small voice and the familiar sting in his chest returned, hearing you call out his name, following him out here while Jeno was still inside, it was all just confusing to him.

“I thought you giving us a week meant you felt the same way and I could finally relax knowing you were going to be with me y/n” Yuta groaned in frustration while Johnny took a step away from the heated exchange. You shook your head as you approached him, “yes I did, so what's the problem ?” Yuta scoffed and folded his arms. “What's the problem ? doesn't look like anything’s changed y/n. I have to see you act like the couple of the year after telling you how I felt about you ? That's brilliant.”

“I told you I would speak to him this week” you snapped, unbothered by the now random onlookers who were concerned at the scene taking place. “But fine honestly Yuta if you really want me to say it you have my permission to fuck some random girl until im finally free.” You rolled your eyes about to turn on your heels to leave when you felt a tug on your wrist and Yuta pulled you into a kiss. He held your face in his hands as he kissed you passionately, sighing as he slowly pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours,

“When I said I loved you I fucking meant it y/n, I only want you. But please, if youre going to invite him over or send him dirty...pictures atleast tell him not to tell the whole fucking world about it.”

You took a step back and frowned at his words, “What ? What pictures ?”

“The ones he told Lucas about, y/n honestly I don't care I was just mad that he was airing your business out like that” Yuta bit down on his lip and yet again you were deeply confused as to what he was on about.

“I...I didn't send him anything” you responded, “I didn't invite him over tonight and I definitely haven't sent him any...nudes.”

“Tell that to him then”

You turned around and noticed most of the team was now outside watching the commotion go down and right in front was Jeno, who by the look on his face had most likely seen the kiss you just shared with Yuta.

Jeno approached the both of you with an irritated groan and scoffed, “I was going to ignore the signs but God I was so right, you were still fucking him this entire time ?” You lowered your head and Yuta glared at Jeno, “If you knew all this time why didn't you just break up with her and move on ?”

Jeno rolled his eyes and took a step closer to Yuta to which Johnny quickly responded by placing a firm hand on Jeno’s shoulder making sure the boy was at safe distance from his best friend.

“I'm not like you Yuta” Jeno licked his lips, “unlike you I respect her, I understand that she was going back to you because you like to play around, you never cared about her until I showed up. You were threatened by the fact that you were no longer in control of her.”

“Nobody is in control of me first of all” you chimed in, “and second what’s this about me inviting you over and sending you nudes that apparently the whole fucking bar knows about”

“It's just banter y/n” Jeno shook his head.

“Banter ?” Yuta repeated, “didnt know talking about how you were going to fuck your girlfriend on the kitchen counter in front of her coworkers is banter.”

“What?” you walked up to Jeno, “W-where is this coming from Jeno ? you’re not like this.”

“Well how am I supposed to be y/n ?” Jeno raised his voice, “you wouldn't mind if he said that to you. You're always letting him get away with shit. Im the one sitting around here knowing my damn girlfriend is fucking around with someone else yet somehow still trying to forgive you and figure this out.”

“Why, though ?” you shrugged, “Is it because you want to prove to other people that you're the bigger person ?”

“Would you rather be with someone like him ? someone who will probably throw you aside after he’s bored, or someone like me who was always patient, always willing to put you first no matter what” Jeno reached for your hand, his eyes widening when you shrugged him off.

“Someone who I barely know that talks about me to my friends like im just some kind of whore or someone i've known for a while and not once shared anything intimate that happened between us,” you looked over at Yuta, “It was my one rule, the same rule I gave you Jeno and he was, Yuta is the only one who has abided to it.”

“y/n Im sorry,” Jeno lowered his voice, “we hurt each other and I want to fix that, just make your final decision...me or Yuta”

“Jeno….I apologize for using you, I'm sorry for leading and hurting your feelings” you began and Yuta slowly shook his head and turned around ready to hear the bad news that always seemed to follow him,

“But as crazy as it may sound to everyone here, I'm most like myself when I'm with Yuta, I love the person I am when I'm around him” Yuta turned at your words and instead of the sting he felt a sense of warmth. Hearing you say that in front of everyone who wanted the two of you apart, besides Johnny ofcourse, was absolute bliss.

“Who knows maybe it won't work and it will explode but I really want to try, that's the thing I'm most sure of, I really really want to try” you smiled as Yuta made his way over to you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Let's get out of here” Yuta whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek and draping his arm over your shoulder as the two of you exited the street walking away from the mess and not even giving it a second glance.

The two of you ended up at your apartment full of smiles and giggles as you slowly discarded your clothes on the way to the bedroom. Once your back touched your soft duvet covers Yuta pressed his body against yours and peppered your skin with kisses all the way up to your ear. “I want to try something different” he whispered and you nodded in response while Yuta pulled his shirt over his head and discarded his jeans. Yuta pulled you on top of his body and returned to your lips, kissing you slowly and passionately. His touches were so delicate and nurturing that every time his fingers ran down your back you felt butterflies in your stomach. You unhooked your bra shimmied out of it, still attached to the addictive taste of Yuta’s lips. He slowly rolled you onto your back and left soft kisses all the way down your neck, down the valley of your breasts until he reached your abdomen. You watched as he pulled your underwear off, looking at your body like it was the most beautiful thing he had seen. That was it. Instead of lust he looked at you with love. He looked like he wanted to take care of you, be gentle with you, savour every moment he had with you. Your breathing hitched when you quickly realized that he inserted himself inside of you and used one arm to steady himself on the bed as he lent down to meet your lips. His strokes were slow but sharp, digging his nails into your thigh from time to time, preventing himself from losing control. Wanting to feel more of him you signaled that you wanted to switch positions and Yuta licked his lips as he watched you place your knees on either side of him and sit down on his member. “F-fuck” he cursed as you began to ride him, keeping to his wishes of keeping things calm and slow. Yuta wrapped his arms tightly around your waist as the two of you kissed in between your moans, twirling your tongue with his as your hips slammed into his.

“Y-Yuta…” you moaned, feeling a tear escape your eye as the long night and the building orgasm caught up with you.

“Yes baby ?” he hummed in your ear.

“I really fucking love you” you sighed, just the words finally leaving your mouth made you sob with joy. It felt so fucking good to finally say it out loud.

Yuta responded by flipping you onto your back and chased both his and your orgasm, fucking you with his usual intensity until you came and he followed straight after, filling the room with heavy pants and both of you trying to catch your breath.

“I love you too y/n” He finally said, bringing you to his chest and pressed his lips against your forehead.

The two of you lay in your bed both napping for a bit until the first sight of dawn began filling the bedroom. You winced at the sun and hid your face in Yuta’s arms as he grinned at your actions.

“I don't want to go to work!” you grumbled.

“Fuck go to work after all the drama you caused ?” Yuta pinched your cheek playfully, earning a nudge in his side from you.

“Anyway” Yuta continued, “I got an email from Taeyong and he said if we want we can work remotely, he gave us the Okinawa project.” You sat up in bed and turned to face him, “the Okinawa project ? Its 9 months in Japan, the same project the whole damn building was trying to get” you blinked, still unsure if Yuta was just fucking with you.

“That's the one” Yuta shrugged, “anyways he said he was going to send either of us anyway since he knows we always get the job done. Oh and he actually said something really funny actually”

“What ?” you raised your brow and watched Yuta reread the text message on his phone.

“He said Doyoung was the one who suggested the two of us be the ones to go, who would've thought ?” Yuta closed the messages and tucked himself back into bed.

“Yeah” you smiled, “Who would've thought.”

THE END

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Positive

Cult girl and Hannibal find a way to turn a life-altering mistake to their favor.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: accidental pregnancy, discussion of abortion, adoption, slight emetophobia

Another week passed and the 'hangover' didn't subside. Then a third week passed, so you had to give up the façade and just admit you were sick. Hannibal was smugly concerned, but not alarmed. It paid to have a doctor for a fiancé. Studying could be done from bed and you needed to be in perfect working order to burn down your grandmother's country club and fully enjoy it.

Hannibal wasn't so much of a hypochondriac that he denied you affection while bed-ridden. That, or he didn't believe what you had was contagious. Whatever it was.

It wasn't until you woke up late, just days before the start of the new semester, that you discovered. You hobbled blindly to the bathroom to take your medicine. You were fully prepared to drop to your knees and vomit in the toilet and you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and slip back into sweet unconsciousness. Not even microdosing meth could keep you awake.

You slid your birth control packet out of its sleeve. You were halfway through the green placebo pills, so you were sure that didn't help how miserable you felt. This period sure had a hell of a build-up.

That's when a number caught your eye.

It was a number you weren't even previously aware existed. A date on your birth control packet. Dated three months prior.

You weren't lucid enough to comprehend what it meant, but once it hit you, you spit the pill into the sink.

Expired. You thought. How the fuck do pills expire?

No. No. No. No.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You called back. "I... just need to take a shower."

You turned the faucet on. It was a bad lie and he would figure it out eventually, but you couldn't involve him. Not yet. You needed a minute alone to think.

You found the pregnancy test you stashed under the sink all those years ago. You double-checked the lock, then began the test. There was no romantic or even palatable way to describe the process of peeing on a stick, quietly as possible, to avoid your frankly terrifying fiancé's notice. Once it was done, you wrapped the still-loading test in toilet paper and shoved it back under the sink.

You had no idea how long it would take to give you a result. Or if waiting four years to use it would give you a false result. There was so much you didn't know.

You jumped into the shower and washed up, trying to push all thoughts of panic out of your head. It didn't work. You went right into bury-the-body mode. A fall down the stairs could best pass for an accident, but had the unintended consequences of severe bodily harm. You wondered if those special herbal teas actually worked and where you'd find one. Or, instead of investing in gimmicky, pseudo-scientific abortion teas or throwing yourself down a flight of stairs, you could just talk to him.

You sat on the bathroom floor in a towel for what felt like hours, holding the mummified pregnancy test between your fingers. It took all your strength to rip through the tissue paper and confirm what you already knew.

A big, obnoxious pink plus sign. Almost like it was rubbing it in.

Your head was screaming just talk to him. He was your goddamn fiancé. The man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. But you couldn't tell him. Not after what he said at the country club.

"Hannibal?" You called out, voice weak. "Can you come here, please?"

He opened the bathroom door to find you huddled against the sink wearing nothing but a towel. It was a sight that would make anyone freak out.

"My god, [F/N]." He took a knee beside you. "Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

You gestured to the pregnancy test at your side. You hugged your knees into your chest and waited for him to process everything.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on birth control?"

You covered your face with your hands. "I did too. Nobody told me that the pills actually expire."

Then came the question that you were dreading.

"What do you want to do?"

That was why you were hesitant to tell him. Not because he would try to make a decision for you, but because he wouldn't.

"I don't know." You blurted out. "What do you want to do?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "You know I can't tell you that. You need to decide for yourself."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." You threw your head back in exasperation. "I'm just asking for a little direction. You said you definitely wanted to have kids-"

"Not like this." He cut you off. "Not when it would derail your entire career.” 

“Look, you know I was on the fence about having kids at all.” You rambled, just trying to collect your thoughts. “But then you described what you wanted for us and it just sounded so nice.” 

“Darling, I am begging you,” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Please, decide for yourself and only yourself.” 

“I’m trying!” You objected. “I just need a second to think.” 

“Don’t think, just answer.” He implored. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want to get an abortion.” You blurted out before slapping your hand over your mouth. 

“Was that really so hard to say?” Hannibal asked, voice broken with relief. Relief of what, you couldn’t place. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “It was, a little.” 

“Why?” He tilted his head curiously. “And please don’t say it was because of me.” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, hiding your face again. “I just learned I was pregnant, like, five minutes ago. I shouldn’t be expected to make a choice this massive without at least ten minutes to think about it.” 

“Do you really want to get an abortion?” He asked. 

Your voice wobbled with uncertainty. “No... yes?” 

“I see.” He said, as if this were just a point of academic curiosity that didn’t involve him whatsoever. “Is there a part of you, no matter how small, that wants to see the pregnancy to term?” 

“Well, yeah. Thus the basis of my uncertainty.” You threw your hands up. “But I also know it’s insanely unrealistic to think I could just speedrun my last two years of school and however long it takes to establish a career just to get to the domestic bliss.”

“You would do good to not expect motherhood to be a blissful retirement plan, love." Hannibal gently scorned. "Parenting takes just as much commitment as your studies. Likely more."

"I know." You bashed your palms against your forehead. "I said it was unrealistic, didn't I? Look, I just don't foresee any worthwhile outcomes if I carry this pregnancy to term. Even to put it up for adoption just seems selfish. Why bring a kid into the world just to set them up for a shitty life?"

Hannibal paused, and looked off into the distance pensively.

"If you could forgive me a hypothetical," He began. "What if we could guarantee them a wonderful life?"

"Are we talking philosophy, or do you have an actual suggestion?" You probed.

"A bit of both, depending on where your mind takes you." He smirked as if he were about to say something very clever. "What if Beatrice [L/N]'s estate made sure our child had a safe, comfortable upbringing? With a weighty college trust fund in their name, naturally."

You couldn't tell if this was brilliant or insane. It all depended on how 'hypothetical' the whole situation really was. Either way, you were interested.

