#if you're in my twitch streams then you probably already Are Aware | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing iv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 105

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a glimpse into the past

Jungkook’s been to a total of two graduations his entire life—one was his middle school’s graduation that seemed more like a farewell party and his older brother’s college one. Now, he can say that he’s attended three. But he’s never felt like this—never felt dread to say a temporary goodbye to a face he’s been so accustomed to seeing.

Maybe that’s why he’s in such a sour mood as his peers hugged their seniors' goodbyes, smiles on their face while they engaged in chatter about the future. Jungkook’s always been hard on parting and today is no different. Especially with the constant reminders at every corner of the hallways, streams of red and blue painting the ceilings with a big fat ‘happy graduation to the seniors!’ Mocking him on his journey to his classes.

He almost wants to slap some sense into himself. Because why was he terrified for the beginning of a new chapter that wasn’t his story to tell? Why was he dreading the moment that the seniors collected their diplomas and walked off the stage; and out of his life?

But he doesn’t do that; because the fear is as addictive as the excitement he feels when he thinks of you. A conflicting and tortuous juxtaposition of the beautiful day for a valedictorian and her younger friend.

“Jungkook!” A voice calls, and when he turns he sees Taehyung barrelling towards him with two people trailing closely behind.

When Taehyung plummets into Jungkook’s chest with an oof, but all Jungkook can focus on; despite the ache in his chest, is you.

You’re so pretty. But that’s nothing new for Jungkook. However, you were smiling, soft and sweet like the person who stayed up during her finals to tutor Jungkook on math concepts and the same girl who supported him through his football trials in junior year.

But you were grown, and the robe was the testimony of your age and maturity—the level of intelligence that you possess only grew with time and now you were walking towards him with a sense of quiet assuredness that he’s always admired you for.

Jungkook’s sure he’s gaping but he’s never been able to control himself around you.

“Can you stop gawking at her already?” Taehyung complains, twisting the skin between Jungkook’s armpit in retaliation.

Jungkook burns but scowls at the older boy who simply snickers in response.

“I’m so glad you’re graduating.” Jungkook snaps.

Taehyung snorts, “If I go she goes.”

Jungkook purses his lips as he readies himself for another retort, but you arrive and the first thing he notices is how gentle you smell. His favourite scent in principle, a whiff of laundry detergent accompanied with the light floral perfume he remembers his mother gifting you for your birthday.

“You’re gonna miss us, aren’t you?” Is the first thing Jimin says when he greets the younger boy with a ruffle to his head.

Jungkook glowers in embarrassment as he tries to fight him off, and despite his shorter stature in height—Jimin was in fact, quite strong.

Regardless of his flustered state, you smile at him warmly and perhaps Jungkook is biased when it comes to you because he’s sure you’ve always smiled the same, but every tilt of your lips evoke an array of different feelings in Jungkook’s chest.

“The two of you are like dumb and dumber so no—not really. God knows he’s finally granted my wish for emancipation.” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung feigns offence with a hand to his chest, leaning his head against Jungkook’s shoulders while he rolls his eyes.

Then he remembers you, the girl who just smiles as the world will always do her good.

“But I’ll miss Noona, though.” He says, and he hopes the shakiness of his voice isn’t obvious. “She’s the only one that doesn’t tease me.”

You grin up at Jungkook, giggling when Jimin and Taehyung gape at the younger boy’s audacity.

“Yah. You call her Noona and not us Hyung?!” Taehyung screeches were loud enough for the group of you to wince at his loudness.

“Don’t forget that you would have never have met her if it weren’t for us, you brat.” Jimin reminds, though not maliciously.

Jungkook does thank the stars for them introducing him to you. Because he doubts otherwise you’d ever interact with him. You were always in your own bubble, tucked away in a safe space filled with your own sense of solace and comfort. And Jungkook admired that.

He liked being alone, but he never wanted to be lonely. You were a breath of fresh air when you taught him the lines between loneliness and being physically alone; and how you learnt to never conflate the two. You were independent and bright, but warm and welcoming—and Jungkook remembers that these feelings weren’t just a floor away anymore.

“Ignore them, Kook.” You sigh. “Gonna miss you too.”

Jungkook feels himself melt because you say it so sweetly and sincerely.

Taehyung and Jimin ruin his love-blurred lenses by gagging at your blatant display of affection towards the younger boy.

“The two of you are so gross.” Jimin groans, earning a nod from his other half.

You roll your eyes when all Jungkook does is flush at the insinuation.

“Unlike the two of you, we make the better and more rational pair.” You chastise. “Don’t we, Kook?”

And the nickname he’s grown to love though he has a love-hate relationship with it slips off your tongue and he finds himself agreeing with you.

“These two idiots are a quarter of a brain-cell combined on a good day,” Jungkook mutters.

You burst out into laughter, rubbing a calming hand onto his shoulder and he feels the dread come in. Because this was no longer something he could reach out to when you went to college.

“Whatever.” Jimin scoffs.

Then the PA system sounds, and the principal calls for the graduates to gather at the hall. And it represents all of Jungkook’s worries in an announcement and he’s not ready to let you go yet.

“That’s our call.” You declare, eyes darting to the other seniors who pull apart from their juniors to rush to the hall.

Jungkook’s eyes widen one last time before Jimin and Taehyung both wrap their arms around Jungkook tightly, murmuring a much more sincere and grateful remark than their previous chides. And he feels slightly bad that he can’t respond because his brain is far more focused on your lone figure, who eyes him with sad yet gentle eyes.

“You’ll come to our role call, right?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook gulps because all he can focus on is your face.

“Y-yeah. Course’.” He mumbles. He feels the need to say something—do something before people crowd you after it’s over. Jungkook would never stand a chance.

He seems rooted in his feet, Jimin and Taehyung already trailing off with their arms around each other and words of their future in the air. You smile at Jungkook—and it’s the same—but his hands reach out before he can think twice.

Jungkook grabs your wrist before you can leave, gulping to himself when you stare at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” You ask softly.

No, he’s not, because his heart is beating so fast and he doesn’t want this day to come to an end.

“I-I’m okay.” He chokes, “I just—don’t you have a parting gift for me?” Jungkook blurts before he can rationalise what the fuck did he even mean.

But Jungkook just stares at you like a deer caught in the headlights while you tilt your head at him endearingly. He hopes that his pulse doesn’t emanate from his grasp, but your wrist is small, and it feels just right in his palm.

Your lips are twitching as a grin threatens itself on your expression, and he sees the mischief in your eyes that come out every once in a while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me a gift, Jeon?” You tease, and Jungkook is so soft.

He snorts, a little glad that you didn’t point out his sudden grip on your wrist.

“But you’re leaving me.” He pouts.

You roll your eyes and take a step closer to him until you’re directly in front of him. And he sees your features up close and God—did he say you were pretty?—well because you’re even prettier up close and he loses all sense of thought when you’re smiling up at him with bright eyes.

“I’m always a call away.” You say softly, gently tugging at his hand; and it’s crazy to think that you were the same older girl that was usually timid reaching out to him in a way that was shy but so you.

Even with the chattering of other students, Jungkook only hears your subdued voice.

“It’s not the same.” Jungkook sighs, and he’s slightly aware that he was whining. But you don’t seem to be bothered.

“You’re probably going to forget about me.” You scoff and it’s light, but he can see the slight furrow of your brows. “You’re Jeon Jungkook. You’ll do great.” You add softly.

Jungkook purses his lips and wants to tell you that it wasn’t possible. You took up space in his life, both in school (well, not anymore) and in his mind. You and your wonderful mind.

“Says the valedictorian.” Jungkook huffs.

You pout, “You know that isn’t long-term. What if I just peak in high school and … you know …” You sigh, shaking your head, “I’m not outgoing like Jimin or a social butterfly like Taehyung. Neither am I as friendly and likeable like you are, Jungkook. I’m just … boring.”

Jungkook freezes because while he knew you were on the shier side; the louder than life tendencies you had were small but abundant. You didn’t need to speak louder than anyone in a room to get your points across, you were soft and empathetic and led people in organisations to see the good in the work they did.

Your genuine nature drew people in, even though you’d flush under attention and praise—and if Jungkook could—he’d scream it out to the world. But you were in front of him, and he figured that was enough.

“Don’t say that.” Jungkook snaps and his tone causes you to flinch as you stare at him with wide eyes, “Don’t … put yourself down like that. You’re great, _____. You’re intelligent and kind. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you’re boring. There are situations in this world that need people like you. There are people that find comfort in a quiet soul because you’re introspective and thoughtful. People like …”

Jungkook exhales when you stare at him so earnestly, and his ears turn red. “People like me. We need people like you in our lives.”

