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ahundredtimesover · 2 years ago

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The Light of Dead Stars (Epilogue) | KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x (f.) Reader; side Seokjin x (f.) OC; side Reader x Namjoon

Genre/Tags: arranged marriage, fake romance, boss/workmate aus; angst, drama, fluff, smut; slow burn

Chapter Warnings: Foul language; talks of pregnancy; explicit sexual content (breast play, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 10.5k

A/N: We have reached the end! I wished this story got a bit more love, but regardless, it was wonderful being able to write about Jin and falling in love with him even more. To those who read with me and to those who are just about to dive in, thank you. The messages have been so lovely to read. I hope you enjoy this, too.💕

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Status: Complete

Series summary: Your unconventional arranged marriage with your company’s President, Kim Seokjin, is necessary, practical, and simple - both your families benefit, and he minds his own business and so do you. But when a slip-up causes his parents to believe that you and he are in love, you have no choice but to pretend you are, especially with the trip to France for his brother’s wedding coming up. When you get back to Seoul, things start to change, and Seokjin is faced with the most difficult decision he has to make.

Jin takes the carry-on bag from your hand and puts it over his shoulder, then holds your now-free hand and smirks before he kisses it.

“Smooth, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“You’re so cheesy, stop it,” you chuckle, nudging him to the side.

You’ve both just checked in the airport and are wandering around before heading to the lounge for lunch. You and Jin decided to leave on a Thursday afternoon, while the rest of your family and friends opted to leave the next day. You don’t want to be too harassed when you arrive in Spain, and you also want to make sure that everything is settled for your guests when they get there.

You’re buzzing with excitement. You’ve been reading up on all the Michelin-star restaurants in San Sebastián and all the other markets and famous dishes in the city, and you can’t wait to try them all. You’re finally able to fully enjoy another country with your husband without the stress of work, and no, France doesn’t really count. There are food tours, cooking classes, and a ton of nearby cities to explore and get lost in. And the fact that you’ll be enjoying some of them with your family and friends adds to the exciting feeling.

You’re about to make a turn for the first-class lounge when a familiar face startles you, and you immediately call her name.

“Seri!”

She looks up from her phone, her face contorting in surprise before she gives you her genuine, sweet smile.

“___!”

She scurries to where you are and excitedly bows to you. She’s a lot more shy and conscious towards Jin, though, and you don’t blame her. The last time they met, he was angry and walked out on her, and you’d been the one to defend her to him during the time when things had gotten too much.

“Hi! It’s nice to see you again,” you greet her, then you tug your husband’s hand.

“Hey, Seri,” he greets. “How have you been?”

Her face relaxes and you’re glad she’s found her joyful spirit again.

“I’ve been great! I laid low for a while since, uh, yeah… and there haven't been any unfortunate instances since I spoke with Sejeong,” she responds. “She’s been checking up on me and that’s been incredibly helpful. How about both of you?”

“We’re doing fine, too. Things have looked up for us and we’re going on a vacation, actually,” you smile. “What about you? Where are you headed to?”

“Oh, that’s great! You two do deserve a break,” she says quite shyly. “And I’m heading to Japan. I actually got the courage to apply for a position in our Tokyo office and I fortunately got accepted. What you said stuck with me, you know? About not letting that whole experience ruin me for anyone else, especially for myself, and, well… I also kept thinking that I’ve just been settling for all these years.”

She glances at Jin as she says the last bit, and he catches it, too. It’s not out of spite, you could tell, as somehow she still says it with a glimmer of fondness in her eyes.

“I realized that maybe if I take a step out of my comfort zone, things can surprise me, and moving to Japan felt like the first step - still a little bit familiar but still new. And I’m really excited.”

“That sounds great, Seri! I’m glad that the thought stuck with you. It was all I could offer at that time,” you reply.

“It helped a lot, so thank you. And thanks to Jin, too. I’m really happy for the both of you, and I truly mean it.”

Jin offers her a smile; he thinks it’s all he could give her, other than an apology.

“I just want to say sorry for how I acted the last time,” he says, looking into her eyes to let her know he means every word. “I was completely out of line and acted like we didn’t share anything in the past. ___ had to knock some sense into me but she shouldn’t have had to. I shouldn’t have been an asshole and put the blame on you, so I apologize. I hope you can forgive me.”

“It’s okay, Jin,” Seri responds. “We do things we don’t mean when we’re hurt and angry, and I understand. I’ve forgiven you a long time ago, so I hope you’re not hard on yourself. You copped yourself an incredible woman; I’m kinda jealous,” she giggles.

The twinkle in her eyes and the sweetness of her laughter is back, and there’s that feeling of acceptance and joy that overtakes him. So much has happened between them in the past few years and more seems to have happened to them individually in the few months since they’ve last seen each other, but he feels that sense of relief that this is how they officially go in their separate ways.

Seri was that sweet and charming young woman who was just trying to figure out her place in the world when they first met. And Jin was that seemingly confident man who had to keep going despite the pressure and expectations put on him. It was in each other that they found that little space of comfort, of pleasure, of fleeting happiness that would eventually end.

And now here they are. Seri is off to start a new phase of her life in another country, and Jin will be starting his with you, the woman with whom he’s found his permanence - of joy and love and excitement and comfort.

“Well, we’re really happy for you, too,” you say this time. “And I’d tell you to say hi to my brother, Jung Hoseok, for me, but I’ll be enjoying our vacation with him, so maybe next time?”

“Oh my goodness! You’re siblings?!” She gasps. “I should’ve put the pieces together! I can’t believe this. I admire him so, so much! And he’s also so handsome.”

“He’s quite the Casanova there, I heard,” you chuckle, even more when she looks visibly embarrassed at outing herself to you. “But I’m really excited for you, Seri. I hope this new start is all you imagined it to be.”

“Likewise,” she smiles. “I’ll go ahead. Have a safe trip, you two! Bye!”

Jin waves her goodbye and glances one last time as she heads the opposite direction.

And just like that, the light, the star, has been extinguished.

Loading your luggages in the trunk of the car, Jin speaks to the chauffeur before guiding you inside.

“Oh come on, you speak Spanish, too?!” You exclaim.

Jin laughs at your shocked face. “My closest friend during grad school was Spanish, and we would teach each other our native languages and cook each other food. He was a good teacher and I learned the basics from him. He was just a pretty bad cook so I didn’t get to appreciate Spanish cuisine from him.”

“That sounded more than basic, though.”

“Maybe advanced basic?” He chuckles. “I try to practice. Father always says that learning another language is good for business. But I’m not all that good. I can assure you, however, that we’re never gonna get lost here.”

“Hmm, nice. Adds to the list of reasons why my husband is pretty hot and amazing,” you hum.

“Ah, so that exists. So tell me, did you think it was hot when you first heard me speak French?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Not really, I just thought it was cool. I didn’t really give a shit about you in that way during that time,” you tease.

“Ugh, brat.”

It's an over-an-hour car ride to your hotel, and Jin switches languages to speak with the chauffeur who is helpful in suggesting places and nearby cities to visit. You and Jin plan to set your schedule during this whole trip later, and perhaps surprise your guests with little luxuries, too.

The hotel that Jin chose sits at the heart of the city. It’s grand and breathtakingly beautiful, and your suite has stunning views of the sea; you’re excited to know how your family will react to this, and you’re glad you’re able to spoil them like this as well.

Once the butler leaves, you drown yourself in the comfort of the couch and true to form, Jin comes over and rests his head on your lap. He asks for a kiss, claiming he didn’t get to do much of it given the full-day of traveling, and you indulge him, complete with the head massage that he loves so much.

You take a shower and rest for a bit before you head to a nearby restaurant for dinner while going over all the things you plan to do for the week. You then decide to enjoy your hotel’s offerings of pintxos and wine in your balcony while overlooking the beach to end the night, and of course, some lovemaking because somehow, the air in this region is making your husband much more irresistible.

You spend the next morning finalizing all the wedding details - from visiting the venue, doing a tasting of the dishes to be served, and then trying on your outfits for the big day. It feels so intimate going through your wedding preparations like this. You didn’t plan the first one, and you were frankly too preoccupied with work to be even remotely sentimental or emotional about that.

But it’s different this time, as Jin wants it to be perfect. He’s gotten your taste in food and design to a tee so you don’t have much to comment on. You’re just amazed that he’s able to plan all of it on his own, and he credits it to being decisive and having connections in the industry. He was able to book everything without a hitch, after all.

After having lunch at a seafood restaurant, you welcome his siblings and your friends, who all took the same flight, and then some time after, your family arrives. Jin’s parents make it in time for dinner at a restaurant that overlooks the sea, and the sunset is spectacular as you all enjoy amazing food amidst the conversations going on.

“We’re really thankful that you all could make it on such short notice,” Jin says as the chatters die down. “It means a lot to us that you could join us on this special occasion.”

“Yeah well, you offered to pay for it,” Jungkook pipes in. “We wouldn’t have made it otherwise, so thanks, Mr. Rich Handsome Man Jin. I’m glad we could be here for you and my best friend, too.”

“Thanks, Kook, how sweet,” you playfully roll your eyes. “And Jin, you’re too formal. This is a special occasion for us, yes, but also for our loved ones here. We’ve come a long way, I could say. And we’re just really happy that you’re all here. I mean, my sister is here! It rarely ever happens that she gets days off.”

“Don’t be surprised if my brother paid off her employer to let her go for a week,” Taehyung laughs, prompting you and your whole family to look at Jin in shock, who merely shrugs and tries to act innocently, and you know you won’t get a straight answer from him if you asked.

“Please, enjoy dinner. The tab is open in the bar under our name,” Jin says, to the delight of your friends. “And if you could keep your afternoon and evening free tomorrow, that would be great. We booked a spa day for everyone and then we’ll have dinner at the hotel.”

“What is spa day, Uncle Jjan?” Geonhoo asks. “Do we get one, too?”

Everyone chuckles at the little one’s question, but you tell them that they get to spend the day at the children's center while their parents get pampered, and that seems to be good enough for them.

Jin’s parents seem to be just taking everything in and not speaking much, perhaps trying to get used to being around both of you again. But they send you soft smiles when you look their way, and that’s really all you could ask for. They’re here and they seem happy, and they were really the missing piece that you and Jin needed for this trip to be all that you want it to be.

You and Jin spend the next morning with your family, as you rarely get to be with them. You see Miyeon twice a year at most, so you want to spoil her as much as you can. You join them as you explore the city, past churches and quaint alleys, past street side food halls and boutique stores.

Your family is in awe of everything, and you made sure that you got to pay for their trip and give them something memorable in return for all that they’ve done for you. Of course, that includes feeding them amazing food as well. You promise them only the most delicious things to eat during their stay here.

There’s a bit of time to rest before your schedule at the spa, and it’s one you’re quite excited about. The last time you had something similar to this was during your “honeymoon” in Saint-Tropez, and it was an interesting experience, as you and Jin reminisce while you stay in the hot tub of your assigned suite.

“It was so awkward trying not to be awkward while we were getting our massages,” he laughs. “I couldn’t look at you and the therapist was looking curiously at me for being so conscious.”

“You could’ve just acted sleepy the whole time, you know, or at least, acted interested without being creepy,” you say, sipping your lemonade.

“Ah, well, there were lots of times during that trip wherein I wasn’t sure how to act,” he replies. “Things were changing for me and I was confused and that spa day was a challenge. I wanted it to end so badly.”

“I just tried not to mind you,” you chuckle. “I’ve never been pampered that way and I had to savor it so sucks for you.”

“Now, though, I want to take our time here.”

“And do what?” You arch your eyebrow.

“Hmm, you know…” he hums, asking for your hand and pulling you to sit on his lap. His mouth immediately going to your chest to suck on your pert nipples and kiss your chest. “This and more.”

You moan in pleasure, your hips reflexively grinding against him as your head lolls back. “Ah, this is what you plan to do, huh?” You say, whimpering as he makes it to your neck and licks a spot he nibbles on. “We might not make it to dinner on time.”

“We will, that’s why I scheduled it for 8,” he responds, reaching your lips now and kissing you deeply.

His tongue slides in, entangling with yours passionately that you feel yourself get lost in his taste, in his movements, in his hand that’s kneading your breast. With you tugging the ends of his hair, he moans into you, and you pull away before you get tempted to sink into his hardened cock that's poking your belly; the tub isn’t the safest place to have sex, after all, and you don’t want to risk it.

“I’ll be tempted to do more if we keep going, love,” you giggle, nibbling his lower lip before you completely let him go.

“That’s why we’re on a honeymoon,” he whines, making you sit in between his legs after you remove yourself from him.

“We get married tomorrow, so the honeymoon starts after,” you correct him. “We still have to behave, especially since our family and friends are here. Just a few days, and you’ll have me to yourself again. You planned that.”

While you and Jin will be staying in the city during your entire stay, his family will be heading to Portugal, your family will travel to Madrid, while your friends - including Yoongi, whom Jin instructed to take a break, too - will be staying in Barcelona. You’ll at least have some time with them before they leave, and you want to make the most of that, too.

“I know. I also planned to have you the entire afternoon with me here,” he says, kissing your cheek now.

“Hmm, the San Sebastián air really got you crazy for me, huh?” You tease.

“You underestimate me, ___. I’m crazy about you all the time!”

“Shush, I’m not used to you being cheesy.”

You tease each other until you both make it out of the hot tub, then you call the therapists for your 1-hour body scrub, which you spend giggling like teenagers because you wanted to know if the scrub tasted like coffee, too. But you do feel much cleaner and even lighter, and you’re both left alone, knowing you have time before the next session begins.

Jin’s hands have a life on their own once you enter the shower to rinse, as he just can’t take them off of you - they’re all over you, feeling and caressing you in places as if you won’t be having a massage later on. He helps you clean yourself and you motion for him to switch places with you so you could do the same. It’s really just an excuse to feel him up.

Your husband is built in an intimidatingly handsome way. It’s deceiving, really, as his long limbs make you think that’s all he is, but underneath the clothes are his delicate-looking yet wide shoulders, his toned arms, and his smooth and honey-skinned chest that flows down to his gorgeous abs and tiny waist. He feels so good under your touch, especially when it causes certain parts to harden even when you just graze them. Somehow, he looks even more breathtaking all wet from the shower, and you have to will your heartbeat to slow down.

Or not. You control your time here, as Jin reminded the therapists that you’ll buzz them whenever you’re ready for the next service. And so you don’t mind, as your hand travels to where he needs it most, and he responds with a grunt and his deep, dark brown eyes boring into you.

He kisses you desperately, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other cups your cunt, massaging it, sliding his fingers inside it, and playing with your swollen nub.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Want you so bad.”

“Need you,” you groan, as you feel yourself start to shake.

He turns you around, his arms caging you against the wall. He shuts the shower off and there’s nothing but the squelch of his fingers as they go in and out of you, and your joint moans of desire and pure lust as you continue feeling each other.

Wanting more, he lifts your leg at an angle that allows him perfect access, and that’s what he does - his hardened cock enters you slowly until he’s snug inside you, feeling your warm walls take all of him in, and your sounds of pleasure urging him on.

“So good for me,” you keen. “Always so good for me.”

He kisses you again, slower this time, as he tries to match the pace of his body against yours. It’s intimate, loving, and really just the start of it because pretty soon, he’s securing your head in his hand and he’s quickening his thrusts. You feel the assault on your pussy and it feels so good, especially when he tells you to touch yourself, and the pleasure is so overwhelming that you come easily, without a warning, and even he moans at the feel of your slick on his cock.

“Can you go another round?” He asks, heaving and kissing your forehead, and you know he’s still got more left in him.

You pant your yes, and immediately after, he removes himself from you and leads you to the bench in the shower, urging you to sit on his lap. You align your entrance with his dick, sinking down; feeling him in this angle is different but just as good, especially with his eyes following your every movement, with him sultrily biting his lips as he revels in the way you like when you’re positioned like this.

He starts with his tongue doing wonders on your hardened buds, teasingly licking the tips to let you feel just enough of the sensation.

His hands guide you up and down after, and everything is so euphoric that all you could do is hold onto his shoulders to keep you steady, even if the rest of your body is hurting so good with the pleasure and the physical effort it needs to feel all this.

“It’s okay, just relax,” he says, feeling your muscles tense now. “Let me do the work. I’ll take care of you, just hold on tightly.”

So you do, and he grips your thighs, secures his hold, and starts hammering into you from underneath. He pushes himself up and you clench around him so you could hear that sweet sound of his moans. You take control of the kiss this time, wanting him to reach his high, too, and it’s your tightening walls once he hits your end that does it for him.

“Shit,” he heaves, slowing down now. “I could do this everyday. Screw work, let’s just fuck all the time.”

“Hmm, you’re funny,” you say, moaning as you continue to grind against him. Jin looking and sounding sinful has caused that coil in your belly once more.

You start feeling it again, and he stops your attempt at touching yourself so he could do it himself, liking your fucked out look as he pleasures you while he softens inside you, but he swears he’s starting to get hard again. You moan his name, feeling it build up once more, so he pulls you close and sucks that sensitive part near your ear while he continues pleasuring your clit, and add to his growls, you start to completely lose it, shaking on his lap now as your thighs start to tire. But the pain feels so good and that’s what sex is like with him - it’s absolutely heavenly. You come again, and you lean on his shoulder as you come down from the high.

“Did I make you pregnant?“ He asks once you’ve recovered, but you recognize the playful tone of his voice.

“Oh, is that what you wanted?” You arch an eyebrow.

“I’m teasing. I know you’re not ovulating yet.”

“How’d you know?”

“You shared your tracking app with me, remember? But I know we still have to meet the doctor and all,” he says. “Gotta make sure everything is safe and ready for the little Kim that’s gonna grow inside this sexy belly of yours.”

“How is it that you make everything sound ridiculous,” you chuckle, accepting his help to get off his lap.

“Seriously though, I can’t wait for us to become parents. Maybe I should plan a baby-making trip, too. What do you think? What’s the sexiest city in the world?”

“Oh goodness, I can’t believe I’m married to you sometimes.”

Jin thankfully behaves for the rest of the session. After your massage, you have your facial treatment, then you get your nails done, then your hair. You feel like a new person, but more importantly, you feel ready for tomorrow’s big day.

Your friends and family say as much when you meet them for dinner, and later that night, as you fall asleep in the safety of your husband’s arms, he whispers just how much he loves you, and that he hopes he gets to say everything he wants to in front of all the people you love, so they could feel, too, all that he feels for you.

The perfect weather greets you the next day, as you and Jin enjoy your breakfast on your balcony. You plan to stay in in the morning before you get fixed up and head to the venue before your guests do. Something about doing things differently the second time around makes you want to surprise them, perhaps to show how you and Jin are together. They haven’t seen the venue nor your outfits, and you can’t wait to see them be surprised at how everything has been set up, including you.

Jin helps you zip up your dress and puts on your accessories. It’s not typical for both bride and groom to be dressing each other up but you think it’s part of the fun this time, including ogling each other as you both look at yourselves in the mirror.

You have on a simple strapped, sweetheart dress. It’s tea-length and flowy, and you twirl around to show your husband the freedom of movement you have, unlike your long-trained, lace gown from your first wedding. Jin, like you, is in a gold polo and white suit and trousers, and as you expected, he’s stunning with his side-swept hair and brown sunglasses.

“Shall we, Mrs. Kim?” He turns to you.

“We shall, Mr. Kim.”

He takes your hand and you are driven to a nearby quaint town where the winery, which sits between picture-perfect mountains and streams, is located. The venue for the ceremony overlooks a stunning view, and you could already imagine enjoying a good meal as the sun sets.

You stay in the holding room while your guests arrive, and not long after they’ve settled in do you and Jin walk down the aisle hand-in-hand, looking like the 100-100 good-looking power couple that you are.

Everyone gushes, and true to form, Dara yells how, for the first time, she’s crushing on you more than she’s crushing on your husband, but that he’s “pretty close.” Geonhoo squeals your name and how pretty you are, while Ji-hoo screams how handsome her Uncle Jjan is. It’s such a chaotic yet intimate moment, and it’s really what you expected. You don’t expect Jin’s parents to look as emotional as they do, though; it’s the surprise you’re happiest about.

The event is more symbolic than anything, as the minister states. He shares a passage about love and friendship and family, and it’s the perfect lead up to your respective vows.

“I’ll do the honors. May I?” Jin takes the mic, and you nod your approval.

He begins with thanking everyone present and why he was adamant on having this wedding here, and this soon, and with only the most important people in your lives present.

“We’re making our promise to love each other to you, too,” he says, turning to them, “and we hope you promise to help us keep that promise to each other as well.”

Your friends and Taehyung, as expected, are the most vocal, and you glance at your parents and Jin’s, and there’s really nothing like their soft smiles and approving nods.

Then, on a more serious note, Jin takes your hand and kisses it.

“Hi again to my 100,” he cheekily smiles. “So we’re here in this gorgeous place, yet I still think you’re more beautiful than any view in this world.”

Everyone laughs as he immediately cringes, and you playfully smack his arm because that was “incredibly cheesy.”

“I tried to practice it with a straight face but I laughed every time,” he explains. “But anyway, ___, we’re here, and I didn’t really think that in this lifetime, I’d be marrying the same woman twice. But if the first time was out of obligation, this time it’s out of choice. And it’s an unbelievable feeling to be doing this now, to be as in love as we are with each other, and to be excited for all that’s to come.”

You give him a smile. His voice sounds so sweet but you do spot a hint of nervousness in it, and it’s also quite adorable.

“But as we and all those present know, it wasn’t always easy,” he huffs. “We held onto our own stars for years because they shone so brightly at one point, and we kept thinking that they will continue to, because for a long time, they were all we knew.”

The stars. Of course. You suppose that conversation with him at the Han River stuck with him like it did with you.

“But the universe finds ways to surprise us, I guess, because just as we were both learning to let go of those stars, we found each other and learned that, well, there’s something much better, brighter, closer, and that they’d been there the whole time; we just never really bothered to look. Or maybe you did, once, but you said I wasn’t your type so you didn’t really take a second glance, and imagine missing all this,” he adds, causing everyone to laugh again. But you nod vigorously because you insist that it’s true.

“You took my hand and leaped with me, and we found ourselves in the most bizarre arrangement that, in hindsight, actually allowed us to be comfortable and real and vulnerable with each other. And that’s what did it for me - I’ve known one path my whole life and you… you keep me there, while also taking me to side streets and alleys, to paved and unpaved roads, to scenic routes and dark tunnels, all the while joining me in struggles and joy, laughing with me, joking with me, loving me.

And like I said, it wasn’t easy; I almost lost you. More than once. But we chose to love even when we didn’t think we could again, even when it felt like the whole world was against us, even when it was the most difficult thing to do. I don’t think I could’ve done all that for just anyone, ___. It had to be you; it would only be you. Because you taught me that. That’s why I’ll be loving you for the rest of my life. I’ll be loving us and our future family for every day of my life.”

He ends with a wink, and the tears slide down your cheeks the same time that you laugh, because his ass just had to conclude it with a flirty yet silly gesture, but you also know it’s his trick to not cry. He seems to only prefer doing that with just you.

You take his hand now and look him in the eyes; you know this unnerves him and he wiggles his eyebrows as his defense mechanism.

“Kim Seokjin,” you start. “You are probably one of the last people I ever thought I’d marry, let alone fall in love with, because you’re right, you’re not really my type.”

He scowls at you and you can’t help but laugh with everyone else.

“You’re incredibly handsome, you’re brilliant and hardworking, you make me laugh, you cook me the best dishes after my mom, you listen to me, you take care of me, you protect me, keep me safe… you keep your promises, and you never leave my side. That’s why, because before you, I’d known no man who’d done all of that to me.”

His eyes soften, and he knows of all the pain that you had to bury, that you had to get past, just so you could open yourself again to someone else.

“You showed me that we could be vulnerable and bare to another person while still being their strength. And like you, I think that’s what did it for me. We got to be ourselves while learning, laughing, eating, bickering, and holding each other when things were tough and scary and unfamiliar. And I know that every day we spend giving each other headaches and the best laughs and the warmest hugs, is a day I’ll want to have for the rest of my life - together, and hopefully with a little 100 in the future, too.”

He gives you a smile this time, and it melts your heart just how easy it is for both of you to get lost in each other like this. You could hear people sniffing and you already know it’s Jimin and Dara.

The minister finally instructs you to seal the deal once again and Jin, being the dramatic man that he is, half-dips you into a deep and passionate kiss, the exact opposite of the very first one you shared.

You pinch his ear because of that surprise and he yelps then laughs before finally hugging you.

“I love you so much, ___. You make me so happy. My ear also hurts now.”

“You deserve that,” you hug him back. “But I love you, too.”

Your guests cheer and it’s a pretty long moment of hugging and greeting all of them while the servers prepare your early dinner. With amazing food that you and Jin chose, against the darkening sky over mountains and little villages - it’s all so perfect, even more when you and your husband finally have your slow dance that he insisted on, because he’d only ever do it in front of your families and friends. 🎵

“Do you remember our dance during our first wedding?” He asks, as you lean on his chest and listen to the beating of his heart in tune with the ballad playing.

“No. We didn’t have one.”

“Exactly. We said it would be weird.”

“It was awkward enough that we had to look in love; dancing would be over the top,” you chuckle.

“I agree. All we did was laugh during our wedding because we were so amused at how we were able to make them believe that we were secretly dating,” he adds.

You hum. “We could be actors, Jin. If this whole food thing doesn’t work out; we always have another option.”

“Nah, it only worked because I was comfortable. Like I said, that’s why,” he says, turning to you. “I didn’t feel like I had to impress you or anything, or act like some perfect, flawless being who was so sure of himself. I always felt like I could just be me when I’m with you.”

“Yup. When I tell my teammates you’re actually annoying and you have a weird laugh and you’re like a child sometimes, they don’t believe me.”

“Wow, way to maintain my image, ___,” he pinches your nose.

“I’m showing them you’re human, okay?” You argue.

You both go back and forth in bickering again, until your father asks for your hand, and Jin happily lets you go.

“No more surprises this time?” Your father asks as he secures his hold on you.

“Maybe the only surprise is that I’ve attracted a good man this time,” you joke. “And that I’ve learned to love one, too.”

“What’s important is that you didn’t give up on it. And I’m so happy that you didn’t,” he smiles, kissing your forehead. “And that he didn’t give up on you, too.”

There’s warmth in your heart at his statement, at the thought that even without talking much about your past, your father knows how hard it was, and just how much being with Jin now means to you.

“Come to think of it, it’s like I took that bullet for you, too.”

He, as always, makes light of that incident, but he speaks the truth; it’s what got you here, after all.

You smile in agreement and look at Jin with his own moment with his mother, who cups his cheeks and looks at him like his eldest son again.

“I’ve missed you so much, you know that?” She says lovingly.

“Yeah? I almost thought you and Father were going to disown me,” Jin chuckles.

“Never, my Son,” she pouts. “We may have overreacted a little bit, and we’re truly sorry; it was all so new, being disappointed in you. But you know us, we’d never be able to resist you. You’re our firstborn, Seokjin. We’ll always love you, and we’ll always want the best for you.”

“I love you, too,” he embraces her. “I guess I’ll learn more about this whole love thing when I become a father, huh?”

“You will. And guiding you in that role is something your Father is truly excited about. He talks about it a lot, he’s just a little shy to tell you directly.”

Jin and his mother both laugh as they glance at the man in question, being forced by his grandchildren to dance to the song that’s playing. True to form, he can’t resist the little ones, too, so he takes their hands and twirls them around.

Jin softens, thinking of his old man and his moments with your future kids, too.

Then he finds you, laughing as you referee Jimin and Jungkook who are fighting over who gets to dance with you first. Jimin wins rock-paper-scissors, so you waltz with him first and trip on your second step. Next to you, Dara rejects Jungkook’s offer for a dance and asks you if she can dance with your husband instead.

“Sure, just don’t scare him,” you tease.

Dara scurries to Jin, who takes him from his sister, and she gasps as she takes her position.

“Holy shit, my best friend really hit the jackpot with you. And I can truly say that you, Mr. President, do not have any pores.”

“I, uh, I’m human, Dara. I have those,” he laughs. “Is… that why you wanted to dance with me?”

“Partly. But also,” she glances around, “I just want to know if it’ll be weird if I ask your secretary out on a date. I have been waiting! I’m the one who always pursues my man and I wanted Yoongi to chase me this time but he’s sooooooo slow, I am losing patience! And I don’t know if it’s because he might think it’s weird so I want to know if it is because if it isn’t, then I’m now going to profess my love for him and—”

“Wait, I thought you just wanted to ask him out on a date…”

“Yeah, after I profess my love for him. I’ve made up my mind already, okay? I want him to know that I’m serious about him,” she pouts.

“Hey, of course it’s not weird. Yoongi just gets shy sometimes; he just needs a little nudge. So go there and tell him how you feel,” Jin says. “And do it now because he’s glaring at me and I’m afraid he’ll hate me forever.”

“Uh, okay! If this fails, I will take back what I said about my best friend hitting the jackpot with you.”

Dara leaves Jin hanging and walks to the bar where Yoongi is, and being free now, the little kids take their chance to dance with their other cool uncle.

On your end, you’re now dancing with your brother, and Hoseok’s smile is, and will always be, a ray of light to you.

“You know, I told Miyeon everything that happened the past months, and she couldn’t help but cry,” he says. “She hates that she was too far away to comfort you, or to even know what was going on. She wishes she got to be with her big sister when things were hard.”