"Go on." You urged, letting the idea slither into your mind.

"There's nothing in the will that specifically states we must raise the child ourselves." He recounted. "Only that it must be of blood descent."

You hadn't considered that, but it made sense once you heard it out loud. Your grandmother had many skills to make her a sharp manipulator, but her inattention to detail was always her downfall.

“Forty-five million extra dollars in the bank would be nice.” You said. You were humoring him at first, but when you said it out loud, it rang true. 

“Forty-five is drops in the bucket compared to what we can get from her property.” He added. “The house and the golf course.” 

You put your hand on your chin, actually, seriously considering it. You were on the precipice of inheriting more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime. Money that could make so many problems go away overnight. Money you could hand out to anyone you wanted to, just to make their lives a little easier. You pictured yourself giving waitstaff six-figure tips, or handing a hundred dollar bill to someone asking for change on the street. You could erase your best friend's college debt as a birthday present. Get Hannibal a proper gift. All with money you bled out of your abusers.

It was divine justice. All at the price of nine months of your life.

"So..." Your voice trailed off. "We just need to keep this thing alive for the next nine months..."

"We can find an adoptive family in that time." Hannibal nodded along. "And we can set up a college fund for the child to be given to them on their 18th birthday."

"And we could make the adoption open, in case the child ever wants to meet us." You said.

"Right." He agreed. "Allowing the option for an adoptee to meet their biological parents is much better for their mental health and adjustment."

You covered your mouth with your hand, only to hide your excitement. "I take it back, I'm starting to see a positive outcome."

[aro-is-gay-af]

Why do I think Resume will end up with Volturi - an attempt to explain Bella/Renesmee relationship

As within the fandom nobody likes Renee (no wonder why) I'd like to make an attempt at explaining to y'all what's like to have a parent like her (because I've got the same problem) and why this is going to cause problem over the years between Bella and Renesmee. This post will include such things as explaining:

why being in a relationship like this is so tiresome

what kind of effect has it on Bella

why Bella is just the same towards Renesmee as her mother was to her

why Bella and Renessme dynamics as mother/daughter aren't as fantastic

why is it so probable that Renesmee will eventually join the Volturi and what may be her reasons to do so.

1. Someone, who's never been in the kind of relationship that Bella and Renee have, is not going to catch up quickly with the point that I'm making in this post. Why? Because it's hard to imagine yourself being in an abusive or neglectful relationship with a person, who is a close relative of yours. You never want to acknowledge that something is wrong and instead, you're trying to find excuses for the person's abusive behavior. Fandom agrees on the fact, that Renee is, at best, neglectful of Bella, while at worst, she's downright abusive. I agree with both statements and in a moment you'll know why. You also need to know that everything I'll write here is from my experience from being in such a relationship hence it doesn't mean everyone will have the same experiences as myself. Now, why is such a relationship so tiresome and you struggle to find your true self in it? In my case, very similarly to Bella, I became responsible for things I shouldn't be responsible for at a very young age. I didn't have the time to actually be a kid because I needed to handle "adult responsibilities". When you have adults' responsibilities you lose something beyond reclaim. You'll never go back to your childhood and be a child once again. I was forced, not only to handle myself, but also my brother and mother, and our household. I didn't have time to do most things that kids do cause I was taking care of my brother, or my mother, or doing chores, or anything that was supposed to be done by adults, except it wasn't. While all of this made me extremely responsible, it also made me anxious, bitter towards my parents and I suffered from depression for a long time. I read somewhere that Bella is exaggerating and it's normal to help your parents within the house, to have responsibilities. The problem here is that Renee is Bella's responsibility in the same way my mother and brother were mine. You cannot give this up because you're too responsible but it also eats you from the insides. Also, if I remember correctly, Bella says somewhere in the book that she doesn't mind this because that's how things are for a long time. That's exactly what I'm talking about! When such responsibilities are forced on you at a very young age, you accept it and think it is natural. It isn't. Adult are adults, and kids should be kids, not kids forced into adulthood.

2. + 3. When you don't have time to be a child and you're forced into the adult world, there's always going to be some consequences that you cannot foresee prior. To Bella it ended actually sadly - we can see in the book, as well as in the movie, that Renesmee is almost as an accessory to Bella. Sure, Bella dies for her, but what else? Renesmee is described as mature and serious, she doesn't want to do things that kids usually do. Why? Smeyer made her this way, yeah, but apart from that, it's because Bella cannot handle a kid. The idea of full family appeared to her because she never had it herself. And while she admits that she doesn't even want children in Eclipse, suddenly in Breaking Dawn we see her change her mind completely. All she ever wanted was a) Edward and b) to be a vampire. So when she has these two goals achieved, why would she even bother with Renesmee? So Resume is mature enough and growing up quickly to relieve Bella from the burden of maternity.

4. Also, I'm not saying that Bella doesn't love Renesmee. Of course she does. Renesmee, also, loves her dearly. It's the same dynamics as between my and my mother, and between Bella and Renee. Bella loves Renne but needs to take care of her and be the responsible adult™. It also tires her, as she needs to think about how to handle the business in the most effective (and cheapest) way.

I think we can establish by now that love has nothing to do with this. So, because of her childhood and the poor illustrations of how relationships should work, Bella is exactly the same towards Renesmee as Renee (and partially Charlie) was to her. She thinks Renesmee is able to handle herself fine - she's constantly throwing at us proves that Renesmee is mature enough to do almost everything adults do. It's bullshit, of course, but Bella isn't aware of that. It's how she was brought up (or it's rather the lack of bringing her up by responsible adult) and she thinks it's the best way to fulfill parental duties.

As I said earlier, Bella is all smiles because she's got what she wanted - Edward and immortality. Yeah, it's great she has a daughter too, but like... hello, it's Edward and her and they have forever so why to bother with a child. It'll somehow work itself out. I will not ponder here on Edward being a father and how I see his relationship with Renesmee, however, I don't think it's pretty healthy either. Also, I need to add here, that Renesmee at least, has others (I mean other Cullens) who have probably more patience and time to actually raise a child. I think, and it's only a headcanon so take it easy, that Renesmee has excellent relationship with Rosalie. Rose will not treat her as adult - she'll prolong Renesmee's childhood as much as she's able to. She has time, patience, will and all love for her, so I think they're pretty close, and it would be a good, as well as a healthy relationship.

5. The older Renesmee will get, the more she'll be able to understand. Maybe the Cullens (and I hope it would turn out this way) would spare her this "being a premature adult" thing but her relationship with Bella will never be as close as she'd probably wish to. Sometimes, love isn't enough to keep up with the relationship and the shit that's going on around you constantly. One day, Renesmee will go to high school, then to university and then? Who the hell knows. She won't necessarily be with Bella. Sure, she'll be always her daughter, but she's not her property. At some point, Renesmee'll be mature enough to decide whether she wants to stay with her family, or travel, or join another coven. What I think, is that Bella won't be happy about it at all. Right now she has her fairy tale. She sacrificed nothing. She's living the life of her dreams with a man of her utmost desire. She has a child, even though vampires aren't suppose to have ones. What will happen if there will be a crack in her tale? Long, nasty cracks, throughout the wall. This is when I get to the point that Bella has no fucking clue what mess she got herself into (but that's for another post).

6. Holy Grail now. Lord, I'm always making this so long, this was supposed to be brief. Okay. So why do I think Renesmee will end up with the Volturi? A few reasons off the top of my head:

※ at some point Jacob will die and Charlie will die, and she'll now what's grief and how hard it is to go on. Yeah, yeah, I know that Jacob is also immortal right now, but he'll probably be killed while protecting Renesmee or Bella. I always think of their relationship as brother/sister because I cannot stand the imprinting shit Smeyer gave us. Also, I think I don't need to explain Charlie here. Renesmee will be devastated by both of these deaths and she'll have to come to terms with herself eventually. I guarantee you that she'll not be the same after that.

※ relationship with her parents. I briefly explained what I had on my mind when it comes to Bella. Renesmee loves her mother but that doesn't mean they'll have healthy and exemplary relationship. Sure, they can work on that, they have eternity but I think that at one point Renesmee will be fed up with the way how her mother is in love with eternity itself. Her relationship with Edward, as I said, is for another post, however I think with time it can get pretty hard. Could you live with the thought that your own father didn't want you? That he regretted that you exist at all? I don't think so. (Yeah, I'm simplifying, but I need to, so don't hate me for this).

※ Cullen coven can break or partially break. @therealvinelle talked about it here a little bit but that's also what I have in mind. Cullens are fairly young coven, with pretty unknown dynamics as we don't get to know them that much through saga (thanks Smeyer for not dwelling on it further). It isn't said anywhere that they'll last next century, not to think about more time passing.

※ she'll be fed up with constantly living with the humans. Imagine you need to constantly move, go to school/college and abide the rules that you didn't agree on in the first place. At first its great, Renesmee has time and reasources to flourish but she can also do that without anoyone else.

※ she has rampant hunger for knowledge. Where to find more books and more knowledge than in Volterra? Simple as it is.

※ she may not find vegetarian diet... sustainable for her. Remember how she was delighted when she drank first Bella's blood and than human blood in general? I think she can go on for some time on vegetarian diet plus/or human diet (if she was to attend i.e. med school which of course I think she would) but after some time, maybe a century, maybe less and maybe more, she'll eventually come to terms that she enjoyed drinking human blood. That's it. She's half vampire by descent. I don't think she'll be able to resist that much , also because everyone taught her from day one she could have what she asked for in a blink of an eye (remember Esme's spoons?).

AND most important (at least for me)

※ her worldview will completely change after a few/a lot of tragical experiences. Sorry, that's just common knowledge. Life is brutal, people are vicious and ruthless. She'll probably work or go somewhere, where she can see what humans are capable of (both in good and bad ways) and what one can do to achieve their goal. I think she'll go to Volturi to simply find comfort there. They've been alive for three thousand years. They can teach her things Cullen's aren't even aware of. Besides, I think it would be a great political move. We all know Aro wanted to know her so bad. If he would, she'll probably be able to influence him to some extent and spare her loved ones if it'd go that far. That's it! Of course, it's fucking long as hell. Sorry for that. Comment if you wish. I cannot wait if you think the same, similar or if you disagree completely! But no hate, please. Professionals have standards™.

[mxdnightlvers]

Danganronpa Aladdin AU

Request: “Can you write a oneshot featuring Yasuhiro Hagakure in an Aladdin AU please? I imagine him as a street rat who gets in trouble and tries to evade the palace guards.”

Anime: Danganronpa

Characters: Yasuhiro Hagakure

A/N: This request was really interesting!! I’m really glad I got the chance to write this. Also slight confession, I haven’t really seen the original Aladdin, and only the live action so I tried my best but I do hope u enjoy <3

“Whew!”

Yasuhiro exhaled, slumping onto the wall as the palace guards run past, not knowing that the thief had slipped into one of the alleyways. With no time to rest, he stood up, grabbing the stolen food and walking further away. Once he was sure there were no guards nearby, he took the time to slow his steps. The sun was setting and it cast an orange glow over the city. He looked up, brown eyes glistening in the setting sun as he relaxed his shoulders. It was a long day for him and as the sun made its slow descent, he could feel all his stress slowly drain away. Soon enough, he was home, tossing the bag of apples aside and sitting down.

“Haha I did not foresee that the guards would find me that easily.” He chuckled at yet another successful but close call with the palace guards.

Abu, his monkey companion, scurried close to the bag of stolen apples, taking one out and making himself comfortable next to Yasuhiro.

“I mean,” He started, “The crystal ball showed me that today would go smoothly.”

His tone was dejected but Abu just stared at him, one eyebrow raised, questioning Yasuhiro’s statement.

“Okay okay I mean I only have a 30% success rate but just you wait! It’ll be 40% soon!” He laughed, taking the apple from Abu’s hand and taking a bite out of it.

“Hah and the sun sets,” he sighed, returning the apple to Abu as he stared at the apple, looking almost offended, “Where do u want to go tomorrow?”

He didn’t even wait for any sort of reply before answering his own question, “I’m feeling for some bananas instead, these apples are getting old.”

The sun descended once again, signaling the end of a long day, but it wouldn’t be far until another long day started for the pair.

.

.

.

Yasuhiro peeked around the corner, back against the wall. As expected, the salesman was there, selling his fruits to customers. With the streets filled with people going about their day, his heist would’ve been easily carried out, if it wasn’t for one setback.

There were guards. Everywhere. His first thought was that they were looking for him but surely these many guards are a bit much. The palace must have bigger problems than chasing down one thief right?

“One, two, three, four, five, aagh I’m getting tired of counting.” Yasuhiro softly whispered to himself.

With this unforeseen event before him, he was sure that he had been cursed in some sort of way. The plan was now way too risky to carry out. The next logical plan would be to just abandon it and return home, is what he thought to himself as he stepped out from the alleyway.

Okay…..that wasn’t the plan, but he could still just disappear into the alleyway once again.

He approached closer to the food stall, trying to blend into the crowd despite being a character that’s easily spotted.

“Ahhh Yasuhiro what are you doing this is way too risky. It’s better to just turn around ahhhh why are my legs still moving???”

“This must be the work of the occult!” He thought to himself despite the fact that it was his own will that kept him walking towards the stall.