Your mouth falls open as you blatantly stare at Jungkook with wide eyes; he’s on the border of being absolutely mortified and running away so he wouldn’t be the subject of your obvious ogling.

But then a soft smile makes its way onto your face, and you’re tugging Jungkook by the hand and into a warm hug.

Despite him being younger than you, he’s always been taller and bigger than you were. And it was a sense of security he felt in your presence rather than your physical entity that would never be replaced with anything else.

“You really grew up, huh?” You say, a giggle in your chest.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but accepts the way you rest your head on his chest. He’s never had you this close before, and he hates that it’s on the day he needs to say goodbye.

“I’ve always been this way.” Jungkook answers. He also thinks: I’ve always been here. For you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You say softly, pulling away even though Jungkook wants to keep you close.

“Anytime.” He smiles widely at you, and a classmate of yours calls your name as you turn to give them a nod of acknowledgement before you’re turning back to Jungkook with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Here’s your gift.” You inform him.

“I was kidding—”

And before you can respond, you’re placing both hands on his shoulder and on your tippy-toes to deliver a kiss to his cheek.

Jungkook is stunned and he isn’t able to process it fast enough. But you’re already offering him an equally flustered smile with the tip of your ears turning red before you’re waving shyly and tittering off to the hall.

Jungkook blinks, and a hand reaches to touch his cheek.

He looks up, and groans—because how the hell was he going to survive high school now?

517 notes · View notes

jd-loves-fiction · 3 years

Text

➤”I’d like one order of Mando adventure angst with a side of fluff and a dash of spicy bickering. Enemies to lovers or friends to lovers flavor (whatever’s on the house) and a nice hot bowl of ‘there was only one bed’

Give my compliments to the chef”

➤ genre: Fluff, Adventure, Comedy(?), Enemies to Partners, Angst

➤ wc: 4.9k (holy shit might be my longest request🥴)

➤ 🌙 Requested: @batarella ❤

"Listen, buddy, I got here first." You attempt to reason with the wall of beskar currently pointing his blaster directly at you.

Maybe not the smartest thing to say when first meeting someone of his reputation, but he can only be doing this for one reason.

He's after the bounty squirming nervously at your feet. And you're in the way.

Why else would he be out here, in the middle of a rocky desert on some faraway planet?

"Step away from him." The voice you hear startles you with its modulated dept. It's more surprising that he even spoke at all, given what you'd heard of the Mandalorian. Although his stature and the silent tension he brings with him is no doubt intimidating, you will not give up so easily after following this bounty so far out from the nearest town. “No.”

His visor tilts to the side, like a frustrated twitch, at your answer. “Maybe.” You rectify, which makes him raise his head in interest. “Do you have a fob?”

“No, I don’t.”

Not that it matters anymore considering yours is broken, but at least now you know he can't follow you if you make a break for it with the bounty.

“How did you find us?”

“I have my ways.” You nearly roll your eyes at his cryptic response, not like you expected anything else from a Mandalorian.

“Do you know why they sent you?” Knowing your employers, you had a clue on what the reason was. They got impatient.

They’d been pretty determined to get a maximum time needed out of you. You’re almost sure you overstepped it.

But to send a Mandalorian? Seems like a bit much.

“They were afraid you’d run off. That you gave the bounty away to the Resistance.” Of course, those bastards can barely trust themselves, let alone a foreigner.

“Well I didn't, and I won't. So you can lower your blaster and we can do this together.” You offer amicably, not yet loosening your grip on your weapon upon his lack of movement.

“You’re out of time. Your deal is off.”

“That’s just-!” You're cut off by a shot buzzing past you.

"Last warning."

Your jaw drops. How can someone be so damn cold?

You raise your finger assertively, about to give him a piece of your mind, when you notice something move by his hip.

And it's green. With gigantic ears. And huge dark eyes that blink at you curiously.

Your head tilts, mirroring the creature. The Mandalorian follows your eyes to find you looking at the child he’s supposed to be caring for.

“Huh. And who is that cutie?” The blaster already pointed at you raises from where it had begun to slouch, alert and cautious. Noticing this, you readjust your grip on your own weapon.

You and the creature continue to study each other, until the Mandalorian pushes the brown bag to where it rests behind his body protectively.

“Are they yours? I mean, doesn't look like the ears would fit.” You speak just to make conversation, stepping closer with miniscule steps. His gloved hand tightens around his blaster, hoping to remind you that he can still shoot you point-blank.

But he hasn't.

"Can you really do much in front of a kid?" You challenge smugly, still advancing slowly.

"He's seen me do worse."

"That right?" Another step. "You planning to shoot me today or would tomorrow work better?"

"Are you always this difficult? Just put the gun down-"

You jump towards him, hooking your foot around the back of his knee which makes him fall to the rocky ground immediately, dropping his blaster. Unfortunately, taking down a Mandalorian is no easy task, so he takes you down with him.

He throws his satchel to the side in the nick of time, it lands on a sand pile. His other arm grabs hold of you to pull you down with him.

You point your blaster at him as he lays beneath you, except it is no longer in your hand. Shit. He punches you in the face hard enough that something will turn black soon enough.

As you fall to the ground he gets on top of you, or tries, as you place your feet against his firm chest to keep some distance. You kick him in the helmet, silently thanking the stars your shoes are steel toed.

Your hand only scrapes against dry, red, sand covered rock as you search for a blaster, either would serve. Despite your momentary advantage in light of the Mandalorian’s confusion after being kicked, his hands quickly come down to cover your throat. You feel the creases in the leather as they’re pressed against your skin, and the beskar over the back of his hands against your chin.

But you still attempt to reach a weapon, a rock would do at this point.

Your arms flail wildly with no real direction, only the need to stay conscious, as if movement would help it. You do, however, notice that he’s purposely avoiding your traquia.

He still does not want to kill you. How sweet. Probably just wants to take you back to the bastards who hired you. They’d surely kill you, and much faster too.

Just as the spots in your vision start becoming overpowering, his grip loosens. You inhale greedily, desperately, gasping and coughing at the released pressure.

You can see his visor move to and fro, searching for something. Once you look to the side, you the child safe in its pile of sand, so it can't be that.

"Dank farrik! He's gone." The bounty. Right. Shit.

"Now," you pause, heaving as your lungs struggle to fill up again, "what?"

He places his hands on his hips, thinking for a moment, before turning his visor to where you lay clutching your sore - but not yet bruised - neck. "I'm going after him."

"I'm sorry-?!" You cut yourself off with a cough as you sit up, feeling grains of sand make their way inside your boots and other places. "You're going after him? This is my bounty! I had him, and I would've been fine if you hadn't shown up."

He keeps his stance, probably glaring disapprovingly beneath his helmet. You huff at his unyielding silence, getting up in his personal space and jabbing a finger into his chest plate.

"I'm about to give you a piece of my mind, so you better listen very carefully. I had it! It was my catch. And from what I can tell, it still is. So you better back off, Mando." Venom drips from your lips as you glare at the tin can on his head as if you could put a hole straight through it.

He relaxes, raising his hands again peacefully, palms up, "Alright, I get it. But do you think they'd take him from you now? Let alone later when you actually catch him? They seem pretty vindictive."

"Well, what do you suggest? You're not going on your own."

"And why not?" He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans towards you.

"You don't have a tracking fob." You retort, leaning towards him as well with your hands on your hips.

The Mandalorian pats himself down where he believes to have stored the small device, only to find all those pockets empty. "You little thief!"

"And you're a liar! Plus, you think I'd just let you take my credits? Come on, with your reputation, you should know better than that." You shrug and suddenly Din is acutely aware that the beeping now comes from your hip instead of his.

"Alright, fine, let's do it this way. We'll look for him together and once we catch him, I'll hand him in and we'll split the reward." He explains slowly, carefully, afraid to set you off.

"Seems good to me." You speak resolutely, thrusting your hand forward firmly, expecting a handshake.

His helmet tilts down slightly as he looks down at your hand, before he reaches out with his own. Just as the leather meets your skin - in a now less life-threatening way - a coo sounds from somewhere at your feet, making you both look down to see the little green creature looking between the two of you curiously.

You look back at it, mirroring it once more, before it smiles wide revealing its tiny little teeth and, oh, your heart might just actually melt.

It's large eyes move down from your face, towards your hands.

You suddenly realize neither you nor the Mandalorian had let go of each other's hand and that a large grin has formed on your face due to the adorable baby. It is promptly wiped off as you pull your hand back just as he does. He looks away while you shrug at the child's inquisitive stare, unaware that the bounty hunter had been watching you and marveling at the bond you'd both formed already.

And so you set out together to look for your target, back towards town, where you had begun your chase.