“Did you remind her that she was?” You smile. “During those dark days, she was always going to my dorm to make sure I was eating. You know I didn’t want her to worry about me this time; I didn’t want any of you to.”

“We can’t help it. We’ll always be protective of you, you know that.”

“I know,” you hum. “But you don’t have a reason to be anymore. Not as much, at least. Someone else is sharing that role with you. He’s a pretty cool guy, I’d say.”

“You really love each other,” Hoseok grins. “There’s that sparkle in your eyes I’ve never seen before. And that man bows down to you, ___. He literally worships the ground you walk on. It’s great to see.”

You nod in agreement and you both continue to talk about their Barcelona trip, until Dara’s voice echoes through the open space.

“He likes me, too,” she wails as she holds Yoongi’s hand while his other one covers his face in embarrassment.

She pulls him closer to where you are, now joined by your husband in amusement.

“I can’t wait for our fancy double dates!” Dara chirps.

“Hey, we’re part of that, too!” Jungkook chimes in.

“Couples only, Kook,” Dara shakes her head.

“Jimin and I can fake being a couple! We’ll just ask these two experts here and we’ll be fine!”

You smack Jungkook repeatedly and he yelps in fake pain because it’s him and he’s too built to feel that.

“I’m kidding!” He laughs. “Even if it’s true.”

You scowl at him as you all fawn over the new couple, and you and Dara giggle as she tells you just how Yoongi shyly admitted that he’s liked her for a while but didn’t know if she was ready for a relationship. You take her up on the fancy double dates suggestion and tell her you’re glad that your own love story led her to the man of her dreams.

The party continues until later in the evening, and once the little ones have started to doze off, Taehyung suggests going to a club for the after-party.

“Tab’s on me,” he says. “No alcohol for me and my wife so we’ll be your babysitters. Let’s enjoy; the night is still young!”

Everyone cheers, and Jin’s parents offer to care for the kids so that Sejeong and Hyo-seop can join, too.

It’s a half-hour ride back to the city and you take the time to take a breather in the car, snuggling next to your husband who caresses and gazes at your ring-bearing hand.

“I never really took the time to appreciate this before,” he says. “I wish I got us new rings.”

“Well, it’s a good reminder of how we started,” you say, kissing his cheek. “We made something good out of it and now we’re here.”

He hums in agreement and kisses your forehead. Seeing you wiggle your feet, he asks for them as you say they’re starting to hurt. His adept hands massage them, and you moan internally at how he’s hitting the spots that hurt the most.

You make it to the club shortly after your friends do, and they’re already at the bar with Taehyung getting their orders, reiterating that he and Hyun-a will just enjoy the show tonight.

It’s a relatively chill place with good music and great booze. You already had some drinks during your reception but given your high tolerance for alcohol, you and Jin are still fine.

Jungkook and Jimin are already partying it up with other tourists, dragging Miyeon and Hoseok with them; Sejeong and Hyo-seop are being all giggly college sweethearts in their own world; and Dara is already grinding on Yoongi who seems to be enjoying it all. You could swear the man is blushing, but he eventually takes control and just pulls her flushed against his chest, hugging her affectionately and now you swear that Dara is probably crying tears of joy.

You’re seated on a stool, resting your feet a little bit and watching your group to make sure they’re still alive, while Jin stays next to you, bopping his head to the beat. Neither of you do much of this back home unless Tae drags you, at which point you give in because your friends want to go, and you both end up babysitting everyone. But it’s your wedding night and there are other people who will be the responsible ones for the evening, so you nudge Jin and ask him if he wants to dance.

“Okay, but can we make out on the dance floor?”

You’d choke on your drink if you had one because he’s being so adorably sexy right now. “Is making out in public one of your fantasies, too?” You giggle.

“Sort of? I know it’s so tame but it’s not like we can do it back at home. This just seems like the place to do it. Am I too boring?” He pouts.

“Love, of course not. I’m not that… spontaneous or exciting, either. But sure, let’s go for it.”

He helps you off the stool and you turn to your table where everyone has returned.

“Hey, so I'm gonna make out with my husband on the dance floor. Please don’t look, but also make sure that no one’s filming or something.”

They look at you puzzled before they start laughing.

“Do you want us to barricade you while facing the other way?” Jungkook jokes, and he yelps when you smack him again.

“Go on, lovebirds. We’ll pretend we don’t see anything,” Jimin smirks.

So you and Jin head to an area a little farther from them, but it’s not a large space so you know they can still see you. You turn to Jin, whose hands are already on your waist, and you smile as you catch him admiring you.

“You are so in love with me, there’s no denying it at all,” you tease. “I’m telling my team that you’re a closet hopeless romantic, Kim Seokjin.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, I won’t,” you say, kissing his nose as you both sway to your own beat, which is slower than the music currently playing. “That’s a thing between us. I get to hold that secret of just how loving and affectionate you are, Mr. Kim.”

“That, I am. And only for you,” he replies, kissing you deeply. “It’s probably the San Sebastián air and the post-wedding bliss.” He kisses you again. “And the thought that when we get back home, we’ll start seeing the doctors and maybe have a little one on the way, too.”

He cradles your belly, and the thought of you being pregnant with his child, the child you'll both create out of love, makes his heart swell with joy. That’s another kind of love he can’t wait to feel for another person, something he only gets to feel because of you.

“Hmm, that sounds nice. I mean, babymaking always weirded me out but it’s so sexy when you talk about having babies with me,” you moan, diving into his mouth now with your tongue seeking entrance.

He meets your hungry kiss, moaning as well. His hand tightens its hold on your waist while yours grips his collar. He tastes so sweet, so good, and you feel that dampness in your sex that makes you want to go back to the hotel now and have him under you.

Jin pulls away and kisses your pouty lips.

“My body’s reacting,” he says.

“Hmm, same here,” you smile, melting into his hug and pecking his cheek.

You both sway off beat again to the music, and not far away, you spot a foreign couple smirking at you, motioning for your husband and somehow you just know what they want.

“Jin, I think that couple wants a foursome,” you tell him, and he follows your gaze and sees the couple. “Is that a fantasy of yours, too?”

“Nope,” he answers right away. “I’m perfectly satisfied with just you. Plus, I can’t let anybody else fall in love with you. Why… do you want to try?” He asks nervously.

“Hmm, nope. You’re overwhelming enough for me,” you turn to him. “And I can’t have anybody falling in love with you, too.”

“Alright, good. Now that’s settled, should we call it a night?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “Let’s ditch them.”

You both head to your table and announce that you’re leaving, with Dara, unsurprisingly, stating that “the newlyweds are gonna do their thing now.”

You roll your eyes and instruct all of them to message you or Jin once you’ve gone back to the hotel, if they even will. They wave their goodbyes and you leave.

When you get to your suite, there’s less of the lust from earlier and more of the need to just be in each other’s arms, so you both decide to just enjoy a warm, relaxing bath and watch the sky slowly turn orange. It’s early in the morning and you hadn’t even realized you’ve been out the whole day, but oddly enough, you don’t feel as tired as you expected.

Sitting in the tub with your back against Jin’s chest, you take his arms and wrap it around you.

“You feel like home, ___,” he mumbles. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

“Yeah, I’ve had your dick poking my back before but you never said that though,” you tease, and he tickles your sides before he tells you to take him seriously.

“I’m sorry,” you laugh. “You know we’re not always good with sweet stuff and we’ve reached our quota today since your vow melted my insides but I feel the same way with you,” you turn your head to face him. “You’re that large home with so much space because I feel free but you’re also quaint and cozy and you smell like my favorite home cooked meals and my favorite coffee. It’s the kind of place I want to grow old in.”

“I am, huh?“ he blushes.

“You’re a lot of things, Kim Seokjin. Home is definitely one of them.”

The rest of your trip is as amazing as you expected.

You sleep in the day after your wedding but spend the afternoon lounging at the beach and then the pool.

Jin’s grandparents call and say that something will be waiting for both of you when you get back in Seoul, and there’s less of the guilty feeling this time. Because of the short notice trip, they couldn’t make it, as they’re currently in some pilgrimage. They did eventually get wind of the whole fiasco, but Taehyung and Sejeong were so good at making it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. You’re glad that whole thing is over, and while you and Jin gave up on ever truly getting justice on your and even Seri’s behalf, you at least know you’re stronger than anything that comes your way.

You take a day trip after that, to the northern Basque Country and visit a few coastal towns. They’re all quaint but beautiful and less crowded, so full of history and lively sceneries that your parents appreciate greatly. It’s also everyone else’s last day, so Jin’s parents treat all of you to a lovely dinner overlooking the sea, and it’s one of those moments that make you feel so thankful that you get to live this life.

The days after they all leave, you and Jin take cooking classes and do food tours, then you visit Bilbao and go to the Guggenheim Museum of modern and contemporary art.

“It’s a must-see,” Jin says on the day you visit. “It looks too stunning not to explore. Is that okay?”

Somehow his question means more but you don’t say much. You’ve come to know art because of Namjoon, but you appreciate it for its existence as art - it’s beautiful by nature, even if you don’t always understand it.

You don’t think you’ve been to an art museum without Namjoon since, well, since he went away. It was that bitter and immature part of you that was jealous because he left you for it, and somehow being here reminds you of all those emotions that you kept in for years because they didn’t seem fair, nor rational; they just hurt.

Jin lets you take the lead, and you really just go around and towards things that catch your eye. You soak in what you see, and if before you wanted so badly to understand them so you could see it in Namjoon’s eyes, now you’re just… seeing, and appreciating it for what you see. Perhaps that’s how it is when you’ve truly let go of something, you think. A part of them stays with you, but not big or deep enough to taint your vision.

“This was nice,” you say on the ride back to San Sebastián. “I appreciate you taking me there. Did anything catch your eye?”

You. Always you.

“The colored cherries,” he replies, cracking you up because it’s the same thing you thought.

“I believe they were tulips, Jin,” you say, taking his hand. “But they were pretty. There’s more of the pretty things I’m only really appreciating now.”

He hums and pulls you close. He knows nothing else needs to be said.

On your last day, you go crazy with shopping that you have to buy a separate luggage just for all the wine, cheese, cider, anchovies, and other local ingredients that you’re able to pack and bring home. Everyday since you’ve been here, you find a new restaurant or eatery to fall in love with and you wish you have more time to just soak up the city and enjoy the cuisine a little bit more, but you guess that’s what all the shopping was for - to bring San Sebastián home with you.

Still, your time here feels enough. You were able to spend time with your friends and family, and be with your husband without the demands of work keeping you both busy - he made sure of that. You’re reminded of how much you love food, and that it’s a privilege that you’re able to share that love with the man you love.

And as you watch the pretty views of the Basque Country disappear as you ascend in the air, you think to yourself this time that you’ll always have Spain. All the memories and words and emotions shared will be kept with you as you continue to live this life with the person who makes you laugh and gush and happy the most, the one who lets you finally see things and their beauty for what they are.

You pick up from where you left off when you get back to Seoul. Your officer-in-charge managed while you were away, and you’re glad you have less paperwork to deal with, given your jet lag that you’re somehow still suffering from despite being back a week.

But it’s okay, you think, as Jin continues to spoil you by massaging your body and making you broth every night just because. He’s still quite the romantic, but less in words now since he’s back to bickering with you as his default, and you really won’t have it any other way.

Still, you know something has changed. Other than the repaired relationship with his parents, there’s this joy in your husband’s eyes that shows itself as a glimmer, and it’s the kind that you know he can only pull out from himself. You’d know; it’s the same glimmer in yours.

You didn’t think that marrying him again could give you closure - with your past self, with the stars you held onto, and even with the marriage you have with the same man.

Perhaps there’s something different with starting again, and it’s not just the redesigned wedding rings that Jin’s grandparents arranged for you to have because “those second vows are the ones that matter, even if you’d both kept the promises you made the first time.” It’s knowing that this is your life now, the life “after” you married him, the life that’s made up of side streets and alleys, paved and unpaved roads, scenic routes and dark tunnels, and you’re here, navigating it all while holding his hand.

You hold his hand, too, months later, on the day you see your stars on a bright Saturday morning.

You’d just capped off a tiring week of product evaluations and Jin has been taking day trips outside of Seoul and the country for meetings.

There’s a newly opened cafe in the nearby neighborhood, which serves coffee from beans taken from different parts of the world. It’s got an artsy vibe to it, too, and you want to try out their pastries and see if it’s going on your long list of favorite places with your husband.

Walking next to his side, you check out the menu some feet away from the counter, and your indecisive asses decide to order 2 sandwiches and 2 slices of cake. It’s in the middle of paying when you hear a familiar voice, prompting you to turn to the side.

He calls your name, and your smile is immediate.

“Joon.”

You walk towards him and his embrace is immediate, too, one that you instantly fall into.

You haven’t seen him since that trip to France, and you’ve only spoken a few times since you canceled that Hong Kong trip to see him. You’d told him briefly about the scandal, the fallout with Jin’s family, and the second wedding you both had. Seeing him again after so long feels new, refreshing; somehow you think it’s meant to be, too.

Namjoon still has that pine scent you liked so much. He still has that deep, low sound of his voice that used to calm you down whenever you were missing him, and that almost child-like laughter that reminds you that he’s also still a kid at heart. There’s that smile that launched a thousand love letters from you, with the dip in his cheeks and the crinkle in his eyes that used to make your heart flutter.

Namjoon still feels and smells like comfort, just a different kind.

“Hey,” your husband approaches him. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Jin.”

Namjoon takes the hand that’s reached out for him, mirroring the smile of the man he’s heard so much about; the man he lost you to because he’d been too comfortable living in his own world to give it up for you.

“And I’m Namjoon. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says. “It’s nice to see you both here. I hope we don’t disappoint.”

“This is yours?!” You ask excitedly.

“Well, I’m looking after it for a friend while he’s on business trips and I’m staying in Incheon. This is a good space to work and it’s nice to see familiar faces,” he replies.

“So, you took the offer, I see?”

“Just recently. I took a job in Austria before this but something just pulled me back,” he says longingly. “I think I’ve been away from home too long. I’ve forgotten what it felt like.”

“Well, you were never meant for just one place, Joon. I think I realized that some time ago,” you reply.

I realized it too late, you internally correct yourself.

“Maybe, but it’s good to have a base. Even if I still have to travel every month, there’s at least somewhere that’s familiar.”

“That’s good,” you smile. “I’m glad it worked out for you.”

“And for both of you, too,” Namjoon hums, softly eyeing Jin’s hand that mindlessly envelopes yours.

There’s something different. More than one thing, Namjoon thinks. It’s more than your smile and the glimmer in your eyes, and the cheeriness in your voice. It’s your stance, your aura; it’s your other hand and where it affectionately stays.

“Is it, uh, is it rude to ask?” He chuckles.

“Not if it’s you,” you giggle. “So yes, you may.”

“How far along are you?”

Perhaps it’s the different curve of your body; you remind yourself he knew you at one point, too. Maybe it’s also your outfit that doesn’t hide the bump; you and Jin are out for a walk, after all, as prescribed by your doctor. But somehow you also think it’s your smile, or that glow, or for a man who, at one point, knew everything about you, it’s just natural that he’d know.

“Four months,” you smile. “We’re really excited about it.”

“That’s wonderful,” he chirps. “Congratulations to both of you. I’m sure that baby is going to feel so loved growing up.”

“Yeah. They're obviously going to be well-fed. And spoiled. They have a bunch of chaotic aunts and uncles who can’t wait to meet them,” Jin laughs.

He turns to look at you and that smile you have on as you look at him, and somehow, he knows this meeting was meant to happen, too.

“But, uh, I think our child would do well to grow up learning about art, don’t you think?” Jin smiles shyly at Namjoon. “Would you know anyone who’d like that role?”

“Ah, I may know someone,” Namjoon grins. “And he’d really, really like that.”

You look at both men - one whom you loved for years, and another whom you’ll love for all the years ahead. This child is the luckiest to have Jin as their father, and having Namjoon in their life is something you didn’t think would make you this emotional, this thankful.

You grip your husband’s hand - in thanks, more than anything. Namjoon made sure you didn't break beyond repair; he made sure you felt enough love that you’d still believe in it despite everything, even if it wasn’t enough for him. And that’s why he’ll always mean this much to you - you can’t forget the love that kept you whole; you can’t forget the love that made you hope.

“Our child would really, really like that, too, Joon.”

The barista calls Jin’s name and gives him the tray. You both look around and see the full-house cafe, so Namjoon offers his table. He’s got to check inventory, after all, so he steps aside and lets you and Jin sit next to each other on the wooden bench against the wall.

“Duty calls,” he says, then heads to the counter to pick up the phone.

“Thank you,” you tell your husband, and you know he just knows all the reasons why you’re saying this.

“He’s always meant a lot to you,” Jin responds. “I get to love you because he loved you; you get to love me because you let him.”

You hum, basking in his sweet words that still surprise you to this day. You look up and catch Namjoon’s eyes - deep and dark and beautiful, and they glimmer back at you with that speck of acceptance, of clarity, of care. Of love that may have changed in nature, but hasn’t diminished one bit.

He’s still the stars in the sky, but he isn’t something you look at unknowingly as a thing of the past. He’s here to still shine brightly above you, maybe to guide you, but more than anything, he’s a beauty to still admire. You just know there are more years for this star; it won’t be extinguished any time soon.

The rest of your night sky, your moon, your sun, your trees and flowers and everything else - he’s right next to you, and you’ve both created something so wonderful with the love you both choose everyday.

Through side streets and alleys, paved and unpaved roads, scenic routes and dark tunnels, you will both love this little 100 with your whole, twinkling hearts.

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fierypen37 · 2 years ago

Text

An Acquired Taste

moodboard by @libradoodle1

An Acquired Taste

The Night’s Watch was slammed tonight. There were three things northerners loved in boisterous, unabashed fashion: ale, rugby, and hockey. Tonight, the Winterfell Wolves had crushed the Casterly Rock Reds in Game Five of the Torrhen Cup Final four to nothing. The Wolves had been on a cold streak, and the cup hadn’t been theirs in thirty years. When they won, northerners poured out in droves to celebrate. Jon, Tormund, Gendry, and the new barback Satin hustled around the bar. Tom and Marya in the kitchen were slammed too.

While as an owner, Jon was pleased there were so many customers, the bartender in him hated the unending roll of rude, greedy patrons. The air was thick with the heat of crammed bodies, smelling of sweat, the sharp whiff of alcohol and cooking oil. Gods, it was hot. His black t-shirt clung to him, sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Jon irritably blew a strand of hair from his eyes as he leaned over the bar to hear the soft-voiced girl’s order.

“--our,” she shouted.

“What?” Jon shouted back.

“Amaretto sour!” she repeated.

“Lemon lime soda ok?” he said. She nodded eagerly. A plain girl, she wore a well-loved Winterfell Wolves jersey, her hair caked with dye half white, half grey. The look was one he was used to, half admiration, half invitation. Jon kept his smile polite.

“Comin’ up!” Jon scanned the crowd as he found the square amaretto bottle without looking down. Drinks slid across the bar with machine-like regularity. Billiard balls clacked. The radio blared some top forty song that Jon didn’t know. Jon nudged Gendry.

“Don’t overserve,” he said in his ear. Baratheons thought if you didn’t feel the burn in your throat, it wasn’t a proper drink—and Gendry was no different, even though he’d never met his deadbeat dad. Gendry nodded, measuring the vodka he was pouring more precisely. The din of so many voices were punctuated here and there by a burst of laughter, or angry words. The latter made Jon nervous. From the corner of his eye, he saw Theon and his brothers shoulder in, neutralizing an argument. Theon’s older brother Rodrik leaned over the bar.

“I’ll expect a free drink as acting bouncer!” he said with his long, toothy smile. Jon flipped him a rude gesture, to which Rodrik laughed. I really do need to hire a bouncer for nights like this. Without missing a beat, he poured, adding the sweet and sour mix. He jiggled the jug. Shit, they were almost out.

“Satin! Get more sweet and sour mix from the back!” Jon called over the racket. Ice, topped with a splash of soda, garnish with a cherry. Jon slid the drink to the girl on a black napkin with a nod. Another guy wanted a beer—draft, garnish with a slice of orange. Another a whiskey—ice, pour. Another woman wanted a gin and tonic—gin, ice, top with tonic water, stir, garnish with lime. Another, another, another. The pace slackened to a bit of a lull.

“I’m taking five,” Jon shouted to Tormund over the din. Tormund nodded.

Weaving through the crowd out the side door, Jon sucked in a grateful breath of cold, clean air. Ears ringing from the noise, the silence was just as sweet as the cold air. He wished passionately for a cigarette. The urge was always there, even after quitting two years ago. Jon took a long draught of water from his reusable bottle. Dany had used her fancy water infuser to make mint-lemon water for him. It tasted delicious. He sucked down gulps of it. Reaching for his phone, he tapped out a question. Can you fly?

The back-and-forth of learning the extent of her abilities was surprisingly fun. Hypnosis, speed, strength, enhanced senses, immortality. Pretty fucking awesome. No mind-reading, though, and she didn’t need an invitation to enter a home. Three dots danced on the screen.

Of course I can fly

WHAT??? Really?

I have a pilot’s license 😊

Jon smiled at his phone. Dany had been generous to the point of desperate in the week since she’d confessed. In bed and out. As flattering as it was, Jon reassured her it wasn’t necessary. He was glad a semblance of their usual easy humor had returned. In fact, it was almost like he could sense her smile. Bummer she couldn’t shapeshift into a bat or a raven though. If Jon could have a superpower, he would have chosen shapeshifting. I miss you, he typed. Dany kept the details of her ‘work trip’ vague—code for hunting. Jon wondered what it was like to be her prey. That smooth, liquid gait, her ethereal colors kissed by moonlight, her cool hands clamped tight around his throat, the sharp sting of her fangs—

“Fuck,” Jon said. There was that gut flip of terror and excitement . . . and he was hard as brass. How about that. He had a biting kink? Who knew?

I miss you too The dots danced.

Are you ok? Jon frowned, scanning the previous messages for why she was concerned. Heat flushed his cheeks at the thought of her being privy to his musings. She promised she wasn’t able to read his mind, but sometimes she made him wonder.

The bar’s fucking slammed, but I’m fine Jon glanced at the time on his phone. His five was up about three minutes ago.

Hydrate. I’ll be home in morning Jon was at a loss with how to reply, so he settled on a thumb’s up emoticon.

He waded through the throngs back to the bar. Damn, there was nothing but slushy water in the ice bucket. Wet, wrinkled napkins littered the bartop. Liquor bottles strewn on the workspace.

“The fuck is this mess, Tormund? I’m gone for five godsdamned minutes and it all goes to shit,” he said, shoving bottles back in their places. He shouted at Satin for more ice and napkins. The rush had slackened. People had their drinks and were munching on cheese fries, or playing pool, or reliving the high points of the game on replay. Tormund grinned sidelong at him, mopping the bartop with a rag.

“When’s Dany getting back?” he asked. Jon’s irritation mellowed at the joke. He grinned.

“Early tomorrow.”

“Thank the gods,” Tormund said.

They had time to reorganize before patrons finished their drinks. A second wave broke. Another, another, another. Close this tab, cut this guy off before he’s too pissed, shout for Satin to fetch more ice, tell this kid off for flashing a fake ID, diffuse an argument. Announce last call. A seemingly unending roll of closed tabs. Wads of damp cash. Swipe, swipe, swipe. Tormund’s booming voice ushering the last rowdy patrons out. Jon’s ears rang in the sudden silence.

“Good work, everyone. Tips are divided even, remember,” Jon said. Gendry and Tormund settled into their usual post-close tasks. Satin took initiative and began flipping barstools.

“Satin, we need to clean everything before we set up the chairs,” Jon said, coughing to clear hoarseness from his voice. Satin blushed prettily, dark curls bobbing as he nodded.

“Sure, boss. I’ll get right on it,” he said.

It was almost four in the morning before Jon was satisfied with the state of the Night’s Watch.

“Get some rest. We’re taking tonight off,” Jon said. The take was good—really good. He could afford closing for a night to give his employees a day off. There was a couple hoots and applause. Jon waved it off.

“We’ve earned it. I’ll lock up.”

The walk home passed in a fog. Ghost greeted him with a thump of his tail, but otherwise did not stir. Dany had taken him on a long run before she left for her ‘work trip.’ Jon shuffled up the stairs and collapsed facedown on his bed, toeing off his boots. He snuffled into his pillow. He could smell Dany: notes of apples and jasmine shampoo and another note he couldn’t place, but knew was hers. Jon hummed, breathing deeply of the smell and was comforted by it. Sleep took him.

Ghost’s cold nose woke him.

“Off, Ghost,” Jon croaked, his mouth dry and mossy. He blinked into the dimness of his room, realizing he was straight in the bed and tucked in the sheet and cover. Dany. Jon smiled, touched by the tender gesture. He groped for his phone on the bedside table—it was dead. Dimly, he heard the homey clatter of dishes and the hiss of a pan. Dany was downstairs cooking. Jon roused himself from the warm comfort of his bed to tiptoe on socked feet to the shower. He felt more human (what a pun) once he showered with his teeth brushed. Some spice filled the air, along with the scent of sizzling meat. Jon’s mouth watered. He pulled on sweatpants and headed down.

“Smells delicious,” Jon said as he descended the stairs. Ghost clattered down at his heels.

“About time you’re awake, you lazy sod!” Arya said. Jon cursed, startled.

“Fucking hells, Arya! What did I say about boundaries?” Jon said. Dany manned the stove, resplendent in a midnight blue sundress, her silver hair in a single braid down her back. Arya stood smirched in flour, dredging chicken cutlets. Arya shrugged.

“Boundaries smoundaries, cuz. I wanted to meet Dany.”

Jon leveled a mock glare at Arya, winding one arm around Dany and kissing the curve of her shoulder.

“‘Mornin,’” he rumbled, watching over her shoulder as she deftly sauteed vegetables and fried the chicken in separate skillets.

“Evening more like, Lord Commander. It’s five o’ clock,” Dany teased, nuzzling a wayward lock of his hair with her nose. Wow, he never got sleep like that. Jon kissed the side of her neck, feeling her subtle shiver. Unbidden came the thought of her biting him and Jon warded off another surge of terror and arousal.

“Eech, no PDA, please. And where’s your shirt?” Arya said with a shudder.

“You don’t want to see it, don’t break in,” Jon shot back, continuing to happily nuzzle Dany’s neck. He couldn’t see her face, but he could sense her smile. There it was again, that weird reflection of her mood. Was it a vampire thing?

“I hope my cousin hasn’t been too obnoxious,” Jon said.

“Not at all, we’ve been chatting. She says she has all the dirt on you,” Dany said, flipping the sizzling cutlets. Jon gulped.

“Dirt?” his voice cracked. It was too damn early for this. Arya’s grin was pure evil.

“Yeah. Like when you were thirteen and got really into seances and shit. I can’t tell you how many times I found him asleep in the godswood.” He felt Dany stiffen. Jon swallowed.

“I guess I’ve always liked supernatural stuff,” he said.

“Or that time my mom walked in on you--”

“Arya, for the love of all the gods, shut up!” Jon thundered. Arya giggled, unrepentant. Jon hugged her roughly.

“Now quit making a mess of that and go set the table,” Jon said.

The meal was excellent: the chicken was crispy and had the perfect balance of salt and spice, the vegetables tender and flavorful. Jon shoveled it down with relish, and wondered how she was such an excellent cook when she didn’t eat. Decades of practice, he supposed. Conversation flowed as easily as the wine, and Jon felt pleasantly tipsy as the three of them sprawled on the couch. Jon lay with his head in Dany’s lap. Her cool fingers carded through his hair in hypnotic strokes, lulling him into a contented stupor. Arya lounged crosswise on the loveseat, swinging her feet.

“I see why Jon wanted to keep you to himself, Dany. Every one of my siblings would question your taste,” she said with her lupine grin.

“I suppose Jon is an acquired taste,” Dany joked, rubbing his arm to soften the words. Jon snorted loudly. Acquired taste?

“Hah! That’s an excellent way to put it!” Arya chortled.

Dany clicked through their streaming services to settle on a show. Arya loved true crime shows, forensics. During her last deployment, Arya’d binged shows and podcasts alike—a potential career once she was discharged from the military. She and Dany debated the pros and cons of various career tracks, the best being the House of Black and White in Braavos. He loved how Dany could speak intelligently on almost any topic. Jon lost interest in the show and watched the colors of the TV wash over Dany’s perfect white skin. Dany grinned at something Arya said, displaying the wet white gleam of her teeth. Fangs.

Arya said her goodbyes after a text from Gendry. Her motorcycle turned over with a roar, and she sped off, short brown hair whipping behind her. Dany rounded on him.

“What is it?” she demanded, with a fierce scowl. Jon sat up from where he lay draped on the porch bench, muddled by wine and drowsing.

“What?” he said. Dany made an irritated sound, jabbing his chest with her fingertip.

“Ow!” Jon said, with a giggle. It tickled more than anything. Dany flattened her lips, fighting a smile.

“You’ve been looking at me strangely all night. Did I say something wrong to Arya? She was already here when I got home,” she said. Jon stood.

“No no, it’s not that. Arya really likes you. She wouldn’t have hung around if she didn’t.” Dany chewed on her lower lip in a very distracting way.

“I just . . . you talk a lot about your cousins, and I wondered why we hadn’t met yet.”

Jon sobered, blinking owlishly. His brain was slow on the uptake. Dany was feeling . . . insecure? That boggled the mind. He scrubbed his chin.