He passed one guard that was stationed a few paces away from the stall, lowering his head to try to better hide himself. His pace quickened, thumb trapped in his palm, hoping that he didn’t catch the guard’s attention.

He exhaled, thinking he got away, only to hear a shout from the guard, who had just realized that a wanted thief had just walked by. He did not even have to look behind to know that he was the one being called by the guard.

“Ahh I swear I didn’t do anything!!” He shouted in a panic, as his pace picked up, making his way to the food stand.

He grabbed whatever he could and quickly shoved the stolen food into the bag he held. He made no haste and sprinted away. The shouts of the salesman alerting the nearby guards were heard above the crowd as they begun their chase.

Yasuhiro pushed through the crowd, apologizes spilling from his lips every second as he pushed through the crowd. He mumbled desperate words of reassurance and motivation to himself as he sped up. He knew this plan was a bad idea and now he has to escape from the palace guards once more.

His heartbeat quickened as the sound of the knights armor knocking against each-other neared closer. He glanced behind him to see the five knights hurriedly chasing after him.

He has never regretted anything more than this.

As if his flight or fight response was triggered, he pushed past the crowd even more forcibly and made his way into the nearby alleyway.

He didn’t pause for a moment. He ran through the alley, knocking down a few of the crates and boxes. There were fruits in a couple of the boxes and as much as he’d like to pause and pick them up, he knew that he’d be allowing the knights to catch up. He knew they were near as it’s practically impossible to have someone dressed in iron armor to silently chase after someone. They followed suit, causing even more of a mess in the alley. Even through all the chaos, his grip on the bag never faltered, however the bag did get knocked around, probably making the bananas inside a mess.

He looked behind him to see two guards following him and in a hurry, he grabbed a nearby stack of crates and knocked them over, causing the knights to stumble and trip over. The sound of the metal clanking and knocking together made a horrible melody but it was his reassurance that he at least has two guards off his back.

He paused for a bit, heavily breathing as he apologized to the knights before hastily making his way out the alleyway. He genuinely believed that he would receive more bad karma if he just left the knights laying there.

He made his way onto another street that was less busy than the first, his steps slowing, but still quick enough to run away if needed. His legs ached and his breathing was heavy but he didn’t have time to rest when he spotted the other three palace guards.

They pointed in his direction shouting at him to stop but even they knew that he wasn’t going to surrender….despite his words.

Yasuhiro immediately picked back up his pace running away, “Please let me go I swear I’ll do anything!!”

“I’m sure running around in that armor must be hard, can’t you let a guy go?!”

Well, his attempts at negotiation failed.

Realizing this, he began to get frustrated.

“Let a guy live, it was only a few bananas, are they trying to kill me??” He thought to himself, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

It didn’t help that it was in the evening, the sun was at its meanest this time of the day, his clothes feeling like a burden but there was no time to stop and rest.

Already running low on stamina, he turned his direction, into a busier street, hoping that the crowd would be able to act as a camouflage.

It was difficult shielding his entire figure but it worked as he slowed his pace, walking quickly but not enough to draw attention. He took advantage of this temporary distraction to slip into another alleyway,

But he was met with a dilemma when the alley he was in was a dead-end. He stared at the wall in disbelief. Thankfully the wall was short and he could probably climb over it. However, it was still too tall to reach and what if he slipped and fell?

The fear of somehow failing the climb caused him to turn around, but when he saw the faint silhouettes of the guards in the crowd, he turned back around to the wall.

“Ahh looks like I don’t have a choice,” He made his mind up and tossed the bag across the wall, just hoping that it made it over safely.

Drying his hands on his clothes, he took a few steps back, before sprinting and jumping towards the wall, trying to grip the top.

His hands gripped the wall and he slipped right off.

He stumbled down, quickly finding his balance before attempting it again.

….and his hands slipped right off again.

He thought that he was definitely screwed this time. If only he had looked behind him more properly to see that there were perfectly good crates to climb up on.

It only took him one more fail of aimlessly jumping at the wall for him to fall back onto one of the crates.

He got up from where he fell, rubbing his lower back from the pain before gasping at his new escape route. However, the crash of him falling onto the crates did alert the guards and he now had to act even quicker.

He hurriedly stacked them up enough, before jumping once more, the force knocking over the creates. His torso made it over the wall but now his lower half was still hanging over. He could hear the knights a few steps behind him and with all his might, he forced himself over, falling over on the other side. If only he knew how silly he looked in that moment.

Rubbing his head, he got up, looking around for his bag before heading off. He made his way to a few streets away before finally allowing himself to get some rest. He slumped down next to a wall, body aching before reaching into his bag to eat a well earned banana.

It was around 6pm when he finally made his way home, settling down by the window once more. He placed the bag of beaten bananas to his previously earned apples. Abu, who haven’t made an appearance all day finally shows up, reaching into the bag.

“So where we’re you all day when I needed help??” Yasuhiro asked his companion but he didn’t receive a reply.

He sighed, scratching his head as he finally got to properly rest his body.

“Today was so crazy though you should’ve definitely seen me. I climbed over a wall to escape these guards and threw down the others…..I did apologize though!! Now I should be safe from any bad omen!” Yasuhiro reminisced as Abu just stared at him in disbelief.

He looked out the window, the city being way quieter than it was a few hours ago as he looked back on the eventful day he had. Fatigue eventually caught up to him and he closed his eyes, falling asleep as he swore to himself that he would never do something like this again.

Well it only took him a few more days before he was once again being chased by the palace guards.

[jaskierswolf]

A Lover’s Kiss

Summary: After an unfortunate encounter with a mage, Jaskier finds himself cursed to never be kissed again unless he can find someone who loves him. Enter Geralt. (Also on my AO3)

Based on the prompt: A little bit of the bards chaotic behaviour getting him into some curse and Geralt saving the day? by @innocentcinnamonpun

Geralt swore as he approached the tavern where he’d left Jaskier. He could hear the brawling from the street and the sound drew out a long heavy sigh from the witcher. He hadn’t been away on the hunt long, it was why Jaskier had opted to stay behind to play his lute for coin instead. It was supposed to be the less dangerous place to be, and yet Jaskier had a penchant for trouble that Geralt just couldn’t fathom.

He consider drawing his sword before entering the tavern but that would most likely get them both in trouble. If he was lucky he’d be able to grab Jaskier by the scruff of his neck and pull them both out of there before any real damage was done. He huffed and double checked the fastenings on his armour before pushing open the door to the tavern.

As expected, Jaskier was in the middle of the fray. His doublet was torn open and he was pressed up against the wall by a cloaked individual who had a hand gripped around Jaskier’s neck. Geralt snarled and crossed the room, his presence creating a familiar silence in the tavern.

“Leave him be.” He growled.

The cloaked figure, a blonde woman with a freckled face and soft brown eyes, laughed a cold humourless laugh. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because whatever it is that you think he’s done. I can assure you he’s not worth it.” Geralt shot a weary glare at his friend.

Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed, presumably from too much wine, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling in the candle light.

“Geralt!” He grinned which was quite frankly a foolish reaction for someone who was about thirty seconds from being choked to death. “How was the hunt? Successful I take it.”

Geralt shrugged. “Drowners are dead. More worried about my bard that is currently in a death grip.”

“Shut up!” The woman hissed and Jaskier gasped as her grip tightened. Any protests he may have had were cut off by the lack of air. “Both of you!”

Geralt rolled his eyes and sighed. “What did he do?”

Jaskier croaked and mumbled something intelligible.

“This bastard tried to seduce my wife!” The woman hissed.

Geralt was almost tempted to leave the bard to his fate. How many times did he have to save Jaskier’s life because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself? The rumours of Jaskier being a eunuch hadn’t lasted long as his friend’s insatiable appetite for sexual pleasure had put those rumours to rest rather quickly. Geralt had two options that he could think of, use Axii on the woman and convince her that Jaskier hadn’t even looked at her wife, which was risky in front of a whole tavern, or find a way to put Jaskier’s lecherous ways to a stop, for good.

“I’m afraid there’s been a miscommunication.” Geralt grunted. “The man’s a bard.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” The woman cackled. “I know he’s a bard!”

“And part of his job is to charm people out of their gold.” Geralt continued with a tilt of his head. Jaskier was still gasping which meant he was just about able to breathe but he would probably pass out soon if Geralt couldn’t get the woman to release her grip.

“But not into their beds, witcher!” She snapped, and pressed her fingers harder against Jaskier’s neck.

The bard finally had the decency to look afraid, his startling blue eyes met Geralt’s wide and now full of worry. Geralt scowled and licked his lips.

“An act, I assure you.” He said through gritted teeth, as calmly as he could manage. “Please just let him go.”

“No!”

Geralt panicked as Jaskier’s eyes started to roll back. “We’re married!” He blurted out.

The blonde dropped Jaskier and Geralt caught the bard in his arms. Jaskier gripped onto Geralt’s armour and gasped loudly as he tried to catch his breath. “Geralt!” He mumbled. “Oh gods, I thought I was gone that time.”

The woman folded her arms in front of her chest and watched them both with narrowed eyes. “Married?” She asked.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist, partly to steady him, and nodded. It was too late to back out now. “Married.” He agreed firmly.

“What?” Jaskier spluttered and Geralt jabbed him in the ribs. “Oh yes, married! I umm… I’m just surprised to hear Geralt say that out loud. We were keeping it a secret.” He muttered before standing up straight and rubbing his neck, wincing as his fingers brushed over tender skin.

Geralt frowned. “Are you alright, Jaskier?”

The bard nodded. “I’ve had worse from jilted lovers…” He paused and grinned mischievously up at Geralt. “Husband.” He sang happily and kissed Geralt firmly on the lips.

Geralt grunted in surprise but allowed Jaskier to kiss him. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact Jaskier was a good kisser. Geralt suddenly knew why his bard had never struggled to find a partner to warm his bed. Before he knew what was happening, Geralt was kissing back. He found he wanted to kiss Jaskier, which was a shocking revelation to him. Up until that point he’d only really thought of the bard as a friend, and even then he’d never admitted it before now. The vibration of Geralt’s medallion was the only warning he had before he was torn from Jaskier’s lips and pulled violently away from the bard by some unseen force.

“Oi!” Jaskier snapped as he too was flung back against the wall. “I was enjoying that!”

“If you really are married then I assure you there won’t be a problem.” The woman who was apparently some kind of mage hissed. “You, bard, will not be able to kiss or bed anyone who is not in love with you.”

Jaskier spluttered. “Oh yeah, sure, Not a problem. None what so ever!” He smiled too sweetly, trying to regain his composure.

Geralt couldn’t help the faint smile that graced his lips. Now that was one problem solved for the foreseeable future, although he also did not doubt the bard’s ability to make anyone fall in love with him. At least it would put an end to the more casual trysts.

Geralt glowered at the blonde one last time for good measure before grabbing Jaskier’s hand and pulling him away from her. “Whilst I appreciate your concern, witch, if I see your hands on my husband again, there’ll be trouble.” He growled and then tugged Jaskier from the tavern.

They’d barely moved two feet away from the door when Jaskier let out a long groan. “Geralt.” He whined. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Geralt smirked and patted his bard on the shoulder. “You should have thought about that before you tried to sleep with a married woman, again.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you! I’ll have you know that she didn’t tell me!”

“They never do.” Geralt sighed. “Come on, let’s get Roach and move on.”

Jaskier grumbled and pulled on the lute strap across his chest. “Easy for you to say, you’ve not been cursed.”

____________

Jaskier was going mad. It had been three months since his run in with the mage and he hadn’t even been able to go to a brothel to satisfy his more lustful urges. It was like a constant itch just under his skin that he couldn’t scratch. It was irritable and quick to anger, even Geralt was pissing him off more than usual and normally Jaskier had a remarkable tolerance for the witcher’s grumpy moods.

He had hoped that the mage’s curse had been faked but a few failed attempts at even just kissing some truly stunning people had proved his hopes to be false. He hadn’t even had the time to woo anyone. He’d been too busy travelling with Geralt and gathering new stories for his ballads and poems.

It didn’t escape his notice that his last kiss had been the witcher, and oh what a kiss it had been! He hadn’t expected Geralt to kiss him back. He’d simply been taking advantage of the witcher’s lie to satisfy his own curiosity. Honestly, he’d been in love with Geralt since the moment he’d laid eyes on him in Posada but he’d never really expected to have a chance to kiss his crush, so he really couldn’t be blamed for seizing the opportunity when it arose.

He sighed and plucked too harshly at the strings on his lute. The tightest, highest string snapped under his fingers and he yelped. “Bollocks!” He groaned and sucked the now bleeding fingertip.

Geralt looked up from where he was prodding the fire with a stick and sniffed the air. “You’re bleeding?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can see that, Geralt.” He hissed and stuck his fingers back in his mouth.

Geralt sighed and crossed the camp in two long strides, taking Jaskier’s wrist gently in his hands and pulling the bleeding fingers from Jaskier’s mouth. He examined the wound carefully and hummed.

“I have some salve if you want but that should heal quickly on its own.” Geralt murmured and gave him a soft smile.