He can't have gone far or in any other direction, not with the unbearable heat and certainly not while handcuffed. He'd die for sure, you just have to hope he's smart enough to know that.

You walk through town with the fob in your hand, just out of sight. No need for unnecessary attention. The town is tightly crowded, much to your chagrin, so you move slow and are barely able to see over the moving bodies. There’s just too much going on, too many people moving back and forth, shoving past you rudely. If it’d been anyone else - not an experienced bounty hunter - you would have probably been knocked down by the last two men that had scurried past you in a rush.

Without warning, you feel a hand grip your bicep. You immediately ready yourself for a fight, before you realize it belongs to your associate. Once he has your attention, Mando nods towards the edge to the street, against red stone buildings, urging you to follow him. You do, nudging anyone out of the way as you walked against the crowd’s stream.

You’re about to shout over the noise to ask just what the hell he pulled you aside for, considering you’re running out of time, before you follow his visor. Right to a wanted poster of a very familiar scoundrel. From the Resistance? Wanted alive for 8,000 credits?

“That’s one big fish, huh?" You continue to shout in order to be heard over the crowd, which you immediately regret, looking around, paranoid. "Must be important." You comment to yourself.

You look up to see the Mandalorian's back disappear behind the corner. You quickly follow, catching up to his long strides, "What are you thinking?"

He ignores your inquiry, continuing to practically stomp his way through town. "Hey. Hey!" You call out to no avail. Well, you asked for it.

You reach out, grabbing the man by the back of his cape, tightening it around his neck and making it so he had to lean back to follow your hand in order to keep breathing. Your heart beats faster at the rush of power you feel for a moment. "You better tell me what you're thinking, or this is not gonna work."

He taps your hand repeatedly until you let go, rising to his full height and you're back to feeling slightly intimidated as he stares you down, silently.

"I'm thinking that with a price that high you might actually take the bounty yourself."

"Why-?"

The tracking fob. The small object suddenly burned a whole in your pocket.

"Oh come on! You were trying to kill me!"

Your voice raises, arms flailing about. You know you're making a scene, considering this street is so much emptier and therefore quieter than the main one, but for the moment, you don't care. Right now, all you want is to put Mando in his place. Something you know is foolish given that he nearly killed you before and could actually do it this time.

"Yes, but it's still stealing." He spoke with that know-it-all, I'm-better-than-you, tone that just gets on your nerves. Bastard.

You raise a finger in the man's direction, fully intending to continue this conversation and clear your name in his eyes - the reason why is unknown even to you - when a shrill giggle cuts through the air. You look to Mando's hip, where the creature (who's name you have yet to learn) sits, pointing ahead to the entrance to the cantina.

Right at the man of the hour.

What? How?!

The man looks back at you and Mando for a moment, eyes widening as he recognizes you and the fact that this might be it.

Before he takes off running.

You start running before Mando does, easily catching up to the stout man, who's no longer in cuffs. As you get too close to his liking, he takes out a blaster (that you know isn't his) and tries to shoot you in the head. Only to miss and hit your forearm instead.

Hurts like a bitch, but it's better than death.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a steel rope of some kind shoot out and wrap around the fugitive's leg, sending him stumbling face first onto the ground.

Mando walks over to him, barely winded, standing over the panting man and blocking the sun with his body. You can only imagine the man's terrified expression.

You quickly take care of your wound as Mando ties the man up enough that he can't move, wincing as you look at the damage made on your skin. The burning nearly stops the bleeding and it hurts so bad you can barely process it, so you don't think about it, you simply level your breathing while wrapping a cloth around the wound and hope for the best considering it's not too big.

You clutch it to your chest as Mando approaches, pointing at your arm, intending to ask you if you're alright, but you move it to your side before he can. "Are you-"

"We should give him to the Resistance." You speak resolutely, holding back from wincing as your injury rubbed against your pants. It hurt even from beneath a (barely) protective cloth.

“I said ‘we’, so don't you start giving me shit, alright?” You tell him sternly after he crosses his arms, probably getting ready to call you a thief again. “You can't give him to the Resistance because they’ll arrest you, correct?” He nods.

“Well you know bounty hunting isn't exactly legal.”

“You don't have to tell me that, Mando.” You remind him firmly. “So, if we give him to them, we can ask for them to clear your name! And we’ll get double the reward. Two birds with one stone!”

“Do you really think they’d just do that?”

“If someone’s paying 8,000 credits for one guy and specifying they want him alive, then I’d bet they’d do anything to get him, even something as seemingly insignificant as clearing your name.” You explain, gesturing avidly as you do.

A long moment of silence passes before a modulated sigh crackles through Mando’s helmet. “Fine. I’ll go get the Crest.”

“Wait, woah woah woah. Why are you going? How do I know you wont leave me out here?”

“How do I know you wouldn't?” You take a moment to consider his words. He did lie to you, but you did steal from him in a way.

You look down in contemplation, eyes meeting the creature’s. Right, Mando has the kid, who probably isn't fit to be out in this heat for as long as it has.

“He got a name?” You point to the child, who smiles and giggles gleefully.

“Grogu.” You nod, sighing and rubbing your temples. Stars, it’s so hot it feels as if your brain is melting and you can feel a headache coming on.

“You can go. But I want you to swear on your,” You pause for a second, searching for the right word, “honorable code. Swear you’ll come back.”

“You-” The Mandalorian starts, before giving up on protesting at your determined stand, crossed arms and raised chin. “OK, alright. I swear that I’ll come back for you and the bounty. That we need.” He whispers the last part.

“Get to it then. I’m sweating bullets in this heat!”

You sit, back against a nearby rock, searching for as much shade as possible. You don't want to move the bounty back into town for a multitude of reasons, so now you’re stuck just outside of town. Sweat making your clothes stick and it gathers while the headache gets worse and more blood soaks your makeshift bandage, but at least it's silent. That's what you thought about 20 minutes ago, now, you’ve changed your mind.

“The hell did you do to get 8,000 credits on your head?” You ask suddenly, seemingly startling the man who seems to have accepted his fate already.

He sighs, probably just as bored as you, “I have some information they want. That's why they want me alive.” You purse your lips in interest, humming in understanding, before silence falls over you two once more.

Stars, it's hot.

You could cry from relief once you hear the sound of a loud engine getting closer and closer. The 'Crest', as Mando had called it.

You grab the bounty by the shirt, hauling him to his feet rather roughly and shoving him towards the flying hunk of metal that had just landed.

The ship. Mando doesn't come out to greet you.

As the ramp closes and the air is blanketed in a sheet of silence, your mind starts to wander without your permission. You know he has to be handsome under there, what with his broad shoulders and slim waist, deliciously thick thighs and a wonderfully smooth and deep voice that seems to caress your very soul as you hear it. You caught a glimpse of his skin when you pulled at his collar, delightfully tan just begging for you to sink your teeth into it.

Must be the heat. Surely that is the sole reason why you're fantasizing so vividly about a man whose real name you don't know, whose face you've never seen and oh, a man who tried to kill you. But didn't.

Sick of your own thoughts and the loud snores of the bounty, you rise to your feet, climbing the ladder that leads to the cockpit. You wince as you put part of your weight on your injured arm, deciding to climb the rest of the ladder one handed instead.

“Are you decent?” You shout through the thick metal door, hoping Mando can hear you inside the cockpit. When the heavy doors hiss and open, you’re sure he must be.

You sit down in the passenger seat silently, looking up at the stars above for a long moment. The mesmerizing, endlessly dark sky is all that you see at first, from being partially blinded by the fluorescent lights inside the Crest, before the stars come to you, bright speckles that dust the planetary systems all around you. Breathtaking.

You look back in front of yourself to find Grogu already staring at you, head tilted with a smile that shows the slightest hint of tiny teeth. You smile, leaning forward with a raised brow. He leans closer to you, eyes lingering in the side of your face, the one already darkening from Mando’s blow, before dipping down to the arm you hold close to your chest. You let go of it immediately as he does, wanting to shield him from seeing the blood you know can be seen through the cloth.

The child steps closer, as far as he can while up on the dashboard. Mando has to be avoiding you, before he would've seen that movement otherwise.

It reaches out his small hand, squeezing his eyes as tightly as possible while the green limb twitches. You furrow your brows in confusion, what?

The ache on your skin lessens gradually, as if the wound was being lifted from your skin. You can feel it on your arm, it tickles as your skin connects itself around the wound while the burn disappears as if you’d just placed ice over it.

At some point, your eyes close, lulled nearly to sleep by the lifting of the pain, the feeling left behind makes your skin tingle with energy just beneath, your head feels light for a second, as if the blood moved from there down to heal the wounds.