“Dany, my family’s . . . a lot. Since my uncle died, my aunt and one cousin—we don’t speak. They despise me. The rest are normal enough, but ever since the Ygritte Incident, I haven’t brought any girlfriends around.” Not that he’d had a girlfriend since his hellbitch of an ex until Dany.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Scare you off,” he finished lamely. Dany relaxed.

“I’d hoped that I hadn’t . . . ruined it.” By telling you what I am, the last was unspoken, but rang in the air between them all the same.

Jon pulled her into a tight hug. He breathed in the dizzying smell of her hair, apples and something wild he couldn’t place. Insects hummed, a faint chilly breeze stirred the air.

“Of course not. I’ll call Robb tomorrow. We’ll have ‘em all over for a cookout. Full Stark immersion.” Dany nuzzled his neck.

“That sounds nice.”

Dany bumped her forehead gently against his, leveling a narrow violet glare at him. One hand reached down and playfully grabbed a handful of his arse. Jon twined his arms around her with a chuckle. They danced a little on the creaking porch and Jon fancied himself truly happy.

“Is there anything else you’re thinking about?” she asked. Jon squirmed under her direct gaze. The words were on his tongue, but he chickened out.

“I was just thinking . . . has anyone ever . . . enjoyed it? Knowing what you are?” Daenerys’ posture relaxed and Jon inwardly marveled at how much more comfortable she was around him. He noticed when she was too still, too focused, too different. Dany snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Yes. Wealth, power, immortality. It is a potent allure to most. And so very dull.”

It wasn’t at all what he meant, but Jon was too embarrassed and tongue-tied to articulate what he wanted. Jon nodded.

“I can imagine,” he mumbled. No slouch at reading tones, Dany cocked an eyebrow.

“Why do you ask?” she murmured, breathing air-soft little kisses along his shoulder. Jon basked in her easy affection, feeling that weird reflection. Warmth and contentment, as warm as her hug. Better to focus on that than any weird kinks.

“Just . . . curious,” he said. Jon licked his lips.

“It seems like I can . . . sense your mood. Is that normal?”

Dany blinked, peering at his face. She didn’t relinquish her grip on him. No reflection of distress. The feeling chilled from warm contentment to something ambivalent. Confusion, maybe?

“Really? Um, I’m not sure. It’s never been mutual before.”

“Mutual?”

A muscle fired in her face, almost a wince.

“When I hypnotize my . . . prey, I can sense the tenor of their mood, recent memories. Very superficial, and it ends when I’ve finished feeding.” The halting and clinical way she said it was evidence of her distaste. Each word was extracted slowly and painfully. Yeah, it was weird, but Jon was fascinated by the little details.

“But you’ve never fed from me,” Jon said, hoping the strange connection would convey his mingled disappointment and relief. Dany’s brow forked.

“Or hypnotized me?” Jon asked, with a hint of a question. Would he even know if she had? Dany looked affronted.

“No! Of course not.”

“I was mesmerized all the same,” Jon said, stealing a kiss. Dany softened under the touch. Jon tugged her inside.

Psychically linked. It was a phrase that was strange to utter, even for a vampire. Missandei, who had rescued and changed her lover Grey Worm over a hundred years ago, hadn’t known of the phenomenon. For all the weirdness, it was . . . nice. It was like there was Jon-compass in the back of her mind pointing to where he was and how he was feeling. Right now, at eleven in the morning, the itch would guide her back to the house, and the mellow quiet was one of sleep. It was Wednesday. After the Monday night shift and Delivery Day on Tuesday, he was always exhausted.

“There’s something he isn’t telling me, Missy,” she said into her earbuds. Dany yanked a snarl of weeds from the budding green of her garden. There was nothing she loved better than the feeling of earth between her fingers, the rich smells of loam and water and flowers. Dragons plant no trees—one of her brother’s maxims. In this undead life, she strove to prove him wrong. Trees, flowers, herbs and vegetables.

“Tell me the context.”

“Well, he asked if ‘anyone enjoyed it,’” Dany said, framing the operative words in finger quotes even though Missy couldn’t see her. A habit picked up from Jon. She patted the dirt around the tender roots of a cluster of osteopermums. Beautiful blooms, and cold resistant.

“‘If anyone enjoyed it.’ Hmm, and he didn’t mean proximity to one who is rich and powerful. Surely he didn’t mean enjoying being bitten?” Dany stilled at Missy’s words, every cell of her frozen in a rictus of shock. Bitten? Dany replayed the interaction last night when her Jon-compass pealed. A cold zing of fear, along with the familiar ripening of arousal. Could he really . . .? Dany snorted.

“Surely not!”

Dany felt the warning prickle as the sun threatened to break through the blanket of clouds. She blurred back to the porch, irritably watching the sky.

“Anyway, when are you and Grey going to visit? It’s been an epoch.”

The seed Missy planted in Dany’s mind germinated as quickly as the plants she put in the ground. It lingered, following her through the day as she took Ghost to the dog park, bought groceries for Pentoshi spicy noodles, and secretly corrected Jon’s messy ledger. His books were detailed, but a couple alterations to the till would only protect him from audits. Since she’d confessed, she given up the pretense of ‘working,’ and had offered to help Jon with his finances, but he refused. Her wealth languished, accruing interest, ready for when he wanted it.

Did . . . did Jon want her to bite him? Their sex life was robust, passionate. That hadn’t changed since the revelation. He was the same generous, ravenous lover as before. He had only seen her fangs one time—that one horrible time when she confessed. The thought of broaching the subject made her want to melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

“There you are, beautiful,” Jon said with a sleepy kiss as she washed dirt from her hands in the sink. In his typical fashion, he wore baggy athletic pants and no shirt. She loved Sleepy Jon. Affectionate and moving a little slow. Completely adorable. He had a shift in a few hours, there was time to talk about it. If she had the courage to broach the subject. Dany blurred around the kitchen, fixing his favorite breakfast: toast, scrambled eggs, and avocado.

“Thanks, love,” Jon said, tucking in. Dany settled in the chair across from him, at a loss for how to continue.

“Any news on the reflection thing?” he asked, taking a long gulp of Dany’s infused water—cucumber cilantro this time. Dany loved how messy his curls were when he woke up—sticking up straight like a porcupine’s quills. Jon scrubbed his beard.

“Missy had never heard anything like that. She was a historian in her previous life, so she is well-versed in the peculiarities of our kind,” she said. Jon blinked, then one of his sunny smiles broke out, stealing her breath in how gorgeous he was. Jon took her hand and squeezed it.

“I guess that means we’re soulmates,” he said. Dany’s unbeating heart fluttered.

“I guess so,” she said, choked.

The meal passed in pleasant silence. Dany plucked up her courage. Just say it!

“Is there anything you want to . . . want to try?” Dany asked. Jon knew what she meant. She watched the bloom of blood beneath his pale skin. The apples of his cheeks, the base of his neck, even in blotches on his naked chest. Intoxicating.

“You noticed that last night, huh?” he said, combing his fingers through his hair. Dany nodded.

“What did you mean by ‘enjoying it?’” she asked.

Jon blush deepened to a deep dusky red. His gaze slid away from hers to inspect the worn wood of his kitchen table as if it held the world’s knowledge. Jon’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Very distracting. Why was this so hard to say? No two lovers instantly knew what their partner liked or wanted—even psychically linked ones. They had had frank conversations about sex before.

“The um . . . the biting part. Has anyone liked it?” Jon mumbled. If she was capable, Dany would have blushed too. There were those humans who craved subjugation, but Daenerys had never interacted with them—even when they threw themselves at her feet. She simply hadn’t been interested. Saliva filled her mouth at the thought of tasting Jon’s blood. Hot, rich and full of life. Hunger quivered through her at the thought, hands curling into fists.

“Yes, some have. I never entertained them,” she hedged. Jon risked a glance at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Do you not like it? When they--”

“Jon, I go through considerable pains to ensure those I drink from do not suffer unnecessarily. But being a vampire . . . yes. Biting and drinking their blood . . . to my unending shame, I like it. I like it a great deal. And the thought of drinking from you . . .” Dany closed her eyes briefly, trying to master the demon clamoring for a taste. Her cunt throbbed as well, a well-placed touch and she could come just from fantasizing about it—as she never dared to. The heated look in Jon’s eyes was one she well knew, and the moment stretched on in the sweetest of agonies.

“Ok. Let’s try.”

It took some extracting to tack down the details Jon wanted. Not quite a ‘scene’ per se, but a hint of violence. A vampire bite was by its very nature, violent. The safeword was ‘ghost.’ Dany followed him up the stairs, trembling with anticipation and nerves. Like a giddy virgin all over again. With Jon, so many things felt new, and so right. Jon pulled on an old grey t-shirt and took his place against the exposed brick wall, arms spread as if restrained.

“Like this?” he asked softly.

“Just so,” she whispered.

Daenerys grasped her control and breathed in. Her senses sharpened to painful acuity. She could smell the spicy scent of his skin, his spruce shampoo, a hint of cilantro on his breath. The thud of his heart was swift. She tilted her head, wondering if it was fear or arousal that sped its beat. All those blood vessels dilating, the roused animal heat of him. Dany closed the distance between them in a blink. Jon flinched, eyes wide. So innocent. So beautiful. Ripe for her corruption. Dany grasped his jaw, hard enough to hurt. Dany waited, gauging his reaction. Jon sucked in a gasp. Gods, the tempo of his heart would drive her mad. The heat and woodsy scent of him enveloping her. Heat radiated from his cock, already tenting his athletic pants.

“Mmm, I wonder what makes your heart race, handsome. Fear . . . or excitement?” she drawled, smirking in a manner to expose her fang. Even Jon’s eyes were dilated, only a border of grey around the black. He licked his lips. Dany followed the movement with intense interest.

“I’m . . . I’m not sure,” Jon said. Dany leaned in, bracing her forearm against his chest with a bit of pressure. Pressing him back against the rough brick. Attuned to her Jon-compass, his mood was rich with hunger, whetted sweetly with fear. Dany loosened the tight rein she held on her control. Wildness surged through her. She squeezed her thighs together; the throb of arousal was almost painful. He was so gorgeous like this, vulnerable and hungry, eager and wrecked.

With a negligent move, Dany’s nails shred open Jon’s shirt, then his athletic pants. Tearing it like tissue paper. They hung in tatters, the pants held up by Jon’s glorious arse pressed against the wall. No underwear, his cock stood at attention.

“Yessss. Hard for me? You’re perfect,” Dany whispered. Jon squirmed a little at the praise and Dany logged that away for future reference. He hissed in a breath through his teeth as Dany traced one finger down his broad chest and hard, quivering belly to grasp his cock. Dany tilted his captive jaw to one side and leaned close . . . Jon cried out, his hands scrabbling on the brick wall. She pumped his cock, spreading around the silky fluid weeping from the head. The panting silence broken only by those slick strokes. The echo of his heartbeat thudded against her palm with each stroke. Dany licked his earlobe.

“Let me taste you.”

Dany bit down on his neck. His sleek white skin gave way and the hot, metallic richness of his blood sang on her tongue. That first taste called down one of the most intense orgasms of her life, completely untouched. She shuddered through it. Pleasure burst like fireworks behind her eyes, and she was intensely aware of Jon’s matching orgasm. Hot seed spraying in sticky drops on her hand and forearm, the musky smell. Jon roared, arms snapping tight around her as he thrust helplessly into her hand. Dany drank from him, not pausing to moan lest she waste a single drop. Magic. He tasted of magic and wilderness, pleasure and home. If any god would listen, she would have begged to live in this moment. Sacred with his trust and love, incandescent with pleasure.

I love you

The words were not spoken, but flooded through the link between them.

“More!” Jon begged, clinging to Dany. Her tongue lapped at the wound in his neck, lazy strokes that made him shiver and his cock throb. Despite the best orgasm he’d ever had, Jon throbbed back to full hardness.

“Please, Dany. More. More!” the words fell out, unbidden and needy. Dany guided him down to the floor and tore off her clothes. The cloth and denim shredded to ribbons. She looked like an otherworldly creature: hair a wild snarl from his tugging, her lips were vivid red, painted with his blood, violet eyes glowing. Gods, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, shredding her clothes so she could fuck him. The inner reflection had become a door—a door thrown open and washing him in the glory of her soul. Her loneliness and longing, her love and pleasure. Dany . . . Dany.

Dany crouched over him to lap at his neck and slid down on his cock. The fresh sensation made him cry out again. Jon fisted a hand in her hair, holding her to his neck as the tender lapping turned to a sharper suction. The pain was a whisper compared to the pleasure of her cunt riding his cock. Warm and so wet, gliding up and down. Jon’s back bowed up, seeking more contact. He was saturated in her. The smooth cool touch of her skin, the tickle of her hair, wild, appley smell of her, the musk of her sex. There was a cooling tickle of his blood down his neck. The hot point of contact of her cunt milking him as she came again. Her pleasure called down his own and howled through another orgasm. Her name punched out of him with each stroke, his ardent prayer.

“Dany. Dany. Dany. Dany!” I love you I need you, don’t leave me I love you It was a stream of thought pouring into her. The answer was instant: I love you I need you you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine forever! The pace quickened, short, fast strokes. Jon screamed as the pleasure pierced him as surely as her fangs. Come poured out of him with each spasm. She was there joined with him—the tide of pleasure crested over them both. Dany cradled his head to keep it from thudding against the floor.

Jon floated, cruising on waves of bliss. Pleasure so excruciating he couldn’t think, pain so sweet he felt tears leak out of his eyes. A noise somewhere far away. Jon held tighter to Dany. The noise again, louder. Dany tugged the turf of his hair, pain a delicate prickle. He moaned, eager for more. Anything to please her. Look at me, love. Jon blinked. Dany’s beautiful face was above him, thick brows puckered in a frown.

“Jon, are you ok?” she asked, framing his face between her hands. Her whole world. Jon’s heart fluttered.

“Yes,” he said fervently. Jon was hoarse and limp, thoroughly fucked out. He’d never come that hard—much less three times in rapid succession. Sex with Dany had always been white hot, but discovering his ‘biting kink’ had taken it to a new level. Jon tugged her closer, missing the press of her weight. Vaguely he was aware of the hard floor, and a stickiness from fluids . . . oh! Jon stirred himself.

“I better get up, I don’t want to bleed all over the floor.”

Jon sat up, gingerly touching his neck. The skin was smooth, unbroken. Dany smiled, her fangs winking in the light.

“I took care of it. Vampire blood has restorative properties.”

“Oh,” Jon said, shuffling to the bathroom and cleaning up before returning to lay next to Dany in bed. He would’ve liked to keep the scar. Maybe next time. Already arousal stirred at the thought of next time. Jon winced, kneading away a cramp in his thigh.

We’ll have to pace ourselves. Hydrate and stretch, definitely. They drowsed together in silence, but even with his nose in her hair and his eyes shut, he could see the worried pucker on her face.

“What is it, love?” he asked.

Dany peered up at him, chewing on her lower lip.

“It wasn’t too much? You’re ok?” she asked. Jon kissed her, slow and lingering, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood.

“Never better.”

#jonerys fanfiction #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #vampire!Dany #bartender!Jon #fp37fic #smut

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avantegarda · 3 years ago

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South Asian Tolkien Week Day 7: Alternate Universes

I was so hype for this day because I have a ton of highly specific headcanons for (Goan) Anairë in my Victorian AU, and now I finally get to subject you to them! So you're getting a moodboard, some headcanons, and a short fic.

(Thanks for putting this together @arwenindomiel!)

London society adores Mrs. Anairë Gates (nee Torres), daughter of a Goan shipping magnate and wife of Mr. Fingolfin Gates. Miss Torres met her future husband on a family holiday to England in 1859, and while the British ton was initially scandalized at Fingolfin's relationship with a foreign lady, Anairë's impeccable manners, excellent fashion sense, and convenient Catholicism made the match a highly suitable one.

Mrs. Gates and her husband, along with their four children, reside in Marylebone, London, close to a vast number of other, less reputable relations.

"Your children," said Anairë, "seemed to have turned into wild animals."

Fingolfin Gates, having only just returned from the office and in desperate need of a stiff drink, sighed deeply. Whenever anything went wrong, of course, they were his children. The dignified Torres family could never produce unruly youngsters. "What have they done this time?" he asked wearily.

"While poor Turgon was sleeping, Fingon and Aredhel conspired to draw a mustache and rude words on his face with their oil pastels," Anaire said stiffly. "When Turgon woke up he was, naturally, upset, and chased them all the way to the kitchen, at which point Fingon and Aredhel started a 'food fight,' as they called it. The kitchen is a disaster."

"Ah, I see. Well, I will certainly have a talk with them, but no harm done really..."

"Baptista," Anairë hissed, "has put in his notice."

Fingolfin went pale. The family chef, Nikel Baptista, had come with Anairë from Goa when they were first married, and was nothing short of a wizard at his craft. Though it had taken some months for Fingolfin's English stomach to adjust to Goan cuisine, now the thought of returning to plan English roasts was pure torture.

"Are you certain he's not simply being...theatrical?" he asked hopefully. "Baptista does have rather an artistic temperament..."

"Oh no, he's resigned," said Anairë. "There was no mistaking his tone. And I am not hiring an English cook, Fingolfin, I am not. We would starve in a week."

"It's unconscionable," Fingolfin fumed. "To abandon a family on such short notice, and leave us in such a position! Where does he think he'll find better employers than us?"

"Apparently he plans to inquire with the other branches of our family," said Anairë distastefully. "As though any of them would dare to take him from us. Not even..." She trailed off, a smile spreading slowly across her face. "No need to panic, my dear husband, I believe I've just thought of a scheme. Your stomach is spared."

"Thank God," Fingolfin muttered, heading to the brandy decanter. "A man has got to eat."

Four o'clock found Anairë in the parlor with her sister-in-law, renowned Irish sculptor Nerdanel Gates. A greater contrast between two women could not have been found: Anairë tidy and regal in her navy-blue jacket and bustled skirt, Nerdanel in men's breeches and a leather apron, her ginger hair piled on her head and clay dust covering her skin. Still, they greeted one another with genuine enthusiasm. Along with their Welsh sister-in-law, Earwen, they were the only women in London who knew what it was like being married to a Gates brother.

"You look grand as always, Anairë," Nerdanel said. "And here I am, looking a fright. Still, always nice to see you. What brings you here today?"

"Actually, Nerdanel darling, I was hoping to ask you a favor," said Anairë. "If it's not too much of a bother."

"No trouble at all, my dear. How can I help?"

"My chef has recently given notice after an... incident with my children," said Anairë. "He mentioned he might like to work with another branch of the family, so if he comes calling..."

"You want me to turn him away, I imagine," said Nerdanel. "Sure and that won't be difficult. You know how my husband feels about hiring servants."

"As a matter of fact, no," said Anairë. "I would like you to hire him."

Nerdanel's green eyes widened. "Hire him? Whatever for?"

"Clearly, Baptista feels our home is a trifle too chaotic for his liking," said Anairë. "What he needs is a bit of... perspective. And if you'll forgive me for saying so, Nerdanel dear, your home is a tad more chaotic than mine from day to day."

"Aye, no point mincing words there," Nerdanel snorted. "Why Fëanor and I decided to produce seven wains will always be a mystery. So you'd like us to take him on temporarily, give him a wee shock, is it? Well, I'm certain I can talk Fëanor into hiring Baptista for a week or so, though I doubt much longer..."

Anairë, thinking of Baptista's sensitive nature, smirked. "Dear Nerdanel, I doubt it'll take more than three days."

Approximately forty-eight hours later, Anaire was interrupted at her afternoon tea by one of the parlormaids, who explained that Mrs. Gates was desperately needed in the kitchen.

Upon arriving downstairs, Anaire was greeted by the sight of Baptista, who seemed to have aged about ten years overnight. His usually neatly slicked-back hair was unkempt, and his jaw unshaved.

Suppressing a smile, Anaire sat at the kitchen table across from him. "Baptista. How pleasant to see you. What brings you back here?"

"Senhora Gates," said Baptista, and quickly switched into rapid-fire Konkani. "I would never ask such a thing under ordinary circumstances, but I must beseech you to consider hiring me back to my old position. I was mistaken in leaving, I see that now. Your home seems like a paradise, compared to..."

"Compared to my brother-in-law's household?" Anaire looked at him in false shock. "Baptista, you surprise me! The family of one of the most respectable inventors in Europe is difficult to work for?"

"Those children of his are demons," Baptista practically snarled. "The elder ones make more noise than a marching band, and the younger ones are practically wild animals. They threw eggs about the house, let squirrels into the kitchen, and played the violin at all hours. I cannot believe they share any blood with your dear children, madam."

Anairë permitted herself a smirk. "Indeed, I think my children misbehave far less frequently. It won't inconvenience you too much to stay in a household where they're present?"

"Madam," said Baptista, "after the last two days, it would be my delight."

Outwardly calm, it was all Anairë could do to keep from whooping in self-congratulation. He has learned his lesson, all right, she thought. I may solve things politely, but no one crosses Anairë Gates.

#tsaw22 #anaire #fc amita suman btw #she was so good in shadow and bone #silmarillion #tolkien #anaire acts posh but she's as schemey as the rest of her fam

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your-daily-biaswrecking · 3 years ago

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I will give my firstborn for a yandere tae drabble

Well then hand the babe over 🤲🏼

You tried to break up with him. Ha! You really tried to break up with him. It was after he was whining a little too much about the guy you worked him with; he didn't trust him, didn't want you talking to him. He was begging you to quit your job– said he made enough money for the two of you, he could take care of you, you didn't even have to leave the house. And that was when it hit you: if you indeed quit your job then you wouldn't even have a reason to leave the house anymore. You had cut off all of your friends because Taehyung insisted they were bad and that they secretly hated you or used you. And your family was barely talking to you anymore because they hated your boyfriend and you had to pick one or the other. And now your job... Taehyung was cutting you off from the world, little by little. And you tried to leave him over it.

Needless to say, he wasn't happy about it. The first couple of nights he was crying and begging, trying to guilt-trip you into staying with him. It almost worked; you loved that man so much it broke your heart to see him like that. You offered some compromises, but he didn't take them, still insisting on his views. So you started packing your things, looking for someplace to stay. And then Taehyung tried a different approach: he was sweet and caring, reminding you of how good it felt to be with him. He bought you flowers, clothes, tickets for a vacation, he cooked for you and was more lenient than ever. And, you'll admit, you got distracted enough to stay a bit longer. But then he brought up your work again, and he wasn't happy at all to hear you still planned on keeping it.

You woke up and were alone. And when you tried to leave, you found out you had been locked in the house. No keys. No phones to call for help. You could do nothing but sit and wait for Taehyung to get back, and when he did, you saw a man you had never seen before. Expression so serious it made your blood run cold.

"What the hell are you doing?" you asked with a low voice when you saw him locking the house again once he was inside. Keys going straight into his safe of which the password only he knew. "I– couldn't go to work, I–"

Taehyung cut you off with his intense stare. "Don't worry, darling," he spoke, words lovely but voice harsh. "I called your work yesterday and told them you were quitting. Effective immediately." You didn't have the time to protest before he was right in front of you, grabbing your jaw to bring your face close to his. "You know that I only want what's best for you, baby," he said, kissing your lips. "Trust me, this is what's best for you."

"Taehyung!" you whined. When you tried to move again, his hand left your jaw to wrap around your throat, choking you lightly.

"Don't make Daddy mad, darling," he growled. "I'm already very displeased by how you keep trying to run away. Now, you should listen to me and follow my rules or I might have to do something neither of us will like."

You coughed. "What– what do you mean?"

Taehyung's grip got a bit tighter before he released you altogether, taking your hands in his as if this was a romantic moment instead of a scary one. He looked at you through his lashes. "I can't let you go, baby. Don't you know I can't? I'll be with you until you die." He leaned in to kiss your cheek, thumbs stroking your hands as if what he was saying was a promise instead of a threat. "You're either with me or no one, baby." A threat, a threat, definitely a threat.

You pulled away, but not too much since your boyfriend held you tightly, pulling you back onto his body. "So what?" you breathed, voice a bit shaky. "You'll keep me locked up in here forever?"

The man chuckled. He stroked your face, fingers sneaking through your hair to get a nice grip on you. "No, not forever. If you are a good girl you'll get some of your privileges back, like being able to go out attended, and using your phone intermittently."

"Tae–" you whined. He pulled your hair harder, making you yelp.

"I don't want to hear another word from you, darling," he growled, and by the way his breathing was harsh you could tell the soft words and the smile was an act he was struggling to keep. Still trying to look good in front of you. And he started walking you to the bedroom. "You know I don't enjoy punishing you, baby, but you need to learn you can't disobey Daddy again." He threw you on the bed. "Take your clothes off." You hesitated, and Taehyung leaned in too close to your face again. "I said take your fucking clothes off right now, you little brat. I won't say it again– I'll do something worse."

You gulped. And you got naked while you watched him stare at you heatedly, hands fumbling with his belt until he had taken it off of him completely and folded it a couple of times in his hands. You felt your stomach clenching and your heart racing, but it wasn't the regular excitement of your boyfriend about to punish you; there was actual fear interlaced into this.

"You don't have to do this," you cried when he had you laid on the bed, legs wide open to expose your cunt to him fully, and he was glaring down at you, belt straining against his hold. "O-okay, no more job for me. I won't leave, baby. I'll stay with you and I'll be good, I promise. Please, Taehyung, don't be this way."

You heard him groan in the back of his throat, biting his lip. "Of course you'll be good, darling. Now–" he said, bringing the belt up high, "–count 20 spanks for me, baby." And he brought it down right onto your pussy, hitting your very sensitive clit with force.

One.

Masterlist | Moodboard

#bts #bangtan #v #Taehyung #kim Taehyung #drabble #angst #smut #Taehyung drabble #bts drabble #yandere #yandere taehyung #yandere bts #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #request

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plaidbooks · 3 years ago

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Autumn Leaves

A/N: Autumn prompts are an excuse for me to write stupidly cute fluff, so that’s what I did. This is a Sonny Carisi x reader fic that covers the Autumn square in @adarafaelbarba moodboard bingo!

P.S. second-cousins are children of cousins

Tags: none, just fluff

Words: 1872

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

“My family is insane, especially the kids,” Sonny explained while he drove you to Staten Island. “They don’t know how to sit and eat food without screaming.”

You chuckled, "it's fine, Carisi, I promise; I'm kind of used to this type of stuff already."

“What? You are? You don’t even know what’s awaitin’ ya, yet,” he replied, scoffing.

While in the precinct, you overheard Sonny on the phone with his ma. He seemed upset and perpetually tired when he hung up. When you asked him what was wrong, he told you that his ma was basically guilt-tripping him into visiting on Saturday, to help with the Autumn Feast his family partook in. And when you asked why that was so bad, he complained that no matter what they cooked, the kids of the Carisi Clan would hardly sit still long enough to eat, and would scream and cry if it wasn’t something they wanted.

“It just…it’s a handful…and not my ideal day off, even if I do get to see my family,” Sonny finished

You had nodded in sympathy before offering to go with him; you had a pretty big family with a lot of kids, too. Plus, you could never turn down Sonny’s amazing cooking, and now, you were getting a chance to taste his mom’s.

He had picked you up that morning, and now, you were on your way to Staten Island, Sonny warning you the whole way. You laughed and shrugged it off, but he kept giving you a look like you’ll see what I mean.

********************

He pulled up to his childhood home, and your eyes sparkled at the state of the townhouse. Not only was the building itself quaint and adorable, but there were decorations everywhere. And not just Halloween, but general autumn décor, as well. There were wreaths made with leaves of reds and oranges and yellows, there were scarecrows against the walls, there were fake pumpkins on every step leading to the house. And looming over the house from out back were two enormous trees, their branches almost completely bare, the leaves scattered on the roof, the front yard, and the back.

Sonny led you up the stairs to the front door, opening it for you. The first thing to assault your senses was the cacophony of noise. Children screaming in delight as they ran through the house, chatter and laughter from the various rooms as people talked. There was a tv on somewhere, with what sounded like a sports or news reporter blathering on and on.

The second thing you noticed was the wonderful smells. Your mouth was almost instantly watering as you caught the smell of garlic, potatoes, some sort of roast cooking with assorted spices, as well as cinnamon, sugar, and apples. It was so much at once; it was hard to differentiate.

But the third thing you felt was a type of warmth that comes only from a loving home. It bloomed in your chest, and you found yourself smiling as you stepped over the threshold, Sonny following and closing the door. It reminded you of the holidays at your own family’s place, and a calm washed over you.

In all of the chaos, Mama Carisi must’ve heard the door open and close, because she stuck her head out of the kitchen. Once her eyes latched onto Sonny’s, her smile grew to blinding proportions.

“Sonny, my little bambino! Come see your ma,” she cooed, arms open as she came out of the kitchen fully.

Sonny scooted passed you and hurried to his mother, wrapping her in a tight hug and kissing her cheek. You smiled at the reunion, and Mama Carisi opened her eyes to find you.

“And who is this?” she asked, releasing her son and coming over to you.

Sonny followed, looking more relaxed than you had ever seen him; getting a hug from your ma did that to a person. “Ah, this is my partner in the department,” he explained, introducing you.

You went to shake her hand, but Mama Carisi wrapped you up in a huge hug, kissing your cheek and whispering, “it’s nice to meet you. Welcome to my home,” into your ear.

“Thank you for having me,” you replied, easily melting into her embrace—okay, maybe it wasn’t just hugging your own mom that relaxed a person; maybe it was hugging Mama Carisi.

