#that is to say sorry I don’t have high hopes for inside out 2 maybe I just have to rewatch the first one lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slimybeth69 · 5 months ago

Text

Touch

Summary: The Mandalorian is quite interested in what you've been doodling. What happens when he finds out?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags- eventual angst, slow burn, graphic depictions of wounds and violence, eventual non-con, eventual therapy speak, Grogu, Mando takes off his helmet, so much shit happens in this story.

This was very much inspired by the legendary Rough Day. It's such an incredible story and so well written. Don't have as high hopes for this, it's mostly just me being horny for Din Djarin.

unbeta'd, probably not proof-read because of my ADHD.

SORRY EVERYBODY ELSE

Chapter 2 ->

“What are you doing?” He asked raspily through the voice modulator. You roll your eyes. It’s the second or third time he’s asked you that since you guys found a place to let the child run around and play. Eat a creature or two.

“Nothing.” You said it for the second or third time. He says nothing in response but you can feel him looking at you. Maybe. You’re never sure with the helmet. That stupid helmet that makes you look right back at your stupid face every time he says something stupid to you.

Okay. That’s a little harsh, per se, but he’s been harsh on you for everything lately. Little messy in the ship? On you about it. The child crying? On you. Something that you had absolutely no control whatsoever over happening inside, around or to the ship? He was fucking on you.

It was exhausting honestly. If it hadn’t been for the credits and honestly, the cute ass kid you might not have stuck around. But you were so desperate to get away. Apparently so desperate you asked him for a ride out of the Canto Casino. No, you begged.

And for whatever reason– it's clear to you now it’s because he needed someone to be mean to– he said yes. And then offered you seventy-five credits a week for as long as you stayed and watched after the kid and cleaned up after both of them. You drew the line at cooking anything because you experienced a burn first hand once, and will never do that again. Not even after he offered three extra credits a week. Not happening, Mando. No way.

Especially not for him . Being so mean all the time.

You could see Mando out of the corner of your eye shift and try to see what you were doing in your notebook but you dropped your shoulder over it and pulled it tightly into your chest.

“What’re you doing?” You turn your head to look at him.

“Trying to see what you’re doing.” He said simply. It was so frank, yeah, that’s what he’s doing. Obviously . “What are you doing?” The little inflection in his words made your heart race for a second. As if he might actually be interested and not just bored of watching the child run around in the grass after small creatures to devour.

The first time you saw the child eat something, it horrified you, but it grew to be just a little endearing the way he’d chase after it, jump and pounce on it a few times and then snatch it up for a lil’ snack. Just a quick one; the way he’d swallow it hole. You lost track of how long it’d been since then but it wasn’t a long time. Just long enough for you to forget to keep track anymore.

“Why are you so interested?” You ask him, keeping the notebook tightly to your chest. Mando sits back and looks forwards.

“I don’t know.” He garbles through the modulator.

“Then you don’t get to see.” You tease but you wonder if he even knows what that is. Teasing .

He’s never even once cracked one little joke with you in all this time. So probably not. Either that or he thinks you’re incredibly unfunny. Which is a possibility. You did try very very hard to impress him with whatever weird homemaker skills he expected you to have. You had literally none so he was very thoroughly unimpressed , to say the least.

The dirty clothes and dishes around the ship were one thing, but it was the child's incessant crying that really made him ‘ raise his tone’ with you. Not really but he did say in a few very colorful words that you needed to do better.

But really you just needed to bond with the little green sucker. Mando had thrown you into this ship with that thing? Baby? You really didn’t know or care, but he threw you in there and then shut the door and went on his merry way. For four days. Without even so much as an introduction.

The kid was scared shitless of you for the entire time Mando was gone. It took the child almost two weeks to warm up to you. You didn’t know where anything was, or what to do, and were left to fend for yourself. It took you exactly thirty minutes of crying to figure out that the child wanted to be outside and the kid didn’t have any kind of harness or tether. Which was terrifying because what if you lost it? You had been so scared the child was going to run away but the kid didn’t. Well... did at first and then you tired it out; chasing for what felt like two hours.

Then only once did the child have it's fill of an entire ecosystem of poor unfortunate creatures smaller than your foot, did he go back and lay himself down in that floating bassinet in the ship.