When you open your eyes, you’re met with Mando’s visor trained on your face, silent in a way you can tell he’s speechless. “Eyes on the road, Mando.” You tell him cheekily, voice cracking unexpectedly.

He turns back forward, pausing his steering to pull Grogu forward and away from the edge, before his hands return to the commands. “So, is it far still?”

“No, just a few more hours. The closest Resistance base is just on the next planet.” His fingers flick switches and pull levers, before he seemingly puts the vehicle on autopilot and turns to you. “You can take the cot, you must be tired.”

You blink at him, “And what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He answers gruffly, not sparing you a glance.

“No, it’s gonna be a few hours, and you’ve been awake for about as much as me so if anyone is taking the cot, it’s you.” You argue back firmly.

He sighs, loosening the cape around his neck as a way to calm himself down, you and your selflessness.

“Alright. No promises that I’ll sleep though.” He acts like it’s a huge burden, as if it pains him deeply.

He takes Grogu in his arms and towards his sleeping nook. The small child smiles at you from over his guardian’s shoulder, and you smile back.

Once he’s safely put away and the bounty checked on, Mando leads you to a space just off the main hull space, where a bed - with the thinnest mattress you’ve ever seen - is pulled from the wall. Oh boy, you can already feel your back aching, but it’s better than sitting in the cockpit on those hard chairs.

So you lay down your weapons while he takes off the bulkiest of his armour. You lay down, curled on your side and away from him, knowing he’ll have to cuddle close to fit. You feel his warmth against your back, but you don't feel his touch quite yet, only the ghost of it. Your gut tightens with pity as you know he can’t take his helmet off. That has to be very uncomfortable.

The lights are dim enough that there is no shadow from your bodies on the wall. You can tell by the space he’s put between you, that he’s about to fall off.

“Are you scared of me, Mando? Can I call you Mando?”

“Sure and no.”

“Which one?” You ask mischievously, smirking to yourself while knowing full well what he meant.

He sighs in exasperation, so you let him be. For only a moment before you're back to being snarky. "Surely you've been this close to another human before, perhaps in a more compromising context."

"Yes and it's usually quieter." You think he might not realize what he just said.

You snort, "Must mean you're doing something wrong."

"That's not-! Just, get some sleep." He says tiredly, giving up on the banter you're pushing. You do as he asks, closing your eyes as you feel the heat of his body move closer to you.

You wake up to a rough whisper of your name and a shaking of your shoulder. Eyes open slowly, squinting against the light shining right at them, before something blocks it and eases your discomfort. The large hand on your shoulder doesn't yet move from its place, gently perched and waiting for you to wake up fully.

You look up to see Mando's helmet over you, seemingly way too close (not that you're complaining), as you can clearly hear him breathe through his modulator. "We're here and we need to talk before you go in."

You follow him to the hull without question, stopping just before the door that leads to it. You rub the sleep from your eyes before blinking up at the bounty hunter, trying to nonchalantly fix your messy hair.

And though he'd never tell you, he thought you looked adorable in that moment. Rosy cheeks, a faraway gaze, lips pursed to hold back a yawn as you brushed down your hair. He was certainly thankful for his helmet in that moment, considering the heat he felt crawling up his neck and settling on his cheeks.

"Plan?"

You clear your throat before speaking, "Right. So, it's easy." You raise a hand to his face when Mando sighs deeply. "Simple, really. I go in, tell them I have the bounty and ask for a little something as compensation along with the credits. See? Easy and simple!"

"Do you think they'll take it?" It doesn't sound as skeptical as you would've expected from him. It's sort of hopeful. Even Mando has to admit to himself that getting chased around and having to avoid and run from x-wings at every turn, got pretty exhausting.

"Let's try it before we start getting doubts." You tell him, determined. "Besides, nothing to lose if you stay hidden, right?"

The planet you landed on is small and green - perfect cover for a Resistance base. You walk along the dirt path leading to it and away from the Crest, coming up to a clearing where you can see the humongous metal doors of the base which seemed to have been dug into a small mountain.

"Stop! State your business." A voice says through a speaker once you get close enough.

"I've come to deliver a bounty!" You keep it simple, no use even attempting to be charming with these folks.

Not long after, the doors part to let someone through, who you presume is a general or something of the sort given their intimidating presence and the flock of guards with their weapons trained on you that follow them.

"We have your credits. Thank you for bringing him to us." You keep your face neutral even as it urges to tremble beneath the pressure of their gaze. You feel the man in question squirm against the arm that grips his bicep. Must really not be a fan.

"That is not all I want." The supposed general, no need to try and figure that out considering you don't want them to remember you more than necessary, raises a delicate brow. "I would like for you to clear someone's name."

"That is not what we agreed on."

"Yes, well, I didn't agree to it myself, so." You shrug, impressed that the general's face remains stone cold, especially considering how much they probably would like to dispose of you given you're dragging out this exchange for longer than what's really necessary.

"You are in no place to make demands." One soldier tells you, pulling out his blaster and pointing it at you, getting more of a reaction from the bounty than from yourself as he flinches.

"Oh, I am in the perfect place to be making demands." You tell him venomously, grip tightening on the man's arm.

"We have you surrounded."

"Just the way I like it." You respond with a wink just to hear the person's stuttering over the modulator on their helmet.

"Very well." The general calls out in order to gain their minions' attention, "Just tell me what name they might be under in our system."

"The Mandalorian. Mando for friends."

Epilogue

"Fuck! Shit, fuck! What was I thinking?!" You yell out in frustration, standing before what remains of your ship, the rest most likely taken by Jawas, who must be long gone by now. "Of course someone would take it apart, why not?! Oh, stars." You wail miserably, crouching into a ball in search of some comfort.

"Hey, it'll be alright. Don't panic." Mando tells you gently after pulling you to your feet and grabbing your shoulders tightly to ground you. "There's two ways we can do this: we go after those Jawas, get your pieces and fix the ship or," Mando hesitates for a moment, fingers drumming along your skin as he turns the words over and over in his tongue until he feels as if he'll get them right once he says them. "you can come with me until you get enough credits for a new one. 4,000 might not be enough yet, but it's a pretty solid start."

His rare optimism brings a small smile out of you and makes your anger settle down almost completely. You'll no doubt have an even deeper hatred for the little shits, but you don't feel as if you'll punch the next living thing you see.

"I guess catching a ride with you can't be so bad, huh, Mando?"

#din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din dijarin x reader #din djaren #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandolarian #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x oc #mando x reader #mando and grogu #mando #din

104 notes · View notes

fayeimara · 4 years

Text

Miya Atsumu || Solita

*Song Scenario | Inspired by Solita by PRETTYMUCH*

PAIRING. Miya Atsumu x you

GENRE. Fluff; A little angst, if you squint?

WARNINGS. Incredibly suggestive, probably sexual innuendos and references, swearing, implications of drinking, angst.. (from my perspective, which probably means nothing because I think I can't handle writing it)

The lavish, vast pool glitters under the sun, surface disturbed by the partygoers splashing around in the water without a care in the world. Atsumu stands at the edge, quickly checking over the various faces but doesn't find you or his brother among them.

"She's not inside." Suna's voice comes from behind him and he looks back to see the middle blocker walking back up to him. His usually neutral expression is disturbed with just the slightest indent between his eyebrow and before Atsumu looks away he catches the slightest twitch in his jaw.

So he's a little worried too. They both know trouble always finds you if you don't find it first. And at a party of this scale, it's an inevitability.

How did they manage to lose you already? You'd all only been here about twenty minutes when Atsumu and Suna decide to refresh your group's drinks and left you with Osamu but the both of you aren't anywhere to be seen now.

Backing away from the pool, Atsumu looks over past the green metal fence that blocks off the pool and its surrounding stone patio from the manicured lawn, crowded with people dancing to the music blasting from speakers that surround the entire backyard.

They'll have to wade in there but it's just as likely he and Suna might miss you entirely if you're in that crush of people. Where's twin telepathy when he needs it?

Suna's already headed over, deciding to try his luck and probably because they have to do something since neither you or 'Samu have answered the multiple texts they've sent asking for your location in this overcrowded fucking mansion.

The only concern is if they're wasting time by looking for you out here, but there's no way you would be inside, in one of the rooms, right? No, not unless you were in real trouble and 'Samu definitely wouldn't let anything happen to you.

So Atsumu follows after his teammate and pushes past the creaky gate to move onto the grassy area of the large backyard. Suna's already found Aran, at the edge of the crowd, and Atsumu walks up to hear him ask if he's seen either you or Osamu.

"Sure, just a couple minutes ago," The tall ace responds, "They should be hear somewhere."