She pulled back to give you a look, a warm smile on her face. “Anyone who’s a friend of Sonny’s is welcome here.”

The next hour was a flurry of meeting family member after family member. Even with your detective skills, you quickly forgot most names, and your cheeks started to hurt from smiling. You and Sonny had started in the kitchen before he shuttled you through the house and out to the backyard.

“And these are all my cousins and second cousins; I’m not gonna bother introducing ya, since they won’t pay attention,” Sonny said, chuckling.

You didn’t blame him; there was a gaggle of children running and playing in the backyard. The oldest looked maybe ten, the youngest around four or five.

“Are these the ones that give you such problems?” you asked as a joke. It’s true that they were loud and crazy—as most kids are.

Sonny smirked, nodding. “Sure are. Watch; I bet ya twenty dollars that at least half of them will complain about dinner.”

“You got yourself a deal,” you replied, shaking his hand. Then, you scanned the expansive backyard. Leaves were covering the ground so completely that you could hardly see the lawn; kids were slipping on them all over the place. In the back, left corner stood an apple tree, bare of fruit—you assumed they’d already been harvested. And opposite the tree sat a little toolshed.

Grinning, you made your way through the throng of people and screaming children until you reached the shed. You opened the door and leaning just inside were two rakes: one huge one, and one medium sized. You grabbed the bigger of the two, then went to a small section of the backyard that somehow had no kids.

You glanced over and saw Sonny giving you a weird look, wondering what you were doing. Then, you started raking the leaves. You didn’t expect to get very far—the first pile rarely did. But there were so many leaves that you quickly had a pile up to your hip. As soon as one kid noticed, though, it was on.

The pile was quickly demolished as child after child flung themselves into it, screaming with laughter. But you had already moved on, starting another pile where they had just vacated. This one got a little bigger than the last, since they were distracted with the first pile. But once it was seen, it, too, became a new playground.

As you started on the third pile, another rake joined you. You glanced over and Sonny was there, smiling wide as he helped you rake. This pile got to be huge before little bodies flung themselves into it.

You quickly lost track of time, had no idea how many piles you had built only to be destroyed. But that was the point of the piles in the first place. Soon enough, the children started to become too tired, their little legs worn out. Your own arms were burning, but it was a good burn, and you continued until the piles started to outnumber the children.

By the time dinner was announced, there was not a single child running and playing anymore. They were scattered along the ground, panting, and smiling at each other with a job well done. Their parents all either ushered them to one of the various tables, or simply handed them a plate. Sonny, as well as the rest of his family, watched in stunned fascination as the children ate, too tired to complain or throw a fit about what they were given.

“How the hell did you do that?” Sonny asked in a hushed voice.

You chuckled. “I told you I had experience with this; you’re not the only one with a big family. And besides, no child has ever turned down the opportunity of crunching leaves.”

He gave you a look full of awe before he broke into a wide grin. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and grabbed a $20. You huffed out a laugh as he handed it to you, and you tucked it away.

Mama Carisi walked up then, looking at everyone enjoying her hard work in the kitchen. “You’re a miracle worker, dear,” she said to you before looking at Sonny, “please tell me you’re keeping her?”

Sonny’s ears turned a bright pink. “Ma!”

“What? She’s helpful, knows how to play with children, and is a beautiful, young woman—”

“Ma! Stop talking, please!” Sonny whined. You felt a heat in your cheeks as Sonny avoided looking directly at you. It wasn’t like you never thought about dating Sonny; on the contrary, you found him incredibly attractive. But you were partners; there was a line there that you didn’t know if you could cross.

Mama Carisi scoffed before walking off, leaving you and Sonny to stand awkwardly next to each other. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before he turned and went into the now mostly empty house. You gave a sweeping look at the party guests before following him in.

You found him standing in his old living room, idly looking at childhood pictures on the wall. You watched him for a moment before you moved closer, within arm’s reach.

“I’m…sorry about ma,” he muttered, eyes still focused on the pictures. “She keeps trying to hook me up with any woman around my age and just…I’m sorry.”

You gave him a soft smile that he didn’t see. “It’s okay, Sonny, really. I don’t think anything less of you or anything. We’re partners, and damn good ones, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, but…what if I don’t want to be just partners?” he asked, voice soft.

You froze; what did he say? Sonny slowly turned to look at you, saw the shock on your face. Then he was shaking his head, quickly saying, “look, forget I said anything—”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss, your lips soft against his. He let out a little gasp of surprise before he was kissing you back. One hand came up to your face, cupping your cheek, while the other went to your hip. You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You felt that line that defined you as partners only start to fade away as your mouths moved against each other.

Gently, you pulled away from him, just enough to look deeply into those blue eyes you loved so much. “Maybe I don’t want to be just partners, either,” you said softly.

Sonny grinned, his thumb rubbing your cheek tenderly. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow, then?”

“Sounds like a date,” you replied, smiling up at him. His grin broadened before he dipped his head, kissing away any fears or doubts you had about this.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #adarafaelbarbaseptemberbingo

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 5)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: nearly 2.5k

warnings: vague description of a wet dream, some sensual implied stuff (??),

moodboard and inspiration credit to @evnscvll

In all your life, you’d never had a wet dream. Not even in high school when so many of your peers were coping with puberty and budding sexuality in similar ways— not even when you’d wanted to have one about David Kapoor, the cutest guy in senior year who didn’t even know you existed but that you were somehow convinced was going to fall madly in love with you one day.

It never did work out for you two, but you’d finally managed to have a wet dream. This one, though, was about Sebastian.

In your dream he had cornered you in the kitchen, kissing you deeply before tossing you onto the table and— well, the rest doesn’t bear repeating. It was all very ‘discount bin romance novel’ wasn’t it? The exotic, rugged farm boy roughly taking the formerly-prudish businesswoman in the middle of the house, too deep in the throes of passion to care if someone walking by saw them.

You didn’t find it all that sexy by the time you woke up; moreso just humorous. That’s preposterous, you thought to yourself, nobody’s ever gonna love me like that.

It was something your husband had said to you once. You couldn’t even remember what the context was anymore, but clearly it had had an impact on you to be repeating it internally now. Just last week, Mrs. Alberti had gotten on your case for speaking poorly of yourself. Clearly, the things you said about yourself to others were nothing against what you said about yourself to yourself.

Your papers had only taken a day to dry, but the ink was pretty severely smudged. Knowing your publisher wouldn’t accept them in a manuscript, you resolved to retyping the most damaged ones— a good mindless task to do while you pondered your next steps plot-wise. You’d seen Sebastian less for the past week, and it was no accident; you’d been avoiding him because you were trying to nip this in the bud before it got any worse. Your divorce isn’t final yet, you need to heal. This is fantasy, not reality. You barely know each other. Your divorce isn’t final. Your divorce. Isn’t. Final.

That was the mantra you found yourself repeating as you retyped the waterlogged sheets; so much for the plot-pondering plan, eh?

You heard someone coming up the stairs, and you knew it was him because the steps were coming too quickly to be Mrs. Alberti. “Come in,” you instructed before he’d even knocked.

“Bună ziua,” he greeted as he opened the door, leaning inside. “Am pregătit cina, ai vrea să mănânci?”

“Hm?” you asked as you turned around in your chair, adjusting your reading glasses. However, his question became more obvious through context when you saw he had oven mitts and an apron on, and was holding a wooden spoon. “Oh, um, I’ll be down for dinner in a minute. Soon.” You held up a few fingers, hoping he would successfully interpret them into minutes.

“Arăți bine în ochelarii aceia,” he motioned, pointing towards you.

“I’m sorry… what?” you asked, not sure at all what he could be talking about.

“Ochelari. Sunt drăguți,” he re-emphasized, but it was useless as you gave him another confused look. He sighed, straightening up a bit as he began a new method: “Îmi plac,” he said, pointing to himself and then giving a thumbs up, “ochelarii tăi,” he pointed to you, and then made circles with his fingers and brought them up to his eyes.

You laughed a little, but you were pretty sure you got what he meant. “You like my glasses?” you clarified, reaching up to wiggle them on your face a bit.

“Da,” he grinned. “Pari inteligent.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, and he nodded back as he shut the door and his footsteps faded back into the kitchen.

Once a few more pages had been redone, you gave your hair a quick combing before heading down for dinner with Sebastian. It smelled a little strange by the time you went downstairs, but when you swung open the door to the kitchen, you were instantly hit with a wave of acidic air, forcing you to wince and cough. Even that didn’t help much, and you forced your eyes shut as they stung.

“Jesus Christ,” you yelped, “the fuck are you cooking? Tear gas?!”

“Oțetul te irită?” he asked, not sounding as concerned as you would’ve hoped considering your obvious pain. It was like you could taste it in the air, and it wasn’t until you managed to open your burning eyes again that you realized what it was: vinegar, in a huge jug right next to the pot he was boiling it in.

“You’re boiling vinegar?” you realized incredulously. “God, Europeans are fucking weird.”

He just looked back at you with bewildered bemusement.

“In America,” you tried to explain, “we don’t eat vinegar. We clean our floors with it.” You pointed to the jug and made a motion meant to indicate scrubbing a surface, and he laughed a little.

“Americanii sunt prea sensibili,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, turning back to the stove to stir his pot of disinfectant which he apparently planned to serve you as a meal. “Am avut ciorbă de oțet de când eram copil.”

You’d typically considered yourself an adventurous eater— even with vinegar-pickled things, like kim chi which you’d learned to acquire a taste for— but this one put you to the test. Considering the smell alone had singed your sinuses, you were nervous what would become of your innocent tastebuds. But after he served the soup (a dark orange color, so apparently it wasn’t just the boiled vinegar) into a bowl for you and another for himself, you found the taste of it oddly pleasant when you sipped it gently from your hesitant little spoon.

“Vezi, nu e așa de rău,” he smiled gently as he watched you fail to recoil in disgust from the flavor.

“Just like ma used to make, huh?” you chuckled as he ate the soup with incredible speed, even going as far as to lift the bowl to his lips and drink the last few sips that way.

Eating dinner in silence with him was unexpectedly comfortable. “You wanna know something funny?” you found yourself mumbling aloud. “I enjoy talking to you more than anyone I ever did back home, and you can’t even understand me.”

His smile softened as he stared back at you, apparently sensing the change in your tone as you spoke.

“See, right there, that’s it: you’re listening to me. You know it’s useless, you know you won’t be able to tell what I’m talking about, but you’re listening anyways. Over two billion English speakers on the planet and none of them have listened to me like you do.”

Then you heard yourself, and it was so heart-breaking that you had no choice but to laugh. It was just a chuckle at first, but then you couldn’t stop it, even when you realized how confused Sebastian would be. Everything is funnier when you know you shouldn’t laugh, and soon you could barely breathe as tears warmed your eyes from the force of it.

“I’m sorry,” you tried to spit out between your fits of laughter, but it was barely comprehensible anyways. Sebastian began to laugh with you, if hesitantly and with a hint of confusion.

“De ce râdem?” he asked gently.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, calming down a bit, “I’m sorry I just… I was just imagining what my husband would say, if he knew I was here…” you trailed off as you laughed again, starting over. “If he knew I was here, falling for someone I’ve never even spoken with.” You shook your head, resting your face in your hands as you chuckled lightly. “Oh, he’d hate this. He’d tell me I was out of my mind.”

With a slow sigh, your laughter subsided as you wiped the wetness from your eyes.

“He’d be right, but… I don’t really care,” you decided. “He’s not here. If he wanted to find me, he would. And maybe it’s because he’d hate this that I’m having so much goddamn fun doing it.”

When you looked at Sebastian again, his face was serious, yet anything but stern. Suddenly, you weren’t thinking about your husband anymore. Of course you logically understood how odd this all was, how impossible it was for you to be slowly finding yourself in love with someone like him, but it felt right, and true, and real. It made no sense, and yet it made perfect sense in every way that mattered.

“I’ll help you clean,” you offered as you stood up, realizing you’d gotten lost in your train of thought and probably stared at him for a bit too long. He stood up with you, helping you gather the used dishes and letting you wash them in the sink while he put the remaining soup in the refrigerator as leftovers for another time. “I’ll cook for you tomorrow,” you promised, “something real bland, like the English cook.”

“Sper că nu intenționați să gătiți pentru mine cândva, nu suport mâncarea occidentală,” he mumbled as he continued to wipe down the countertop with a damp towel.

With the kitchen clean, you knew you should get back to writing your book, but you were compelled instead to read somebody else’s— so, as you slipped onto the couch with one of a few of your favorites that you’d brought with you, Sebastian summoned the same copy of Dracula you’d seen him reading a few times and took the loveseat. Not much else happened after that, save for you shivering from a draft and him tossing a throw blanket on you.

“Ce carte citești?” he asked you eventually, breaking the silence. When you looked up, he was pointing at your book. “Book?”

“Right,” you laughed, “I taught you that. My book, uh, it’s good.” You closed it, leaving your finger inside to mark your place as you showed him the front cover. “On the Road? Ever heard of it?”

He just cocked his head to the side.

“Jack Kerouac?” you continued. “It’s about going on a long journey in search of… freedom.”

“Acesta este cel despre zombi?” he asked.

“Sure,” you nodded, wishing more than ever that you could know what he was saying. He smiled and got back to his own reading. Indulging yourself for a moment, you watched his face as it fell into a neutral expression while he read, his eyes trailing along the page as he continued to read. You didn’t realize it, but when you returned to reading your own book, he got his chance to look at you.

A long day of writing meant you had more than earned an evening to relax by the fire; late summer became early fall, and early fall turned into the need for a fireplace so much faster than you’d anticipated. The days were temperate, sure, but as the sun began to sink lower, so did the warmth. You started your evening with a hot shower, though you didn’t let yourself get too greedy with the limited supply of hot water, knowing Sebastian relied on the same supply for his own baths. When you finished, you dressed yourself in a fluffy lavender robe, feeling especially pampered when you put on a little moisturizer before heading downstairs to cozy up with the fire. You were already getting chilly, the heat from the shower fading as your wet hair and bare feet cooled you quickly. Therefore, it was more of a scurry to the fireplace, which you hadn’t expected Sebastian to be tending or you wouldn’t have come down in a robe. He’d seen you in less (namely, his shirt and nothing else, which was horrifically embarrassing) but something about this felt more intimate, like all your defenses had been washed away in the shower, too. Didn’t help that he was shirtless, again. Wasn’t he cold in this weather?! Must be all that muscle keeping him warm.

“Bună seara,” he greeted.

“Good evening,” you returned. Stepping closer, you rubbed your hands together as you felt the hot air radiate towards you. “It’s nice,” you sighed contentedly.

He smiled back at you, moving the logs slightly with the iron poker. Sparks jumped and fell off as he shifted them, joining the ashes below— you’d always thought fire was so beautiful, even if it was dangerous, and you took in a long breath through your nose to smell the tinge of smokiness in the air.

“Te încălzești?” he asked quietly as he set the poker aside and stood beside you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing through the fabric of the robe to try to warm up a little faster. Seeing you shiver, he reached out and rubbed your arms for you, which made you tense up slightly before relaxing and breathing out. “Mai bine?”

You nodded a little, your gaze drifting slightly.

“Warm?” he asked, making your eyes jump back up to his. You swallowed dryly as he looked back at you.

“Warm,” you repeated, “yeah. Good job… when’d you learn that?”

He didn’t answer, watching your hands as they reached out for his arms, finally making delicate contact with his tanned skin before drifting up to his biceps, his shoulders, and finally his chest. He put his own hands on top of yours and held them there, looking back at you as your heart started to beat rapidly and with no signs of slowing down. “Warm,” he repeated, only slightly above a whisper.

“Oh yeah,” you agreed hoarsely, “very, very warm…”

He smiled a little; it wasn’t mischievous, it wasn’t conniving or predatory or malicious. It was subtle but gentle in a way you had absolutely no plan to save yourself from, no protection, no armor, no neutral territory. There was only heat, so strong that your toes weren’t cold anymore and you didn’t even remember that your hair was still damp. Not only did you let his heat consume you, but you didn’t even think to stop it, to swallow your desire down, to run away and say goodnight and hide in bed from the icky scary feelings. No, you looked right back at him and let those eyes pierce right through you, that cold blue changed entirely with the warm firelight reflecting in them.

“Do you want to come to my room?” you asked slowly. The words were useless, but a glance back to the stairs that led to your door and back at him asked the same question with much more efficacy.

He nodded, and you stepped backwards as he followed you: across the house, up the stairs, and to your room. You opened the door. He shut it behind you.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan rpf #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n

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heyyyharry · 3 years ago

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Deep End - Chapter 12: Dirty Dreams

…in which Harry and Ezi kiss again…and again…and again… (THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT)

Word count: 4.6k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

Harry didn’t understand dreams. How did dreams even work? Because sometimes he would see someone he hadn’t seen in years in his dreams, even though he had completely forgotten about the person’s existence up to that point. Then there were these super violent and bloody dreams that woke him in the middle of the night in cold sweats. Then, there were some other more inappropriate dreams that made him so disappointed when the alarm rang.

Listen, Harry wasn’t a pervert. He didn’t think about sex 24/7; well, not usually. But lately, he’d been having dirty dreams more often than he would enjoy. He would wake up with his dick rock hard and end up late for work because he had to stroke one out in the shower. And he blamed it on…

“Ezi! Where are your pants? And why are you wearing my shirt?”

Ezi stopped in the kitchen doorway with a bowl of ice cream in one hand, the other holding a spoon in her mouth. “This is my new ‘at home’ look,” she said, while leaning against the door in nothing but his button-up shirt that fell just past her bum. As if the sight wasn’t torturing enough, she had to be licking ice cream from the fucking spoon. It was eight in the fucking morning! And Harry would not go back to the bathroom to wank again.

“But where are your shirts? Why don’t you wear them?” he asked and slipped past her into the kitchen. He would make himself a cup of coffee so he wouldn’t have to watch her being effortlessly sexy in the kitchen doorway.

“They said on the internet that you should borrow your boyfriend’s shirt, and you’re my fake boyfriend.”

“Fair enough,” Harry chuckled.

She gave him a shy smile and left without saying another word. That was the longest conversation they’d had since that night she went out on a date with Dawson. Ezi was always a little bit weird. Okay, well, very weird. But her weirdness had been different lately, in a bad way. She was still doing weird things, but keeping a distance from him.

Harry knew he couldn’t really complain, since he’d specifically told her to her face that he preferred it when it was just him and the cat. Having his own space had been nice for a day or two, then he’d started missing how annoying she’d been. And of course, he blamed this all on Dawson.

Harry had been second to Dawson his whole life. Ever since he’d been a kid and found out that he’d had a cousin, Dawson had been nothing but a burden for Harry. Harry was the only child, but to his parents, Dawson had been their favourite son. His father used to love sports, but Harry had never been a fan of those. Dawson, on the other hand, had been the captain of the school’s football team and was excellent at marathons as well. So if Harry’s father was still alive, Dawson would be the one making him proud by taking over the family business Harry didn’t want.

Now, just as Harry had finally gained his own spotlight as a singer, becoming great at something Dawson wasn’t good at, Dawson swept in and stole Ezi.

Harry had spent a lot of time wondering why it had mattered so much to him that Ezi had gone on one date with his cousin. He didn’t even like her like that, and the house was always peaceful without her, which he enjoyed very much. But why did the idea of her becoming something with Dawson bother him so much? He hadn’t been sleeping well for the last couple of days. Not to mention that Ezi had started keeping distance from him. Well, he’d done it first because of the kiss, but it was weird when she did it because she had always been so fucking clingy. And he’d hated that. Until now!

Ding dong!

“What do you want?” Harry asked in the least annoyed tone he could pull off, while fighting the urge to slam the door in Dawson’s good-looking face.

“Is Ezi home?” Dawson asked.

“Ezi? You mean Ezili? Because I’m the only one who calls her Ezi.”

“Y-Yeah, Ezili,” Dawson said with an awkward smile. This guy was a tool. What did Ezi see in him?

“No, she’s at work,” Harry said, and quickly added, “but don’t think about going there. They’re having a book club meeting; she’d be mad if you showed up and distracted her.”

That was a lie. Harry didn’t even know if people actually hosted book club meetings at random book shops, but did it matter? If he was going to be petty, he must go all the way.

“What do you wanna meet her for?” he asked before Dawson could leave. He didn’t want to have a long conversation with Dawson about Ezi, but it was the only way to learn more about their date. “Did you do something that you wanna apologise for?”

“No. Of course not,” Dawson chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “She bought some books and forgot them in my car.”

“I could give them to her when she gets back from work,” Harry said.

Dawson looked hesitant. “Well, she told me not to give them to you.”

“Oh.” Harry kept a straight face, but he was very offended that she’d made that request. Did she really hate him so much for what he’d said that night?

“So,” he ventured, averting his eyes. “Guess the date went well?”

“I suppose,” Dawson said.

Harry had hoped for a different response. This one didn’t really hurt him but it didn’t make him happy, either. He cleared his throat and straightened his back. “So are you looking forward to the second date?”

“I don’t think there’s gonna be one,” Dawson said, to Harry’s surprise. “I don’t think she likes me like that?”

Okay, this was the response Harry had been waiting for. He tried to suppress a grin as he patted his cousin’s shoulder sympathetically, while he was far from sympathetic. “Oh, don’t be so pessimistic. I know she’s a bit out of your league, but dare to dream a little.”

“Very funny,” Dawson snorted and brushed off Harry’s hand. “But I think she has a crush on you.”

“Really? I mean, no!” Harry faked a laugh, crossing his arm and leaning against the door in an unnatural pose. “No way.” Now he sounded like a commercial guy who had never attended a single acting class. “She doesn’t...she doesn’t have a crush on me,” he stuttered. “W-Why do you think so?”

Dawson pressed his lips into an understanding smile that made Harry’s face grow red. “All she talked about for the entire night was you.”

Harry thought Dawson was just teasing him at first. Then he remembered that this was Dawson, not him. So it was true. Ezi had talked about him for the whole night when she was with Dawson.

“What did she say?” Harry asked, trying to seem more curious than excited.

“She told me you were a good cook, and then complained about your bad habits. Then it was all ‘Harry said that’ and ‘Harry said this’. It seemed like she was really into you.”

“Oh, wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harry shrugged, trying to act cool and all that. “I’m just surprised. I thought she hated me.”

“I mean, she can still hate you if she has a crush on you,” said Dawson. “Also, why is she staying with you? Where’s her family?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Why didn’t you ask her?”

“She kept mentioning her mother but nothing more than that, and she’d just change the subject whenever I tried to ask.”

Harry didn’t have enough time to think of a lie, so he blurted, “Her family was abusive.”

Dawson looked horrified, but he completely bought that. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said. “She’s a lovely girl, though. I know that you don’t like her, but don’t break her heart. Turn her down nicely.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“You don’t like Ezili, right?” Dawson asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry laughed, uneasily. “I mean no, I don’t.”

“Yeah, I know you don’t wanna be in a relationship.”

Harry didn’t want to be in a relationship, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel things. He guessed most people would just assume he had no heart because it was easier for them to make sense of why he wouldn’t settle down. In reality it was more complicated than that. He had had feelings for some people in the past, and he’d shut them down before he got to the point of no return. Ezi might be a dangerous creature, but he’d probably hurt more people than she had, mostly himself.

So did he like Ezi? Yes. He’d just realised that when his heart blossomed to the thought of her thinking about him on a date with his cousin. There was no denying that, as he only felt this way about his own songs. But was he happy about it? Well, yeah, of course he was happy about it. He was over the moon even. Still, that didn’t mean he should do something about it. He would just keep it to himself and wait–No, hope for it to pass.

Later that night, when Ezi came home from work, she went straight into the kitchen to eat from the fridge, and Harry came downstairs to find her sitting on the floor, munching off a sandwich in the fridge light glow. He watched her for a moment from the door before deciding to break the silence.

She flinched when hearing her name. She turned around, sandwich still in her mouth. “Did Dawson stop by?” she asked. “He said he would bring me my books.”

“Yeah, he did. I put them in your room,” Harry said, trying his best not to roll his eyes at the mention of his cousin. But then he remembered what Dawson had told him and came to sit beside her on the floor.

She ignored him and continued eating. She looked nothing like someone who had a crush on him, so what if Dawson had lied to him? He had never heard a lie from Dawson, but it didn’t mean Dawson was incapable of lying.

“Ezi, I wanna ask you something,” he said.

She finished her sandwich and reached into the fridge of ice cream. “Go ahead,” she said.

Harry started fidgeting with his shirt. “Why won’t you tell me about that date with Dawson?”

Ezi didn’t look at him as she said, “Do I have to tell you? It was personal.”

“Well, your sister was there,” he reasoned, “and she’s tried to kill me several times so I think I deserve to know some details about that night.”

Yes, Harry was curious about Ezi’s sister as well, but was it bad to say that he wanted to know more about what Ezi thought of him? Was it bad that Ezi’s feelings for him mattered more than his stupid life?

“My sister wasn’t there the whole time,” Ezi sighed and dipped her spoon into the ice cream. “I got rid of her at the fair then went for dinner with Dawson.”

“Oh,” Harry said, watching her intently as she ate. “So—”

“My sister wanted me to go back home.”

Harry froze. “Why?” he blurted, suddenly anxious. “I mean…does your mother want you back? Not that I think she won’t ever want you back—”

“No.” Ezi rolled her eyes. “My sister wants me to go back in return of the throne, so she can be Queen and allow me back into the Queendom.”

“But you wanna Queen?”

“I’m going to be Queen!” Ezi snapped. Seeing the shocked look on Harry’s face, she softened her voice, “I’m the firstborn. I’m going to be Queen. I have a year to…” Her voice trailed off and she spaced out for a second.

“To what?”

Ezi pressed her lips into a tight smile then said, “To stay here. My sister told me that my mother would take me back in a year.”

“That’s the punishment?” Harry chuckled. “Make you stay in this world where a handsome man takes care of you and buys you stuff?” Maybe siren mums weren’t as bad as he’d thought.

“And also bullies me 24/7,” Ezi said.

“Hey!” Harry put up his hands. “You bully me, too.”

“You literally told me you didn’t want to see me around the house.”

“Yeah, well, I like seeing you around the house now.”

“Liar,” Ezi said and took a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Harry tried not to pay attention to the way she licked the spoon or think about licking ice cream from her lips, but he knew he was going to see a lot of that in his dreams tonight.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ezi held his gaze for two seconds, squinting her eyes. “Fine,” she said at last. “I forgive you.”

“Well, that was easy.”

“For now,” she added, putting the ice cream back into the fridge. “I’ll hate you again when I’m hungry.”

“You’re hungry eighty percent of the time!”

“Yeah.”

Harry chuckled as he watched her amber to the kitchen door. Clenching his fingers, he asked, “When’s your birthday?”

Ezi turned her head. “March 12. Why?”

“So I can say happy birthday to you on March 12.”

“Oh, thanks. Not looking forward to it, though.”

“Also,” Harry said fast before she left. “Do you wanna go to a party with me?”

Niall had just reached one million followers on TikTok, so he’d thrown a huge party at his mansion and invited his friends who had brought their friends and their friends’ friends. So the most influential people in the entertainment industry were at the party tonight.

Jeff had suggested that Harry bring Ezi so they could do some PDA stuff at the party to make headlines for the next few days. At first, Harry had planned to make up some excuses so he could go alone.

He and Ezi hadn’t kissed since that day in his mother’s closet. Well, actually, they had had a few pecks on the lips in public, but it’d only been for the paparazzi. It was hard to think about romance when there were at least ten cameras pointing at you.

Their first kiss, however, had been real and…hot. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t know how Ezi felt since she never talked about it, but he had the impression that she had enjoyed it as much as he had. He couldn’t stop thinking about her flushed cheeks and plum lips as she pulled back, confused yet wanting more. In his dreams last night, they had been in that closet, but their clothes had been discarded, and he’d been pounding her against the wall. It was so hot. He’d had to wank twice when he woke up and he couldn’t make eye contact with Ezi in the kitchen during breakfast. Now he couldn’t get those images out of his mind.

“Harry.”

Harry jumped when his name was called. Ezi gave him a questioning look. She was wearing a little pink strap dress and her hair was in a high bun. She looked so cute tonight; his stylist had done a great job.

“You okay?” she asked, slipping her fingers into his. He knew it didn’t mean anything and she was only doing what Jeff had told her to. But he couldn’t stop the butterflies in his stomach from acting up. “It seemed like your soul left your body for a second.”

“Sorry, this loud music gives me a headache,” he said and finished his glass of wine. Ezi didn’t drink. “You wanna dance?”

Her gaze shot up in surprise. “Do you wanna dance?”

“What do you mean? I’m a fantastic dance partner.”

“But I’ve never danced before. I just got these legs a few weeks ago.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ll be good at it, I’m sure. We’ll wait for a slow song.”

Niall walked by just in time to overhear the conversation, so he shouted, “Slow song for my besties Harry and Ezili!”

Harry tried to stop Niall, but it was too late. Everyone in Niall’s living room was staring at him and Ezi. Jeff would be happy about this, but Harry didn’t think Ezi was. Her fingers tightened around his as she stepped closer, apparently uncomfortable with the intrusive glances they were receiving.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her close. “We’ll show them how great we are.”

“But I’m not—”

He didn’t let her finish and drag her out on the dance floor. There were a few couples slow-dancing around them, but Harry knew he and Ezi were the attention of tonight. In these people’s eyes, they were in love, completely infatuated with each other.

“Follow my lead,” he whispered in Ezi's ear while fixing her posture. “It’s easy.”