He’d been doing that a lot recently, smiling, especially at Jaskier. It was wreaking havoc with Jaskier’s feelings. His love for Geralt was burning brighter than it had in years. It almost felt like the brand new fire he’d felt in those first few years of travelling. After a while it had dulled to embers, never dying but more manageable and less painful, but now that love resembled a pyre or a brazier, a wildfire that spread through his entire body and there was nothing he could do to put it out.

It probably didn’t help that he couldn’t temper the flames with another warm body in his bed.

He was truly going mad.

He pulled his bleeding fingers from Geralt’s hand and glared at the witcher. “I’m fine, witcher.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not fine, Jaskier.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and snorted. “Yeah well, whose fault is that?” He snapped. “Married.” He muttered. “You couldn’t have thought of a better excuse?”

Geralt scoffed. “I saved your life, Jaskier.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at the witcher and then flailed his arms. “To the contrary! I am dying, Geralt!”

“Stop being so dramatic.” Geralt grumbled.

“I am a bard!” Jaskier pouted. “Bards need to be kissed! To be loved!”

Geralt’s brow furrow and he huffed, spinning around so Jaskier couldn’t see his face.

“Oh yeah sure, just runaway from your mistakes. Again.” He snapped. He winced at his own words. It was a low blow after Cintra but Jaskier wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind. He made a note to apologise later when he’d managed to calm down a bit.

“Fuck.” Geralt growled and then spun around again, freakishly fast. He cupped Jaskier’s face in his hands and pulled Jaskier into a blistering kiss.

Jaskier squeaked, surprised by the sudden movement. Of all the things he’d expected Geralt to do, kissing him had been the last thing on the list. He’d been hoping to get away with not getting punched in the gut again after his cruel words.

But Geralt’s lips were on his and all other thoughts left his head. Geralt was kissing him…

Geralt was kissing him.

He pushed back on Geralt’s chest firmly with an indignant yelp. “Geralt!” He pointed at the witcher accusingly and stumbled back. “You. You kissed me!?”

Geralt blushed. Jaskier hadn’t even realised that was possible for witchers but here was Geralt blushing brighter than a ruby in the sunlight and all because he’d kissed Jaskier. The witcher grunted and stalked over to Roach.

“Oh no. No, no, no. No!” Jaskier trotted after him. “No riding away from me now, Geralt.”

“Shut up Jaskier.” Geralt growled.

“You love me!” Jaskier blurted out and then covered his mouth with his hands to stop a peal of laughter from escaping his lips. “You love me.” He mumbled again.

“Apparently so.” Geralt muttered.

Jaskier beamed at the witcher and bopped him on the nose. “Since when?” He laughed.

Geralt snarled and scrunched up his nose. “Doesn’t matter.”

Jaskier sighed dramatically. “Of course it matters, Geralt. It matters to me.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Jaskier tilted his head and gave the witcher his most charming smile. “Because I would like to know how long we could have been snogging each other senseless for.” He stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What?”

“Oh my dear witcher. Surely you know that I love you? I’ve not exactly been subtle with the songs and the whole…” He waved his hands “following you around the Continent thing.”

“What?!” Geralt repeated with wide eyes.

Jaskier sighed and shook his head, taking Geralt’s hand in his. “I love you, Geralt. I have loved you since the moment I saw you. So forgive me for wondering when you began to feel the same way.”

“Not sure. Some time after the mage and the curse.” He grumbled. “Maybe before that. I never did like it when you fucked around.”

Jaskier laughed. “Oh ho ho! Geralt were you jealous?”

“No!” The witcher snarled. “Maybe.”

Jaskier couldn’t take it anymore he squeezed Geralt’s hand and leaned in for another kiss. Neither of them were surprised this time. It wasn’t as heated as the last kiss, they knew they could finally take their time to relish in the feeling. The kiss was slow and filled with all the yearning that had followed Jaskier around for years. He poured his heart and soul into the kiss hoping Geralt would see that it was alright to love him, that he didn’t need to hide it.

Geralt hummed as they pulled away. Jaskier opened his eyes to find his friend gazing at him with gorgeous amber eyes, smiling that half smile that drove Jaskier mad. “You love me.” Geralt murmured as his fingers stroked Jaskier cheek.

Jaskier nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “I do. I always have.”

Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s and closed his eyes. Jaskier smiled and chuckled, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist. “She was right then.”

“Who was right, darling?”

“The curse. It won’t be a problem after all.” Geralt laughed quietly at the revelation and Jaskier soon joined in before pulling the witcher into another kiss.

The first of many, he hoped.

Tag List: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @genkitaco 

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Jimin

Jimin never falls in love. Not now, not ever. Especially now that the messy breakup with his most recent ex is over-it’s nothing but parties, blue skies, and freedom in his foreseeable future-just the way he likes it. That is, until he meets you by pure happenstance. And suddenly, he’s pretty sure he’s falling. The only problem? You know his ex. And it’s complicated. 

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Fluff, Park Jimin, Jimin, Jimin x you, Jimin x reader, BTS x you, BTS x reader, college au, boyfriend au, Playboy!Jimin

Genre: Fluff

Soundtrack: My Ex’s Best Friend by Machine Gun Kelly

Title: Can’t Get Enough of It

Jimin downs the rest of his drink, crinkling the plastic red solo cup easily in his fist, the sound muted underneath the harsh bass of the music that is pounding through the frat house in tempo with the strobe lights reflecting off the walls. 

“Hey! Jiminie!” 

Jimin rolls his eyes good naturedly, as Jungkook plops down onto the couch beside him, jostling him slightly, a giggling girl crowding in next to him, as they tipsily situate themselves on the couch. 

Jungkook slings his arm around Jimin’s shoulders, and not realizing how loud he is speaking in his slightly drunken state, yells into his ear above the music, “Have you met Rosie yet?” He pulls on the girls hand, and she falls ungracefully into his lap, laughing giddily and looking up at Jimin with large, doe eyes, covered partially by long pink hair. “Rosie, Jimin. Jimin, Rosie.” 

“Hey.” Jimin flashes her a grin, and she blushes, even though Jungkook is watching both of them, burying her face hurriedly in her boyfriend’s side. 

Jimin is not surprised. Girls fall at his feet. It’s nothing new. 

Smirking to himself, he throws his discarded plastic cup onto the floor, and patting the drunk Jungkook on the shoulder, leans into him, saying in his ear, “Imma hit up the beer pong. Don’t get too crazy without me.” He stands, and winking down at the still giggling, and blushing, Rosie, he raises a brow at the duo and says smugly, “If you’re gonna need another partner, come and find me.” 

Leaving the couch, Jimin weaves his way between the grinding flush of bodies in the living room, high fiving a few other fraternity members, and slapping a couple of girl’s asses, on his way to the stairs that lead to the basement and the game room below. 

It is quieter down here, the bass of the music slightly muted through the floors, but not by much. 

“Damn!” One of the guys huddled around the large ping pong table roars out, throwing his fists into the air and crowing triumphantly, “A perfect shot! Drink up, bitches!” 

“Tae.” Jimin comes up beside him, as everyone swigs the dark liquids in the red cups on the table. He glances at the present company, and realizes he knows pretty much everyone here. “You win again?” 

“I’m winning.” Taehyung flashes him a large, boxy grin, and takes another gulp of his own drink, before he claps Jimin on the shoulder. “Oh, that reminds me.” 

Taehyung glances around, and then waves someone over through the crowd. 

Jimin recognizes the girl that Taehyung has been hooking up with consistently for the last several weeks, and offers her a slight smirk, as she approaches them, lacing her hand through Taehyung. “Ah, yeah. I think we’ve met once. Jennie right?” 

The girl nods, tossing a dark ponytail over her shoulder, and Jimin likes the fact that she seems to be confident, as she looks him in the eye and replies easily, “Yeah. That’s right.” 

“Jennie brought a friend tonight.” Taehyung licks his lips and glances at Jimin, motioning with his head and clearly shooting him a look that says sleep with said friend or I will, even though his arm is snugly slung around Jennie’s shoulders. “Let us introduce you.” 

“Oh, I know who he is.” 

Jimin’s first thought when you step up beside the couple and he sees you is holy shit, she’s hot. 

Followed quickly by the second thought-Shit, I’ve seen her before, and she doesn’t look too pleased to see me.  

He watches as you fold your arms over your chest, red solo cup held daintily in the long fingers of one hand, and shoot him a look up and down. Jimin knows he is attractive-hell he knows how it feels to have every girl in the room looking at him-but somehow, your gaze doesn’t quite convey the feeling of admiration he’s used to receiving. 

“You guys know each other?” Jennie asks, a slight question in her tone, as Taehyung looks nervously between the two of you. 

“No.” You say firmly, shaking your head, and Jimin can’t help but notice the way your earrings dangle in the strobe lights overhead. “We don’t know each other. I’ve just heard of him.” 

“You know Lisa.” Jimin finally manages to say, after feeling like he’s been staring at you for ages in silence. “Right?” 

A smirk curls up the corner of your lips, and you flash him an almost amused look, as you take another swig from your drink. “We’re acquaintances. But trust me, Park Jimin, I’ve heard all about you.” 

There is something about the way your red lips form a perfect bow around the lip of your cup that has Jimin wanting-no, needing-to know more.

Reaching up to rake a hand through blonde hair, he swallows, and then grinning at Taehyung and Jennie, leans forward to take you forcibly by the arm, even though subtly fight it, tensing beneath his grip. “Well, looks like we have some catching up to do. Talk to you guys later.” 

“What are you doing?” You hiss out, heard only by him under the hum of the party, as he drags you toward an empty sofa in a darkened corner. 

Jimin plops down amongst the worn cushions, pulling you unceremoniously down beside him, before he shoots you an amused glance. He can’t help it-the way your lips are pulled down into a stern frown, and the way your eyes are sparkling with flames as you shoot him a glare-has him feeling some weird way in the pit of his stomach. 

You are something else. 

“Tell me-” Jimin begins, glancing up and quieting as several noisy and drunk couples stagger their way by your couch. He refocuses, slinging his arm across the back of the couch behind your head, as he angles his body to face you, knees almost touching. “What was your name again?” 

You scoff and roll your eyes. “(Y/N).” 

“Pleasure.” He flashes you a grin-a grin that normally has the girls swooning-though it seems to take no effect on you. And Jimin likes that. 

“Not mine.” You retort back, taking another gulp from your cup, as your eyes scan the party, and Jimin notes, briefly, that you seem stiff, as if you’re trying not to accidentally touch him. 

This just makes him want to touch and dig and explore you even deeper than he had moments before. 

It only propels him forward-the odd need swirling in his belly igniting into a flaming fire of possession. 

“First off-” Jimin leans toward you, lowering his voice, and the corner of his lip rises in a smug smirk, as you lock gazes with him, and he can’t help but notice, being this close to you, how your lips are parted, as if you’re waiting for him to say something. “I’m not sorry.” He arches a brow at you, and lets his fingers that are dangling over your shoulder trace the outline of your bra strap beneath the thin material of the sweater you wear-an oddly simple gesture that suddenly has him aching with need. 

You arch a brow in return, and your lips gap even more, before you ask curiously, “Sorry for what? Being a douche who sleeps with anything that moves?” 

“Aha.” Jimin barks out a laugh, and he can’t help it, as his gaze drifts down the angles of your face to your lips. Something about you makes him oddly unfocused. “Funny. But I won’t apologize.” 

“For being a dick?” You push onward, scoffing slightly, as you break his gaze, and swallow down the last of your drink. 

“For trying to get to know you.” Jimin winks at you, and takes your empty solo cup, as you roll your eyes at his behavior. “Now. We’re both way too sober for this. Let’s get some more drinks.” 

******

“That is not what happened.” 

Jimin doesn’t know if it’s the copious amounts of alcohol in his veins or if being with you makes him feel warmer, but he’s hot and flushed as he stumbles after you into the elevator, his voice louder than it needs to be in the quiet, slumbering atmosphere of the student apartment complex. 

“Oh really?” You squint at him, and shove a finger into his face, as he clumsily reaches to push the button to close the doors. “Lisa told my roommate all about it. And you were a complete asshole.” 

“No. No.” Jimin waves at you, or the slightly blurry outline of you, as you press pass him to push the button for your floor, and the smell of your perfume-floral and light and feminine-tickles his nose, and the warmth of your body pressed to his is enough to send him reeling, as if he’s had way more alcohol than he actually has. “Lisa likes to be dramatic.” 

“So you’re telling me-” You stumble as the elevator sways into motion, and Jimin reaches out to steady you, although you shove his hand away. “Lisa lied about you sleeping with all those other girls?” 

“Well, no.” Jimin admits, and his words slur together slightly, as he leans up against the wall beside you for support, the railing cold against his back. 

“Aha!” You exclaim triumphantly, and the way your cheeks are red and the way your nose scrunches as you whirl to face him, has Jimin feeling like his heart is going to pound right out of his chest. “So you were a dick!” 

“Okay, okay. I was a dick.” Jimin gives up, and you huff back against the wall beside him, as the elevator continues to tick its way upward. 

It is silent for several moments, the two of you swaying unsteadily on your feet from the night of partying, and then Jimin-emboldened by the alcohol or something else-pushes himself off the wall and comes to stand in front of you. 