And with that, he salutes them with his drink and moves away towards the set of double doors that lead into the kitchen of the house.

"Do you want to take the left while I go in from the right? Text once we find them?" Suna offers, already starting to head over to one side of the large crowd.

But Atsumu stops him with a hand to his shoulder, "Nah, I think we should just go through the middle. If she's in there, that's where she'll be."

Suna smirks and doesn't respond, knowing 'Tsumu's most likely correct. This time it's Suna following Atsumu as they wade into the mess of swaying bodies, thankfully, not as tightly packed as they would be in a different setting.

It doesn't take them long now, with the confirmation that you're here, to finally catch sight of you. You are, in fact, dead center of the crowd and steadily holding the attention of many as you sway slowly to the music.

As soon as his eyes land on you, Atsumu feels a burn take root and start to grow in his chest. It's not exactly the way your hips move, seductively swinging to the beat, or your arms held in the air as you dance enticingly to the melody, locks of your hair softly flying with your moves and the breeze. It's not even that it's his brother you're with, standing there like an enraptured guardian, holding both your drinks and watching over you while you dance with one of your friends.

What completely combusts Atsumu is that as you dance so prettily, the center of fucking attention with your unconscious sensuality, you're doing so in what is unmistakably his jacket, the material shifting with and sliding over your body, almost covering the racy black bikini you're wearing.

You're dancing there among everyone, yet somehow looking like his personal, intimate show, in the jacket he gave you to wear when you were slightly chilly after a quick dip in the pool but that you'd ended up just holding in your hand instead while you asked him to go grab you a new drink.

Torn between dragging you away from the beautiful spectacle you're making for all the undeserving fuckers to see but not wanting the incredible dream to end, Atsumu watches a little longer. He watches until the song spirals up higher and higher and with every rise he feels like he's falling deeper instead.

A brush against his arm brings him back to the reality of the crowd, but it's only Suna, passing by and moving toward you with a piercing look in his narrow eyes. Before Atsumu can even register what he's doing, he grabs his friend's elbow, yanking him to a sudden stop.

"What're ya doin'?"

Those piercing eyes turn his way, with firm intensity, and the fox-eyed boy responds, "I'm getting some dirt off of a jewel."

"Don't ya fucking dare."

"You're going to want to let go off me before I deck you."

"So what," Atsumu raises an eyebrow, "You're gonna go over and forcibly remove the clothes off a girl?"

With his hand still on Suna's tense arm, Atsumu can literally feel when his friend decides to back down and continues through to the kill, "Yeah, that'll go over real well, especially with her, don't ya think?"

Eyes narrowed on him, Suna bites out a low, angry, "Fuck." before turning away and shoving back through the crowd until it's swallowed him up.

Yeah, he wouldn't want to watch you dance in Suna's jacket either, if the positions were reversed. But you're not wearing the middle blocker's name right now, you're wearing his. And it looks divine on you, as if both he and his name were made simply for you to exist and finally own them.

Atsumu turns back to watch you, moving ever so slightly closer, mesmerized by your movements but even more so by the thought of you being his. He's trapped in the suggestion of the moment, watching you and dreaming, until your eyes open again, only this time on a twirl that ends directly facing him, and your gaze catches immediately on his.

He watches as your eyes widen in surprise for a split second before delight pulls your lips into a wide, joyful grin. He feels like he's been pierced through the heart and he only wants to dig the arrow in deeper. He wants to grab you and take you away from all the eyes watching you and he wants to parade you around in his jacket for everyone to see.

What he does instead is walk up to you, eyes never leaving yours once, with a wide, happy grin on his own face. As he nears, he watches your left hand trace a sensuous path down over your other arm still up in the air, stroking through your hair before brushing briefly and every so lightly against your neck, only to stretch out to him, him. He reaches out when he's finally standing just in front of you, to connect his hand to yours, and gently pulls it to rest on his chest before sliding it up to the side of, and then around, his neck, pulling you flush against him in the process.

All the while, you keep dancing, even as your other hand flutters down from it's summit in the air, landing gently to brush down the back of his hair, before meeting the first and intertwining together at his neck. You keep your eyes and smile on him as he slowly matches your pace and rhythm, moving both with and against you. His own eyes burn back into yours, even his smile scorches, more a smirk now as his hands slide down your arms, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, moving further still until you feel the material around you shift and then his hands are like hot brands, under the jacket you're wearing, on your bare waist.

Your heartbeat picks up, more than it already had when you opened your eyes to see him watching you with that familiar possessive, covetous look on his face. You feel like you're burning while electric currents simultaneously race through you. The music sounds hollow, as if you might faint, so you get closer still and tighten your fingers together briefly in reassurance that you're okay, before loosening your grip again.

Neither of you have looked away since the moment you first caught and held his eyes. It's incredibly overwhelming, this awareness, the delicate bubble you're in with him. And it lasts for an eternal moment, forever seared in your memory.

Atsumu still watches, as you finally break your gaze to close your eyes. Even still, he can see the smile on your face, a small, delicate echo of the happy grin he first received when you saw him. He looks at you, the entirety of his world, and thinks of everything he could and wants to be for you.

It's in that moment he decides that the things holding him back from making this dream his eternal reality don't matter. Dancing together with you amidst the moving crowd, with the sun streaming down on the two of you and the beat of the music wrapping you together in this intimate embrace, Miya Atsumu knows beyond a shadow of doubt, that if you decide to give him even the slightest chance, he'll forever be yours.

Meant to Be Masterlist .. if anyone cares about what fic this scenario might end up a part of...

A/N (moved from above) : So... I planned and started writing this as a Haikyuu scenario unrelated to my SMAU series, instead as part of a bunch of fandom scenarios I have planned inspired by certain songs on my playlist. I also planned and started writing this with a completely different idea for direction it was supposed to go, to a completely different ending. Now...

I'm literally heartbroken because I'm conflicted with what to do with this scenario... do I add it to MTB (it can fit for Pt 2 with some edits) or leave it as an unrelated short scenario? If it's a separate scenario (I do also have a 2nd part / continuation already planned btw) then... do I keep it just an Atsumu scenario (which was unplanned, he wasn't supposed to get so.. close with reader when he found her :/) and let my heart stay broken for the rest of my life, or just decide to make it poly too because it's easier to let everyone have reciprocated love than experiencing the secondhand angst for Suna and Osamu? Like... I don't think it's a secret that Suna comes just before the Miyas' for me but, it's like, just barely sometimes :'( Can I do this to my baby??? Maybe I should just do the same scenario but with different endings for each of them so you can... pick your character/ending??? They can all be happy in their own parallel universes? I want to have a good cry... Atsumu baby, why did you put me in this situation??

Anyways, if I haven't ruined it for you by now, please read and let me know your opinion(s). Please.

A/N.. again (If you ended up reading this garbage) : So this is not the edited version, please don't lynch me over any mistakes or choices. I might come back to edit or even completely overhaul this. I'm literally posting it to get an opinion from an incredible, life-saving, heart-repairing friend.

@delusivist

42 notes · View notes

crimsonrae · 4 years

Text

Across the Road, At the Brothel

Chapter Nine

Summary: Jaskier fell in love any day that the sun rose in the East. It was a trifling, pleasurable experience for him. Even when he was jumping out a window to avoid cuckolded husbands. So what happens when his trifles start to become more significant? Jaskier/OC. Some Yennefer/Geralt

A/N: Jaskier is just too adorable not to write about. This is a relationship development story with an OC. There will be smut in later chapters and plenty of angst.

Warning: There is Smut in this Chapter!

Rating: Mature

Bathing Chambers and Horses

The Rose and Pine was in rare form as raucous travelers clambered about the tables eager to exchange news and gossip. Jaskier kept his ears peeled for anything noteworthy as he quietly searched the tavern. He had finished a set of bawdy limericks which were always a crowd pleaser and required little use of his lute, but now it was time for a break. Geralt had spent all of five minutes in the crowded tavern before murmuring something to Lyrra and slipping back out the door. Jaskier had barely held in a knowing scoff at his friend's departure, but now his eyes were scanning for the familiar blue-grey headscarf in the crowd.

He frowned when he didn't find her. While Lyrra wasn't always the easiest to pick out in a crowd, he had become familiar enough with the way she glided around people to be able to find her fairly quickly. A small tendril of unease rippled through his gut as he continued to eye the small dining area. Shades of the last time he hadn't been able to find her in a crowd pricked at his memory. A brief thought of checking the kitchen swooped through his thoughts as he approached the bar, but then he could always just ask the barkeep. Hillard already had a goblet of wine waiting for him when he sidled up to the edge of the bar.

He took it with an acknowledging nod, "My thanks."