You had to lay down on the floor beside him after shutting the ship up, just to rest your eyes for a minute because that kinda cute little thing– asleep in that floating orb– had tired you out. And you didn’t wake up until that cute little thing had pried your eyelids open to show you the mess he had made. Pulled out everything that he could get his six little grubby fingers on

That had been day one . Things had gotten a little better since then. A little .

Every time you turned your back to clean up one mess, the little cutie would just run in the opposite direction and make a different mess somewhere else. This was the hardest job you’ve ever had. Easily. The child was a handful. There was something about the way he snuggled into when it was time for bed though, and it stole the heart right out of your chest. The way he’d bring you different colored rocks and bugs and show you them in wonder and amazement before he tried to eat them. When Mando was gone, it was just you two so you had plenty of time to bond, the Mandalorian was busy. Very busy indeed.

Busy informing you that you didn’t put things away correctly, didn’t wash things the way he liked and needed to figure it out. You had to explain to him that people normally get at least a couple hours of training. Maybe a tour around, to show them where things are and where things go . He didn’t seem to understand that the reason you weren't doing a great job straight away was partially his fault. Or he just didn’t care.

It’s . fine .

It’s almost like he’s a bounty hunter who has no patience for anything besides the child.

And he’s got barely any for the green baby, so, it’s been a very pleasant time so far.

Maker. Okay. You’d also have very little patience for anything if you had to wear that beskar all the time. He was always in that suit, always. You hadn’t even caught a glimps of a wrist or his neck. Nothing. Not even an ankle. You knew the Mandalorians couldn’t let anyone see their faces, like ever , so you understood but, sheesh. It was always on. You didn’t even know what he did at night because you were usually asleep with the child before him. And he was always up before you.

You told him once you’d blindfold yourself just so he could breathe if he wanted to. He’s never taken you up on the offer, surprisingly.

So now in the present, still sour with him for being mean and because he’d never answered your question about what color his hair is, you doodled what he might look like in your little notebook you always had on you. Mostly pictures of the child because he was slowly winning you over with those eyes. And because he’s all you seen for however long you’ve been out here. But Mando had been back for a couple days. Longer than normal. You’d been spending a lot of time together, the three of you.

So for the last couple days you had been compelled to doodle Mando. What he might look like under that helmet and in some of your more explicit doodles– maybe what he looked like under that suit too.

The beskar protected him well.

Too well.

Maker.

Okay, no. The beskar saved his life, protected him. Absolutely. But like, it left everything to the imagination. Which was frustrating. Because as much as you wanted to leave where you had been living, you had imagined seeing another person besides the child and Mando at least once. Maybe get a night off and talk to someone about something other than the kid, the ship and the bounty he’s currently after.

Alas no, you’ve been stuck on the ship and now the primal desires inside of you are starting to flicker like a little flame. Tiny. Unnoticed by you, even. The doodling really was mindless at first, but your mindlessness was what Mando’s lower stomach looked like.

The notebook was still pressed against your chest.

“So I can’t see?” He asked, looking at the child playing in the field.

“Nope. Sure can’t.” Even if he had told you why he wanted to look at your notebook, you wouldn’t have let him. He would have had to pry it from your cold dead hands, and then you’d have been fighting him from whatever afterlife there could be. Fighting for the last shred of dignity you have.

“I could take it from you.” He said like he had been inside your fucking head. Your heart is beating inside your throat and you unintentionally grip it tighter against you.

“I know.” You say. Your whole body frozen in fear. Like, was it a threat? An observation he had just made in his head? “ Why would you do that?”

It was a weird thing for him to say. You’re leering at him over your shoulder, watching to see if he makes any sudden movements towards you so you can toss your notebook in the small fire he’s made. You might do it anyway because what is he even talking about? Taking it from you?

“Because.” Emotionless rasp from the modulator. “I’d like to see.” No inflection. Nothing. Just staring at the kid who was jumping off the ground slightly trying to catch a small flying bug. He couldn’t get it.

But it had been said nicer than the other times. You couldn’t put your finger on it because it had sounded exactly the same, honestly, but there was just something behind the words he chose.

I’d like to see.

Like he was some little kid who just wanted to look at what you were looking at. So innocent. Like he wasn’t a bounty hunter who had killed so many people in just the short time you had known him. And he wanted to look in your notebook.