“(Y/N)-” He begins to say, as the elevator sways harder than before, and he stumbles toward you, catching himself from falling into you with his palms against the wall on either side of your head. He glances down at you-your upturned nose, your cherry cheeks, and those damn, perfect lips-and suddenly, he doesn’t know what he was going to say. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You berate, your words running together, as you push weakly at his chest. “Stop.” 

“Like what?” Jimin asks, suddenly bewildered, the alcohol muddling his senses and his thought process. 

“Like you want to kiss me.” You state plainly, and at your words, Jimin feels as if he’s dizzy, and not just from the drinks. 

“Like I want to kiss you?” He repeats softly, as if he didn’t hear your words the first time, and something inside his chest responds to those words, his heart beating loudly against his rib cage. 

“Yeah.” You nod, and your voice is soft, and suddenly, Jimin is very aware just how close he is standing to you in the empty elevator. “Like you want to kiss me.” 

The sound of the elevator beeping-letting you know you have reached your floor-jerks Jimin out of his trance, and before he can think about what he’s doing, he’s hitting the emergency button on the side of the wall blindly with his palm, and the elevator jerks to a halt, the doors locked in place. 

“Did you just stop the elevator?” You ask in confusion, and your words are muddled, but the way you look at him has never been clearer. 

“Yes.” He nods, and he feels heady, and brave, and right. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

Your brow creases in confusion, and your lips part in that way that drives Jimin mad, and he can smell the sweet scent of alcohol on your breath, as you ask curiously, “Like what?” 

“Like you want to kiss me.” He repeats your words from earlier, and your pupils widen against the color of your irises, and Jimin feels his gaze drawn once more down the features of your face and to your mouth. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he stares at you. Shit, he can’t stop staring at you. 

“I can’t.” You breathe out, and Jimin doesn’t think he’s heard you right, because he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. 

“You can’t what?” He inquires, and his head suddenly feels much clearer than it did before, not muddled with alcohol, as his fingers on the wall beside your head tap impatiently, wanting to tangle themselves into your hair. 

“Stop looking at you like that.” You reply simply, and the corners of those perfect lips curve upward into the start of a grin. “Because I do want to kiss you.” 

Jimin still isn’t sure that he’s heard you right. 

The dizzy feeling is back, and the smell of your perfume is strong in his nose, and his fingers-dammit, his fingers-are itching like crazy wanting to touch your skin, to feel your softness beneath their tips. And don’t even get him started on your mouth-those beautiful, pink, full lips with their parted entrance, practically begging him to make them his. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the freeing influence of the alcohol-or his own intense need-that he has to thank for what he does next, but Jimin is suddenly crashing his mouth into yours, his body pinning you back against the wall of the elevator, his hands and fingers finally getting to feel the soft silkiness of your hair beneath their touch. 

Your lips-the lips he has been admiring all night-are soft and pliable beneath his own, and you taste like chapstick and the drinks you have been downing all night and the intoxicating, heady flavor of something new. 

Your arms wind around Jimin’s neck, and your fingers go into his hair, and the feel of your body-warm and soft-against his own, makes him feel as if he’s drunk all over again. 

Your teeth nip his bottom lip, pulling at the plush skin, and Jimin feels need and hunger surge inside of him, and he can’t stop himself from groaning into your mouth. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the fact that it’s you, but something about this is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. 

And like the warm feeling of alcohol making him forget all his worries, he wants more. 

“Jimin.” You whine out beneath your breath, as he tugs your head back and runs his tongue down the column of your throat. He glances up at you and meets your dark gaze, and the way you’re trying to catch your breath between your lips does something insane to him. 

“Would it be wrong if I came up with you?” He asks throatily, as he releases you, suddenly feeling more sober than before, his fingers still tangled into your hair. 

You offer him the hint of a smile, and the way your lips pull up at the corners has him feeling heady all over again, and he has to stop himself from slanting his mouth over yours once more. 

You reach behind him to press the safety button, and as the elevator resumes movement, and the doors begin to open, you reach out to pull Jimin toward you by the lapels of his jacket, covering his mouth once more with your own for a brief, urgent kiss that catches him off guard, and leaves him reeling. 

You grin at him, as you stumble and push him toward the open doors of your floor. 

“Not wrong at all.” 

[obiwanobi]

In the Sith Senator au, I imagine that sheev introduces them either at a dinner party or maybe at a gala? anakin is in his robes as always and obiwan is super dressed up because he's a respectable senator thank you very much and he calls anakin darling and sweet thing and stuff like that and within an hour he has anakin wrapped around his finger

Okay, so WHY NOT BOTH? The last long post about this AU was painful, so have some “hate at first sight” and “0.2 sec for Obi-Wan to fix it and learn that banter and endearments can turn Anakin into a very charming mess” 

The first time they met, Obi-Wan has just been elected Senator after working in politics on Stewjon for years, making enough important friends and empty promises to be re-elected even without showing his face on Stewjon until the next decade. It’s his first month back on Coruscant, close to Sidious after years on his own. He needs to show him that his presence here, so close to his Master, is right, and can only benefit their plans. Even when everything isn’t… great.

The committee of small planets of the mid rim is pestering him to join their sad little club of useless dustballs, he has dozens of demands of various needy mayors, dignitaries and even ministers from Stewjon to reply to, the Senate security staff are a bunch of lazy bastards who still haven’t given him his pass and badge to enter and exit the building whenever he wants to and keep pretending not to recognize him even though they force him to go through a full security check every morning, and he can’t find a decent assistant to hire. 

You could say that Senator Kenobi is a bit on edge. 

He really, really doesn’t need to be late to his first real, private meeting with Sidious, especially because his only excuse is ‘I forgot how busy traffic was on Coruscant in the morning, don’t blame me I’m used to the countryside and seeing more sheep than ships on my way to work”. That would probably not go too well.  

Looking at his chrono every twenty seconds, he doesn’t pay enough attention to where he’s going and doesn’t notice the man turning at a corner on his side, running fast enough to come crashing against him without having the chance to do anything about it.

One second, a sharp cry, a flurry of dark robes and a cup of tea flying, and they’re both on the ground.  

Obi-Wan isn’t pleased. You could say he’s even a bit exasperated, lying on his back, a stranger’s elbow digging in his stomach. And then he turns his head to see who’s stupid enough to run in the Senate’s corridors on a Monday morning and almost curses out loud when he recognises Jedi robes and a stupid Padawan’s braid. 

It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s used to suppressing his Force-presence so no one can feel him and he’s not going to make a scene to attract more attention. He’s going to inhale and exhale slowly, accept the deepest of apologies from the stupid Jedi with a benevolent smile, repress his need to do something harsh, and be on his way.  

But then the Padawan groans, rubs his head and asks reproachfully why Obi-Wan didn’t watch where he was going. 

It’s eight am, half of his (expensive and only sold on Stewjon) tea on the floor, and Obi-Wan already wants to strangle a Jedi.

So, there is a shouting match.

Words like “pathetic life form” and “karking useless politician” are thrown, and it takes almost half a minute for Obi-Wan to realise that he’s arguing with a dumb teenager and that they’re still on the floor, half on top of each other. He, very politely, asks the Padawan to get the kriff up, doesn’t take the time to even look at the remains of his cup of tea after salvaging his wet datapad from the puddle on the ground, and leaves with one last silent death glare. 

“You’re not even going to clean that?” the Padawan yells in his back, sounding revolted. 

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. What are droids for these days? 

*

“You’re late,” Palpatine says flatly the instant the door of his office closes behind Obi-Wan. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“Yes, Master.”  

“Call me Chancellor for now. I want you to meet someone and he should be here soon. He could become important, maybe even crucial for our plans.”

“Oh? Another Senator or representative to charm?” 

“Even better,” Palpatine smiles. And that’s what gets Obi-Wan interested. He knows this is the reason he’s here and the reason Sidious wants him in the Senate. Obi-Wan is a smooth talker, a nice face and a warm smile all in one. Someone who, with enough time and efforts, could make anyone believes in anything.

Palpatine always said that he was made for politics. 

“He could be a decisive piece in this game. It will take a lot of careful manipulation and dedication to bring him to our side and I don’t have this kind of time to waste, so you’ll do. With enough care and patience, I think he could be the most loyal and useful… support, we could have.” 

“Who is he? What do you want me to say and how far am I allowed to go?”

A knock at the door interrupts them. “For now,” Palpatine says in a low voice, sitting behind his desk, joining his hands together above it, the picture of old and trusted wisdom, “I just need you to make him like you.” 

That’s not going to be a problem, Obi-Wan thinks, as the doors open. He straightens up, gets ready to put on his most radiant smile and displays an inviting openness and friendliness that few can resist. 

The Padawan enters. 

This is going to be a problem. 

*

“Ah! My favourite Jedi!” Sidious exclaims loud enough to be heard over the music and raising his cocktail above their heads. Anakin Skywalker smiles as he sees him, and dutifully comes closer. The Chancellor makes a point of clapping his hand twice on his shoulder once Skywalker is in front of him, and leaves it there as he introduces him to his new chief of staff. If anyone is wondering what a Padawan is doing at a Senate party that should only include political staffers and a few dignitaries, no one breaths a word of it. 

It gives Obi-Wan time to gauge, assess and appraise Skywalker, his reactions, body language, and anything he can learn from a simple conversation between Sidious and him. It would be his turn to do it soon. Relieve me from the burden of having to stroke the boy’s ego regularly so I can take care of more pressing issues, his master had snarled disdainfully. Right now, he’s playing the part of the dotting and proud fatherly figure to perfection, Obi-Wan has to give him that. 

Attention, approval and respect, Sidious had told me. That’s all you need to be in Skywalker’s good graces. The boy will soak every bit of kindness you can spare, as long as he considers you someone worth his own devotion.

It didn’t stop Obi-Wan from learning absolutely everything he could about him, from his lightsaber technique to his favourite food because Obi-Wan is and will always be a very thorough man who doesn’t rely on luck or unprecise sciences like basic psychology. Especially from his Master, who probably never encountered an emotion or feeling he couldn’t twist to fuel his ambition. 

Admittedly, Obi-Wan doesn’t share his Master enthusiasm for charming the brat and make him fall. He’s all for turning him against the Jedi, sure, that he can get behind and happily endorse, but having to deal with a moody teenager on a regular basis for the foreseeable future? It would be painful for everyone. Especially for Obi-Wan’s nerves.

 Anakin Skywalker, reckless, volatile and troublesome former slave and actual Padawan, wasn’t the type of Sith candidate Obi-Wan would have chosen. Not at all. Too many variables, too many chances to go wrong, a wild card that he would never risk. 

But Sidious is adamant. Doesn’t care for any of his arguments. He wants Skywalker, and Obi-Wan has started to realise why when he learnt all about the prophecy. Stealing the Jedi Chosen One and turning him against them in a last-second betrayal was the kind of symbolic irony Sidious loved and would gloat about for years to come. And when Sidious decides that he needs something, there is no going back. 

But this time, Obi-Wan has to do all the hard work himself. He calculates that getting close to Skywalker, especially after their more than tense official introduction, is going to take months, maybe even (and Obi-Wan shudders at the thought) a year. Trapped at playing nice with an overgrown child who hates being told no and likes to think he’s above the rules. For no direct and personal benefit but the approval of his own Master.

Obi-Wan really, really hates it.

But that’s not going to stop him from completing his mission perfectly, as he has always done. 

“I’m glad to see you, Chancellor,” Skywalker says softly, his quiet tone already at odd with what Obi-Wan expected. He grew taller than the last he saw him, and Obi-Wan hates it. His braid is a bit longer and his robes are a shade darker than a few months ago. Something passes in his eyes when the Padawan notices Obi-Wan’s presence next to the Chancellor and his head snaps up defiantly. “Senator Kenobi,” he grits out like the words pain him. 

Obi-Wan needs to change this right now before Sidious deems him inapt for this mission.

He hates this a bit more. 

The opportunity is given quicker than he thought when Sidious excuses himself and leaves their little group to mingle with other demanding sycophants. Obi-Wan gets stuck with Skywalker, Sidious’ chief of state who’s apparently only here for the free drinks, and Keneg, the senator of… Corulag? Barl’leth? One of those rich Core planets that hate anyone who isn’t them but need to be kept around for their credits, who always seems to suck years of his life every time Obi-Wan is forced to speak to him. It takes thirty seconds for all of them to grow bored of Keneg incessant complaints about how the lower levels of his planet are “ruining its reputation” and that the problem resides in their too lenient immigration policy, especially concerning poor and uneducated races.

Skywalker’s face is a journey. At least twelve different emotions play through his eyes, the twists of his mouth and raised eyebrows like a theatre actor in a dramatic scene at each careless word coming out of the Senator’s mouth, and Obi-Wan wonders if anyone has ever told him that Jedi are supposed to be masters of their own emotions first and foremost. Especially around politicians. 

But it doesn’t matter right now, because that’s the opening he was waiting for. 

“Excuse me Senator Keneg,” He cuts him off politely before another endless tirade. “I’m afraid I have to go, I see the Senator of Botor and I’ve been trying to talk to him for months. Surely you understand. Padawan Skywalker, may I ask for your assistance? We could use some Jedi wisdom in our debate, if you don’t mind.” 