Hillard flicked a knowing glance towards the bard. It had been two weeks since the minstrel had arrived in Glynedol and the barkeep didn't think a day had gone by when he hadn't followed his barmaid around like a shadow, "She's o'er at ta whore 'ouse."

Jaskier blinked at the abrupt remark, a multitude of questions poised on his tongue, "Did she tell you to tell me that?"

A sly smile pulled at the old barkeep's mouth; he was well aware of what Lyrra normally told the more lecherous men that came into the tavern. It would be a good joke to tell the bard the same to see if he would go, but in this case, it was true, "No, boy."

"Not a boy." Jaskier stated with a pointed finger, but nodded all the same, "Though again, my thanks."

He downed the rest of his wine in one gulp and Hillard shook his head amused as the bard made a speedy exit for Tyssa's brothel. It never occurred to the minstrel to ask if she had left in the company of another.

Feverish thoughts danced through the bard's head as he crossed the road. Images of Lyrra with one of the skimpily clad women he had witnessed inside was the one most hoped for and prominent, though he had the sneaking suspicion that the former princess was merely dropping off the town drunk again. Still, there was no point in bursting that particular bubble until he set his sights on her.

To his surprise, the town innkeeper stood outside the brothel like some sort of sentry when he arrived. He raised a brow at the portly man as he came to a stop, "I thought Madam Tyssa was the owner of this fine establishment."

"She is, Bard." Owain said quietly as he leaned bored against the doorjamb.

Jaskier forced a smile and nodded as if he knew what exactly was going on, "Right... If you don't mind just stepping to the side so that I may enter."

"Doesn't open for another hour." Owain murmured lowly and much to Jaskier's confusion.

It was well past dark and he had never once heard of a brothel having hours, "I'm sorry, but what? What do you mean it opens in an hour?"

"It opens in an hour." Owain stated again drolly, not budging an inch even as the door was suddenly yanked open.

The innkeeper nearly fell backward as Madam Hatchet's face scowled out into the road, "What's wit all ta noise?"

Jaskier nearly flinched under that woman's glower. She could make Geralt pause with a stare like that, he silently swore, "Your new guard man won't let me in."

Owain rolled his eyes and tipped his head back to meet Tyssa's questioning glance. It was all Jaskier needed to know that there were no hours for the brothel. Even still, he heard the older man grumble to Tyssa under his breath, "He travels wit the witcha."

For fuck's sake, Jaskier groaned quietly.

Tyssa rolled her eyes and murmured something about idiots as she nudged the innkeeper to the side, "He's here ta see his lady, Owain. Let 'im in."

Owain looked baffled as he glanced suspiciously at the bard, "I thought he liked Lyrra."

Jaskier couldn't keep his disbelief from his expression as he tried to find the right words to vent his indignancy on the man. What business was it of his whom he decided to spend his time? Nevermind, if he were here to find Lyrra or not. He didn't have to as Tyssa uttered a pained moan, "She's inside, ya pigheaded fool."

She fairly pushed the portly man away from her door and ushered the bard into her business with all the fuss of a mother hen. It was bewildering. Especially after the narrowed eyed suspicion that he had received the last time he had been in this woman's presence. Tyssa smiled almost fondly at him, an amused twinkle in her hard eyes as if she knew what he was thinking. And wasn't that just disconcerting?

He ignored the distant sounds of debauched fun petering down the hall and stairs to them as he frowned at the Madam, "Where -"

"Down ta stairs to ta left." Tyssa answered before he could finish his question. The knowing look in her eyes was much more devious than Hillard's had been and he suddenly wondered what he would be walking into as the brothel owner pulled open a door to a set of stairs leading down, " 'Bout time tha girl took to someone."

"Wha-" Jaskier began to ask as he stepped inside, but the stairwell door shut in his face, leaving him in a dimly lit corridor, "Rude... There's something wrong with the people in this town."

Thrown by the sudden lack of noise and the sudden oppressive feeling of heat, Jaskier cautiously continued down. He had heard of brothels that offered more specialized services for its clients. Where people would need a password to enter a section such as this – quiet, private, dark … unnecessarily creepy. Yet, he heard nothing as he reached the bottom. There was only a corridor with two doors. He turned to the left and pushed the door open and prayed that the brothel's madam hadn't just sent him into a dungeon.

What on earth could Lyrra possibly be doing down here?

He received his answer seconds later when he was met by the sight of a very naked Lyrra in a steaming pool. It took several minutes for him to process that the brothel had an underground bath as his gaze devoured the expanse of flesh bared to him as she stood from rinsing some sort of soap from her long hair. He breathed out, "By the Gods."

Lyrra's gaze snapped to the door at the low sound of his voice, "Jaskier!" Automatically, her arms crossed over her chest to cover herself from his gaze, a dark blush staining her skin, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you as it so happens." Jaskier murmured amused and feeling rather grateful to the old madam upstairs as he stepped closer to the pool, "Is this a hot spring?"

"Turn around! Better yet, get out!" Lyrra hissed ignoring his question as she glared darkly at him, "How did you even get down here?"

He smirked, but did as she bid and turned his back, "It seems Madam Hatchet has taken a liking to me. She also seems to think that we're more intimately acquainted than we are."

Lyrra uttered a small oath, making Jaskier snicker. Light splashes of water broke the atmosphere for a moment before she sighed, "Alright, you can turn back."

Jaskier turned to find that she had moved to the edge of the pool barely a foot from him. Her body now obscured by the water and sidewall but there was no getting the image of her splendid naked form from his head. He smiled roguishly at her scowl, "You know, you could have just said you were going for a bath here tonight. I wouldn't have bothered you."

Lyrra shot him a look of pure disbelief.

His smile widened, "No, you're probably right. I would have snuck down here far quicker."

"Was there something you needed?" Lyrra asked drolly an unwilling smile twitched at the corners of her lips, despite her annoyance.

"Just you." Jaskier replied quietly as he bent down on one knee before her, "I wasn't in the mood to carouse with the hoards tonight, thought you might want to turn in early. We've had a long few days."

"Mmm." Lyrra agreed thoughtfully, her gaze softening as she raised a brow, "True. I'm surprised you don't want a break from me. All three of us have been in each other's pockets lately."

Jaskier merely shrugged, "I like being around you."

She stared at him a moment and he could see uncertainty lurking in her grey orbs. What she was uncertain about he wasn't sure, but Jaskier wasn't about to question it when she nodded behind her and quietly requested, "Join me."

He bit his lip as he considered her, despite his teasing he had no desire to force her into anything, "You sure? I can wait upstairs, Lyrra."

"I like being around you too." Lyrra answered softly, "Besides when's the last time you bathed in something other than the cold stream by my cottage?"

"My first night here." Jaskier murmured under his breath as he let his doublet slip to the ground. To his amusement, Lyrra turned to give him privacy as he continued to disrobe as if she wouldn't see all when he joined her in the pool. He had long gotten over any discomfort at being seen naked. Being forced to endure the trauma of the shared bathing chambers with fifty other boys while going through his formative years at Oxenfurt had effectively curbed any sense of modesty he may have possessed.

Soon enough his trousers and small clothes joined the rest of the pile on the ground and Jaskier slid gingerly into the pool. He was pleasantly surprised by how deep the watery pit went as the hot water just reached above his waist. A wooden platform had been anchored to the side walls about four feet down for people to stand on, but he could tell the well went deeper. So, it was a hot spring. Interesting.

He glanced over to see Lyrra still had her back to him, but her posture had become tense. Tense, in the way he recognized from those horrid exercises they did with her back. He stifled a sigh and wondered if he had made a mistake, "Lyrra, turn around."

She hesitated for a minute, peeking shyly over her shoulder at him. He smiled in gentle amusement at her and reached out a hand, "Come here."

Slowly, she linked her fingers with his and lets him tug her into his arms. It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep his eyes on her face and not sneak another peek. Gods, he hoped that she knew how much she tested his resolve. He raised a hand to caress her cheek as he lowly uttered, "We go at your pace, not mine." He brushed a light kiss where his hand had been, "I also don't care if you look. I encourage it even. Now, where are the soaps hidden?"

He felt more than saw the tension leave her as she smiled a little ruefully at him, "How do you do that?"

Jaskier raised a brow at her, "Do what?"

"Know what's bothering me without me saying anything." Lyrra answered as she pulled away. He watched as she moved to the opposite end of the pool where he now saw a slew of bottles. She chose a few and a rag.

Quietly, he moved beside her, "You're not that hard to read. What's that?"

He pointed to the bottle she was shaking, "Softens the hair. Dunk yourself. There's a ledge to sit on over there."