And now you had to tell him no again. Because what the shit? You can’t show him the very detailed drawing you’ve done of his pants pulled down to just the base of him and his curly patch of pubic hair that rents space there. You have no idea what the base of him looks like, it’s all made in your head.

But the doodles are there. Sure are. In the notebook. That’s not imagined. No. The notebook and doodles are there. The notebook happens to be opened up to a page that has the deep indentation of muscles on both sides, a v of just pure rock hard strength and power that lead down to where you’ve been thinking about touching him lately. The little trail of hair that leads from his belly button; where you would oh so love to place your tongue, all the way down to where that v meets right–

Okay stop it right now, this is too much, you’re getting distracted from the point. You very carefully flip back multiple pages of the notebook so that there’s no chance that he could see what you’ve been working on as of late. But now, you peek down and check to see– the drawings of the child, okay. Phew.

You hold up the notebook. You have to pull it back a couple inches when he tries to take it. He tilts his head down at you for just a moment when you do that and then looks back to the page you’re showing him. He studies it for so long that you wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Your arm is starting to ache. You've been holding it for so long.

“You’ve captured his greeness quite well, somehow, without color.” He says, still emotionless but… did he just try and exchange banter with you?

“We can hang it in the ship, right above his bassinet.” You tease. He’s so damn particular with his ship. Not wanting you to change anything . So there’s no way that he’d let you hang up a doodle of anything.

“That’d be fitting.”

Oh my Maker. Please give me strength to deal with this- this- whatever this is. Because what he happens to be, is impossible. Impossible to read. Impossible to predict. Nothing about him is like anyone you’ve ever met.

“What was on the other page?” His modulator voice scares you, laying there silently on your stomach with your eyes closed. If you had a free hand you would have pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose in slight annoyance. But you didn’t. You were laying on the free one and still holding the notebook. But when he said that , you pulled it back into your chest.

“What other page?” You snap. You can feel the heat rushing to your face.

“The one you’re hiding from me.”

Okay , Maker. Real nice. Real real funny. Give him some emotion now .

This is the first time you ever wished Mando would stop talking. Except for when he was mad at you. But now, he’s chatting you up and you wish he’d shut up. Just leave you alone.

Very funny, Maker.

“I’m not hiding anything.” You say it so matter of factly like you’re willing it to be true.

“I saw you.”

“You didn’t see anything. I’m surprised you can see anything behind that helmet.” You flutter the notebook back at him in dismissal.

Mando is silent for a long time.

“It actually helps me see-”

“ Oh Maker . It was a joke . Do you know what a joke is?” You exclaim. “I know the helmet allows you to see better. I know that. I was making a joke.” You’re so frustrated now that you actually move your hand from under your chest and put your two fingers on the bridge of your nose and sigh.

“You’re-” He pauses for a long time. “-annoyed with me?”

You’re not expecting him to say that.

“I’m not exactly pleased , no. But I’m not annoyed. No.” You explain to him.

“So can I see the other page, then?”

You throw the notebook in your bag quickly and snap it shut.

“I think you should see if you can us food to eat, maybe? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” You think for a second, “I’ve never seen you eat, actually, so, maybe you're not. I don’t know.” You speak nervously, the words continue to come out even though you wish you’d just shut up. “I know the kid is probably full off whatever thriving colony of small things he’s decimated. So, I’ll put him to bed while you see if you can find dinner or something.” You get up, take your bag with you and go grab the child from whatever life threatening way he’s found to entertain himself and bring him into the ship with you.

You set everything down on the floor behind the cockpit– your makeshift bedroom– and give the child a quick wipe down with a damp cloth, making sure he doesn’t have any crud or muck in any of his little fold or behind his comically large ears. And then you rock him to sleep. It takes ages– so long– for him to finally settle down and relax. He closes his big eyes while you rock him for more ages until you’re sure that he won't wake up when you lay him down.

Which is annoying , because he can put himself down for a nap no problem, little thing tires itself out murdering small animals and just lays himself down when he’s tired, passes out within minutes. The minute the sun goes down? Nocturnal. The child has no idea what you mean when you say it’s time for bed.

You tried to let him put himself to sleep once and Mando told you that he’d cut your credits in half if the kid ever cried like that again. It was worse than crying. It was wailing and screaming unlike anything you’ve heard in your life. The child must be rocked to sleep at night. That was an every night routine. You deal with the child. When Mando was around, he’d get you food during that time.