Skywalker looks torn between being relieved to be offered an out from an awful conversation, but also have no desire to spend more time with Obi-Wan. 

“Sure,” he ends up mumbling, apparently judging that he was the lesser of two evils. 

“Wonderful.” Obi-Wan doesn’t pay any attention to the betrayed look Sidious’ chief of state sends him after being left alone with Keneg.

“So,” Skywalker says, resigned, following Obi-Wan who’s making a beeline for the bar. “Where is he?”

“Who?” 

“The senator of Botor? And what’s your deal with him?” 

“I don’t even know what he looks like,” Obi-Wan replies, trying to ignore the casual tone Skywalker shouldn’t take with a Senator, even one he dislikes. 

“What? Then why did you ask me to come with you?”

“Aren’t you relieved that I saved you from dreadful hours of xenophobic discussions about how poor people should be banned from showing their face in public because it doesn’t please Senator Keneg?”

“You didn’t save me,” Skywalker grimaces, but still seats beside him. “Is it… Is it always like that? I mean, I know Core worlds politicians can be a little…”

Obi-Wan weighs his options, and decides that Skywalker would probably appreciate truth more than carefully chosen words and subtle hypocrisy. Pretending to be the last nice man in politics is out of the question with the way they met, so Obi-Wan opts for sincerity.

To a degree. 

“Snobbish? Disconnected from reality? Shameless bastards with no souls?” Obi-Wan says while signalling the bartender for Trandoshan ale and a cocktail.

“Well, yes.” 

“Welcome to politics.” 

Skywalker opens his mouth like he’s going to protest. He puts his hands in his sleeves, probably hoping to pass for a wise Jedi Master, but his pouty lips and frowned eyebrows make him look like a sulking youngling. “You’re part of it, you know. You can talk about it like you’re not one of them, but I remember you insulting me and leaving without caring about your tea and cup all over the floor.”

What a brat.

“My tea- My dear, do I have to remind you that you barreled into me at full stupid and made me spill my tea everywhere? Some Senators would have made a diplomatic incident out of it,” he huffs, a bit more irritable than he wanted to. 

 “You said I was a brainless child!” 

“Because you ar—” Their drinks arrive at that moment, and it gives Obi-Wan precious seconds to compose himself.

This isn’t how he’s supposed to play it. He didn’t expect Skywalker to be this whiny and petulant, despite Sidious’ warning, and was planning on letting him think he was the one in control of the situation. He’s supposed to be a Jedi for Force sake, not someone who can’t control their tongue and get into pointless fights with politicians! 

No, no. Grin and bear it. Obi-Wan should recall the last remnant of Jedi philosophy still in him. 

“Padawan Skywalker, I’m sorry if my words offended you,” Obi-Wan says with the voice he normally uses for debates where he wants to appear as the most sincere and reasonable party. He holds a glass of ale to Skywalker, as a peace offering. “I admit I wasn’t in the most pleasant of disposition at that time, and I may have been harsher than I realised. I hope you can forgive me.” 

This seems to mollify Skywalker a bit. He doesn’t look like he’s going to forget it, but does take the offered glass. “At least the Chancellor is different,” he sighs and Obi-Wan represses the urge to burst into laughter. 

Oh, Skywalker is truly the most naïve boy around. Perhaps twisting his mind will turn out to be fun. 

“Wait,” Obi-Wan exclaims suddenly as the Padawan holds the glass to his lips, “are you even old enough to drink?” 

“Oh come on, I’m 19! I can handle a beer and I’m a Jedi, don’t forget,” he brags, like being Force-sensitive changes anything about his (probably low) alcohol tolerance. To be fair, a regular politician wouldn’t know anything about what the Force could and couldn’t do. Skywalker’s probably relying on lack of awareness about the magic and mysterious abilities of the Jedi to get away with it. It’s almost endearing. 

 “I don’t know, Padawan, you did look like an adorable sulking youngling just a minute ago.”

“Ador- I’m not adorable!” He yelps as his cheeks turn into an interesting shade of pink. 

“But you don’t deny the youngling comment,” Obi-Wan teases good-naturedly between two sips of his cocktail. He can’t help it: It is way more intriguing to follow the colours on his face spreading to his neck than being on the receiving end of his frowns and accusing words.

Unduly flustered for such an innocent comment, Skywalker stutters a few syllables, huffs, and narrows his eyes at his glass, Obi-Wan’s playful smile, and his glass again. He downs the whole thing with his head thrown back before Obi-Wan can say anything, surprised by the sudden motion and too busy watching his throat moving until the empty glass is back on the table with a resounding clank. Still wiping his mouth, he calls the bartender and asks for another. Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the ‘don’t you dare stop me’ glare. 

This isn’t how he imagined befriending him, but Skywalker is still seating next to him and getting into a rant about how he’s a capable man, thank you very much, and yesterday his Master even said so, well, not in these words, but he’s not a youngling, and absolutely not adorable, he’s a warrior, a protector, but he doesn’t suppose a politician can understand, and if Obi-Wan wants to know, his sabre technique is exceptional, really, it is! 

His whole speech is supported by hands flying around to illustrate his words and mouthfuls of ale, because he is a man and not a kid, remember that, Senator Kenobi. It doesn’t prevent him from flushing a bit deeper and spluttering even more when Obi-Wan, listening attentively with a smile on his face, throws an indulgent of course you are, darling.

Skywalker turns his face away from him, desperate to hide his embarrassment, and orders another ale. 

Adorable. 

 Obi-Wan can work with that.   

*

Hours later, once Skywalker is happily sloshed and dangerously leaning toward crashing against his shoulder, Obi-Wan calls him a hover cab.  

“Thanks, Senator Kenobi!” Skywalker exclaims as he climbs into the cab, like Obi-Wan is now his favourite person to be around. His cheerful and warm demeanour has stopped being surprising after his second ale. “You’re not as awful as I thought!” 

Obi-Wan can’t help it, he laughs, truly laughs at that. It’s probably the most sincere compliment he’s gotten since he arrived at the Senate. “I’m glad you consider me a slightly better man than Senator Keneg,” he says, leaning forward toward Skywalker, hands on the cab. 

Skywaker grins and raises an eyebrow at him. “And more handsome too!” 

For once, it’s Obi-Wan who must look baffled. Despite his careful planning, all his diverse estimations and assessments about the different ways he could charm Skywalker, he didn’t consider actually seducing him. That’s… a whole new point of view. 

Interrupting his thoughts, Skywalker yawns and starts hugging his robe around himself, smiling contently like he’s in the best place in the galaxy, barely trying to blink away sleep from his eyes. Adorable.  

On an impulse, Obi-Wan leans closer to him and tugs on his braid. The reaction is worth it: Skywalker makes a small surprised noise, eyes suddenly wide, and the slight flush on his cheeks worsen in an instant.

Obi-Wan almost considers touching his face, just to see how warm his skin is. And maybe even brushing his parted lips with his thumb, just to see how warm it can still get. 

But Obi-Wan feels merciful.

For tonight. 

“Sleep well, Padawan,” he purrs, winding the thin braid around his finger one last time. Skywalker looks like he’s going to melt.  

Obi-Wan can work with that too. 

*

Two months later, Sidious tells him that he’s going to be the victim of an assassination attempt right before the Military Act vote. It would be acceptable for the Chancellor to be concerned about the protection and security of all Senators, of course, so he will push for Jedi protection and is certain to convince the Council to send one particular Padawan as a bodyguard. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t hate the idea. 

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Angel (one shot)

Harry Potter Marauders Era 

Request  helloooo can i ask for like a quick regulus x reader oneshot where the reader sings and regulus hears her voice and basically falls in love with it but he didnt see her face so he just comes back everyday to the same place in the hope of listening to her singing and seeing her face this time? this sounds specific i know but i feel like some soft reggie is all i need now 😭

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M- mention of self harm 

________

Suffocating… that was the best word that Regulus could use to describe his life. After joining up with the death eaters at the lovely age of 16, Regulus had quickly grown to regret his decision. Anytime that the dark mark began to burn in the slightest, Regulus found himself dying for an excuse not to go. There was, however, not one...at least nothing in Lord Voldemort’s eyes that would be “good enough.” 

On the outside, Regulus had to keep his smooth and reserved demeanor. It didn’t matter on the inside how much he was screaming. No one cared. The people that did know what he was doing continued to go on and on about how he was doing “the right thing, the noble thing.” 

It was 7:00pm and Regulus found himself running down a quiet hallway. He had to get out of the Slytherin common room. He had to get away from Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr. They had been so gleeful over a muggle that had been murdered the night before. Neither seemed to care about this person nor the family that they left behind. Regulus, when the deed was taking place, didn’t care. He stood stony faced as the man begged for his life. The moment Voldemort uttered his “favorite” spell, Regulus had to swallow back the feeling of nausea as he watched the light leave the man’s eyes. 

Regulus had done well not thinking about the “deed” all day. It wasn’t until he returned to the common room and overheard Evan’s conversation did Regulus find himself regretting the day that he was born. 

No one asked a question when Regulus walked out of the common room. Why would they? People would be dumb to question Regulus on something. People knew not to question Regulus on his doing unless they wanted to be jumped. 

Regulus stopped the moment that his hands hit the balcony. Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes mentally begging for the memory to leave his mind. 

Just stop...I fucking hate this! 

Regulus thought miserably. He was half tempted to throw himself off of the balcony. It looked like a good distance and if he was lucky wouldn’t survive the fall. Death would be better than living the way that he was at the moment! 

The brooding stopped the moment that a soft voice caught Regulus’ attention. He knew a lot of the “choir kids” would come up to this particular area of the castle to practice at points. Before today, however, Regulus had never paid any of them any attention. Today, it was different. This voice was soft, gentle...everything that Regulus needed. 

Right away he recognized the French folk song that he had heard numerous times as a child. Leaning his head back against the stone wall, all of the anxiety and tension slowly left. Regulus took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. They were no longer shaking. 

I should leave...but I don’t want to. She, whomever she is, has to have the most beautiful voice. She sounds like an angel.

Regulus thought with a tiny smile. Although he had no belief in heaven, hell, angels, or demons hearing this voice had to be what an angel would sound like if there were one. This soft voice was everything that Regulus needed to hear when he needed to be told “that everything would be alright.”  

Over the following days, Regulus found himself in the same place at the same time. It didn’t matter what kind of hell that he had going on. The moment that soft voice would sing all of the bad would vanish. Even if it was just one song, Regulus was feeling a million times better when he had to return to the Slytherin common room. 

The question plaguing Regulus’ mind now was who did the voice belong to? He had been trying to put an angelic voice with a face nonstop and was coming up with nothing. None of the girls in Slytherin house fit the idea that Regulus had in his mind. 

I have to find out.

He muttered as the signing stopped. Standing up, he quickly walked into the room not having any idea what he was about to say. Regulus knew that whatever girl this was would probably think that he was a creep for spying on her night after night. What kind of girl would want that? 

“I know you’re there.” 

The singing had stopped and was replaced with a soft comment on Regulus’ appearance. Regulus turned around to see Y/n Lupin sitting by the window. You were the girl...the voice...it all fit! Regulus blinked a few times as he took everything in. Of course, it was you. It all made sense. 

“Um...hi.”

Regulus muttered. He wasn’t for sure if he had ever spoken to you before. The two of you were in the same year but your paths didn’t cross much. You were in Hufflepuff and often kept to your little group of friends or with your older brother. 

You, meanwhile, smiled noticing Regulus’ awkward silence. 

“You’ve been up here the past few nights.” 

You commented. Regulus’ face blushed as you patted the seat beside you. Regulus slowly sat down and kept his eyes straight ahead.

He had to be a blithering idiot. There would be no way in hell that anything between the two of you would ever work. You were Remus Lupin’s sister. Regulus didn’t foresee Remus being too onboard with his sister dating a Slytherin (even if Slytherins and Hufflepuffs made great matches). 

“You were upset that first night. Are you better now?”

You asked. You knew the question was probably intrusive but it came out before you really thought better of it. That night, a few nights ago, you had been up doing what relaxed you the most...singing. When you heard the angry footsteps you considered stopping but thought about how your singing seemed to comfort your own brother when he was upset. Maybe this person needed a little comforting too (even if you didn’t know them). 

When you realized that it was Regulus Black the feeling of overwhelming sympathy washed over you. You didn’t know much about Regulus other than the fact that he was Sirius’ younger brother. Over the years that you were in school, you couldn’t help but notice how sad Regulus looked most of the time. You could see those sad dark eyes from your seat at the Hufflepuff table and wanted nothing more than to give him something to smile about. He reminded you of a puppy that had been kicked one too many times. If he was anything like Sirius then you knew that was exactly how Regulus was.

 It was no secret that Walburga Black was cruel to her children. You knew first hand of the abuse. You had heard about it from Sirius himself. If that was what was plaguing Regulus’ mind every night that he came to the balcony, maybe you could give him something to feel better about?

“There really isn’t getting any better.” 

Regulus commented as you scooted closer. You had a feelin what that vague comment was leading toward.

“About being a death eater?”

Regulus’ face went pale as he turned to look at you with wide eyes. 

“How do you know? Did my brother tell you?”

You shook your head at the raised tone of his voice. 