"Going to bathe me?" Jaskier asked mildly amused and more than a little excited at the prospect. A state that wasn't helped as she peered up at him through her lashes. Gods, she was a minx.

"Maybe." Lyrra murmured softly as she nudged him towards the ledge.

He smirked and quickly dipped himself below the surface to wet his hair before following her instruction. He had said they would go at her pace and he was presently very curious to see what that pace was exactly. He slipped onto the ledge and promptly found himself white-knuckling the stone next to his thighs. Lyrra had gotten over her own spell of modesty rather quickly it seemed as she no longer angled herself in just a way to hide her attributes. And what lovely attributes they were... He greedily took in the swell of her breasts and the dusty pink of her nipples that glistened and beckoned from the water to be touched. Arousal slammed through his blood at full force. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He didn't know if he could do this, definitely couldn't hide it.

Jaskier swallowed tightly as she approached and silently coaxed him to lean down. Seconds later her fingers were running through his hair and he had closed his eyes to focus only on that sensation. It had been a long time since someone had bathed him. He didn't remember the practice feeling quite this good. He leaned into her touch as she began to massage the soapy solution through his locks and fairly hummed in contentment as a light honey smell permeated the air.

Lyrra giggled but didn't stop. Suddenly she asked, "Jaskier, are you sitting on your hands?"

"Yes." He mumbled and cautiously looked up at her through one eye as he tried not to let the soap slide in, "You have absolutely no idea how enticing you are."

She had a pretty good idea, judging by the state of his cock. She shook her head at him and wiped a trail of suds from his face, "Why torment yourself like this then?"

He grinned at her, "It's such a delicious torment though and would I to die right now, I'd die fairly happy."

"Dunk." She ordered lightly humor coloring her tone as she stepped back.

When he reclaimed his spot on the ledge, she had a lathered rag ready. To his surprise, she didn't return to her ministrations right away. Lyrra set the rag to the side and stepped into his space. An almost bashful grimace lightened her visage, though he could still very much see her amusement with him. Her slender hands framed his face and he unconsciously leaned towards her as she claimed a kiss. Again, he white-knuckled the stone beneath him, but even as she stoked the fires of his lust, a nervous tendril that curled in his veins began to settle. Kissing had become familiar between the two of them. He hardly missed an opportunity the past week to taste her lips, more than content with the simple show of affection.

A dull whine of protest escaped him when she finally pulled away and Lyrra smirked at him, "Minx."

Her grey eyes danced mischievously and for a moment he likened her to a water nymph, "A reward for being good."

"Oh? And what other rewards do you have planned?" Jaskier questioned teasingly as she took up the rag and began to gently scrub the skin of his throat, "I can be very, very good, Lyrra."

"I know you can be good. It's why I put up with you." Lyrra murmured as she moved the cloth over his shoulders and chest, "Well that and you always seem to be around now."

He snorted, "Are you saying my proximity is the only reason you allow me favor?"

A smile tugged at her lips and she shook her head, "No, I allow you favor because you're good. You surprise me."

"How so?"

She sighed and gently splashed water where she had washed, "You know I find you attractive, but you don't push me for more than what I've already given. You could have had me a week ago at the inn, but you didn't. You leave a flower on the woodpile for me after Geralt pushes me through one of his exercises." He stilled fractionally and she caught his stare, "Didn't think I noticed?"

He shrugged awkwardly, "You never come inside with them."

She smiled, "Look at the cottage side when we go back. They've been tied and hanged to dry. The smell from the petals will last longer that way."

A strange contented warmth filled Jaskier at the knowledge that she was preserving his little gifts. He had started it as an act of comfort. The only way he knew how to fix some of her distress after those damnable sessions, but he hadn't been sure it had even been noticed. She bade him stand and turn as he puzzled over this revelation.

The rough cloth continued on its path across the tops of his shoulders and gradually continued down. Soapy suds slickened his skin, but it wasn't until she reached between his shoulder blades that he was introduced to a new sensation. Her fingers replaced the cloth and she drew light lines into his flesh. Familiar lines... Jaskier grimaced as he remembered the scars, he bore there. It had been a while since anyone had paid attention to those marks, "They don't hurt."

A displeased hum emitted from his enchantress at his words and he risked a glance back to see her glaring darkly at his rented flesh, "You were caned."

He blinked surprised that she recognized the punishment he'd received from just the scars, "Bit of a precocious pupil and the Headmaster had his lessons to impart. It was a long time ago, Lyrra. I promise it doesn't hurt."

Her glare shifted from his back to meet his face, "You were a child."

He was struck by the distress in her eyes as if the caning had taken place hours ago as opposed to years. He loved her at that moment, "Hey, I'm okay. Right as rain, yeah?"

Her hand lingered over his scars and Lyrra shook her head as if to clear away a dark fog, "Sorry... I don't like the idea of you hurt."

"Well, that's something." Jaskier murmured teasingly as he turned his attention back around, "Won't have to worry about you coming at me with a cane then."

The cloth resumed its path, "That's not funny."

"No, I suppose not." He uttered quietly as he sunk into her touch and pushed away from the pained memories of those punishments. She shocked him again when the rag was placed next to him and her hands gripped his hips. Light open-mouthed kisses were pressed into his mutilated skin making small shocks of flame burn across his back and to his extremities.

Gods be damned for this exquisite torture.

He gasped as she pressed fully against him. Her soft breasts molded to his form and her hands trailed a path to his racing heart as she continued to lavish attention to his healed wounds. His hand covered hers as her tongue caressed the underside of his shoulder blade, pulling a muffled moan from his lips. Who knew that such attention could be so overwhelmingly erotic? He was going to cum without her ever touching him where he needed it most.

As if she could read his mind, her other hand slipped down and drew a line over his cock. His hips jerked in reflex as another groan spilled from him. All pretense of a bath was gone now, he clutched at the lip of the pool, "Lyrrana fuck... tell me, luv."

"Shhh..." She breathed out as her touch became more bold, "Let me take care of you."

He wasn't about to stop her. She nipped gently at the nape of his neck just as she tugged upon him and he was sure he was going to die. There was just too much and not enough all at once. Her mouth seemed to be everywhere as her fingers teased and caressed. The rhythm of her strokes was frustrating as it was enticing. His hips bucked unconsciously into her hand for more. Already he could feel the tight coil in his loins, he was so close.

"Lyrrana..." He desperately pleaded.

Her hand tightened around his cock almost painfully, but then she slid down the length of him and pressed the heel of her hand to massage into his balls. He cried out seconds later as the coil was released and he came hard.

Fuck... Just fuck...

He had never – never cum like that from a handjob. His breath was ragged as he came back to his senses and his legs actually felt fucking shaky. Without much thought beyond need, he whipped around startling Lyrra as he yanked her into him. His mouth covered hers before she could form a protest. He needed to touch her, to see her, to hear her.

His, a voice growled possessively in the back of his mind. A voice he had long learned to ignore, but at that moment was more inclined to agree with – she was his for however long she would have him.

He trailed biting kisses down her jaw to her throat, intent on leaving his mark on her. Her moan was music to his ears as he played his own tender ministrations to her supple body.

"Jas...Jaskier." She gasped out laughingly as she tried to gain his attention. He hummed in acknowledgment but didn't stop his lavish kiss to her throat, "You know you don't need to return the favor."

He pulled back affronted as he stared down at her. Did she really think that he was truly the type of man who didn't enjoy giving pleasure as much as taking it?

Lyrra's eyes widened as she seemed to realize how he had taken that comment. Quiet laughter fell from her lips at his outrage as she sought to soothe his bruised ego, "You can if you want-"

"I want. I more than want. I demand, woman." Jaskier rasped firmly, still annoyed that this had even been questioned.

Brimming with amusement, Lyrra cupped his face in her hands, "Jaskier, I only meant, that I wanted to bring you pleasure, I wasn't expecting anything in return. You've given me so much else."

He still wasn't happy with that response as he pressed a bruising kiss to her lips, "And I don't expect such pleasure as payment, Lyrra. I like you...a lot in case you haven't noticed. Returning the favor as you call it, isn't a favor. It's a damn gift."

She stared at him stunned and he wanted to shake her. This shouldn't be a bloody surprise. A frustrated huff left him as he caged her against the side of the pool, "Lyrra, please by the Gods, tell me that your lovers have not all been so egregiously selfish."

He knows there have to be others. The way she had seduced him at the inn, and the way she brought him to completion a few minutes ago spoke to less traumatic sexual experiences.

Her mouth moved silently for a moment before she shrugged, "I've only ever had two."