Once you were back outside, a meal had been caught and cooked for you. You assume that in your absence he fed himself, comfortably knowing you’d be gone for the next several eternities putting the child to sleep.

“Thank you.” You’re hungry. Starving actually. You hadn’t realized how hungry you actually were. All your time and energy has been focused on keeping that little green baby alive that you have sometimes forgotten to take care of yourself. You keep yourself clean, yes. Easy to do when you have to clean the child every day. Eating and all the other stuff? Eh. Forgotten about now that the kid’s around chasing bugs and feeding himself.

It’s fine. You’re thankful regardless because traveling around the galaxy, seeing things you’ve only ever heard about in stories . Even if you haven’t spoken to a singular other person besides Mando and the child. You have seen such incredible things and for that, you are thankful for Mando.

Very thankful.

Okay! Okay. You’ve gotta be in heat or something. Something! Because why is the way he’s looking at you is making between your legs throb? Okay now you know something is really wrong with you because what the stars, he’s got a helmet on. He could be looking over your shoulder or just over the horizon behind you but he’s got his gaze turned right to you. It’s like you can feel his eyes on you. You wonder what color they could be. Blue? Brown? Green?

“Pretty good.” You say, holding up whatever he caught and killed for you. You stopped asking what it was because you didn’t always like the answer, but it was always… edible.

“So. That page?”

You roll your eyes at him. Why oh why is he bringing it up again, the sun has gone down now and it’s been so long since that conversation. It’s old. Dead. Buried.

“You’ve never taken an interest in anything I do, unless I’m doing it wrong, and then you scold me for it. Now, I’ve got one thing that’s mine and you’re trying to-” You’re huffing at him, actually annoyed now.

“A secret ?” He’s curious. An emotion.

“It’s not a secret, it's just not– it’s not something I want other people to see.” You say very truthfully. “I don’t think.” You add to soften the statement. He’s actually talking to you about something besides the usual things.

“Why?”

Maker, with the questions?

“Because.” It’s a simple response but it’s all you’ve got.

“It would make me upset?” You look over at him and he’s positioned in exactly the same way he was when you looked away from him. Staring at you. You think. At least now he’s talking to you.

But how do you answer that?

Because yes, it would make him upset. It would make him very upset. It’d make you very embarrassed, and you think that's what's most worrying. The possibility of having to sit in the ship with him after. Now he knows that you’ve been thinking about him? Like that ?

He can leave you here. It’s fine. You’ll figure it out.

“No.” You lie to him. Then you feel bad for lying to him because you’re unsure if he’s even capable of lying. You’re not sure. He does seem like an innocent soul, minus all the killing. “Okay. Maybe. I don’t really know what upsets you other than when I mess something up, so I don’t really have much to go on.”

“I’m sorry.” He says and it forces the air out of your lungs like someone just punched you in the back. “I’ve–I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

Maker, what is going on? Am I dead?

“I shouldn’t take it out on you. You do good with the child.”

You’re completely stunned. You cannot form a sentence. You cannot even think. Did he just compliment you? And apologize to you? Surely, you’re dead.

“Thanks.” Is all you can manage to say and now, he’s warming up to you and you’re throwing water on the fire.

“You could clean better, though.”

And then you laugh because yes, you’re still alive and he is actually the Mando you barely know. And he did just apologize for being mean. And took accountability. And insulted you.

It’s late now and the child will be awake in a couple hours. You’re asleep. Enjoying the thin mat that’s your bed and your warm blankets. You’re in a dream floating amongst the stars and skies, Mando’s floating with you, touching you so sweetly, and then, there is a hand on your arm. A strong one.

It’s almost alarming, but then you open your eyes and it’s pitch black. So dark. Darker than you’ve ever seen it in the ship and now it is entirely alarming. You go to scream but there is a warm hand over your mouth.

“Don’t.” The modulated voice says quietly in the dark. You immediately relax and the terror stops ripping through you long enough for you to get angry. Very angry. After you hastily wrap the blankets around yourself, you pull your mouth away from his hand.

“Why? Why would you turn off all the lights– every single one? Huh? And then shake me awake like that?” You’re whispering, shouting at him. Your heart is still pounding and his hand is still tightly wrapped around your upper arm.