For a human who had been to too many of these dances, it was. But Ezi was barely good at walking. And so she ended up stepping on his feet repeatedly. The giggles of some women in the room made her even more anxious, so she almost stopped. But he reassured her by pulling her closer and lifting her chin so she was looking at him instead of them.

“Don’t be nervous. This is your little mermaid moment. Embrace it,” he said, making her smile.

“Ariel was a terrible dancer.”

“True. But she looked pretty stepping on the Prince’s feet.”

Ezi arched an eyebrow, amused. “Are you calling yourself the Prince?”

“I almost got casted for the role of Eric, by the way.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes.

He acted offended. “No, it’s real.”

“As real as Santa Claus.”

“Santa Claus is real,” Harry argued. “Not you saying he isn’t when you’re literally a mythical creature.”

“Shut up,” she chuckled.

“Make me,” he replied.

Harry didn’t know who had initiated it. Maybe they had both leaned in at the same time. But this time as they shared a kiss in a crowded room, it felt like they were all alone in his mother’s closet once again. Of course he had to keep his hands respectfully on her lower back, but the kiss was still hot. He could feel himself being unravelled right there on the dance floor, and he liked the way her fingers twirled the hair at the back of his neck as they melted into one. But then people had to ruin the moment for them by filming it. Jeff would be happy; Harry wasn’t.

He had developed a special talent over the years as a celebrity and could always sense when someone was taking pictures of him. It made him uneasy and distracted, so he had to pull back. He supposed his twisted expression might have given Ezi the wrong idea. She thought it was her that made him uncomfortable. And for some stupid reason, Harry let her think that.

They left the party early because Ezi didn’t seem to enjoy it anymore. On the drive home, Harry tried to find a way to apologise for ruining the moment, but he didn’t know how to not make it awkward. She didn’t say a single word to him in the car, and he knew she wasn’t going to unless he started the conversation. But then he didn’t. And so she went to bed angry at him.

Harry felt really bad about it. He knew it wouldn’t be this way if he had communicated like a normal human being. But it wasn’t easy. He didn’t want to admit to her that he’d enjoyed kissing her, and he would’ve made out with her in front of all those people had it not been for who he was. He had wanted that moment to be real, but then he remembered it wasn’t, and he felt like he was taking advantage of her.

Maybe she felt that way, too. He wasn’t sure. Or she was just tired and didn’t really care about the kiss, and he was the one making a fuss out of it because he assumed he meant more to her than he really did. Again, Dawson could’ve lied. Ezi might not even have feelings for him. She might think he was a bad kisser even.

As Harry fell asleep that night, he dreamed about her again. They were alone in Niall’s mansion. The music was playing as they slow-danced but nobody was watching. She started kissing him, and he kissed her back. His hands reached around her to unzip her little pink dress and let it pool around her ankles. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His cock was rock hard when they went in for more kissing. Her tongue slid between his lips, her hands reaching for his belt as he fumbled on the buttons of his own shirt. Then he woke up with a tent on his crotch. It was three in the fucking morning, and he was having the worst erection in his life.

Harry slipped his hand under the duvet and started playing with it to relieve some tension, but just as he was about to cum, he heard a loud crash downstairs. Instant boner killer.

“Ezi!” he shouted in frustration, slipped on his boxers and marched out of the room.

“I’m sorry!” Ezi’s voice echoed from downstairs. Harry groaned and headed down to the kitchen where he found her collecting broken pieces of a vase she’d knocked over.

“Just leave it,” he said, grabbing her wrists and pulling her up and away from the glass. “You’d hurt yourself, idiot.”

“I’m sorry. It was dark. I couldn’t see.”

“Why didn’t you turn on the lights?”

She shrugged, which made him laugh, because that was very Ezi of her. “You’re a dumbass,” he said.

“I’m not,�� she pouted.

“You are. This only happens to dumbasses.”

“Gosh, you’re an asshole,” she mumbled, arms crossed. She was standing with her back to the counter, and he was blocking her way from the door. Of course she could always sidestep him to leave, but instead, she stayed there, just awkwardly chewing on her nail. She was wearing nothing but a loose white shirt of his. And this time, Harry wasn’t complaining.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said.

“I’m not even looking at you,” he said, yet staring right at her face.

“You are.”

“How would you know? Unless you’re also looking at me.”

“This is stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“No, you—” Ezi’s voice cut off; her gaze dropped to his mouth as if she hadn’t realised how close they were until now. Harry knew that look so well, and usually it would be a sign for him to make a move. But this was Ezi.

“I should go back to bed,” she said, eyes meeting his again.

He nodded, but didn’t get out of the way.

Again, he didn’t know who leaned in first. The moment their mouths collided, all his thoughts evaporated; his walls crumbled, and he was powerless, unable to pull back. There was a kind of power in the way she kissed that he could not resist. He was all hers.

He tightened his arms around her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her onto the counter. He could feel his erection growing again in his pants. It didn’t take too long for it to turn fully hard, and she obviously felt it, so she pulled back from their kiss, panting. “It’s…”

“Ignore it,” he breathed, kissing her again, making his way down to her neck and chest. She was squirming now, and he wondered if she was also feeling things down there. “Are you wet?” he asked breathlessly against her lips.

She blinked, confused. “No, I’m dry.”

“No, Ezi,” Harry chuckled, face buried in her neck. “I mean, are you wet between your legs?”

“Oh.” She licked her perfect lips and nodded once. “Yeah. Like most of the time.”

Harry’s whole body went stiff. “What?”

“Like...whenever I think of us kissing,” Ezi admitted innocently.

Harry didn’t know which was hotter. The fact that they were both half-naked and horny right now, or the fact that she got turned on just from thinking of kissing him.

“What do you usually do when it happens?” he asked, adding soft kisses to her lips.

Her fists tightened on his back, her eyelids fluttering. “I r-rub my thighs together.”

Harry smiled as his cock twitched to the thought of it. “Does that feel good?”

Ezi nodded.

“Want me to help you feel even better?”

“You can?”

Harry nodded. He knew it wasn’t right to have sex with her when she didn’t even know what it was, so he wouldn’t rush it. He was just going to help her.

He kissed her once more and got down on his knees between her legs. She looked so hot all spread out in front of him with just his shirt and panties on. She wasn’t lying when she said she was wet. Her panties were completely soaked as he slid them off. She shivered a little yet didn’t protest. She wanted him to help.

He started by kissing her inner thigh. She had the prettiest pussy he had ever seen. He could just cum to the thought of licking her, and he swore he almost did when he took the first try. Her hips jolted, and he glanced up to meet her confused stare.

“If you want me to stop, just say it, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, biting her nail.

He held her eye contact as he started licking. She tasted as sweet as he’d imagined in those dreams. He still couldn’t believe this was real, but god, the sounds she made sent him to heaven. He dipped his tongue into her and her hands flew to the back of his neck. For a moment she forgot everything and started moving her hips against his face. Fuck. It turned him on so much. He slipped his hand into his boxers and gave himself a few strokes. Then she started to moan, and he worked his hand faster while flicking his tongue into her. He fucked himself until she cummed and made a mess inside his pants, cum dripping onto the floor.

“Is that milk?” Her question got him cackling as he got back to his feet, holding onto the counter on either side of her so he wouldn’t fall. He had never cummed so much; it had literally drained him out.

“No, it’s not milk,” he said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looked so fucked out as well, which made him feel so proud. “Did you like that?”

“Yes,” she said shyly. “Did you?”

“Very much,” he said. “I would kiss you again if I hadn’t just eaten you out. Not sure how you’d like it.”

A look of horror crossed Ezi’s face as she quickly checked between her legs.

“No!” Harry laughed. “I didn’t literally eat you. It’s what it’s called.”

“Oh.”

“Dummy.”

“Is it like...sex stuff?”

“Not really sex, just part of the sex. So yeah, sex stuff,” Harry explained, not sure how to feel about this situation. Now that post-nut clarity had hit, he started to feel a bit guilty, but it didn’t he wasn’t proud of himself for making her cum so hard her legs were shaking.

“I still want to kiss, though,” Ezi said shyly. “I don’t care.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry smiled. He liked seeing her blush because of him.

With a nod, she pulled him back in.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x mc #harry styles fic rec #harry styles dirty fanfiction

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latenightdecaf · 3 years ago

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Entry 8 - Afternoon coffee and reminiscing

part of the let the pile of good things grow series - series masterlist

Yoongi x reader

Ft. nonidol!bts

Producer!yoongi, roommate!yoongi, soft!yoongi

slow burn romance, friendship, slice of life

series of drabbles/one shots

no warnings

a/n: i was suddenly reminded of the time Yoongi mentioned that their old studio got flooded during their trainee days (?) and Joon reminding everyone that there’s no need to worry about flooding in the new hybe building. 😂 so here’s an image in my head—coffee, reminiscing and yoongi driving. Thank you human, for dropping by. 👋🏻

Word count: 1,251

“Hey, stranger.” As soon as you entered the cafe, a big grin on your face appeared recognizing that familiar figure with his black cap and large military jacket slouching on the pastry aisle and looking. “I think I know you from somewhere.”

“Oh hey—“ looking up from the pastries, he immediately looked your way and recognized your voice even on such busy cafe.

“I can’t believe I bumped into you here on broad daylight.” Lining up directly behind him and scanning the pastry aisle.

“You make it sound like I’m a vampire.” Nodding your head on this statement.

“You sort of are. What are you doing around this area?” still scanning the displayed pastries, eyeing for some croissant.

“I came to pick up some new speakers, I want to see them for myself.”

“There’s a music equipment shop around here?”

Before you even know it Yoongi’s already up to the cashier.

“Yeah, you’ll have what?” Stopping to ask you but before you can even speak he said, “Hot caramel macchiato and those butter croissants?” Stunned and caught off guard.

“Stop reading my mind please, I have no idea how you do that. But make it decaf.” Yoongi looked back at you with brief confusion on his face and turned into the cashier.

“Hi! One iced americano, one hot decaf caramel macchiato and two butter croissant.”

And handed in his card in return. You followed him as you both walked on the other end of the counter.

“So how’s your new speakers? Are they making you happy?” You teasingly asked.

“I wouldn’t go all the way here if they’re not worth it.” Replying in such serious tone.

Getting both of your coffees and bag of croissants, juggling everything in his hands as he make his way to the chair outside. Putting everything down and you sitting right in front of him. Afternoon sun blazing in, hinting the end of yet another work day.

“You don’t seem busy today.” he pointed out as soon as he sat down.

Letting out a deep sigh and looking outside, “Well—yeah. I’m almost done… ish. I hope.” Ignoring the topic about your work, so you just turned into him instead. “You? No work today?”

Yoongi quietly sipping on his iced americano in front of you, and putting it back on the table with a slight grin on his face.

“No, I’m taking the day off today. Bought my new speakers and will probably just install it tomorrow.” You smiled in reply and sipped on your coffee.

“You know just a few blocks from here was our agency’s old building. Well it was basically a rundown basement, and I was basically a kid trying to make it.” He smiled as he reminisced. You were just looking at him intently and listening. “You know what one time, it was raining so hard and I’ve been in the studio for more than 24 hours, trying to meet deadlines, rewriting songs for the boss’ approval and i stepped out for a while to get coffee. And when I came back, the studio was already flooded.” He laughed and you can see it in his eyes how he got lost in those memories, how it lives inside him still.

“I called everyone I know that was still there. Even the trainee dancers came to help evacuate everything. It was funny now—but back then the stress was too high and despite the flood all I could think about are the speakers and deadline.” Shaking his head and sipping on his coffee.

“Well you made it, Yoongi.” With a big grin on your face. “Min Yoongi of that year, that hard working kid, evacuating all of his precious equipments in the middle of a flood, that kid—is so proud of you. I am proud of you.” He smiled at you in return.

You looked at your buzzing phone and saw Hye-jin’s name and you immediately answered. “Yeah?” “You left your wallet on your desk here and your pencil. Are you okay?” You let out a soft chuckle. “I’m okay, I’m still downstairs. I’ll come up and get it.” You looked at your company and said, “Well, I left something upstairs.” Yoongi was not even surprised. “Of course, you did.” You got up from your seat and left your drink. “I’ll come up quickly and get it.” “Wait.” Yoongi grabbed your wrist. “You have your car with you?”

“Nah, I’m too sleepy to drive. Took the subway this morning for that extra nap.” With a huge grin on your face as if that was such a achievement.

“Of course. Let’s go home together.”

You nodded and he lets go of his grasp on your wrist. “I’ll go up—quick.”

“No rush.” He said and you went your way.

Rushing back to the office to get your forgotten belongings and when Hye Jin called your attention to bring you the good news. “The final draft has been approved. I mean, there are still revisions for the story but your illustrations are already good to go. You can now sleep, woman.” You immediately hugged her in extreme gladness. “Thank you, really. I’ll be off tomorrow to sleep—you’ll definitely allow me right?” Hye Jin just nodded happily approving your one day’s notice. Rushing to get your stuff on your desk, and as you make your way out you shouted back to Hye Jin, “Don’t call me tomorrow. I won’t answer!” Hye Jin shouting right back, “I won’t!”

And as you run back down to the coffee shop, with heart beating fast from all the running. You stopped to catch your breathe, beside Yoongi. Hands holding on the back of his chair, breathing heavily with him looking at you, “I told you no rush.” You just smiled at him. “I know, but I have to get out of there quick. My final draft has finally been approved!” Sitting back on your chair, “I can finally sleep now.” And sipping on glass of water in front of you and sighing with the greatest relief.

“I’m glad.” Yoongi said with a smile. “So what do you want for dinner?” Putting all your stuff in your bag, and taking a bite of your left over croissant. You hum as you think of the perfect dinner to close the day. “How bout I cook dinner tonight? since you’re driving and all.”“Sounds good.”

“How bout Bulgogi? They say I make great Bulgogi.” Yoongi smiled at the thought of meat.

“Great! Any meat’s prefect.” He stood from his seat, and reached your tote from you hand to carry it. Naturally letting him, you hold in your hand your phone and your coffee as you follow him on your way out.

Few meters away from the cafe, walking out in the street beside this tall man that’s carrying your tote like groceries. You breathe in the outside air with your eyes close you stopped and said, “What a nice day.”

Yoongi going ahead and clicking in his car keys. He dropped your bag at the back passenger seat, looked at you afterwards with a fond smile on his face. “Come on! You still have dinner to cook.” His voice made you open your eyes. Rushing into the right side of the car, he got in his side when you did. Buckling your seatbelt and gazing at the man on your left, feeling even more thankful. You smiled, Yoongi didn’t notice it but you just feel thankful enough that he’s here.

moodboard sr: x x

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts roommate au #yoongi fics #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #roommate!yoongi

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lordabovehelpme · 4 years ago

Text

A Day Spent Alone- Din Djarin x Reader

(This amazing moodboard is done by the wonderful @jedi-jesi !!! Seriously, I love this girl. She’s amaze balls!)

A/n: So here is the next chapter to Days filled with Love. I hope you all enjoy it. Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment, I love hearing what you all have to say. It makes my day! :)

You can find the first part here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Nervously, you rub over your beskar covered husband.

“We’re going to be fine.”

“Are you sure. Okay so don’t forget the twins diaper bag, it has all the bottles. I pumped every second I could, so you should have more than enough for them. Also, make sure-”

“Cyare,” Grabbing your wrists, he holds your hands still. “We are going to be fine. Stop stressing about it. We will only be gone for a day and a half at most.”

“Remind me why I can’t come.”

“Because you do too much and need some alone time.”

“But I like family time!” Pouting you lean into his body.

His hands release your own and move to rub your back. “I know you do, but everyone needs a day to themselves. Look at me.” Lifting your chin you peer into his visor. “We will be back tomorrow aftertoon and nothing is going to happen while we are gone. Okay?” Nodding you look down at your feet. “Come on mesh’la, I need to hear you say it. Okay?”

“Okay.” You can’t mask the sorrow in your voice, even when the introvert in you screams out in delight.

He raises his helmet from his head and presses one last kiss to your lips. It’s not a fast lustful kiss, but rather a timeless portrayal of his devotion to you. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Glaning up from his chest and over his shoulder, you watch your five kids wait for their father on the Crest. “Tell them I love them.”

“I will, but they already know it.” Giving you one last kiss, he rips himself from your hold and walks over to his ship.

All six of your family members wave their goodbyes and the ramp closes, making your heart long to run after them and demand them to never leave your sight again.

The crest rises slowly and shakily from the ground and you smile. Myles must be flying it.

Recently, Din decided that Myles is old enough to fly his own jet and that at the covert “three year olds were learning to fly so he is more than old enough.” You just raised an eyebrow and didn’t think much of it, yet here you are, watching your son fly the Crest.

Finally, the crest zooms off into the sky and your home becomes silent. What once was a yard filled with laughter and children has become a field of swaying grass. The only sound to comfort you is the soft laps of water that meet the shore.

Well, now what?

You have absolutely no idea what to do. Usually there is at least one kid in your arms while you are cooking some meal. You’re not complaining, you love being a mother, it’s just that… you’re always busy.

“Oh I know! I’ll catch up on that book I never finished!”

Rushing inside you plop yourself down on the couch under a nice fuzzy blanket, you open the book to the last page you read.

***

Finally closing the book after having finished it, you look up. Waves crash on the shore as the moon paints shimmers on the water.

A yawn takes over your senses and you're suddenly made aware of how long you've been sitting in the same position. Stretching your legs out, you lift the blanket from your form.

Walking into the kitchen you reach into the fridge and grab the patter of cut fruit your husband has left you. A note rests on the very front.

Cyar’ika- stop worrying and go take a bubble bath. You’ll find a new present on the toilet for when you finish. I love you.

Smiling to yourself, you carefully pin the note to the appliance with a magnet. It fits in perfectly with all the artwork and grocery lists that cover the once wihte fridge.

Taking the platter you walk into the bathroom that is connected to yours and Din’s room. Turning the hot water on, you look at the toilet. On it, rests fancy and expensive perfumes for the water and oils for your skin.

There’s a smaller container that when taken a closer look at, it reveals itself as the facemask you’ve been wanting to try. Another note in his quick chicken scratch handwriting waits for your attention.

Mesh’la- Yeah, I know crazy. I actually pay attention to your skin care. I picked these perfumes out because I know they will work wonders with your already sweet scent. In the closet, you’ll find my last gift. I would recommend going to grab it now. I love you.

Giggling, you practically skip over to your closet. Opening the doors a brand new fuzzy robe hangs in front. You practically moan at how soft it is. Hung underneath it is a new pair of pajamas, loose and silky, just how you like them. On the hanger rests another note.

Cyare- You probably have the biggest smile right now, and I wish I was there to kiss it off your face. But tonight is a night about you. Just you. No kids begging for your attention and no “whiny grumpy tin can” either. Enjoy your time alone. I love you so much. P.S. I want to see you in these pajamas when I get home.

Setting his note on your dresser you grab the clothes from their hanger and bring them into the bathroom with you. The scent of lavender and honey floods the tiled room as you pour the perfumes into the steaming water.

Shrugging off your clothes you step one foot into the water, perfect temperature. Your other foot follows and soon your chest is under the surface. Every muscle relaxes and you lean your head back, allowing a long overdue sigh to be released.

***

Birds chirp and sing as the sun rises. Your eyelids flutter open and your heart swells at the thought of your family coming home today.

Walking down the stairs, the house is bright and the various indoor plants you have seem more alive than ever. Looking out the large window of the living room, light dances over the lake’s surface.

You can still hardly believe that this land belongs to your family. No more flying around with the Crest being your only home. No more cramped sleeping quarters with no room to spread your limbs. No more crappy camping stove.

Now you’re a woman with two stoves! And a house that has more windows than you’ve ever seen before. And a place to call home for your family to thrive.

***

You’ve spent all morning laying on the beach and soaking the sun up. Where could they be?

It’s too quiet without them running around, it was nice at first, but now you miss their voices.

As if on cue, the Crest flys over the horizon and you gasp. Your heart jumps and a smile breaks out onto your face. Rushing out the door, you wait for your family to arrive.

Slowly, the ship lands and you can see Myles on Din’s lap in the cockpit. His little hands grasp the yoke and under his helmet you know his eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration.

As the feet touch the ground, the hatch clicks and starts to fall. “MOMMY!” Reeza yells out and she jumps down from the hatch. Her little feet carry her as fast as she can over to you.

Falling onto your knees and opening your arms, she slams into your embrace. Your arms wrap around her and cradle her further into your hold.

“Mommy I missed you!”

“I missed you too sweetheart.”

“GAH!” Looking up you watch as Grogu scurries down the opened hatch and runs over to you. As fast as he can, he makes his way over to you.

Opening one of your arms, you scoop him up and pull him into the hug you and Reeza are sharing.

“MOM! Did you see me? Dad let me fly!” Myles emerges from the ship and also runs into your open arms, helmet left on the ground.

“I did see you, you did great! I’m so proud of you!”

“I HAVE TO USE THE POTTY!” Reeza yells out before wiggling from your embrace and rushing into the house.

Laughing you just tuck Myles and Grogu further into your neck. “I missed you guys so much.”

“Did you have fun by yourself Mommy?”

“You know, I really didn’t. It was nice but having you guys in my arms beats anything else.”

Myles leans back, his eyes scan over your face, searching and analyzing your facial expressions. His eyebrows knit together and he just offers you a nod before leaning back into your arms. A gesture so uniquely your husbands there is no doubt in your mind that he is his child.

“I love you Mommy.”

“Love you too.” Pressing a kiss to Grogu’s head you smile, “Love you both so much.” His large eyes are closed as his little fingers grasp at your shirt.

After a minute they decide that they’ve hugged you too long and squirm from your embrace, rushing into the house. You can only smile wider and laugh as Grogu follows his brothers every step. If only Myles knew how much his siblings adored and looked up to him.

“Where's my hug and kiss?”

Gasping you look up. There, standing tall as ever, is your husband with a twin in each arm. Isabet is curled against his chest as she sleeps, you’ve never met a child who can sleep as much as she can.

In the other arm Tobbi coos and babbles while his arms reach out for you. However, when Din walks closer you realize his arms aim more towards your chest. His little golden eyes are trained on the low cut of your shirt. Giggling you notice how your husband has the same greedy look at your exposed flesh.

Taking your son from his arms his little fingernails scratch at your neckline and he babbles. “You’d think I never fed the little womp rat.”

“He just takes after his father.” You brush away Tobbi’s tuff of brown curls and press kiss after kiss to his face. He giggles and it makes your heart swell with love.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm, never full and always wanting a peak at my boob? Sounds pretty similar to me.” Wide eyed, your husband stops his hand midair as it was making way towards one of your mounds. Laughing, you lean up and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He growls and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his lips. “Missed you too much,” he moves to nip at your jaw, “love you so much.”

It’s hard to stop your smile as his scruff tickles your skin and just from the absolute overwhelming feeling of being adored.

Isabet stirs and one of her eyes open. “Mmm… ma… mama!” Her arms fly in the air and she is suddenly wide awake.

Both you and Din freeze, your eyes meet and you share the unspoken question of, “Did she just?”

“MAMA!” Isabets small arms raise and her eyes tear up. Your husband lifts her so she is right in front of your face.

You attack her with kisses and your own eyes tear up. “Yes! Mama! That’s me!” Ticking her tiny tummy her frustrated tears turn into giggles.

“Good job, adi’ka, yes this is Mama. Can you say Dada?”

She turns her little head and gives him the meanest scowl you’ve ever seen. But when she turns back to you, her face lights up and a smile forms again. Your husband scoffs.

“Oh don’t be jealous, both Myles and Reeza said your name first.”

Taking both twins into your arms, you smile as Din wraps his arms around you. “I’m not jealous.” He says in his very obviously jealous voice.

“Mm hmm, okay. Whatever you say.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Part: Snow Day

Goodness, I love them all so much. If you haven’t been able to tell yet, Isabet may or may not be based off of Pero Tovar and I love it. She’s my favorite little grump of a child.

I hope you guys liked it!

As always, feedback is always appreciated.

Love, Lordy :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi @coldlilheart

If you want to be added/ removed from my taglist- just give me a holler! :)

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #days filled with love #isabet is a grump and i love her

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ahundredtimesover · 2 years ago

Text

The Light of Dead Stars (05) | KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x (f.) Reader; side Seokjin x (f.) OC; side Reader x Namjoon

Genre/Tags: arranged marriage, fake romance, boss/workmate aus; angst, drama, fluff, smut; slow burn

Chapter Warnings: Foul language, alcohol consumption; deceit; talks of past toxic relationships (infidelity, emotional abuse); Jin gets a kitchen injury, mentions of blood (18+)

Chapter Word count: 10.6k

Series Masterlist | Muse Moodboard | Setting Moodboard

Status: Complete

A/N: It’s their last few days in France, the last chapter before things get even messier. Thank you to those who’ve been tuning in! I hope the complications and emotional roller coaster will be worth it.

You wake up the morning after the wedding feeling like you’ve woken up from a really good dream. The messages of your family and best friends complimenting how good you looked and that you and Jin really looked like a couple - but not without the occasional snide remark - remind you that last night really did happen - you wore a stunning dress, ate the most delicious things you’ve ever had, danced to Park Hyo Shin’s angelic voice, and shared a kiss with your husband like you both meant it.

Everything was amazing except for that last part, really, not so much because you didn’t like it but exactly for how much you did. And now you’re trying to recall how it was before you cared this much, before you decided you liked his attention, before you realized you liked having him close, and you’ll go back to being that person.

You’ll do what you used to do and not let them mean much. This is where you’re good at - convincing yourself that everything is okay. It’s how you cope and ironically, how you choose yourself. Otherwise, it’s just gonna be a heartbreak that you’ll have a hard time getting over, and you don’t know if there’ll be another person through and at the end of it all, reminding you that you’re still someone that another one could love.

You shake away all the thoughts. It’s a new day, and you’ll just savor the remaining week you have left in this beautiful country.

Turning to your side, you’re surprised that Jin is still asleep. He’s breathing deeply, looking peaceful and handsome as always, and you can only imagine just how tired he is for not being up early as usual. He doesn’t flinch even when you get off the bed and not-so-quietly fix up to head to the kitchen.

There are still some leftovers on the counter, and you initially planned on just having them for breakfast when Geonhoo and Ji-hoo arrive with their mom, whining for some pancakes.

“I’m not good at making those. Maybe someone here knows how,” Sejeong says.

“Oh, I do!” You offer. “I love making pancakes. What do you two angels want?”

“Nutella!”

“Chocolates!”

“Strawberry!”

“Peanut butter!”

The little ones yell more things and Sejeong tries to control them and say you can only make them one type. They pout at you and you laugh at how they know exactly to get what they want.

“Okay, what about a platter? I can make different ones and you can choose what you want to eat,” you say.

They nod happily and you get to work. One of the cooks helps out since Jin’s other family members have yet to come down for breakfast, but you say you’ll be the one to make it for the kids and for you and Jin.

You talk with Sejeong while Geonhoo and Ji-hoo interject and ask what ingredient you’re putting or what you’re doing, and you indulge them. You come up with a platter for them with the flavors they asked for - Nutella-filled, buttermilk, chocolate chip, with sides of peanut butter and various types of fruits.

You prepare a less sweet version for you and Jin with his caramel syrup on the side.

“Hmm, smells like a happy morning,” you hear his gruff yet excited voice echo through the small kitchen. “Did you make pancakes?”

“The kids wanted some,” you smile. “And here’s our platter.”

His face lights up and he immediately serves himself then puts some on your plate after. You all decide to eat them outside, as Hyo-seop and Jin’s parents arrive as well.

It’s a fairly laid-back morning, with the weather nice and cool enough to enjoy breakfast on the covered deck. Taehyung and Hyun-a arrive shortly after for a quick meal and a goodbye, as they head to the airport for their South American honeymoon for the next 2 weeks.

You and Jin choose a spot in one of the many areas in the property with a good view to work for the rest of the morning. While you were both advised to completely detach from work, neither of you could, knowing there would be more stress waiting for you back home if you don’t get some things done at least little by little.

“You were so tired last night, huh?” You tell him in between sending one email to reading another. “It took a while for you to wake up.”

“Yeah, it was probably all the effort into making Tae stop crying,” Jin chuckles. “But yeah, at least that’s over, although the one in Seoul would be way more tiring for sure.”

“Ah, well we enjoyed last night, I’m sure we’ll enjoy that, too, just differently,” you say.

Jin merely hums, not wanting to think about the celebration in Seoul, knowing that Seri would be in attendance and he already knows you’re going to be cautious there unlike you are here.

The morning is a breeze, with Jin reminding you of your plans this afternoon. You’re to head to Grasse for another one of your trips to town. Known as the perfume capital, it’s where his parents scheduled you for a perfume-making session that you’re really excited about, choosing not to think about how much they spent for an exclusive tour.

Jin decides to drive this time, and you initially bicker about your terrible navigation skills but he’s an overall chill guy who rarely cracks under pressure - as far as you know, at least - and he manages somehow.

The town isn’t far off so you’re there in no time, surprised to find someone who’ll be guiding you around. She leads you to a cozy restaurant that offers the best delicacies, and you and Jin are in heaven once again. You make your way around little streets and into a museum before heading to the first of three perfumeries.

You’re amused with the perfume-making process, the history of it, and the different scents they come up with. You expected Jin's parents to have pre-purchased you only a perfume or two, considering that they paid for your entire trip, but of course, they had to do more.