“Ssh now. We don’t need god and everyone to hear. I saw your arm doing potions one day.”

Regulus sneered in your direction. He didn’t know how to react. Maybe just be cold like normal? What the hell was he supposed to say?

“Let me guess, you are going to tell me that I am a horrible person and that I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing...no matter if it's what my family expected of me.”

Your momentary silence was driving Regulus nutty. After a few moments, you finally spoke. 

“No. I was actually going to say I can’t imagine what you are going through. Sometimes our families are our own worst enemies.” 

Regulus sighed.

“You’ve got that right. Look, I wasn’t spying on you. I want to just throw that out there.” 

You smiled. 

“It's alright. Your aura doesn’t seem as tense after you’re here for a bit.” 

It was Regulus’ turn to be silent. He was trying to decide if he wanted to give you a compliment. If he messed things up, there was a good chance that he would never hear your angelic voice again...and that wasn’t something that he wanted to risk losing. 

“Your voice is nice….its soothing.” 

“Thank you.”

You replied as Regulus turned back to face you. His face this time was different. He had gone from death eater to the sad puppy that needed love. 

“That first night...I was actually considering pitching myself off of that balcony. Hearing you...that was the first time I heard the most beautiful voice. It was like gravity.” 

You reached out and gently took your hand in his. Were you overstepping your boundaries with a boy that you knew nothing about and who in turn knew nothing about you? Possibly. Did you care? Not really. 

“I’m glad that you didn’t do that. You know, believe it or not, I realize how hard things can be with family. My family isn't normal…”

“Your brother is a werewolf.”

Regulus commented and instantly regretted his choice of words when your face went pale. 

“Not that it matters though. It's just who Remus is.” 

Regulus quickly added, hoping to save what hope of a friendship that he had with you. You, to his relief, smiled. 

“Yes, it is who he is. I feel no guilt in telling you this now. With his condition, I tend to be second in the family. My parents don’t mean to put me on the back burner but it happens. It's hard...so I know now you must feel. How did you figure it out, if you don’t mind me asking. He literally tells no one.” 

Regulus shrugged. 

“Just put the puzzle pieces together.” 

You continued to rub slow circles over Regulus’ palm hoping to relax him further. This was the first time (other than James and Sirius) someone had figured out Remus “furry little problem.” 

“You’re really intelligent and perceptive then. If you want...you know...we could do this every evening when you're free. We don’t have to tell anyone that we are meeting up. Sometimes it's nice just to have someone outside of your friend circles.” 

Regulus looked up and was clearly surprised. 

“You would want to see me again?”

You nodded. 

“If you want to see me that is...no pressure.” 

Regulus quickly nodded, cutting you off. 

“I would love to see you again...maybe around 7 tomorrow?”

You gave his hand a squeeze. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

_________

@amelie-black @realgaytrash @truly-insatiable @fandomsxxregulus @lucasfilms77 @exhsle @spiderxalmighty @jessyballet @knreidy1 @bennyberry @quuenofblacks @hazncalsgal @criminalyetminimal @whymyparentscheckmyphone @acciosiriusblack @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @summer-novak @hankypranky @stuckinsaudi1 @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @li0nh34rt @tas898 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @shitfaceddaniel @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deanwherescas @sprnaturallover @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

[rametarin]

One thing I take issue with.

When fuel was taxed, that made some sense. It didn’t need to taxed based on the car you drive, because each vehicle came with its own limitations. You drive a fuel sipping vehicle? You pay less in fuel taxes. You drive a big machine? You pay more in fuel costs, thus you pay more to the government.

I really do not like how electric vehicles, and perhaps ICE vehicles for all I know, are taxed per mile you drive. This punishes those that drive for a living and offers a carte blanche/waiver for things with their miles and hours subsidized. And I foresee this charge by-the-mile as a way to make it economically arbitrarily unfeasible, if not eventually illegal, to be able to afford to drive your own personal vehicle.

This is unacceptable to me. I understand that tax dollars have to go to maintain the roads. And our national interstate, as Americans, basically exists so people and the military can transport across the country at a high speed very reliably. I don’t mind the idea that you pay a tax to maintain the roads, or the electric infrastructure to dispense it.

But what I will not stand for is the idea that environmentalism will be the basis for raising the price of how much a mile of driving costs. Because I foresee this as a noose hanging limp right now but something that WILL be used to pretend, “Oh nooooooooo, I can’t stop iiiit. We haaaave to do this. Better get your head out or you’ll get strangled.” and there will go our ability to use the public roads for cars the same way we do today.

Motherfuckers talking about healthcare as a human right. Personally owned transportation and personal machines should be human rights. We have come SO FAR, and we have the opportunity so our personal conveyance machines never cause environmental problems again. Just to get to the finish line and have these overbearing assholes start squealing about how “we have no choice we have to get rid of the cars. :^)”

Fuck you, no. We have to get rid of YOU.

So yeah. That tax per miles driven is something I’m eyeballing and not trusting in the least.

It better fucking stay reasonable and have limits. We do not fucking need a “miles driven” tax for environmentalist reasons that treat any miles driven as, “unnecessary.” That’s not a tax, that’s a punishment.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.7 (BAON)

Summary: Team Rescue is on the way...mostly. Look, they aren't good at names.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationships,  Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge had been on worse car rides, but not many. In fact, he could only think of one; riding in the backseat of his own car with Stretch unconscious in his lap, his life ticking away in decimals as Edge desperately clung to Blue’s instruction that he should think of healing magic as similar to making a hollandaise.

It wasn’t ridiculous if it worked and sitting here in this silent car, hyperfocusing on the mostly empty roads with Blue next to him radiating grim determination and Antwan in the backseat, Edge found himself thinking of hollandaise again.

The mental picture of the saucepan was strangely easing, keeping his turbulent thoughts occupied. In his memory, Blue’s voice was preternaturally calm as he reminded them that all the butter couldn’t be added at once because the mixture would break. Edge followed the direction coming from his phone as the voice assistant instructed him in its robotic way to turn left, (you need to add the butter a little at a time) turn right, (whisk it in), your destination is on the left.

It was only when he pulled into the empty parking lot as directed that the real Blue spoke, his high voice uncertain over the confidence of his imaginary twin, “Shouldn’t the security teams be here?”

“No,” Edge said disgustedly. He threw the car into park and pressed a knuckle between his eye sockets with painful force. “because this isn’t the right place.”

The dilapidated sign over the empty storefront declared with a spooky if faded cheer to be ‘Spirit Halloween’ but the only spirits in this place were the ghosts of customers’ past.

“My brother’s sense of humor,” Edge said, “he’s sending us a message. We went trick or treating behind his back and here’s his trick.”

“Of course it is,” Blue muttered, sinking back in the seat. His gloved hands were tight in his lap, a mirror to Edge’s grip on the steering wheel. “Papyrus probably warned him hours ago that I’d left home. He would have been ready for something like this.”

Edge picked up his phone, his bare thumbs moving with cautious swiftness over the screen. “Yes, he would. Which is why we’re going to follow the other tracker now.”

“Other tracker?” Antwan leaned over the driver’s seat to look at the new directions scrolling up the phone screen. His laughter was uncomfortable, more nerves than humor. “How many trackers do you have on your brother?”

Not as many as he has on me, Edge did not say. “On a normal day, only one.” Edge pulled back out onto the empty street, following the monotone drone of the GPS. “Sans set it up for me when Red pulled his little disappearing act after California and then reappeared to wreak havoc on my kitchen.”

“He did what?” Blue asked and Edge winced internally, barely keeping it from showing on his face. He wasn’t at his best, that much was certain, spilling secrets out in a spreading pool, but caring about that would have to wait. There were only so many directions he could pull his focus for now and Blue was hardly going to take out an advertisement in the paper if he heard anything he shouldn’t. A bit of gossip when it came to office relationships and the local scandals aside, Blue was one of their diplomats and he was well able to use appropriate discretion.

Hopefully, his definition of appropriate did not include asking Red any uncomfortable questions at a later date.

“It doesn’t matter. As I was saying, I usually have one tracker on my brother just in case he gets it into his head to face something he shouldn’t alone.” Edge didn’t quite roll through a red light. Better to not get pulled over by the Ebott police if he could help it, Embassy security certainly had enough on their hands right now without having to handle minor traffic violations. “Except, as I said, Sans gave it to me. Which means it’s only as accurate as Sans wants it to be and he has an unfortunate tendency to match my brother when it comes to deciding he knows what’s best for other people.”

A certain sourness fell over Blue’s expression as he nodded. As both a younger brother and a diplomat he was quite familiar with the ongoing irritation of overprotectiveness, even as he often did the same to his own brother.

“Which is why tonight I added my own tracker to Red’s jacket,” Edge said, “I would have followed that one first, but I was hoping not to reveal it so quickly if I could help it.”

Blue hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t think he’d be expecting that?”

“Of course, but I think he’d have a harder time finding and disabling it. Stretch made it for me.” The memory of his maniacal delight when Edge told him what it was for was briefly allowed, as well as his satisfied triumph when he presented Edge with a device that was the size of match head, tagged with near-microscopic hooks reminiscent of Velcro that were made to catch and cling to any fabric with a mere touch.

His design was with the Research and Development team now, minus the tracking device, as they worked to find a use for it that would allow for them to sell it to Humans, along with a dozen other things he’d created. So many of Stretch’s designs ended up that way, patents in which he was not named used as bargaining chips to help keep their coffers full. Stretch always declared that he didn’t work for the Embassy and that much was true. Instead, he worked for all of Monsterkind, that clever mind of his working to get them the funds they needed establish a place in this world. Only a handful of people even knew it and while Asgore could be foolishly soft-hearted on occasion, he wouldn’t considering paying a large ransom for any citizen on the street, even if they were married to Edge. Stretch was important past his twitter feed and it would be narrow not to suspect that these kidnappers somehow learned about it.

This time the tracker was leading them to the other side of town, down on the north side where the neighborhoods were filled with condemned houses and boarded up businesses. The only industry that thrived there were liquor shops whose windows were barred, manned by cashiers who spent their days behind a thick layer of bulletproof glass. His car was going to stand out like a sore thumb, but it couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t about to waste anymore time by stopping at the Embassy to borrow something more discreet.

At least he could worry less about reprisals from rolling through stop sign; the Ebott police presence on this side of town was minimal.

They made their way through the empty streets without incident. It was late even for the criminal element and a glance down the alleyways they passed showed them filled with shadows that could have been trash cans or curled up humans sleeping amongst them.

Some of the children from the Y lived on this side of town. Actually, most of them did and some of them might well be sleeping on the street right now…no. He couldn’t think of that at this moment, one thing at a time. He couldn’t afford to have his attention ping-ponging around inside his head, not when their destination was in sight.

This time, there were plenty of cars parked in a semi-circle around the building, floodlights pouring from their windows and flashers circling on their rooftops. Embassy security teams were made up of Monsters and Humans, and there were plenty out there in their uniforms. The Ebott police were going to throw a fit about jurisdiction, of that he had no doubt, but that was going to be a tomorrow problem for the Legal department and their FBI connections.

One of the security personnel approached the car as Edge pulled up, both hands raised in a gesture that could either mean for them stop or for him to offer surrender. Edge rolled down his window and he ducked his head inside the car. “Sir, your husband and his friend are both fine,” he said without preamble. “This area is closed off, you should—”

“If you even suggest that I should leave, you’re going to be reassigned to the elementary school playground for the foreseeable future,” Edge said evenly.

To his credit, the guard’s expression did not change. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir. I was going to tell you to park over on the north side,” He pointed to a clearing off behind the other cars. “Your brother is waiting for you up at the entrance.”

“Of course he is,” Edge muttered. “I’m sure we’ve kept him quite entertained with his version of hide and seek.” But he obeyed the direction.

He parked a fair distance away from the circle of the security vehicles and got out of the car, Antwan and Blue at his heels. No one else approached, the rest of the security team keeping a respectable distance away out of either direction from their leaders or simple self-preservation.

Standing near the warehouse entrance and out of the glare of the floodlights was Red, burrowed into his jacket with a Styrofoam cup in his hand and a cigar smoldering between his teeth. As if warned by his instincts or, more likely, through the curling earpiece that was stuck into his audial canal, Red turned to them as they approached. His grin was irritatingly knowing and familiar, pleased as a punch to have held them off long enough that everything was finished but the cleanup.

And yet, it was also such a comfort to see that smirk that Edge nearly went weak at the knees. He wouldn’t be smiling that way if Stretch or Jeff were hurt, even his brother’s sadism had its limits.

“what took you so long, you stop for coffee?” Red snorted. He held up the Styrofoam cup. “coulda brought me some, the shit they’ve got here’d give battery acid a run for its cash.”

“Yes, of course, we got stuck in the drive-thru at Starbucks," Edge snapped. “You’ll forgive me for not bringing enough for everyone!”

Before he could even demand a report, Blue went on past him. Parking lot gravel scattered under his booted feet as he stormed up to Red and swatted the cup from his hands. He paid no mind to the coffee sloshing out over their shoes, his small fists knotting into Red’s jacket front as he hauled him in close to snarl out, “WHERE IS MY BROTHER?”