It’s quiet for a long time

“I didn’t shake you.”

“Oh my Mak-” You whisper. “You know what I mean, you startled me awake in the darkness. Might as well be the same thing!” You’re exasperated. You had just fallen asleep and now this? Being throttled awake the way you just were? What was he gonna yell at you about now? What had he found that had made him grab you the way he had? Was still grabbing you.

“Sorry.”

The raspy modulator voice in the dark is terrifying. Even if it’s being nice to you.

“What do you want?” You grumble angrily. “I was sleeping so well– so well and you’re throwing me around in my sleep.” You go to turn over but he stops you, squeezing your upper arm tighter.

“I saw it.” It’s quiet, but there is some emotion behind the words. What emotion? You can’t be sure just yet. It’s something you’ve never heard from him before. It’s hard to tell in the void you’re in.

“Saw it? Saw what? How can you see anything here?” The sleep is still heavy in your brain and you’re also still terrified. Yes, less terrified knowing that it’s Mando gripping you like this in the dark and not an intruder, but why is he doing this? That is terrifying. Horrifying.

“The page.”

You gasp in even more pure, real horror and pull your arm from his grasp but he doesn’t allow it, he grips you tighter and in the dark you can hear him breathing under his mask. You thought you were scared before but not like this. Your heart is threatening to break free from the bone cage it’s safely hidden behind and you feel like you’re going to be sick. Your stomach is clenching and twisting inside of you. Sweat starts to bead your forehead and the back of your neck.

“ Okokokokokok I’m so sorry. Please don’t kill me please, Mando, plea– I’m really, really scared to die and I don’t wanna go like this . In the dark? No. No , ple– not in front of the child! Okay?” The silence around you now is deafening, you can’t even hear him breathing anymore and if it weren’t for the choking grip on your arm, you would think he had left. You’re begging for your life because this isn’t how you imagined dying. Not over doodles.

“I’m not mad.” He says quietly. Still raspy but soft.

“Y-you’re not?” You’re too stunned to say more. Ask why, see if he liked it, nothing else comes to mind. You’re glad he’s not going to leave you outside to fend for yourself tonight.

“Did you- did you think I was going to kill you?” Raspy modulated whispers come out of the darkness.

“Yes!” You whisper at him with a still beating like crazy heart in your chest. It’s about to burst out of you. “Why wou-” He cuts you off.

”They’re good.” He garbles quietly.

“What is!? What’s good?” The fog in your head hasn’t lifted at all, and you’re so confused. What the stars is he talking about.

“I looked at all of the pages.” He sighed out. It didn’t sound as gentle as it may have meant behind the voice modulator. Still garbled and distorted.

All the pages? All. Of. The. Pages. There were doodles of yourself in that notebook. Doodles of what you look like behind your clothes. The other pages in that notebook held secrets, real secrets and now you were even more mad at him. He could just invade your privacy? You got to have no secrets while his whole existence to you besides what he chooses to tell you? Unacceptable. The anger was bubbling under your skin now.

“You did what!?” It was still whispered as to not wake the child. “That was in my bag! You went through my stuff to get it? Are you sick?” He was holding on to you tighter and it was starting to actually hurt now. “Ow!” You snap at him and tug your arm away quickly and this time he lets you go.

“Sorry. I had to know.” Garbled attempt at an apology from the darkness. You realize then that he hadn’t had his gloves on. You had felt his skin on yours. Hot calloused skin against yours. Gripping you the way he had been. You’d have bruises in the morning. Of his very real fingers on your flesh.

“You’re sorry!? That’s it?.” You have to force yourself not to yell at him because if this wakes the child up and you don’t get to go back to sleep, you’re going to quit. Walk right out. “You still haven’t answered my question!” He hadn’t. What did he want from you? If it wasn’t to kill you for seeing the drawings, then what did he want?

Nothingness surrounds you. For so long, you’re staring into the emptiness waiting for something . Some kind of response and then you hear him clear his throat.

“I forgot what you asked me.” His garbled confession comes through in the dark.

“You forgot? I just asked you wha-”

“The way you draw... it’s incredible.” You can hear him rustling through pages in the dark. The fluttery, scratchy sounds of pages, like a notebook.