You left the first perfumery with a set of 12 different travel perfumes and the second one with a package including hand creams, colognes, and soaps. In the last one, you and Jin chose a base scent and were given complementing perfumes in matching antique bottles with your names engraved on them; you’re told that his grandparents had these made especially for you.

You look at the one given to you in its beautiful box, not wanting to even use or touch it.

“Holy crap, Jin. This is amazing,” you whisper. “I mean, it’s so thoughtful and just so beautiful. Goodness, your family treats me so well.”

“Yeah, well, they like you, that’s why,” he says, as he backs up the car to head up north and see the stunning scenery of a river and some waterfalls before the sun sets.

“They like my parents,” you correct.

“Yeah, exactly. They like that you’re like them - hardworking, intelligent, principled, courteous, warm,” he says. “And I agree.”

“Hmm. What would they think about liar, I wonder.”

“Yah. Let’s not go there. Let’s focus on the good stuff, alright?” He nudges your arm. “I mean, all that’s better than what your family says about me - unfaithful, cheater, no backbone, weak,” Jin chuckles, recalling some of the things that your father had said when your parents found out about Seri that fateful day at your house.

The words stung - they’re his in-laws, he reminds himself - but he wouldn’t argue against them; he knows it’s true. Not the cheater part though, at least, not how they think. He’s definitely unfaithful to your arrangement, that’s for sure, and definitely being unfair to the woman he’s left back home. It may not have been verbalized by either of you to not care about each other but it felt like a given; you’re the one who suggested getting divorced to get out of this, after all. You said it was to supposedly free him from you and he got on with the plan, mostly because he couldn’t figure out another way. And well, he’s dumb, like his brother had said multiple times. So now he’s here - confused, and more lost than ever.

“I’m still sorry about that,” you look at him apologetically. “My dad gets unhinged sometimes.”

“I’d be angry, too, don’t worry. You deserve more than what you’re getting from me,” he says; his voice is quite somber and it’s unfamiliar to you.

“I beg to differ,” you respond. “You’re treating me much better than anyone ever has, and that says a lot.”

“Right, I forgot your standards in men are so low,” he jokes.

“Correction - my standards in people. You experience the worst sometimes and so the bare minimum becomes like a gift to you,” you say, sullenly this time.

Jin doesn’t say anything; he just lets the wind from the open window serve as your background as he slows down to the viewing point. He doesn’t know how badly you had it, but for you to say what you did, he can’t imagine what you went through.

The view of the waterfalls and canyons of Gorges du Loup is breathtaking. If you were a little more adventurous, you’d do all the fun stuff like Jin suggested, but shopping in markets and eating in as many restaurants as you can are always your priorities and his, too, so you both stick to just marveling at the views and taking photos for keeps.

The drive back is surprisingly quiet, as you both engage in occasional small conversations that die down but neither of you seem to care. Your mind is busy being at peace, and with how the week has been, that’s quite a reprieve.

Jin pulls into the driveway and helps you with your things, instructing Emile to leave them on the table outside your bedroom. You both head to the living room where the rest of his family are, who are excited to see you back.

“Darlings, did you enjoy our little surprise?” His grandmother asks, hugging you both.

“Little? Grandmother, that was too special to just be little. ___ here almost had a heart attack,” Jin chuckles, sitting on the couch and wrestling with Geonhoo and Ji-hoo.

Your cheeks heat up when his parents and his grandparents laugh.

“Ah, get used to it,” Sejeong says. “My family likes to spend their money like that.”

You internally laugh at her bluntness but no one seems to be offended. You suppose that his family acknowledges their wealth and accepts what comes with it, including jokes and digs even from their own.

“Oh, darling. That’s nothing,” his grandmother resumes. “It’s the least we could do, but I hope you don’t think we’re buying you or anything. I owe my life to your father, and I’ll never forget what he’s done for my family. I’m just glad I get to welcome you into ours and make you feel like you belong, because you do.”

There’s only kindness in her eyes, and from what you know of their family, they’re kinder to strangers than they are to their own relatives, and you suppose that makes sense. Your father worked for the company for years and only resigned to protect your family; he’s said mostly good things about them.

Which again, makes it all the worse for you. You nod and profusely thank them again, saying that you want to save the perfumes for special occasions only, prompting them to say they’ll keep organizing events so you could use them.

“Anyway, what’s for dinner?” Jin asks.

“We got really good pork from the market, maybe we’ll have them baked,” his mother replies. “Is there anything else you want?”

“Hmm, I’m actually thinking of making kalguksu,” Jin says. “I’m in the mood for noodles and that’s ___’s favorite.”

“Oh, wonderful,” she chirps. “I miss you making that for us!”

“You good with that?” He asks you, and you nod excitedly. He’s only made that for you once and he was drunk.

“Is Uncle Jjan cooking?!” Ji-hoo asks. “I want to watch!”

Jin nods and takes her hand; Geonhoo follows and takes yours. Both kids are seated on the bar stools while you stand next to your husband as he makes the food. You prep the clams while he starts slicing the vegetables, making enough for the whole family because he knows that the little ones like their soup and vegetables, too.

You’re walking towards the fridge when you lose your balance and almost slip, yelping in fear and then sighing in relief after almost knocking one of the expensive-looking bowls off the counter. Just then, Geonhoo starts yelling.

“Blood, Uncle Jjan, blood!”

“What? Where?” Jin turns to you, worried if you scratched yourself or something.

“On your hand!” Ji-hoo cries. “Uncle Jjan, don’t die!”

That’s when Jin looks at his finger and realizes that it hurts. He cut himself after being preoccupied by you, thinking that you’d hurt yourself earlier and that’s why your scream distracted him.

You run to him immediately, pulling his hand under running water and calling Emile to get the first aid kit, while also telling the kids that their Uncle Jjan isn’t gonna die.

Jin only winces as the water hits the shallow cut of his fingertip.

“Ah, it’s not that bad, it’s just a graze I think,” he says.

“It’s not deep but it’s not just a graze, Jin. What were you thinking? You slice vegetables all the time,” you reprimand him.

“I don’t know, ask the knife that cut me, ___,” he says sarcastically.

“Then what was your finger doing there!” You bite back, putting ointment and a bandaid and then putting a glove over his hand.

“This is your fault. You had to scream and I got distracted.”

“I almost broke your expensive bowl!”

“___, no one would care,” he deadpans.

“I would!” You exclaim, face ridden with panic.

He internally gushes at how disturbed you seem. “Yah, you’re worried about me, huh?” He smirks.

“I’m worried about my kalguksu, Jin. You teased me and now I want it,” you pout, and if you weren’t so adorable, he’d be fighting you some more.

“I’ll continue this, don’t worry. You’ll get your noodles,” he smiles.

“Are you crazy? No. Sit down. I can make this, just not as good as you,” you say, pushing him to sit on the bar stool. “Just taste the broth for me.”

“Fine, go ahead,” he says, following you.

You get another piece of zucchini and start slicing. Ji-hoo asks Jin if he’s okay and he assures her that it’s just a small cut and it will go away tomorrow.

“Then ask Auntie ___ to kiss it so it goes away now!” She demands. “Daddy kisses Mommy’s lips when she says it hurts and then she becomes okay again!”

You and Jin laugh at Sejeong’s moves, knowing it’s something to tease her with.

“Do it, Auntie! Kiss Uncle Jjan’s finger!” Geonhoo urges you this time.

You turn to Jin who’s smiling with his squishy bread cheeks on display and his gloved finger now in front of your face.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, kissing his finger, prompting the little ones to clap.

“Gosh, kids these days,” you chuckle.

“They know what’s up,” Jin follows. “But hey, it feels better now,” he winks.

You continue on with the noodles, engaging the little rascals with you so they won’t ask you to do any more embarrassing things with your husband. Jin tastes and teases you to keep feeding him until everything is prepared.

Dinner takes place; the soup is delicious and the roasted pork is divine. You also enjoy some pies from a nearby bakery for dessert.

You’re now seated on your balcony with a cup of tea, marveling at the night sky. It’s particularly bright today, with the full moon looking beautiful as it shines over the hills. It’s one of your favorite things to do, reminding you that whoever it is you’re missing, they’re not always too far away.

“The sky’s pretty tonight,” Jin says, sitting next to you as he looks up.

“It’s been pretty every night,” you say. “The moon’s just brighter and there are more stars out. I like gazing at it.”

“I know. You’ve been doing it every night before you go to bed.”

You hum. Of course he’d notice.

“Namjoon, uh…”

“The guy you’re waiting for?”

You turn to him with a nod, wondering how he guessed.

“Aside from Jimin and Jungkook, you’ve never mentioned any other guy’s names, and I know those two are your best friends,” Jin clarifies.

“Right, uh. Namjoon’s my best friend, too. But it’s different since I actually like him.”

Like. Jin overthinks the word. It seems more, but it isn’t love, is it?

“He and I would go to the Mangwon Hangang Park when the sky was bright and just watch the stars,” you recall. “When we were in college and I was having a hard time, he would always say that looking at the sky should remind me that my struggles can never be bigger than the universe, and I was always going to surpass whatever it was I was going through.”

“A wise man,” Jin notes.

“He is,” you smile. “And I did, I surpassed them, and he helped a lot, you know? It almost felt like he was my night sky because he always made me feel better, only to realize that he could make me feel that way because his dreams were bigger than us.”

It was a winter night, and you remember it clearly, because that was also the night he said goodbye.

“Before he left, he told me to look at the sky whenever I’m missing him because we’d always be looking at the same one and that should give me comfort.”

“Does it?” Jin asks, choosing not to dwell on the thought that you miss the man every night.

“Most nights,” you nod. “I haven’t seen him for 2 years since he’s always traveling.”

“What about now?”

“Somehow. He’s in France, actually. He took the train from Italy when he found out I was here.”

Oh.

“Does he know about us?” Jin wonders, curious as to how honest you are to the man you want about the man you’re living with.

“Yeah, about everything, actually. We write to each other. He’s quite romantic that way; he wants me to see his handwriting because somehow that has meaning in it, too,” you share. “I wrote to him when my parents told me about the arrangement, and writing it all then clarified things for me, you know? That's why I decided to do it. I wrote about you and Seri, too, and then my parents finding out, my brother being upset with me… and again, things just made more sense when I wrote them, which I never would’ve done if he and I didn't send each other letters.”

Jin nods, appeased that you had someone like Namjoon to talk with about all that you were going through, which he only really knows a fraction of. But this man is in the same country as you, only miles away and within reach after how many years. Jin wonders if something’s changed for you since coming here, and if it’s something you’re going to tell Namjoon.

“Are you going to see him?”

“Can I?” You turn to Jin, and he sees the longing in your eyes that’s both soft and sad at the same time.

“Why are you asking permission? Of course, you can.”

“Would you come to Cannes with me? He’s there right now. Your family might suspect me if I go by myself.”

“Alright, I’ll be your alibi, then,” Jin smiles.

It’s sincere. He sees how much the man means to you, and you’ve been apart for so long.

“Thank you,” you say, placing your hand on top of his. “This means a lot to me.”

Jin finds a parking spot near one of the buildings. He turns to you who’s looking visibly nervous. You were quiet this morning, merely nibbling your pastries during breakfast, and you barely said anything during the entire ride to Cannes, choosing instead to look at the window.

So many times, he wanted to hold your hand and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, but he didn’t feel like it was the right time. For some reason, he was also scared you were going to turn him away.

So he settles for a nudge on your shoulder and a soft, reassuring smile.

“You’re seeing him after a long time. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, it should. I just… it’s different seeing his face on a screen and actually seeing it for real, you know? And being able to touch him, hold him… I… don’t want him to be disappointed,” you mumble.

“And why would he be?”

“I’ve changed a lot since the last time he saw me. I don’t know if he’ll notice.”

Jin can try to come up with a dozen possible meanings to your words but he supposes he wouldn’t know what they mean. You’re an honest and open person, but a lot of times he finds himself not knowing you at all, and this is one of those times. What about you changed that Namjoon would be disappointed in?

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, ___,” he tries to assure. “So you go there and you meet him.”

“Uh, I need you to guide me there, Jin. I can’t even pronounce the name of the cafe.”

“Ah,” he chuckles, warming at the little smile you give him. “Okay.”

You and Jin start walking towards a plaza, with him leading the way. You’re too nervous to pay attention to him, how he’s more distant and quiet, but it’s perhaps just him giving you space.

“It’s the one with the white awning,” he says, motioning to the little cafe. “Do you see him?”

“Not yet, but he said he reserved a table for us outside. I should just give his name.”

“Alright, you can go ahead and I’ll leave when he arrives, okay? And then I’ll stay at a cafe, too, and get some work done. Let me know when you’re finished and I can get you. Take all the time you need, ___.”

“You’ll be okay?”

He answers a beat late, but he nods.

You smile and start walking towards the cafe and Jin watches from afar, wanting to make sure you’re safe, even if you’re a grown woman who knows what she’s doing and who she’s meeting. It’s a husband thing, though, making sure his wife is okay, he reminds himself.

He sees you talk to a server and you’re led to one of the tables. You’re constantly checking your phone, and he notices you’re still nervous. He wants to go over to you and stop you from biting your lip, but you look up before he could make up his mind. You stand up and smile at the man approaching you, one who engulfs you in a tight embrace.

Namjoon is a tall and built man. He’s in a plain shirt and blue jeans, with sun kissed skin and nice, silver-dyed hair. He has his arms secured tightly around your waist while yours are around his neck; neither one of you seems to want to let go.

You finally do, and he kisses your forehead. Your eyes close and a smile tugs at your lips. You look comfortable, safe, happy.

Jin doesn’t know why he’s still standing there, watching you finally take your seat and hold the man’s hand as you both start laughing and talking. There’s a tightening in his chest that he’s never felt before, a completely new experience, as every time you laughed and smiled always made him do the same.

Not today, though. Today, he’s confused. Today, he hates himself. Today, he wishes he was the reason why your eyes crinkle and why your head lolls back; he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you like that.

Apparently, he’s been standing there for quite a while, as it registers to him that you’re waving and asking Namjoon to do the same. You mumble something and the man turns around and waves, his smile worth thousands, he can tell; it’s sweet and comforting. Jin waves and gives a thumbs up. You signal that you’re fine and that you’ll call, and that’s his signal to leave, and he does.

He finds a nice little nook cafe that allows him to read and respond to emails. He sips his hot chocolate, although he wishes it was whiskey instead. He stays there for hours, constantly checking his phone to see if you’ve called or messaged, but you haven’t. He’s never hated waiting like he does now.

Thinking that it would take you the whole afternoon to catch up with Namjoon, Jin exits the cafe after 3 hours. He ponders on going to a nearby market, but thinks you’d hate him if he went without you. He debates if he should go to the luxury stores strip, but decides against it; he’s always enjoyed how you tried to guess the price of the expensive items on display so that is another no.

So he decides to go to a park instead; plain enough, there’s not much you’d miss.

His phone rings, and he almost drops it with how fast he takes it from his pocket, only to see it’s just his grandmother.

He waits for another hour before you call, and so he starts walking to one of the strips that you say you’re waiting at.

“Hey,” you wave. “Sorry I took too long.”

“Oh, not at all,” he responds, walking next to you. “I expected you to be with him until the evening.”

“And what were you supposed to do until then?” You arch an eyebrow.

“Uh, work, I guess? Or go around, too, see what’s out here,” he shrugs.

“You’ll probably just eat and I’ll miss out on it.”

“That, too, but I didn’t want to discover new things and not have you there with me.”

You grin, turning on one of the streets towards a beach, thinking that the ocean would be a nice distraction this late afternoon.

“We just headed to a museum for a quick visit after the cafe. Namjoon has a meeting with an art curator so he had to leave,” you say after a while.

“So he’s an artist?”

“He’s a lot of things,” you chuckle. “He’s an art enthusiast and writes about art events and different pieces. He likes to travel and writes about it, too. He’s been doing online consulting since he took up marketing and finance in college. He can work from anywhere, really, so he’s just been going from one place to another. We were just lucky that he’s a couple of hours-train away and he could see me.”

Jin hums, following your slow pace. “Is he well?”

“He’s happy,” you give a smile, with a tinge of sadness in it, like you’re sad for yourself. “He has his own time, he gets to see many beautiful places and things and that’s what he’s always wanted, you know? Someone as great as him deserves that kind of peace, that kind of happiness.”

“And where does that leave you?” Jin asks, hoping it doesn’t come out as too harsh, or even too intrusive.

“Where I’ve been the past years, really,” you chuckle, feeling the irony of it all - seeing the man you’ve been waiting on, thousands of miles from home, and turning him down when he asked you to run away with him.

“Namjoon was supposed to take a job in London after college, but he stayed because of me,�� you share, taking a seat on one of the benches overlooking the beach now. “He and I met in sophomore year after I broke up with my cheating ex-boyfriend, and Joon really helped me move on, you know? To the point of me liking him but he had a girlfriend that time and so I moved on again with someone else, and then Joon and his girl broke up.”

“Timing sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?” Jin says, as he thinks of his ex-girlfriend, too, and how that relationship ended. It’s a shitty thing that the universe does to people when all they want to do is love and be loved.

“The guy I was with was great at the start. He took me to different places and he was supportive,” you continue. “But then he started getting unnecessarily jealous, keeping me from seeing Namjoon and Jungkook. And then it just kept getting worse, you know? He’d be controlling, angry, lying about where he’d be, threatening when I’d question him, and then he’d be incredibly sweet after a fight, like one time he convinced my boss to allow me to take a short-notice leave and then he flew me to Bali. And I just kept making excuses for him,” you sigh, remembering the feeling of being trapped in your relationship. “I felt like it was all I could do. Because every time I had the courage to leave, he would do something that would make me change my mind.”

Jin turns to you, unsure what to say. There’s a mix of sadness and acceptance on your face at the memory, and he wants to apologize for what you had to go through, but that might feel simplistic. He wants to hold you and tell you that you didn’t deserve any of that, but it might not be the right time, so he lets you continue, knowing that it’s taking a lot for you to share this with him, given that it took a while, too.

“The guys never left my side, especially Namjoon. He wanted to make sure there was someone there when I finally got out, and he didn’t break his promise.”

You take Jin’s hand in yours, knowing he wants to. He’s not a naturally affectionate person but you could feel him wanting to do something to comfort you, and with his fingers constantly grazing your own as they both lay on the bench, you make the move. You can’t deny that you want his comfort, too.

“But he left, didn’t he? He’s been away for years,” Jin says, feeling a bit of anger, even if that would mean you wouldn’t be his wife, and the thought suddenly makes him feel uneasy.

“It felt unfair to make him stay,” you say. “He held out on a lot of things for me, then made sure I was stable at my job, that I wasn’t hating and blaming myself anymore, that I wasn’t untrusting and scared to let people in… and well, I needed to learn to stand on my own two feet, and doing so meant letting him go, so I did.”

“And what did that mean for the both of you? Did he feel the same way?”

“He did, he said that much. Still says it, actually, that’s why he proposed running away to Italy with him,” you chuckle, recalling the shock you felt when he hugged you goodbye. “He said I’m the one who agreed to marry a guy and let him keep his girlfriend so he said it didn’t hurt to try and pitch another crazy idea.”

“Well, he does have a point,” Jin hums. “Did you, uh, did you consider it?”

“No. That wasn’t our plan, Jin,” you turn to him, wanting to assure him this time. “Maybe if I wasn’t married, I would’ve considered it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be, but that’s the point, isn’t it? If I wasn’t married, it should be a yes, but it isn’t. He’ll keep wanting this life of art and beauty and travels and I’ll keep wanting mine that’s stable and secure and in Seoul. I don’t know when we’ll ever want the same thing.”

“When the time comes that you do, does that mean that you and him could finally be together?” Jin wonders.

“Yeah,” you respond. “It’s weird though. We spent all those hours ago just talking about ourselves; all we did was catch up. He talked about the places he’s been to and I talked about all the things I’ve been doing but we didn’t really talk about us. Sure, he suggested running away together but we didn’t actually talk about it.”

“What? I thought that was the point of you two meeting up?”

“Maybe there was just so much time apart and that mattered more - feeling each other’s comfort and wondering if it’s still the same, seeing how much of ourselves has changed… seeing if the feelings are still there, but not really talking about it,” you shrug. “Namjoon and I never really prioritized us, I realized. We prioritized ourselves, our friendship, but not us. I’m not quite sure what to make of that.”

Jin squeezes your hand, letting both of you just bask in the sounds of the ocean and the light from the moon.

“Until the time that you’ll see each other again, just remember that you’re both still looking at the same sky,” he says softly. “And I’ll be holding your hand until then.”

“Jin, are you shitting me?” you turn to him with wide eyes. “I may not be able to properly pronounce this store’s name but I can at least tell those diamonds are real, and they’re expensive,” you exclaim, emphasizing the last word.

“I told my Grandmother the same thing!”

“Okay, now you’re making me sound ungrateful,” you frown.

“Well, I said it kindly,” he clarifies. “But she won’t budge. She thinks it’s necessary for us to have matching diamond bracelets. When she learned that we were heading to Cannes today, she called this store and asked for a few designs to show us.”

You look at him worriedly before looking at the 3 options in front of you. Looking at the other pieces of jewelry in this chic store that Jin took you to after your time at the beach, you feel both in awe and like you’re going to faint. This is too much, you think, as the gifts from his family keep on coming. Of course, they gave you cash after the wedding, but it seems that all the more meaningful gifts were to come after you two had made it “official.”

“It doesn’t feel right accepting this,” you say, pouting and crossing your arms.

The sales staff seems to have picked up your reaction and she says something, which Jin translates for you.

“Apparently they’ve been paid for.”

“Oh goodness, Jin!” You whine embarrassingly. “We can’t… I can’t…”

“I know, but it’s gonna look worse if we don’t accept it. Just wear it when we’re seeing them. It’s fine, really. And you know I hate saying this but this really isn’t much for them,” he sighs, only preferring to talk of his family’s wealth when it’s to ironically make you feel better that whatever they spend for you is just like extra change for them.

“So can you please just choose? I like all 3 designs, but I think you prefer the simplest one,” he says, picking the least shiny one of them and closing the clasp around your wrist. “This one’s classic and elegant; you can match it with anything.”

“Okay, fine,” you give in, though the pout doesn’t leave your face.

This is the part you’ll never get used to and you mentally smack yourself for every time they give you something. In another version of this reality where you and Jin actually love each other, you feel like you’ll be more accepting, but being paraded with wealth on a daily basis is something that will always throw you off guard and make you feel undeserving.

You take the one for him and put it around his wrist, too, and you admit, it looks gorgeous on him. Jin has pretty hands and stunning fingers, something you’d noticed that first day in France as he held your hand in the car.

The sales staff asks for a photo that she’s been instructed to send to the elder Mrs. Kim; she’s apparently a regular here.

“Your Grandmother’s really not letting us off the hook, huh?” You laugh this time.

“She probably thought we’d find a way to skirt around their plan,” he laughs back. “But thank you for accepting. They badger me a lot for not buying you things because, well, you know my family - they like to show off but it comes from a good place, I promise.”

“I know. I’m sorry for being a difficult wife,” you shyly smile.

“It’s fine, you have your redeeming moments,” he says, yelping when you pinch his waist.

“Hey, proper decorum!” He whisper-yells, but the sales staff don’t seem to mind, as you’re the only ones here and they’ve been giggling ever since you and Jin started to bicker earlier.

“But anyway, thank you. I’m thinking of making them something before we leave tomorrow. Maybe sweetened rice cake?” You say.

“That takes a while to make,” Jin frowns.

“Preparing the glutinous rice is what takes a while. I can just wake up earlier and prepare it then sleep again or something. It’s the least I could do, Jin. Really, it’s nothing. Plus, I like making that for my family!”

“Yeah? You haven’t made it for me yet.”

“Well, then now I will. Come, I passed by some stalls earlier where I can buy dried fruits and nuts,” you say, pulling his arm towards a certain street.

And that’s how you and Jin spend the rest of your time in Cannes - shopping for ingredients, buying him jelly beans to shut him up because he was being really annoying, and laughing all the way to a small restaurant and then heading home.

You lay in bed that night, facing him once again, a smile immediately gracing your lips as he pinches your nose.

“Thanks for driving and being with me today, Jin,” you say. “And for not making it weird.”

“For not making it weird?” He chuckles. “May I remind you that you once made pancakes for me and Seri after you caught her at our house? Like it was totally normal?”

“It’s not like you were hiding or anything, so it’s not that bad,” you laugh. “Plus, it was always fine with me.”

“Yeah, but I still got so traumatized. And so driving you to Cannes wasn’t a big deal. I’m not sure if it was the meeting you imagined but I’m glad you got to see him. You seemed really happy, too, like you felt like home with him there.”

“I did, huh?” You ask softly, wondering how you look when you’re with Namjoon, but Jungkook always said you had a calmness on your face whenever you were with him.

“You did. Sorry if I stayed around a bit; I just wanted to make sure you were safe and stuff. And about your exes, I’m sorry about it, too,” he mumbles. “I didn’t know if it was right to say it earlier but I… You didn’t deserve that, and I’m just glad you had someone to help you pick up your pieces.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him. “And that’s why I was okay with you and me. It’s not so much that I have low standards in men, like you pointed out, but it’s more like - I know bad when I see it; I’ve experienced some of the worst. And you’re nothing like them, Jin. We may not be a normal married couple but I can sleep well at night knowing I’ll be safe, because that’s what I feel with you. So thank you.”

Jin can only smile. He realizes as each day passes that he values your words more than he expected, and knowing you feel safe with him is all he needs to hear. He pulls the covers over you and pinches your nose again before wishing you goodnight.

You didn’t think that Jin’s grandparents enjoying the sweetened rice cake you made for them would mean this much to you, especially when they say that it tastes like the ones they used to make when they still had the patience for it.

“Oh, darling. This just means you and Jin would have to visit us here again,” his grandmother says. “Or we’ll visit you. Whichever, as long as I get to taste more of this.”

“You’re welcome. You’ve just been so wonderful to me and I can’t thank you enough,” you respond, hugging them and his parents as you and your husband prepare to leave.

“Not a problem at all, dear,” his mother now says. “We're just happy that our son is happy. I’ve never seen him laugh and smile this much in years, and I’m not exaggerating.”

She doesn’t seem like the type who would; she’s always been straightforward and intentional, but you still take it with a grain of salt. Jin has had Seri for years, and he had to do his part of acting during this trip, too, even if you know there was sincerity in how he was with you.

You thank them again and wave them goodbye. You hug Sejeong and Hyo-seop and carry Geonhoo and Ji-hoo who are sad that they won’t be seeing you for a while.

“Just another week, we’ll see you back home,” Jin assures his niece and nephew. “Be good, okay? Don’t give your parents a headache.”

They give both of you sweet kisses and you walk towards the car where Emile has packed all your luggages already. You and Jin settle in and take the hour and a half car ride to Saint-Tropez, with both of you listing the cafes and restaurants you’ll be eating at.

You finally arrive at the palatial hotel perched on a hillside that’s overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. It’s got modern and classic touches that add to the serene ambiance of the place, especially as it’s nestled between gardens and large trees.

You’re assisted by the manager who informs you of the activities that have been paid for - you just have to set a schedule for them. There’s the boat trip that’ll take you around the coastline, the full-afternoon spa treatment, and a special dinner at the private beach club.

“Oh, Jin,” is all you manage to say, somehow not surprised anymore.

“Well, the other option was Paris and that would’ve been much more romantic,” he shrugs. “This isn’t so bad. I mean, it’s an old fishing village with little cafes and stores.”

“That does sound fun, and more like us,” you smile. “Guess that’s what we’ll be doing on our first day?”

He nods and gives your preferred schedule to the manager before you’re accompanied to your suite.

It’s bright and spacious with a living room and a kitchenette. The glass door leads to a garden outside with spectacular views of the French Riviera. It’s private and perhaps a fitting end to this whirlwind of a trip with your husband, knowing that after all this, you’ll go back to Seoul, back to your jobs and your own rooms, back to your own businesses, and back to the lie you won’t have to make in the comfort of your home.

You take it all in. Everything that’s happened in the past week isn’t what you expected - from getting as close as you are with Jin, kissing him, being okay with it… and seeing Namjoon, the man who let your heart beat again, the man who reminded you what it was like to care, to love, to wait, to hope, and to hurt.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jin says as he marvels at the view from next to you. “It’s not crowded, and the town’s not far from here.”

“It’s beautiful,” you smile, letting the memory of yesterday stay at a nook of your mind for now. “Should we get going? I’m excited to eat.”

“You mean, you’re excited to dissect the food and then eat?” He arches a brow.

“Says the man who does exactly that,” you stick your tongue out. “But really, how else can you enjoy food but by appreciating its parts and as a whole? Makes it more delicious that way.”

“Geek,” he laughs, as you both head out the elevator and into the shuttle that would take you to the Old Town.

The weather is nice, with the sun’s heat and the breeze just right for the early afternoon. The streets are buzzing but not overwhelming, and you and Jin find yourselves in cobblestone streets and alleys lined with quaint cafes and local shops.

He looks quite the looker on a holiday, with his mustard-colored leather coords, the buttons of his polo open and a white sleeveless top underneath. You’ve noted a few tourists do double-takes when he walks and you still haven’t fully wrapped your head around how handsome he is.

You both go around and find a traditional restaurant for your late lunch and people watch, then you go around trying different pastries in the bakeries that you pass by. You end up at the Port and become amused by the fishing boats and yachts.

You’re tired by the late afternoon so you head back to your hotel to watch the sky turn purple then blue in your garden balcony with some mimosas just because. You semi-dress up for dinner at the hotel’s private beach club, a 10-course meal, and then enjoy drinks while watching a performance after.