Jaskier stared at her for a moment, "Tell me that one of those was not... that you're not counting him." He spat the last word distressed and she looked away from him. He knew exactly what that meant. They hadn't talked about him, the man who had abused her. He had been too afraid of opening more old wounds and she seemed more than content to let them rest, but this he would not abide, "He cannot be classified anywhere in the same vicinity as a lover, Lyrra. Not someone like that. And this other idiot you bedded?"

Lyrra sighed a faint frown twisting at her lips, "I was more comfortable giving than receiving."

That was a little more understandable to Jaskier, if still unconscionable, "I have half a mind to rent one of these rooms from Madam Hatchet and lock us both in until you know what it's like to have every kind of carnal pleasure drawn from your bones." Her eyes snapped to his in keen interest and amused protest, "You have a great deal to discover and I'm going to thoroughly enjoy showing you."

"Jaskier." Lyrra huffed lowly with a shake of her head.

He smiled darkly at her disbelief and snaked a hand between them to slip a finger along her most intimate part. She gasped at the sudden contact and he was pleased to find a slickness that betrayed her arousal. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy this. He didn't give her much time to process as he stole another kiss before he gripped her hips and hefted her out of the pool.

"Jaskier!" Lyrra protested when he pulled her legs open to bare her fully to his sight and refused to let her shut them again.

It was a terribly vulnerable position, he knew, but it was also kind of the point. He gazed up at her, eyes almost black with desire, "Trust me?"

A shuddering breath stole through her under that look as she hesitantly nodded.

"Good." He purred as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee and drew her leg over his shoulder, "Lean back and relax, Lyrrana... If you want me to stop." He grinned roguishly, "Just pull my hair."

She snorted quietly, "What beast have I awoken?"

"An insatiable one." Jaskier answered as he nipped and licked his way up her thighs. So close to where he wanted to taste, but still so far.

He skillfully teased and caressed every inch before him as he listened to the harmony of her ragged breathes and muffled moans until she was a withering mess. And then he was there. Nuzzling the soft thatch of curls that marked her womanhood as she squirmed in his grasp. To get closer or away he wasn't sure, but he firmed his arm over her hips to keep her still as his hot tongue ran the length of her slit. The faint cry that echoed through the chamber was pure bliss.

He smiled and licked up the juices she was creating and nearly moaned at the taste. Better than any wine. A growl rumbled through his throat and he pushed her legs wider as he searched for the nub that would have her keening. He found it as his teeth grazed over the tender flesh and she jerked violently in his grasp. Jaskier gazed fastened to her face to make sure she was alright but found the most sinfully beautiful sight on the Continent.

Lyrra's head had tipped back, her eyes half-closed in a pleasured torment were framed by the peaks of her breasts as her chest heaved. She was magnificent. His tongue swirled a circle around her clit and she cried out and tried to squirm away. He kept her still as he continued his slow torture, adding a finger, then two, then three as he stretched her entrance.

Sweat now dampened her body as much as steam. She cried out again, "Julian, please!"

He jerked in surprise to hear his given name, but strangely he liked it. He liked it a lot. He crooked a finger inside her and dragged it across the top of her wonderful chasm as he sucked hard on her nub. The result was spectacular as Lyrra cried out once more and her walls spasmed tightly around his still thrusting fingers. Slick coated his hand as he lathed up the mess he had made.

Lyrra had had enough, however as her fingers entwined in his wet locks and she gave an urgent tug. Jaskier froze and turned a questioning glance on her. Wondering if he had inadvertently hurt her or crossed an unspoken line without realizing. She tightened her grip and rasped, "Get up here."

That was a demand he would gladly follow. In a flash, he was out of the pool and hovering over her as their lips met again. Her legs wrapped snuggly around his waist and it was all the encouragement that he needed as he thrust into her. Groans were pulled from both of them and Jaskier swore he blacked out. Gods, he had never been clutched so perfectly, hadn't known it was possible to feel like this. He had been joking when he had called himself insatiable, but he honestly didn't know if he could stop touching her now.

He couldn't help but chuckle as Lyrrana managed to reverse their positions and pinned his hands by his head. She looked as needy as he felt, "What?"

He grinned at her, "If this is what it is to worship at your alter... then I'd be a very religious man indeed."

"You're ridiculous. I'm hardly someone to be worshipped and this is nowhere near close to a church." A shaky laugh tumbled from her throat as she leaned over him. Her hair created a veil around them as she claimed a kiss that was tentative and soft as she began to ride him.

He was absolutely enraptured, "Oh, but you are. You are my goddess. My angel. My muse."

"Jaskier -"

"Julian." He murmured, desperate to hear his given name on her lips again, "Use my name."

Lyrra smiled gently at him, "Julian, shut up and move."

He heartily obliged.

They moved together searching for that crescendo. Their bodies entwined so completely that he was no longer sure where he ended and she began. Then he felt her tremble. It was his only warning before she shattered completely and utterly around him. He was overwhelmed and overcome as he cried out a second later and followed after her.

He felt like he was floating as he basked in the afterglow.

Lyrra had collapsed bonelessly against him and he barely heard her murmur, "It's never been like that before."

It's a statement he can wholly agree with, never had a coupling felt that intense. Suddenly, he felt her shaking again and for a horrible moment, he was sure that she was crying, "Lyrra?"

Only she wasn't, she was laughing as she met his worried gaze, "Well, I think we can safely say you cannot be friends with a woman or at the very least with me."

Jaskier snorted as he recalled that particular conversation, "I much prefer this anyway... We should talk about this."

A sigh left her as she rested her chin on his chest, "We should."

There's a reluctance in her gaze that he was slow to understand. He didn't get a chance to ask as a loud pounding resounded on the door to the chamber, "If youse finished in there, there are otters who be needing ta space."

A red flush suddenly coated Lyrra's cheeks and Jaskier couldn't help but laugh at her mortified expression, "Just a few minutes. We'll be out."

"Do you think she heard all of that?" Lyrra whispered as she rolled off him.

"Probably." He felt bereft at the loss of contact but merely sighed as he followed her back into the pool.

They cleaned themselves quickly, mostly because Lyrra refused to let him within touching distance until they're out of the water again. He didn't take it personally. He knew they would spend another hour in that pool if she would let him.

It isn't until they were dressing that Jaskier felt his good mood slip. He had just pulled on his breeches when he looked over to see Lyrra wringing out her hair. Her back was to him and it was the first time he had seen it bare. He approached her without thought to what he was doing until he was tracing the puckered red flesh that lied in almost the same place as his caning scars. Hers was not a caning scar...it was a damn brand. He was unsurprised when Lyrra automatically jerked from his touch.

Her eyes were wide as she turned to him, "Jaskier."

A cold pit opened in his stomach as he stared at her in horror. A quiet seething rage had begun to build and it terrified him, "Who did this? Tell me his name."

Lyrra sighed tiredly and pulled her dress the rest of the way up, hiding her scar from view, "It doesn't matter now. We need to go."

"Doesn't matter?" He questioned in disbelief, "Doesn't matter? There's a bloody brand on your back."

"I know." Lyrra snapped as she glared up at him. She drew a calming breath and slowly leaned against him, "Not here, Jaskier, please. It's not going away whether I tell you about it or not. Please let's just go. We were both so happy a moment ago."

He didn't move as he tried to gain control of his anger. He had known – had known she had been hurt, had been tormented, but it hadn't truly registered until he saw that fucking burn. He felt sick. Who the fuck branded someone? She seemed to sense his struggle as she leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, "Please."

There was another kiss and another and before he realized it, he had slipped his hands around her waist and pressed his head to hers, "Alright... alright. But we will have this discussion, Lyrra."

Her lips tightened into a thin line, but she didn't argue. He let her lead him from the bathing chamber and didn't comment on her blush as they passed a very smug-looking brothel owner. They reached the top of the stairs when an unexpected sight caught their attention. Both of them raised their brows in curiosity.

Geralt had stepped out of a room down the hall and was adjusting his shirt when he caught sight of them in turn. Behind him stood a very sated looking woman in a dressing gown which left no allusions as to what he had been up to.

There was a moment of awkward silence and Jaskier was pleasantly surprised when it wasn't him that broke it with a crass comment, but Lyrra, "So, this is what checking on your horse means."

He choked on a laugh as Geralt glowered at them, "I see you got the love bite this time."

Lyrra flushed deeper and Jaskier couldn't stop the wolfish smirk that tugged at his lips. In silent agreement, the trio decided not to say anything further as they exited the brothel and headed for Lyrra's cottage.

Jaskier made it a good five minutes before he asked, "So, how is Roach?"

Geralt didn't even look at him, "Jaskier, shut up."

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #jaskier #jaskier fanfiction #jaskier x oc #Geralt #yennefer #fanfic #fanfiction

4 notes · View notes