“A-are you-” You stumble over the words because you can’t actually believe this is happening. “D-do you s-still have it ?” You are fuming. “It’s so fucking dar-” and then you gasp loudly at the recollection that he has night vision in that fucking helmet of his!

The child cries out softly in his sleep and you hear him rolling over and you and presumably him, freeze for what feels like forever before you accept that the baby is still asleep. You don’t know because you don’t have night vision. Then you whip your head back in the direction he’s in. You think he’s in. You honestly have no idea. There is no light coming in from anywhere and your eyes haven’t adjusted at all in the dark.

You check your face to see if he’s blindfolded you. You pat your hands over your forehead and eyes when you’re completely sure that you’re just now blind for however long he wants you to be, you let your arms drop to your sides in frustration.

“You’re still looking at it!” You point into the darkness accusingly, remembering he is in fact still holding your notebook. “Are you still looking at it?” You move your finger in a semi circle when you can’t actually decide where he’s kneeling beside you. The darkness is so disorientating. You have no idea where anything actually is anymore.

“I can’t stop looking at it. I’m sorry.” He confesses from somewhere in the dark. “The bodies you drew are j-just so beautiful.”

“They’re doodles.” You’re sweating. What is he doing in the dark looking at your doodles? You reach out into the darkness and you hear him take a shuffled step backwards, towards the center of the room.

“What was your inspiration for them?” His raspy voice is different, like he’s not really here with you, it’s like he’s on that page with them.

“Just… my imagination ?” You lie in hopes he’s going to believe you.

Silence.

It’s anxiety inducing. He’s just somewhere in the darkness. With your notebook.

“The woman's body is my favorite. She’s so…” Garbled modulator trails off.

Maker. He has a favorite?

You’re now hyper aware of the fact that if he can see your notebook in his hand, he absolutely can see you too. Oh Maker.

Why was it suddenly so hot? When did it get so hot?

Your whole body is now prickled with sweat that he’s standing there in the dark. Assumed to be looking right at you and your artistic notebook.

There had been nothing sexual about your doodles at first. Really. They were just the only thing besides the child and the inside of the ship. And sometimes the fields he’d take you to, like the one you’re in now. So all of those things are in that notebook too. But he was looking at the couple pictures you decided to draw of yourself, because the human body is a work of art. Yours and Mandos just happened to be the only bodies around.

“Just my imagination.” You don’t even know what you’re saying. Just words you’ve strung together fall out of your mouth for no reason known to you.

Silence for so long, you’re sure he’s not there anymore.

“Y-you already said that.” Modulator speaks in the dark.

“I did? Are you sure?” You’re one hundred percent sure you didn’t.

“Yes.”

“What do you want? Why did you wake me up? Why are we just standing in the dark?” The questions are firing out of your mouth at the speed of a blaster pistol. “What? What do you want from me?”

Mando say’s nothing for a long time. You cross your arms over your chest uncomfortably in the quiet.

“Is this you? The woman?” He taps on the pages and you hear him do it in the dark. “Is this what you l-look like under your c-clothes?”

“Why are you talking like that? What are you-” You’ve never heard him speak the way he is tonight, no. He’s commanding in his tone and what he says. Mando doesn’t stumble over his words.

“Answer the question.” He interrupts you. “Please.” His tone is much more firm now. You’ve snapped him out of whatever trance he was in.

“Maybe.” It’s not even an admittance of guilt and you’re already blushing in embarrassment.

“It’s beautiful.” He’s breathless and somewhere in your notebook again. Presumably touching it with his ungloved fingers.

In between your legs twinges.

“Thank you.” You’re blushing so hard you think your cheeks are going to combust.

Then more quiet. For so long. It’s painful.

“Would you l-let me touch it?” He whispers through the modulator.

“Touch it?” You don’t get it. “You’re holding it, what do-” And then you shut up because you realize what he’s talking about. It comes to you mid sentence.

It’s quiet again now. So quiet. The dark you could deal with if there was just something making some kind of noise beside yourself breathing in the abyss. You’re waiting for a response but you get nothing. A sigh from your nose.

“You want to touch me ?” You don’t want to say it, but you’re desperate to hear anything in the void. You’re also so tired and sleep deprived because of the child, you might let him if he just got to the point so you could go back to bed. He’s been on your mind for the last week. The only reason you dream anymore, apparently.

“Yes.” Honest and innocent garbles from the modulator. You smirk. “And-” But he stops.