Finally settled in the massive bed in your pajamas, you feel like floating. The mattress and linens are the most comfortable you’ve ever had and you don’t want to ever get off.

“Ugh, this is like heaven,” you moan.

Jin laughs as he lies next to you, sighing in satisfaction as well. “Ah, this is good. I should ask for the brand of the mattress and the pillows and buy them.”

You stare at him for a while until you realize he’s not joking, and he winks at you while typing on his phone, perhaps asking Yoongi to do it.

Jin scoots closer to you and you don’t pull away. You don’t seem to mind that there’s a big ass couch outside but he’s staying next to you, coming nearer.

“Is this okay?” He dares ask, and you smile softly as you nod.

You’re talking about your favorite cafes from earlier when Jin groans and shows you his text exchange with his mother. She asked for photos so he sent those of the scenery and the food but she wanted photos of both of you.

Who goes on a honeymoon and doesn’t have pictures with their wife! The text reads. Take photos of you and ___, we need to preserve these memories.

“She nags even about this,” he whines.

“It’s fine,” you chuckle. “We can take lots tomorrow. We’ll visit surrounding villages, anyway, and we’ll do the boat ride.”

So that’s what you both do the next day, as you stop by scenic views on the way to the nearby Port Grimaud and Ramatuelle. Your assigned chauffeur is kind enough to take the pictures, enjoying it himself as you and Jin keep arguing about the “proper” photo and debating which poses look couple-y enough.

It’s against one of the chateaus where the chauffeur decides to direct both of you, instructing Jin to pull you closer by the waist and telling you to put your hand on his chest. It’s very wedding-like, as Jin whispers in your ear, and you take the chance to tickle him on his neck while he’s distracted. His laugh is contagious, causing you to join him, and he pinches your nose like he likes to do.

You’re back at your hotel in time for lunch, then you lounge at the beach before your mid-afternoon private boat trip. It’s a laid-back activity, as you and Jin unwind at the deck with some cold cuts and wine and cheese.

He starts showing you photos of Taehyung and Hyun-a who are clearly enjoying their own honeymoon, and who are clearly very couple-y in their poses.

“We should try this,” Jin says, showing one where they're in the middle of a street party.

“Do I look like someone who pops her foot?” You nudge him. “Or someone who laughs prettily like that?”

“Yeah, you don’t do either,” he says, prompting you to pinch his arm. “Okay, this seems doable. And maybe this?”

You go through a few more and decide that amongst the kisses and the gazing and all the hugging ones, these ones he points out aren’t that hard.

So you try one where you’re next to him, your head leaning on his shoulder with his hand on your side, grazing your thigh that’s just causing you to inch closer to him. Even with your cover up, you could feel his taut, bare chest against your arm, and other than the times when you had to dance or kiss, this feels like the closest you’ve ever been to him.

“We’ve got enough for today, I think,” you say, smiling at him after one of the boat crew takes your photo.

He agrees, and so you go for a quick swim in the ocean before you head back to the boat to watch the sunset, docking at the area that you wanted to explore for dinner. It’s another one of those nights where you just freely walk around, getting lost along the way, with you and Jin blaming each other for both of your terrible navigation skills, but ending up bonding over the night market and feeding each other chickpea flour pancakes and sponge cakes.

Later that night while Jin is asleep, you look through the pictures on your phone, and you hadn’t realized that the chauffeur took more candid photos than the ones where you posed. It’s almost funny, as the nicest takes aren’t those where you look like a couple, but they’re the ones where you both look the most natural, the most free, the most comfortable. You can even remember what stupid joke or silly remark he made; you can even tell if you tickled or pinched him because he has a different face for each time you annoy him.

You may not laugh prettily like Hyun-a does, but one thing is for sure - this laugh you have is one of the most genuine ones you’ve ever had.

“So, did the French air give you a change of heart or something?” Jungkook, your childhood best friend, says over the phone while seemingly playing a game on his computer. “Your photos are so cute, dude. I’m finding it hard to believe that you and Mr. Rich Guy aren’t a couple. You sure nothing happened out there?”

He yelps and curses and you imagine his character dying and you roll your eyes. Of course, the one time you get to finally talk to him because this best friend of yours has a tendency to disappear when he feels like it, he’s still busy being a dramatic gamer.

“Nothing, I told you,” you groan, comfortably lying down on the couch because your husband is at the hotel cafe, working, claiming that he doesn’t want to do it at your suite so you won’t feel tempted to work, too. “We just pretend to be in love and shit. And again, Kook, his name is Jin, okay? You and Dara should stop calling him other things that aren't his name. We’ve been married for 6 months and you still keep doing that.”

“Gee, wifey’s being protective of her hubby, I see,” he teases. “Fine, I’m finding it hard to believe that you and Mr. Rich Guy Jin with Abs aren’t a couple. The photos you sent look like you’re about to burst from happiness.”

“I’m pretty sure it was because a bug flew by his face and he almost fell off the chair from fear,” you chuckle, suddenly remembering yesterday’s stop at a cafe by the street. “His finesse and seriousness really melt away when there’s an insect or when I tickle him. It’s funny.”

“Ugh, you sound so cheesy.”

“Yah! You’re the one who wrote a whole ass song for a girl and serenaded her outside her house, you dork.”

“That was college. I was a different person back then, ___,” he whines.

“Yeah, so was I,” you sigh. “I mean, who would’ve thought I’d be in France with a rich man as my husband, right? I couldn’t even find a decent man and now I’m married to a really great one. Damn it, I wish those assholes didn’t ruin me the way they did,” you say, suddenly turning somber. “Maybe I’d actually even consider Jin if he didn’t have a girlfriend.”

“They didn’t ruin you, okay? They just broke you a bit,” your best friend says. “And you were a different person back then because now, you’re this confident, happy woman who knows when something’s not good for her anymore and can stand her ground and fight for herself because that’s who you really are, okay? I was hoping that seeing Namjoon would remind you of that.” He curses again before he continues. “Also, is that a confession I hear? Would you really go for Jin if the situation was different?”

“Maybe, who knows? But the situation is this - Jin has a girlfriend, someone who makes him happy, and I’m waiting for a man to finally like me enough to come home to me.”

“What if Namjoon doesn’t?”

“Okay, harsh,” you groan.

“I mean, of course he likes you. He did, all those years ago, and he stood by you because you needed him. But he’s not the same person anymore as well, ___. And while you two still do your letter-writing as if you’re long-distance lovers but also talk over the phone every once in a while, he’s been gone for years,” Jungkook says. “I love the guy but every single day, he chooses to not be with you. And asking you to run away to Italy isn’t the grand declaration of love that you think it is. That was silly.”

“Hey, I never thought it was,” you sigh. “Even he knew it was crazy, so I don’t even know what he would’ve done if I agreed.”

“And what would’ve made you agree?”

At this, you don’t have a response because quite frankly, you don’t know. You don’t know what situation or circumstance you need that would make you just drop everything to be with the man you’ve ironically been waiting for.

“What? Nothing? See, I told you.”

“You didn’t tell me shit, Kook,” you laugh.

“I hate you.”

“You’re just putting things in my head.”

“No, I’m helping you make sense of things in your head. That’s my role in your life,” he says proudly. “But I’m serious. Think about why you’re still holding onto Namjoon. There could be a lot of reasons, but whatever it is, just remember - he’s not the only person who can love you.”

You remain silent on your end, and sometimes, you just hate it when Jungkook makes sense.

“I can’t really think of anyone else who can.”

“Well, we’re gonna have to change that mindset, ___. You could be holding onto something that’s long gone, and you’re only choosing to see what’s left of it, and that’s bound to fall away, too.”

You choose not to think much of what Jungkook said earlier while you were lazing in the suite while waiting for Jin to finish his work. You came to France to pretend and to enjoy along the way, not to think, and you’d promptly sent your best friend messages of how much you hate him for making you think but he replied that he can’t wait to see you when you get back.

“What’s with the furrowed brows?” Jin splashes you some water, and you have to hold back your yell and send him a death glare instead.

“___, we’re in the pool, you’re literally wet,” he deadpans.

“Not my hair though! I didn’t plan on wetting it,” you pout.

“Too bad, now you have to,” he shrugs, and you jump on his back in retaliation, although you don’t know what that was supposed to do since you’re now clinging onto his freeway shoulders with your chest squished against his bare back. He reflexively grips your thighs so you both won’t lose your balance and he’s laughing the whole time while you’re suddenly hyper-aware.

“You’re gonna have to shower anyway since we have that spa treatment this afternoon,” he reminds you. “I heard it’s really good.”

“Oh god, I haven’t had a massage in a year,” you say dreamily. “The most I get is from Jungkook but he’s lazy sometimes.”

Jin chuckles, amused by your relationship with your best friends who are all very different from you.

“But I’m going to enjoy today,” you smile. “It’s our last full day. It'll be back to reality for us pretty soon.”

You’re unsure what you meant and why you even said it, but you don’t miss the way Jin’s face falls a little at the reminder and this time, you try to not think too much of it.

After lunch at a seaside restaurant, you and Jin get ready for your spa day. It’s a long one, with scrubs and a hot tub, facial treatment and a full-body massage, and manicure and pedicure as well. You focus on how relaxed you feel; you’ve never been this pampered in your life, and even all the times you did a bit of it before never amounted to this, price- and service-wise. This is luxury on your mind and body, and you're loving every second of it.

Of course, you feign nonchalance at the half-naked man doing all those things with you, too. You wish the therapists wouldn't find it odd that a married couple doesn’t shower together or that Jin is in swim shorts and you’re in a two-piece bathing suit. Or that they came in with some treats and you and he are on opposite ends of the hot tub. Or that you bicker more than you say sweet things to each other, but just like how it’s been the past 2 weeks, you’re comfortable and you feel light, and it’s not just because the massage got rid of the knots on your shoulders.

You can’t help but moan all the way back to your room, and you’re too refreshed to move that when Jin takes your legs off the couch, you reflexively lay them on his lap as you remain laying down and enjoy the change of colors of the sky outside.

“You look comfy,” he chuckles, admiring how at ease you feel.

He’s glad that he was able to upgrade the treatment to the full-experience since he knows you need it. You’ve worked hard all these years and you deserve this day of pampering. He liked seeing you just let go and be treated like a queen even for just the afternoon, and he admits that the way your eyes lit up every time there was something presented to you - even if it was just the type of scrub or the oil to be used - made him feel light and at ease. Somehow, seeing you pampered was his own way of relaxing, as if seeing you feel that way rid him of the knots on his body, knowing how much stress and pressure he put you through the past weeks.

“It’s our last night here. What if we order room service for each other and be surprised?” He suggests.

“Hey, that would be fun!” You sit up. “But it should be a 3-course meal. If you give me just an appetizer, I will riot.”

He laughs again; he seems to do that a lot with you.

“Trust me, I don’t want that, either. But sure, a 3-course meal, then.”

Jin ends up cheating. He still orders for you - appetizer, entree of lobster, which is your favorite, and dessert as discussed. Luckily, you both order different things for each other so you get to try his food and he gets to try yours. But he also orders additional things - the dishes he feels that you’d like to try, and the way you squealed when you saw the stuffed capon fish and the lemon dessert made him sigh in satisfaction.

There’s that feeling again, of making you smile, of making you happy. Of making you feel cared for.

And later that night as you both lay in bed, after the drinks and endless conversations about food at your garden balcony, he lets himself feel the serenity of your presence next to him.

It’s the same thing he does when you both do your last tour of the city the next morning, discovering new cafes and going back to the ones you liked, taking photos along the way and saying goodbye to the town that you fell in love with even for just a few days.

“You all good?” He asks, as you settle on the window seat of the car that will take you to the airport.

“Yes. Two weeks just flew by,” you say, “and I really had fun. Thank you, Jin.”

He grins proudly, sliding down his seat a bit so you can lean on his shoulder, seeing as you still look sleepy.

You’re both quiet on the way there, and even as you both wait to board the plane. He sees you glance at him from your First Class seat some feet away, and he constantly asks if everything is okay like it’s reflex.

It’s a long flight and you arrive in Seoul in the late afternoon, with Yoongi and Mr. Lim greeting you both. You and Jin narrate the highlights of the trip to his secretary, to his amusement, but of course you don’t mention the more intimate moments, and you’re glad that Yoongi doesn’t prod.

Home smells amazing with Mrs. Kang’s cooking, with all of Jin’s favorite Korean food laid out on the table, his mouth watering at the sight.

He’ll unpack tomorrow or this weekend; there’s still work tomorrow, after all, and he’s tired from the flight and he can’t wait to lie down. So do you, it seems, as you yawn after your last spoonful of the tofu stew and say that you’ll head to bed.

Jin nods and follows you up the stairs, being reminded of that reality you’re both back in when you wish him goodnight and open the door of your room and close it behind you. He stands outside, knowing there’s no place for him there, and that he shouldn’t want it, he shouldn’t wish for it.

But as he walks to his room on the other side of the hall and as he lays in bed, his tired body begging him to sleep, he’s unable to. And as he stays on one end and leaves a space for you, he knows.

Something’s changed, and he doesn’t think he can continue in this reality after the past 2 weeks. Something’s changed, and he doesn’t know what to do.

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cal-kestis · 4 years ago

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You’ve Been Lonely Too Long | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Part I of The Aftermath of Losing Everything)

moodboard/sketch/gifs made by me, please don’t repost :)

Summary: After parting with Grogu, losing his ship, and battling with the tenets of his Creed — Din is plagued by memories he fears will only ever exist in his past. But when he meets you, he’s surprised to see a bit of himself reflected in your eyes... and the family he still longs for. (Set after S2) Rating: M (for reasons that will happen eventually) Word Count: 6572 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut (non graphic), Action/Violence, Mentions of Blood, Hurt Comfort, Slow Burn, no use of ‘Y/N’, Din is wistful while talking about Grogu :’), he misses him A/N: Here it is! I've done a lot of research when it comes to lore, planets, etc. But I've taken a few creative liberties. Replies/comments are very welcome!

[Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

Memories keep him awake more than he cares to admit.

They conjure themselves unbidden, slithering through the iron bars of his mind. And just before they burrow, just before they brand his brain, just before they emerge from the shadows and he can recognize them — images of bright eyes and petal ears, sound bites of gentle coos, memories he wants to keep locked like a treasure — they vanish like vapor.

Sometimes he tries to chase them, like a valuable quarry. But even illustrious bounty hunters like Din Djarin know what it’s like to lose. Especially at night, when memories morph into vicious nightmares... and he becomes the prey.

If he ever does sleep, he sure as hell never rests.

And no one would catch wise. That’s the beauty of beskar. Because — despite the deep purple rings circling his wrinkled eyes, the constant dry and chapped state of his lips, and the uncharacteristically unkempt stubble on his jaw — when he walks into a room, everyone only sees the harsh glint of metal armor, the precise swagger in his gait, the loaded blaster at his belt. A Mandalorian: legend coming to life. And everyone quakes in their boots.

Everyone except you.

After he had left Gideon’s light cruiser, helmet replaced on his head — an imposter’s crown — he’d expected to say his goodbyes and carry on the way he always did before everything changed, before the kid. Alone.

He hadn’t known his next move. But picking up another stray? Not part of the non-existent plan.

Yet here he is, coasting in hyperspace aboard his cold, newly bargained light freighter, watching his crewmate modify the jammers.

“Hand me that driver, will you?” You huff, wiping sweat off your brow.

He had found you on Tatooine almost three months ago, fighting off some spice-high lowlife in a dark adobe alley. He remembers seeing you throw a heavy punch to the man’s jaw, extending your other trembling hand toward his throat before softly shutting your eyes, brows pinched in gentle focus.

Something about you had felt familiar, something he couldn’t shake. Your outstretched arm had sparked a memory of tiny green claws. And it had all happened so quickly. You had your eyes closed, the man had reached for his blaster, but Din had always been the faster shot.

Smoke had wafted from the man’s chest, your eyes had opened in shock, and Din had disappeared before you could thank him.

Instead, you had managed to stow away on his ship that same night and hire yourself as his new crewmate.

“I have nowhere to go. No home, no family,” you had explained, eyes glistening. When he’d scrutinized you, he only found a small bag slung over your shoulder and a short, chewed-on pencil tucked behind your ear. “I’m a good worker. I can cook and I’m a decent pilot, a better mechanic. And I’m… crafty?”

“I work alone.” He’d said it so surely, but a cloud of sadness had hovered over the words as he’d forced saliva down his dry throat.

“You don’t have to. I can be a valuable asset to you. Take some weight off your shoulders. Be someone to talk to.”

You had glanced at his stoic frame, his silence filling the room like a smoke grenade.

“Well, you don’t have to talk. But I can be helpful.”

There had been something in your eyes, or maybe even beyond them… something in you, something so achingly familiar. He’d felt it floating around the ship, radiating off your skin, seeping through his beskar armor. And he’d sighed because he couldn’t have stopped his next words from tumbling off his tongue if he wanted to.

“Just don’t touch anything.”

He remembers how you’d gasped, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso without a second thought. And he’d just stiffened like solid carbonite, not allowing himself to dwell on how warm and soft you felt, and he’d gently pushed you off, disappearing into the cockpit.

You’re still chatting away as you continue tinkering with the jammers. You’re definitely a talker. But to him, everyone seems that way when silence is his chosen weapon of survival.

Below that primary qualification of ‘someone to talk to,’ he’d realized almost right after you joined his crew of two that your resume checked out. You’d been invaluable on this new, unfamiliar ship — helping him modify it until it had some of the Razor Crest’s best qualities. Some.

When small memories like that start flooding in and try to take him under headfirst, he thinks it’s better to be alone. At least then, he can decide whether to sink or swim. So, he excuses himself to the cockpit and you hum in acknowledgment, continuing your chatter despite being your own audience.

He spends a lot of time here in solitary silence, staring at the stars as they reflect off the tiny metal ball that hangs from a string on an unused lever. It’s the only token he has from that life — the days of flying the Crest system to system with a giggling child in the backseat.

More often than not, you find him here exactly like this: helmet hung low, a silver sphere pinched between two gloved fingers, millions of confined thoughts racing through his mind faster than hyperspace and clawing at his skull.

When you find him like this, you try not to speak. Just sit in the co-pilot’s seat and watch the stars with him.

And as he studies the little gear knob from his past life, the one question that passes through his mind the most is:

What can you do when the reason you’re hurting is likely the only thing that can heal you?

—

ii.

After many months on the freighter, you’re sure of two things when it comes to your new crewmate:

First, the Mandalorian doesn’t talk much. Or ever, really.

But you quickly get used to your questions — and there are many — being answered with a curt “yes” or “no,” sometimes a grunt or sigh thrown in when the question is just right. You don’t mind too much, it’s enough to get you familiar with the way the ship works and you always know what to expect from him.

When he’s not outside hunting a quarry on some Maker-forsaken outer rim dustball, leaving you inside to tamper with the ship’s outdated systems, he’s usually on one side of the freighter and you’re on the other. If he seems busy, you leave his food outside his quarters, and later, you find his dish empty and washed in the storage cupboard. And when you’re fighting for sleep in your bed, you hear his footsteps echoing all night long. But there are times when you both find yourselves in the small, shared space of the cockpit, when your desire to see the corners of space beyond Tatooine becomes too great to stay away. In those moments under the domed viewport — faced with a myriad of vibrant hues and tremendous textures and infinite stars — he doesn’t speak and you can’t find the words, giving way to a tranquil, transfixing silence neither of you wants to escape.

The second thing you’re sure of is: the Mandalorian gets hurt, a lot.

You can’t count the number of times you’ve watched him drag himself and an unconscious body onto his ship or holed himself up in the fresher, hissing in pain as he tended to his own wounds.

But this time, he comes back and collapses outside of the ship, unable to even pull himself up the ramp, much less the dead weight of the quarry. There’s hardly a thought in your mind as your feet scurry to his side, sprawled across the ground beside his target. You don’t wait for permission before you’re reaching for the gloved hand pressed firmly to the side of his stomach.

“No,” he grits out between his teeth, groaning when the tiny word seems to tear him apart where he’s already been gashed. “The quarry.”

You frown, almost rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. Always the job first.

Still, no arguments pass your lips when you turn to pull the heavy, unconscious Trandoshan by his bound wrists. It takes all of your strength to drag him up the steep incline of the freighter’s ramp, through the main corridor, and into the supply closet, Mando’s makeshift prison. You’d asked him about it before, one of your many questions, wondering if he should consider more secure holding quarters. And he’d responded with a surprisingly long (for him) statement, “Not as good as a mobile carbonite freezing system, but it does the job.”

After chaining up the quarry’s hands and ankles and locking the closet, you nearly trip over yourself while sprinting back to the groaning Mandalorian. You kneel beside him, pulling the hand pressed against his stomach over your shoulder to lift him on his feet. A harsh, metallic scent suddenly fills your lungs, drawing your gaze to the blood-stained palm of his glove dangling over your shoulder. You do your best to ignore it, refocusing your energy on lugging him into the ship. As soon as you reach the top of the ramp, your strength gives out, sending both your bodies collapsing to the floor with a dull thud. It’s a challenge disentangling yourself from his heavy limbs but once you manage, you quickly turn to examine him before his hand stops you again.

“Gang on our tail,” he rasps, coughing then groaning in pain. “Get us out of here.”

Your lips press into a straight line, a war waging behind your furrowed brow as you decide whether or not it’s smart to leave him alone, bleeding on the floor of the main hold. But his hand shakes as he squeezes your wrist in what you think is meant to feel comforting. You release a deep sigh before getting up to close the ramp and set coordinates in the cockpit.

When you return minutes later with a medpac, you find him stretched out on his back, his neck arching with a groan, and his glove clutching his stomach once more. You kneel beside him to assess the damage, reaching your hand to his waist before he grabs you again.

“You don’t have to,” he grunts. “I can do it.”

“I know you can,” you say, gently removing the glove trapping your wrist. “But so can I. And I can actually move my limbs at a normal, painless speed, get the job done quicker. So, please, let me.”

He sighs, giving a quick nod of his helmet before allowing you to partially remove his armor.

You start with the breastplate, remove the thick padding over his stomach, then grab the ever-present pencil behind your ear and use the dull end to lift the edge of his brown undershirt, just enough to reveal the knife wound in his side.

“What happened?” You gasp, quickly gathering antiseptic, a laser cauterizer, and bacta patches from the medpac.

“Ambushed,” he grunts, wincing as you clean the cut, your breath sliding across his skin as you lean in close.

“I’ve sustained some pretty bad knicks myself. Nothing as bad as this,” you joke lightly, switching the antiseptic for the cauterizer. When the laser touches his skin, he gasps and curls in on himself as you burn the wound closed. Instinctively, you grab his hand, the one not stained with blood, and interlace your fingers with his on the ship’s floor, letting him squeeze your palm as a distraction. “Nothing I couldn’t fix up. When you’re surviving on your own, you have to learn how to take care of yourself.”

“I know,” he says quietly. I work alone, he’d said when you met.

Even through the shadowy visor of his helmet, you feel his eyes on yours and stare back openly. But as always, you only see your own warped reflection in the silver gleam of his beskar.

“It helps to have the proper supplies,” you chuckle, tearing your eyes away from his helmet to finish closing up his wound. “This bacta patch should fix you up real good.”

After smoothing the gel bandage against his skin, your fingertips linger only a second too long on the exposed warmth of his tanned stomach. You pull down the hem of his shirt, starting to reach for the pieces of iron covering his arm but feel him stop you by squeezing your joined hands.

“They only got one jab in,” he says, his voice sounding more relaxed, almost cocky. But when he sees the worry on your face, his thumb sweeps lightly across your hand and he squeezes once more. “I promise. I’m fine.”

“You’d better be,” you warn, shaking your joined hands in front of your face like a cranky geezer. “Because I’m not carrying two unconscious bodies off this ship when we land.”

He huffs out a short breath, only wincing slightly at the movement. Without another word, you pull his arm around your shoulder once more, limping him toward his sleeping quarters to rest. But you stop just outside the door, not wanting to encroach on his privacy.

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his hand against the doorway.

“Your gloves,” you say, his helmet tilting in confusion when you stare at his hand pointedly. “Let me clean them for you.”

He tries to argue but you won’t have any of it, simply extending your palm out toward him until he reluctantly pulls at the yellow leather tips on his fingers and hands them over.

“You can leave your shirt outside your quarters, too. I don’t want you stinking up the ship with your bloody clothes. Wash up. Get some rest. And be more careful next time,” you say, smiling and walking backward as you talk.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and you swear you hear a ghost of a smile in his voice.

Before you can question him on it, he presses the button to his quarters and slips inside.

—

iii.

Time seems to pass quicker on the Mandalorian’s ship since the Trandoshan incident. And this man of few words quickly becomes a man of… just slightly more than a few words. Nevertheless, as his crewmate, you’ve learned quite a lot more about him.

One, he never stays in one place for long. He’s a bounty hunter, of course, and he takes multiple jobs at once. That means, together, you visit at least four different planets in the span of a few weeks, expertly flying around New Republic and Imperial scanners without a hitch. Two, he likes your cooking, a lot. You can tell because, by the end of the night, after a soft “thank you” buzzed from his helmet, his dish would always be licked clean — two dishes when you’d made his favorite. Sometimes, he’d even surprise you and try to recreate your recipes, generously leaving bowls of delicious food at your door. But he never eats where you can watch, enjoying the meals in secret and quietly washing up for you when you’re on the other side of the ship and can’t argue with him about it. Three, he doesn’t remove his helmet when you’re around, maybe even when he’s alone. “This is the way,” he’d mumble on occasion, a Creed that sounds like a foreign language even falling from his lips. Four, although he says he works alone, you see the way his helmet leans toward you when you speak and notice how his knees point in your direction when you sit side by side in the cockpit, gravitating toward you yet deeply cautious of drawing too close. And five, he’s lonely. You know because you’ve carried the same sadness in your chest almost all your life.

Several months on his ship have opened him up to giving more detailed answers to your numerous questions, and you take each opportunity where you can, desperate to unveil new pieces of his mind.

Tonight, Mando is particularly relaxed after capturing the last of four bounties, coordinates already set to turn them in. An empty bowl of bone broth sits beside his first helping. He leans back comfortably in his pilot seat as the stars shine off his chest plate and you ask about his past adventures.

“Has it always been just you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, not wanting to disturb this content stillness, but thinking of all the times you’ve found him sitting alone in the cockpit clutching onto a silver ball.

He’s silent for a moment, thinking over his words. He doesn’t turn to face you when he answers, “No. There was... a child. Not long ago.”

You think back to when you had first met him, how he’d said, “I work alone,” how those words had seemed devastatingly true — in the way only a person who’s lost everything could say them so honestly.

“Yours?”

A beat. “Yeah,” he answers, a small crackling sound coming from his helmet. “Yes, a foundling. But he was as my own.”

“What happened?”

The cockpit stays silent save for the dull tones of the control board’s beeps and ticks. Mando reaches for that silver sphere, leans forward in his seat, and he holds it to the crown of his helmet.

“I... had to let him go.”

His voice breaks over the vowels, just slightly but you hear it: the familiar shattered sound of loss. It radiates off of him in waves, penetrating your skin and crawling through your bloodstream until your own heart aches for the ghost this child left behind.

“What was he like?”

He’s quiet again and you wonder if you’ve crossed a line. But suddenly, Mando swivels his chair to face you, the silver ball clutched tight against his chest, and he chuckles. It’s fleeting but it’s a sound you’ve never heard in all your months aboard his ship. A lovely sound you’ll never forget.

“This was his favorite toy,” the Mandalorian says, lifting the ball in the air for you to see. “He was a stubborn kid. Always getting into trouble.”

You smile, begging him to continue.

“He could do things I couldn’t even imagine. He saved me, in more ways than one. We were a clan of two.”

“A family,” you agree.

He stills for a moment, ponders your words, and hangs his head. “Yeah, a family.”

“What’s his name?”

“Grogu.” You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “His name is Grogu.”

“Grogu,” you whisper, testing the name on your tongue. “Can you describe him for me?”

You pull out a small, worn booklet of parchment from your pouch and the short pencil from behind your ear. His helmet tilts toward you curiously and you can almost imagine his eyes squinting behind the visor.

“Remember when I said I was crafty? Not a load of bantha crap,” you chuckle, waving the pencil at him. “I made a trade with some stingy Jawas to get these relics.”

He nods, quietly examining the antiquated drawing pad.

“Tell me,” you plead.

His helmet’s gaze drops back to the silver ball and he sighs a wistful sound.

“Grogu was — is special. A green, wrinkly, big-eared... very special little kid.”

“A green, wrinkly child?” You ask, looking up from the paper.

Mando laughs again and you can’t help but smile too. He describes Grogu like he’s a father mooning over his son’s first steps. You’ve never heard him talk so much, so joyfully yet sorrowfully all at once. There’s a wistfulness in his voice, a rasp that tells you he’s not used to putting it into words, at least not out loud, but he still wants to honor Grogu with every word he has. As he speaks, you can feel — almost see the image of Grogu in your mind. It’s crystal clear like your brain is reaching out and can somehow access every archive in Mando’s memories. It’s like a trance and you have to physically shake your head to release yourself.

“He means a lot to you,” you say, a matter of fact, tearing off the weathered page and giving him your quick sketch, your hand resting on one of his pauldrons. “I’m sure you mean a lot to him.”

Mando silently turns back to the controls, his fingers still clutching the little ball as he grips the page in the other hand.