Even through layers of forced calm, Edge could still appreciate the sight. It was certainly an unusual one. Blue was shorter even than Red and he wore no oversized jacket to give his small frame an illusion of bulk. The overwhelming visual was that of a tabby cat attacking the local tiger and if it were anyone else, Edge might have tried to intercede. It was possible he could have saved their lives, if not their limbs, had it been anyone but their innermost circle.

As it was, he tensed until his brother said mildly, “easy on the threads, baby blue, this’s my favorite jacket. my only one, too. they’re still upstairs. they ain't hurt, so we're lettin' 'em come down in their own time. ain’t no need to rush ‘em. think they needed a mo’ to catch their breath, s’all."

Blue didn’t wait for another word. He let go of Red and turned to the building entrance, running towards it. No one tried to stop him, though Edge noted with approval that one of the security team peeled away from the others to follow him at a discreet distance.

Antwan looked as if he was considering chasing after Blue, but he hung back. With the suspicious nature of a good lawyer, he asked Red, "If they’re fine, why aren’t you with them?"

"sweet that you think me bein' there would be some kinda comfort," Red snorted. "already saw 'em. head on up if you want, we've already cleared away the rest of the honey bun’s little scooby traps." Red offered them a vicious slash of grin. "your liability might need a new rating, he's damn creative when he’s got a hair laid across his ass just right."

That was enough for Antwan. He headed off in the direction Blue had, leaving Edge alone with his brother.

Edge waited until Antwan disappeared before he asked, low, "Where are they?"

Red only looked at him with mild reproach. “toldja, upstairs. what, you think i’d bullshit you on that?”

“I don’t mean them.”

Red was shaking his head before Edge finished. “nuh-uh, nope, not a chance. you ain’t gettin’ a look at those asswipes outside a courtroom. you’re keeping your toes behind the yellow line on this one, sneaking backstage ain’t happening, little brother.”

“I need to see—" Edge began heatedly.

“you fuckin’ don’t. you want to see and your wants ain’t on the list, not this time!” Red lowered his voice, “i get you wanted firecrackers and this is endin’ on a wet fart for you, but i ain’t explainin’ to the honey bun that i stood here and let you add a fresh shovelful of xp to your load on his account. so whyn’t you head upstairs now and go get your liability, huh? take him home and let us handle this, you can read the report tomorrow, yeah?”

Suspicion filtered through Edge’s strained temper, cooling it. Something of his brother’s little speech rang wrong to Edge; it was too consolatory towards him for their normal tastes, something was off here. Now that he was looking at it without his frustrations clouding things, there was also the matter of him leaving Stretch and Jeff alone; comforting presence or not, it was difficult to believe that Red would let them out of his sight unnecessarily. As shrewdly as he could still manage, Edge took a closer look at his brother.

Red did not have any LV but that certainly didn’t mean he had no trauma. His tells were subtle, unnoticeable to anyone who hadn’t watched them develop straight from the gutter. Eye lights slightly narrower than normal, his cigar clenched between too-tight teeth, the rare crackle of crimson magic arcing across his fingertips like a stray bolt of lightning.

There was something Red wasn’t saying, but there was no point in trying to fish it out now; he’d need better bait and Edge already had one in the net to deal with.

Better to leave it as it was. Even if the issue festered, his brother was unlikely to allow it to affect his work. It was difficult not to lay a hand on his brother’s shoulder, however briefly. Edge resisted the absurd impulse. It would not be appreciated. Unwanted concern was more likely to make things worse.

Instead, Edge nodded curtly and headed for the entrance. His boots clacked loudly on the cement floors. Security was milling in the hallways, others crouching over scorch marks and a strange overflowing mass of what looked like multicolored foam oozing down one side of the stairwell. Superfluous information, none of it mattered. He followed the subtle cues from the security personnel, the glances and occasional points that came without questions leading him up the rickety stairs to the second floor of offices and storerooms.

On the landing, a low sound caught his attention, a familiar voice crooning softly. Edge nearly skidded to a stop outside one of the rooms, looking in the open doorway to see the Swap brothers sitting together on the floor, holding each other tightly.

“hey, bro, shh, i’m okay. they didn’t hurt us, sans, i’m fine,” Stretch was saying. Blue was in his lap, clinging like the child he no longer was, and Stretch was rubbing a gentle hand down his brother’s back, leaving behind sooty streaks. He looked up, soft white eye lights catching on Edge still standing in the doorway. His cheekbones were wet, his wide sockets drowning in tears. Stretch scrubbed his face with the sleeve of a shirt that was not his own and managed a tremulous smile. "hey, handsome, miss me?"

He’d seen Stretch only hours ago, dressed in clothing stolen from Edge’s side of the closet and offering flirtatious kisses before walking out their front door. Now he was in baggy clothing that belong to neither of them, the shirt nearly hanging off his narrow shoulders and his bare legs sticking out from the bottoms of the too-short pants to leave the delicate bones of his feet filthy and exposed. All of him was filthy, his pale tears left clean tracks down his cheekbones and Edge did not know what Stretch had done to free them both, what he’d endured until he could., couldn’t begin to imagine it. Or perhaps he simply did not want to, and the precariously thin layer of Edge’s calm finally began to crack. All his desperate worries surged in through that first line of weakness to fill his face and then downward to soak into his aching soul.

"Don't—" Edge choked on the word, unsure what he was even going to say. Don't joke, don't dismiss this, don't ever leave me. He walked over and fell to his knees beside them, hardly feeling the warning jolt from his leg as he pulled them both into his arms rougher than he'd meant. Unnecessary, Stretch came easily, willingly, settling into his embrace exactly as if he belonged there, and brought his brother along for the ride.

"hey, i'm okay," Stretch said, pitching his voice for them both. He rested his forehead against Edge’s, settling a gentle hand on his sharp cheekbone with a sigh. "we’re okay, babe. it's okay."

"It is not okay by any stretch of the imagination,” Edge said hoarsely. His own hands were moving over Stretch, cautious of his lack of gloves even as he convinced himself that this was no dream, these well-loved bones were real. “And if you make a pun on that, you can ride home with my brother."

“wouldn’t joke about it, babe.” Then Stretch promptly made it a lie as he teased, “hope i get extra credit for not stretching things out, actually, ‘cause i sure didn’t get my ‘stay out of trouble’ badge tonight.”

“Pappy,” Blue moaned. His grip in the awful shirt Stretch was wearing twisted as if his disgust needed a physical outlet, “honestly, must you?”

Edge barked a laugh, hard and pained, but in his soul there was only giddy lightness. “No, you certainly did not. I would say any claim that you didn’t find trouble would be stretching things.”

Another groan from Blue was interrupted by a scuffing sound behind them. Edge jerked around, but it was only Antwan holding Jeff in his own tight embrace, whatever whispers between them too low to be heard. Edge hadn’t even noticed them when he first came in and the faint guilt from that was too small to be borne, already swallowed up in overwhelming relief.

Safe, they were both safe and unharmed, and Edge set his anger back, holding it in reserve. No matter what his brother thought, this was not over, and he would not be relegated to the injured group to recover, not this time.

But first, he was taking his love home.

tbc

[haec-est-fides]

Sorry to jump into some Heroes of Olympus stuff when I’m trying to stay in my Trials of Apollo lane, but I said to myself that if I saw another post about Octavian that mentioned the pillow pet or the stuffed animals in general, I would snap.

Let’s clarify this once and for all:

It. Was. His. Job.

That’s it.

Of all the things to analyze about him or hold against him, this is the absolute lowest priority. The thing is, it keeps getting circulated (and therefore fixated on as a foundational part of his character lore) because haha funny joke. It’s an easy thing to bully him over when you remove its context (and associated dignity), and that’s exactly what the protagonists do.

Octavian: “You’re letting these intruders into the camp? Reyna, the security risks--”

Reyna: “We’re not taking them to the camp, Octavian. We’ll eat here, in the forum.”

Octavian: “Oh, much better. You want us to relax in the shadow of their warship.”

Reyna: “These are our guests. We will welcome them, and we will talk to them. As augur, you should burn an offering to thank the gods for bringing Jason back to us safely.”

Percy: “Good idea. Go burn your bears, Octavian.”

(The Mark of Athena Ch. II)

The main characters make the stuffed animals a joke so that they can ignore and downplay all of the very serious and relevant things Octavian says. (Which is some seriously bullshit behavior btw.)

As odd as it sounds, gutting stuffed animals is literally the defining role of Octavian’s job as camp augur. He divines the will of the gods / the future via “entrails”. (Sure, that should technically be called haruspicy rather than augury, but I digress.)

Octavian himself explains it to us when he mentions that the ancients used to use real animals, but that times have changed.

“Uh, hi,” Percy said. “Are you killing small animals?”

Octavian looked at the fuzzy thing in his hand and laughed. “No, no. Once upon a time, yes. We used to read the will of the gods by examining animal guts -- chickens, goats, that sort of thing. Nowadays, we use these.”

He tossed the fuzzy thing to Percy. It was a disemboweled teddy bear.

(The Son of Neptune Ch. IV)

A) This was a practical decision by Riordan to maintain an ancient Roman tradition and parallel Camp Half-Blood’s oracle while keeping animal sacrifice out of books for young readers.

B) Nowhere do we have any evidence that it was Octavian who made the choice to change the old tradition and use stuffed animals instead. We don’t know how long augurs have been gutting stuffed animals at Camp Jupiter. Besides, pinning that change on Octavian means that he stopped animal sacrifice, which uhhh seems like a good thing?

Further, I just saw a rather well-intentioned post about Octavian (shocker) that still mentions the stuffed animals as a sign of him potentially being psychotic. This is partly why I’m convinced that the whole issue has been circulating as a joke for too long and, worse, is just badly misinformed.

See, that post argued that Octavian believed he could tell the future by gutting stuffed animals. Key word: believed.

But the canon fact is that he could. Full stop.

Here’s how we’re introduced to him and his abilities:

Clouds swirled over the largest temple, a round pavilion with a ring of white columns supporting a domed roof. “I’m guessing that’s Zeus -- uh, I mean, Jupiter’s? That’s where we’re heading?”

“Yeah.” Hazel sounded edgy. “Octavian reads auguries there -- the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus.”

...

Above them, thunder rumbled. Red lightning lit up the hill.

“Octavian’s almost done,” Hazel said. “Let’s go.”

...

The kid at the altar raised his hands. More red lightning flashed in the sky, shaking the temple. Then he put his hands down, and the rumbling stopped. The clouds turned from gray to white and broke apart.

(The Son of Neptune Ch. IV)

As Percy says, pretty impressive -- especially if it’s somehow fake. How would he even fake that?! He couldn’t.

But, and here’s where our protagonists and their unreliable narration become the problem again, that scene is prefaced by what Hazel says on the way there:

“The camp augur we’re going to meet, Octavian, he’s a legacy, descendant of Apollo. He’s got the gift of prophecy, supposedly.”

“Supposedly?”

Hazel made a sour face. “You’ll see.”

(The Son of Neptune Ch. III)

We do not, in fact, at any point see anything that would warrant her “supposedly”. Hazel simply -- understandably -- hates and mistrusts Octavian because he’s blackmailing her.

The narrators routinely undercut Octavian over everything he does, because they’re biased. It’s no surprise that that mentality / perception had bled into the fandom, but we should be able to recognize that.

While lightning doesn’t happen every time Octavian does an augury, that doesn’t take away any of his credibility. (Personally, I think it would make sense for that to happen only at the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus.) The same goes for his trying over and over again, inability to foresee certain events, and multiple interpretations of auguries. Augury is supposed to work this way.

Another point that proves Octavian could tell the future is that his abilities falter after Python takes Delphi early in Blood of Olympus, just like Rachel’s.

Mike shifted his considerable bulk. “You sound certain. Has your gift of prophecy--”

...

Once Jacob had hobbled off, Octavian’s face clouded. “Mike, I told you not to speak of my, ah, problem. But to answer your question: no, there still seems to be some interference with Apollo’s usual gift to me.” He glanced resentfully at a pile of mutilated stuffed animals heaped in the corner of the porch. “I can’t see the future. Perhaps that false Oracle at Camp Half-Blood is working some sort of witchcraft.”

(The Blood of Olympus Ch. VI)

Octavian’s comment about Rachel implies that his abilities have only been faulty since the legion neared Camp Half-Blood. Ironically, Percy later blames Octavian for Delphi (and therefore Rachel’s abilities) no longer working. Their powers go out simultaneously because they come from the same source.

We also know that Octavian was blessed by Apollo.

“Apollo spoke to me clearly last year at Camp Jupiter! He personally blessed my endeavors.”

(The Blood of Olympus Ch. VI)

Even if that blessing had nothing to do with his prophetic ability, as it seems as if Octavian has been augur for more than a year, it’s significant in that it shows that Apollo recognized and respected Octavian as one of his descendants (before everything went wrong). Being one of the few people to have the power of prophecy would help gaining Apollo’s respect, imo.

TL;DR: The only reason anyone doubts Octavian’s abilities is because the main characters, who canonically hate him and who have made a game of bullying and ignoring him because they don’t like what he has to say, constantly demean and dismiss him.

I’m all for the various interpretations of Octavian that the fandom has made, don’t get me wrong, but I am so tired of the stuffed animals thing. Can we please put it to rest?