He’s especially glad to have his helmet at this moment because he feels water pooling behind his eyelids as he stares at the uncanny drawing.

“That’s him,” he whispers, looking upon his boy. It’s almost an exact likeness, although in grayscale (he’ll have to find you other colors somehow). But it means everything to see Grogu again, even on a page, after months of only seeing him in fleeting dreams and distorted nightmares.

“Thank you,” he says, his hand with the drawing joining your hand on his pauldron.

You smile as he neatly, delicately folds the paper and tucks it into the small pouch on his shoulder harness, keeping the drawing close to his heart. You sit together in comfortable silence as the ship drops out of hyperspace.

“I guess you weren’t lying when we met,” he finally says.

“What do you mean?”

“You are… crafty,” he chuckles, his fingers tenderly stroking the leather pouch on his shoulder. “And you’re a good person to talk to.”

—

iv.

The Mandalorian doesn’t ask you to stay on the freighter while he works anymore.

He doesn’t want you with him while he hunts, can’t afford the distraction. But he doesn’t want you to feel trapped either. So, he tells you to explore villages and draw landscapes of forested planets with the set of pigmented chalks he’d sweetly gifted you after finishing a job one day. (“I saw them at some backwater trading post. Thought you might like them,” he’d shrugged.)

He doesn’t say it out loud but you know he trusts you even more now, trusts you won’t get into trouble, trusts you can take care of yourself if it finds you anyway. And he knows you appreciate it after being stranded on Tatooine your entire life. Each time he lands on a new planet, he sees entire galaxies reflected in your awestruck eyes and he gains a new page of artwork to add to his growing collection.

His latest quarry leads the pair of you to Felucia, on the hunt for some scum who — according to the Mandalorian — is probably hoping to harvest the planet’s Nysillin, a valuable healing herb, to trade for hefty credits.

Felucia is a beautiful world you could never have even conjured in your dreams. A dense jungle of flora extends toward the upper atmosphere, kissing the yellow-tinted clouds and glowing orange and teal when night falls. Vibrant purple fungi tower high above the ferns, providing shade that did little to combat the damp heat.

You felt a strange energy running through your veins the moment you stepped off the ship, blaming it on the humidity instantly sticking to your skin like honey, a welcome discomfort compared to the sands of Tatooine.

On Tat, the sand made a habit of blowing and whipping around your ankles, scraping slashes and slivers into your skin. You’d hardly ever felt it, soft skin having evolved into a numb armor over many years on the desolate planet. Even as crystal particles would fly into your eyes, fill your lungs, nestle into your hair — you’d hardly felt it.

Sand is nothing compared to the sinister shudder that would run down your spine as you’d make haste through dark alleyways. The hairs on the back of your neck would rise and stiffen. You’d feel it more than you’d see it: the mass of darkness constantly looming over your shoulder, disfigured shadows merging with yours on the sand. And a voice would ask you each time: are you willing to do what you must to survive?

You almost had that night you met the Mandalorian. You remember your attacker’s voice like you just woke up from a nightmare, coarse and rough, burying itself under your skin like the Tatooine sands. His hands had felt slimy and sticky like the Felucian air as he’d gripped your waist. That same question of will had rung in your ears and your soul had urged you with a whisper: “Survive.” Your hand had quaked as you’d lifted it and focused your thoughts on your attacker’s throat.

Then, before you could save yourself, you’d heard blaster fire and exhaled a staggered breath, gazing upon the Mandalorian as your hand had dropped limp at your side. You never turned back.

Now, you explore more systems than you knew existed, a Mandalorian warrior at your side, filling your weathered drawing pad with sketches of worlds beyond imagination.

Felucia would be a quick job, he’d assured you when he’d left. Easy and clean. Besides, no matter how beautiful the planet seemed — you couldn’t afford to stay longer than one rotation.

The Mandalorian had warned you of carnivorous plants and mysterious beasts. He hadn’t asked you to stay on the ship, but you knew he’d feel better if you kept close by. In the low shrubs and behind sky-scraping stalks, a deep grumble echoed through the jungle — something hungry and menacing. You stayed far from the sounds, choosing to explore the other colorful flowers that lived nearer to the ruddy soil, not straying too far into the mystifying wilds. You scribble away in your booklet, airways filled with a fresh petrichor that reminds you of a watery star system the Mandalorian brought you to a couple of months back. Your chalks fly across the tiny page as you capture this planet’s inimitable beauty as best you can.

Hardly four hours pass before you hear the Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps returning. Behind him trudges a stout man, wrists in binders behind him as he follows the bounty hunter in defeat.

“You’re getting slow, Mando,” you say, grinning when he comes to a stop in front of you, hands on his hips, a slight tilt to his helmet.

“What are you drawing?” He asks, ignoring your previous comment. He kneels beside you, silently studying the chalk-smudged red flower on the page as you stroke the final flourishes of your sketch. You hand him your booklet, noticing how the quarry leans over Mando’s shoulder to sneak a peek as well.

“Beautiful,” Mando says, tone even, as if speaking a fact instead of opinion.

“Well, it’s easy to see beauty when it’s all around,” you answer, cheeks heated as you gesture to the plant life surrounding you.

“It is,” he agrees, tenderness seeping into his modulated voice. When you look up at him, his visor is already trained on your face, unwavering as you crouch eye to eye with each other.

“Hate to break it to ya,” the quarry says, coughing dramatically behind you. “But all this ‘beauty’ wants to eat us alive, so I suggest we get off this hellhole before we all become dinner.”

The Mandalorian sighs, tearing his gaze to probably glare daggers at the quarry.

“Makes you wonder what you were doing on this ‘hellhole’ in the first place,” he says, sarcastic to a fault.

“It wasn’t my choice,” the quarry argues, lifting his hands in defense. “I’m here to do a job, just like y—”

A shrill, deafening screech cuts through the jungle like a blade and the group of you shrink at the violent sound.

“Let’s go,” Mando says immediately, helping you on your feet and pushing the quarry into the freighter.

You watch from the ground behind him as Mando runs in to lock the quarry inside the storage closet, turning only when the screeching sound suddenly stops. Your eyes squint as you try to find a sign of movement in the dense jungle.

“Watch out!”

Before you can register the anxiety in the Mandalorian’s voice, you’re knocked on your back into the red soil by a hulking creature.

It towers over you, casting you completely in its shadow as it slowly stalks forward. Your vision blurs as the horrifying monster draws closer — wrinkled white skin stretching the expanse of its belly and blue spine-covered leather painting its face and shell-armored back.

“I’m guessing this is the rancor you were telling me about?” You grit through your teeth, inching away like a pathetic crab along the shoreline. Drool leaks from the rancor’s jagged teeth in dangling strands as it reaches long, webbed claws toward you.

Before they can reach your body, you see the Mandalorian’s whipcord wrap around its arm. On the other end of the cord, Mando yanks the rancor away from you, rapid blaster fire whizzing through the air, hitting the beast with deadly precision. But the blasts bounce off its thick, impenetrable skin as it continues prowling toward you with renewed anger.

“Good guess,” Mando grunts, flying above the rancor with his jetpack, shooting at it in quick succession.

The rancor turns its attention away from you to the shiny flying pest blasting at its leathery skin. It’s at least six times the Mandalorian’s height but seems worlds larger from your view on the ground.

“Stars, I thought you said these things were peaceful!” You shout.

“The Felucians don’t mind them. You must have scared it with your aggressive craftiness,” he quips, and you imagine what his smirk might look like under his helmet, even as the rancor approaches closer.

Mando launches miniature whistling explosives at the beast, but they do little to deter it. He throws grenades but the rancor swats them away like insects. It stomps toward the Mandalorian, its maw gaping wide as it releases a petrifying roar.

“Mando!” You scream when the rancor’s claws grab him by his jetpack, plowing his body into the ground with brute force.

The Mandalorian groans as he tries to stand back up, falling on his back when his bones prove too weary to support his weight.

“Get to the ship,” he rasps, voice crackling through the helmet with static. He raises his arm, flamethrower igniting at the rancor’s face, making it fumble backward with another roar. Only seconds later, the fire sputters and dies out. “Dank farrik!” He curses, reaching for his hopeless blaster once more before the monster’s claws slap it from his hand. “Get to the ship!” He yells.

Rooted to the ground like the surrounding plants, you’re helpless bantha fodder as you watch the rancor slowly creep forward, stretching to its full height above the Mandalorian. It feels like you’re sinking in quicksand — your feet and your mind hopelessly going under.

Then, you hear a soft voice ask a familiar yet distorted question:

Are you willing to do what you must so he survives?

You don’t hesitate. Anything, your soul resolves.

Steadily braced on two feet, you throw out your hand like a whip, focusing all your energy and emotions toward the blue beast. It sends the rancor flying backward like a ragdoll, wailing as it crashes through the thick jungle, loud cracks echoing from the mist as its body breaks every plant in its path. It lands far away with a heavy thud, but you feel it in your veins when it immediately gets on its feet, vengefully sprinting back toward you.

“Can’t say it isn’t persistent,” you mutter.

“How? You—” Mando grunts, a thousand questions on his tongue that will have to wait.

“I’ll explain later,” you huff, yanking his arm over your shoulder and pulling him to the ship. “We need to get out of here.”

“What’s happening?” The quarry yells from inside the locked compartment when he hears footsteps boarding the ship. You drop the Mandalorian onto the floor of the main hold rather unceremoniously, a metallic clanging sound ringing through the freighter. You punch in his code to retract the ship’s ramp before running to the cockpit. Outside the freighter, the rancor’s screeching grows louder and your fingers flit across the control panel to get the ship in the air. The engines whir to life and you swear it’s the second most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

With one final glance at the glowing jungle outside the viewport, thunderous roars softening into a low rumble, the ship finally launches out of Felucia’s atmosphere. Sinking back in the pilot’s seat, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for what feels like years. A labored dragging sound echoes behind you and you snap your head back, instinctively on defense.

But your shoulders relax when you see the Mandalorian gripping the walls of the ship as he attempts to limp closer. You run to his side, carrying his weight as you lead him to sit in the co-pilot’s chair.

“You need to rest,” you whisper, standing in front of him to quickly scan his body for signs of a major injury. “Looks like you got away with just a few shallow cuts and bruises. Nothing a bit of bacta can’t soothe.”

Your words come out like the rapid firing of his blaster before a gloved hand on your wrist stops you from speeding off.

“What happened back there? How did you...” He asks, his visor lifted at an uncomfortable angle to meet your eyes.

Your lips press into a straight line, brows pinched in worry as you turn away from him to rummage through the medpac.

“I don’t...” you start, letting out a long exhale as you gather your words. “I don’t know. Since I was a kid, I’ve been able to do things I can’t explain — move things without touching them.”

You turn back to him, bacta in hand as you study expressionless beskar.

“Sometimes, it frightens me. I have no idea where it comes from or why it happens or how to control it. I never do it around other people. I didn’t want them to know,” you admit quietly, dropping your gaze to his vambrace, wordlessly asking if he still trusts you to remove it. He nods, visor watching you with masked curiosity as you roll back his sleeves and expose bruised, tan skin. “I’m afraid of what could happen if people knew.”

You don’t tell him how you don’t sleep well most nights, your thoughts eating away at your mind as you wonder if your abilities are the reason why you’ve always been alone… if they drove your family away before you could understand and just explain.

It stays silent while you tend to his wounds, applying bacta wherever your hands coax sharp hissing sounds from his helmet. His armor lies on the floor of the cockpit, sleeves pulled up to his elbows and the hem of his shirt lifted just enough to reveal a shallow cut and smattering of bruises on his abdomen. It’s not the worst you’ve seen and the bacta seems to already be easing most of the discomfort, allowing him to sit up straighter.

You leave him for a moment to allow him to tend to the bruises on his legs himself, walking to the supply closet to make sure the quarry is secure in his makeshift prison. When you return, you sit in the pilot’s seat, facing the zooming stars as if they hold the answers to every terrifying question you’ve held inside for so long.

You almost don’t hear the soft way the Mandalorian calls your name. It takes all your strength to pivot your seat in his direction.

“Do you remember when I told you about the mudhorn?” He asks.

You nod. The story of the mudhorn, of course you remember. After he’d first told you about his child, he seemed eager to tell you even more tales of their adventures across the galaxy. The mudhorn felt like their origin story, the birthplace of his connection to Grogu.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” he says quietly, piquing your attention. “Grogu saved me. Not the other way around.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “But how? He’s just a baby.”

Mando stands from the co-pilot’s seat, testing his leg’s stability before walking to the control board, leaning back on it, his knees brushing against yours.

“Grogu had powers too. He could heal people. And he could move things without touching them,” he mirrors your words, making your jaw drop as you take them in. “Just like you. I was quested to bring him to others of his kind.”

“You mean?” you ask, and he doesn’t miss the flash of hope in your eyes.

“Yes. There are others like him — like you.”

You listen with rapt attention as he unravels the legend of the Jedi — a fierce warrior he’d met named Ahsoka Tano and the hooded figure who had single-handedly defeated a platoon of Dark Troopers and became Grogu’s new mentor. He tells you the few fragments of what he knows about laser swords — lightsabers — the bright colors he’s seen them radiate. But he leaves out the heavy weight of the darksaber locked away in his weapons cabinet. Besides that, he tells you everything he knows, which he regrets isn’t much.

“The Force?” You ask in confusion.

“The Force is what gives you your powers,” he says, reciting the words like folklore passed down through generations. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

Ahsoka’s words have been imprinted on his brain since she first spoke them.

“I can take you to a place where you can communicate with them,” he whispers. Truly, he doesn’t want to do as he says, doesn’t want to repeat the heartache he’s still not fully recovered from. He wishes he could snatch the righteous words out of the air before you hear them. But he knows what it would mean to you to find others, a family when you’ve had none your whole life. “The… Jedi, I mean. On a planet called Tython. If you want to be trained.”

He imagines a familiar hooded figure leading you by your hand, leaving him behind.

“I… I’d like to hear what they have to say. Get some answers,” you say. “If you’ll take me.”

“Of course.”

You stand up, allowing him to take his place in the pilot’s chair.

“After we drop off the quarry, I’ll bring you to Tython.”

His breath stops when he sees your hand reach out to cradle the side of his helmet. His eyes screw shut, imagining the plush warmth of your palm caressing the skin on his cheek instead.

“Thank you, Mando,” you say, a gentle smile on your lips.

“Din,” he offers, grinning beneath his helmet when your chin tilts in silent questioning. “My name is Din Djarin,” he clarifies. “But you can still call me Mando if you want.”

You smile, so wide and so bright it could blind him.

“Thank you, Din,” you say, unexplored galaxies sparkling in your irises. For the first time, he lets himself daydream what it’d be like to discover each one of them with you, for as many years as you’ll give him. Even as he fears his time with you is ending. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

As you walk to your sleeping quarters, the soft sound of controls beeping and ticking in the ship, you don’t hear when he whispers:

“Anything.” [READ PART II HERE]

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #reader insert #taole #mine*

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springday-aus · 4 years ago

Text

Disney Prince!AU with Seonghwa

★ Seonghwa as Disney’s Prince Charming ★

moodboard link

Group: ATEEZ

Member: Park Seonghwa

Genre: fluff, romance, hints of angst

part of the Disney Prince Series - could also be a prince!au

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: approx. 3k

A/N: I had to spice things up a bit bc after a rewatch of Cinderella, I have realized they have no flavor and got a bit carried away—so enjoy!

Warnings: family death + mentions of abusive family - you know the classic princess storyline.

Seonghwa….. is not your average prince

but it’s not depicted in a negative light

so, he’s the prince other nations wished they had

he’s very involved with the state of affairs, often spends time in the villages and conversing with the townsfolk, and often visits schools to read to them or just watch them and it’s so……...wholesome

*cut to him struggling to sit on the carpet with the kids bc his legs can’t fold*

basically everyone loves him because he’s got this angelic aura around him that just makes you feel like you can trust him with anything

and I mean anything

mothers would probably offer him their babies if that was appropriate

he’s just super sweet and tries to remember what he learns in order to take it back and make use of it with the current policies that the parliament is trying to endorse or something

obviously, this is the main image of him to the public

and it’s not fake

but those in the palace know he can get a bit mischievous and sassy

it’s only really seen by those who are close with him, or have been around for a longer time

like assistant!Hongjoong and head butler!Wooyoung

since they’re all close in age and grew up together too, they’re much more comfortable with one another

Hongjoong: *hits his head on a doorway*

Seonghwa: “......... are you an idiot?”

guard!Yeosang and butler-in-training!San: laughing

no, but for real, all of them know he’s basically an angel

the amount of shit he’s putting up with them, but like they make for great entertainment lmao

anyways

the older workers at the palace find him adorable

like when Seonghwa tried to sneak-eat the freshly picked strawberries

“my prince, did you just eat a strawberry?”

Seonghwa with a mouthful of them: “no”

he’s like the grandson they all want (and are trying to get, but we’ll get to that later)

other than his charities and visits and public outings, he’s also known to be a good horseback rider

like real good

Wooyoung: “this is the most princely we’ll ever see him”

he’s kidding, but he’s also not kidding

bc lbr: Seonghwa in a horseback riding fit with the shoulder pads and the helmet and the wind and

Wow

many gather to see him in his glorious, sweaty state afterwards

it’s funny bc he’s so handsome and there are times when he’ll acknowledge it and other times when he doesn’t

especially since the ateez boys just ignore him or tease him

now it just depends on how he feels that day as to how he’d react

since he’s got such a good reputation, you know what that means?

lots of treaties and lots of marriage proposals

on one hand, many nearby countries know how nice Prince Seonghwa is—and some thought he was naive enough to be deceived by them

and that led to a few wars, but they lost real bad bc they assumed he was too nice

when, in actuality, he’s very knowledgeable since he takes a lot after the king and the queen

that allowed much more respect for the kingdom, especially since he’s the first in line for the throne once he’s married

which leads to the second thing: he gets lots and lots of marriage proposals

have you SEEN him?????

do you know how CAPABLE he is????

helloo?????

anyways

the royal family kind of milks this—not in that way tho

it’s in the sense that it’s because they want him to find someone soon and there’s more time for them to learn the ropes about ruling a kingdom

that means lots of balls are thrown in hopes of Seonghwa finding someone to ~catch his eye~ and whatnot

but Seonghwa just uses this as a diplomatic advantage, you know? like a chance for him to meet other royals and build these relationships

and while he has good intentions, the rejected royals are kind of bitter, but they know better than to mess with the Royal Family

meanwhile, party planner!Yunho is lowkey racking in the dough from these events, so he’s fine throwing all these balls lmao

this is where you come in

but, it’s not how others might think

so, you used to be the daughter of a well-of-ish family—you had money for a house and caretakers who adored you and you with parents who loved you dearly

you lived in your own little bubble of love

but then your mother died

when she died, it was almost as if she had taken the lively atmosphere of the household with her

your father buried himself into his work, rarely making time for you anymore and…. there was a drift

one day he came home with a mysterious woman, proclaiming her as your stepmother

along with her came her two daughters, who were as ugly outside as they were on the inside

while you could have done without her passive-aggressiveness, it was nice to see your father happy

but lo-and-behold, you lucked out and he died on a business trip, leaving you alone with strangers to become your only family

it only got worse from there as they openly started to mock you, shame you and push you beyond your boundaries

as they could no longer pay for the staff, they also forced you to clean after them, cook for them, and make all the arrangements that they demanded

or, as your oh-so-lovely stepmother said “you’re below us and you will always be below us”

at first, you put up with it because there’s nowhere else for you

but, slowly, the idea of running away was starting to sound better

and the opportunity came as the palace was starting to look for more servants who would stay in the servants’ quarters

you immediately packed away your things, which wasn’t much to begin with—your mother’s locket being the major trinket you possessed

and ran off to work as a housekeeper, who hid away behind the palace walls and the public eye

since you clean for the palace, it also means cleaning after the balls

other than television appearances, you never really saw the royal family

even as you did work in the palace because……………. they’re running a goddamned country

but, of course, there are rumors and gossip with the other housekeepers which all come from reliable resources

**cough cough definitely Wooyoung cough cough**

so there’s a lot of what you heard, not really from what you’ve seen, despite what some might think when working in the palace

that was until you were called to work at your first ball

which meant you were cleaning after the tables and in the kitchens, going in and out of the ballroom and between dinner tables

getting glimpses of some of the royals

and picking up on some of their juicy conversations

(apparently this one duke almost had an affair with this king’s secret mistress… all the tea)

anyways

you get the point

every once in a while you have to work at the balls when they need the extra help

but, there was one that was…………. different

a lot of the balls are for the royals to take and engage and whatever, but there have been so many and Seonghwa………….

Seonghwa hasn’t been interested in a single one despite the purpose being to help him find someone

Hongjoong: “what’s wrong with them?”

Seonghwa: “there’s nothing wrong with them, I don’t want just someone”

Seonghwa: “I want it to happen naturally—call me old fashioned but if this is someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, it has to be someone who knows me”

Wooyoung, in the corner: “that is old fashioned, hasn’t he heard of tinder?”

advisor!Mingi: “I don’t think it would be a good look for the country if the prince is on tinder”

guard!Yeosang: “we should test it out”

butler-in-training!San: “omg reverse pretty woman”

Hongjoong: “everyone get out, you’re all useless”

okay, but like real talk: he’s such a romantic and the whole unofficial arranged marriage is just………. too much

so, his parents were like: so, you want more options?

Seonghwa: “not what I said”

and they expanded the invitation list for one night, meaning ANYONE had a shot with Seonghwa and

well

he is very popular, so you can imagine how many people were planning on coming and the staff (i.e. you) had to prepare for everything

for the week, the castle was bustling and you were running around to help out and it……. it was all so insane

and then it happens

you’re minding your own business and working and eavesdropping as one does when one works

because everyone is there and who doesn’t love listening to drama that isn’t just from fancy people

but since everyone is here

you failed to remember that a certain group of people were also there

the group of people being your step-mother and step sisters

instinctively, you ducked and hid, moving away from the main room that was swarmed with people who were all trying to obtain Seonghwa’s attention

(who was also trying to hide from everyone else and instinctively failing)

eventually, you found yourself in the gardens, where you tried to make yourself busy

but it ended up being a small walk through the gardens, picking up the occasional liter and small talk with the gardeners

the garden is huge, so you get a bit lost as you wander—physically and emotionally

meanwhile, Seonghwa managed to escape from the others with the help of the other ateez boys

major shoutout to Yunho and Jongho, who insisted on leading the cupid shuffle and cha cha slide

also Yeosang for blocking off people who were trying to shoot their shot with a tired Seonghwa who did not want any of this

he ended up in the gardens as well, walking down a small path with Yeosang trailing a bit farther behind

he spots you on a bench, admiring the flowers under the bright moonlight

and you were absolutely breath-taking

not wanting to disturb your peace, he tried to leave

only to knock into a garden gnome and catch your attention as he tries to not break it

You: “um”

Seonghwa: “I’m so sorry, I was just going to leave, I didn’t mean to disturb you”

You: he looks familiar

You: “I know you from somewhere”

Seonghwa: literally in the most extravagant suit and sparkle make-up as he’s still crouched on the ground trying not to break a gnome that cost like $5 at a Target

also Seonghwa: “have we met before?”

you exchange names and that’s when it clicks

You: “OH MY GOD. MY PRINCE.”

immediately, you try to curtsy or bow or whatever the royals make you do to the ground bc Seonghwa’s still at ground level

and Seonghwa’s just…………. scrambling to try to get you off the ground with flushed ears at you calling him your prince

Seonghwa: “please, you literally do not have to”

You: “I don’t want to be beheaded”

You: “plus, isn’t it like, illegal for me not to?”

Seonghwa: “well, I’m technically giving you orders not to…..”

You: well, can’t argue with that

you slowly get up and dust yourself off, unable to look at him in the eye

even from the corner of your eyes tho, you can see what the fuss is about

bc Seonghwa in that suit and hair swept back is hot™

You: “Prince, I apologize if I’m speaking out of line, but shouldn’t you be inside?”

Seonghwa: “couldn’t I ask you the same thing?”

You: “but this is in your honor, not mine”

Seonghwa: “is it tho?”

Seonghwa: “I keep telling everyone I would like to fall in love on my own and yet………. everyone keeps meddling and making plans and now everyone in the kingdom is after me when I’m just trying to do my best for our citizens”

you’re a bit silent, unsure as to how to respond

Seonghwa: “I’m sorry for just dumping this on you, but, everyone keeps telling me I shouldn’t be so worried”

You: “well, Prince, I think what you need to hear is that your feelings are valid”

You: “it’s only natural for you to want to find someone on your own—freedom is something everyone wants, which is why it’s so hard to obtain”

there’s a bit of an awkward silence

for one bc you didn’t know what he was really like and if you were allowed to say something like that

two being that you didn’t know if you should leave

but he speaks up

Seonghwa: “you’re right—I did need that”

the air loosens a bit between the two of you

Seonghwa: “so, are you also hiding from an influx of suitors?”

you laugh a little, playing like a twinkling melody to Seonghwa’s ears

You: “no, but I am hiding from people”

Seonghwa: “it’s okay, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to”

you two get to spend a bit more time together, just chatting and getting to know one another

he’s really sweet, but also kind of goofy with a handful of cheesy pickup lines that definitely comes from spending too much time on the internet but also Wooyoung

the time is short but sweet

bc, before you know it, it strikes 12 and Hongjoong has a hold on him by bulldozing past Yeosang who just blinks at the small gust of wind

Hongjoong: “Seonghwa! your parents are looking for you! we gotta go!”

he greets you hastily, before grabbing a hold of Seonghwa and dragging him away—in which Seonghwa is still trying to get one last look at you before you disappear off into the night

or, in your case, back to the kitchen to avoid your stepfamily

the rest of the night passes as expected, at least for you as you busy yourself with washing dishes in the kitchen

but Seonghwa found himself like a mercat, poking his head around trying to find you every once in a while

the time you’d spent together was short, but it was the most fun he’s had at these balls

and it showed, as noted by Hongjoong and Wooyoung with the week that followed after

he was spacing out, wondering what could have been if things were different

basically, homeboy was sulking bc he didn’t know when he could see you again or if you had someone or if you were even interested

Hongjoong: “how are we supposed to help him when we don’t even know who it is?”

Mingi: “didn’t you get a glimpse?”

Hongjoong: “I was busy with other things”

Wooyoung: “so you didn’t even ask for a name?”

Yeosang: “it’s (Y/N)”

all the boys:

Hongjoong: “how do you know that?”

Yeosang: “I was eavesdropping”

San: “um—”

Wooyoung: “wait, we know (Y/N)”

Yunho: “so am I throwing another party or?”

Wooyoung: “we can find (Y/N) first and then throw a party”

so, they kind of hunt you down to where you’re cleaning for the day

and Wooyoung asks you about Seonghwa

lowkey bc he wants the tea but also bc he wanted to make sure you’re not one of those insane people that are completely obsessed with him

(considering what he had to witness during that last ball)

and after passing his vibe check

he sends you to the library “to clean”

which is odd because you already cleaned it for the week but

Wooyoung: “I’m technically your boss, so go”

You: weirded out

also you: “okay”

little did you know, Seonghwa was already there, occupying himself with some new books while Hongjoong and Yeosang were keeping an eye out for you

who was lowkey trying to hide in the shadows and failing miserably bc of all the goddamned windows

Seonghwa spots your shadow, quickly getting up and following you

Seonghwa: “wait! (Y/N)?”

you turn around, a bit startled from the call out

Seonghwa: “I thought it was you”

you give a small bow to greet him

You: “my prince”

Seonghwa: “you can just call me Seonghwa”

Seonghwa: “I didn’t know you were here”

You: “I didn’t know you were here either”

he lets out a small chuckle

Seonghwa: “I meant I didn’t know you were staying in the castle”

You: “I’m not just staying here, I work here prin—Seonghwa”

Seonghwa: “well I guess that makes finding you a bit easier around here”

You: “you were looking for me?”

Seonghwa: “well, I like your company”

You: flushed

Seonghwa: “do you enjoy mine?”

You: “I’d be glad to bask in your presence”

and for a moment, it’s just the two of you

*cut to Hongjoong and Yeosang high-fiving in the back*

after that, the two of you spend more time together

it’s cute bc Seonghwa also likes to clean (which explains why there were never housekeepers needed for him)

so it means he also helps you clean and still have fun doing it

speaking of which, you got to find out how domestic he is and it melts your heart every time

especially when he’s interacting with children who visit the castle

so you can tell he really wants a family

bc he’s so good with kids and knows how to take care of people and what more can you really ask for

he’s also a great listener

like he really knows what you need based on what you tell him

and when you opened up to him about what happened at home

he was just such a big sweetheart about it, asking if you’re okay and checking with you emotionally and it

I LOVE PARK SEONGHWA SO MUCH

anyways

so his parents did find out bc Wooyoung has a big mouth and def blabbed to San and everyone else in the goddamned kingdom who knows Wooyoung

rip Seonghwa

also rip everyone in the kingdom who found out bc again

Seonghwa is very desired amongst many

which also led to a lot of jealous people who gossiped about you but jokes on them bc you still have Seonghwa at the end of the day and they have jack shit :)

back to what I was saying

when his parents found out, they were totally accepting of it considering how happy the two of you are

(also you were lowkey fearful they were just gonna straight up kill you bc you aren’t royal, but also, they’re good rulers who care about people)

which also meant they wanted to train you to help him run the kingdom but that’s a different story

anyways, prince charming!Seonghwa is indeed very charming

and gentlemanly and all that other good stuff

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