“And what?” You’re so curious what else could go along at his request. But he says nothing again. More blistering silence. It’s actually burning the inside of your ears.

“Watch.”

Maker, give this mandalorian the ability to say more than one word, please. I don’t know how much more patience I have left inside of me.

“Watch what? What do you want from me?” You haven’t said no. That’s something you start to notice as you wait for him to respond to you. Haven’t said yes but you also haven’t said no.

So, what could he want?

“Can I show you?” Your breath hitches in your throat because what the hell could that mean?

“Oh-okay?” So hesitant. So fucking nervous. Your heart was beating fast this whole exchange with him but now it was beating somewhere in the base of your throat. Hard.

“Lay down.” It’s said from much closer to you now, startlingly close. You hadn’t heard him get closer. How did he do that? But you obey his order and lay back down on your thin mat on the floor. You can feel him hovering over you. Then suddenly, the blankets are being torn off of you and you're exposed to the now suddenly freezing cold ship.

He’s exposed you. You wear nothing but a thin nightgown to bed every night. It’s the only thing that isn’t scratchy in your little bag of clothes and it does get surprisingly warm in the ship at night when everything’s closed up. It’s refreshing normally, but not now. Now you’re freezing and your nipples are giving you away in the darkness at how cold and excited you are for what might be about to happen.

You hear him respire sharply into the modulator and your nipples somehow get harder and that tingle in between your legs is back. You just made Mando gasp ? You’ve never once heard that sound come out of him. Okay, once when the child almost fell out his floating orb, but that was only once and it was different . There had been fear interlaced with that gasp but not this one.

He was admiring you in the dark through his night vision. A gasp of admiration?

Mando still hasn’t touched you at all besides the painful grasp on your arm earlier but that was it. He hadn’t ever touched you before that, ever. Now he had asked if he could and you were trembling already waiting to see what he had meant.

“Be like the pictures.” He cooed it out, the modulator garbling it all up but still. It was cooed, you heard it with your own ears. But you obeyed again, pulling the loose straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. It was easily wriggled off the rest of you and then, the nightgown was just a mess of fabric in front of your mat.

“ Oh Maker. ” He speaks so softly it doesn’t even sound like Mando. You start to wonder if it is really him and then he says, “More beautiful. Much more.” He sighs it out and it makes you melt into the mat you're laying on.

You want him to touch you so bad. So badly it is sending electricity through you, starting between your legs.

“Can you s-spread them?” He asked so cautiously that you were unsure that he even wanted but the sound he made when you bent your knees and let them fall open to your sides made you start to leak from the place he wanted to look at you so badly.

“Like this?” You knew that, yes, it’s exactly what he meant but you were now so obsessed with listening to his voice that you’d ask him anything to hear him speak.

“Yes. Yes.” It’s said hastily into the voice modulator, like if he doesn’t answer you’ll close your legs on him. “Just like that.”

You almost jump back at the feeling of the tips of his fingers on you. Pressing so gently into the soft skin on your thighs but you remember why you’re down here on the mat, naked below Mando. That’s all he does, just traces the pads of all five of his fingers up and down your thigh, stroking you with a feather touch. It almost felt like he might not be touching you at all, like you’re imagining it.

He exhales deeply and it registers from under the helmet.

“Were you- were you just holding your breath?” You ask.

Quiet, his hand still stroking your thigh so gently.

“Maybe.”

You smirk in the dark and rest your head back on your pillow and let him do whatever he wants. Then an ungloved hand reaches and touches you the same way across your stomach. So lightly it almost tickles but you don’t want him to stop so you don’t move. You let everything be still underneath his hands. They move leisurely across your body, never stopping in one place, like he’s scanning the pages of a book and using his hands to follow along.

You’re covered in goosebumps and almost quivering under him but it feels so fucking good that it doesn’t matter anymore. You reach out and try to put his hand where you’d like it but before you can touch him he removes his hands and you’re left alone in the dark again.

He’s gone. You’re sure of it and you’re on the verge of tears when he says from the dark.

“Will you touch yourself?” This wasn’t a demand or an order, this was a sweet question asked by that innocent man who wanted to look at your notebook earlier.

“You want me to do what?” Deadpan response to what’s asking of you. Because what in the stars is going on? Please help me understand, Maker. “You wanted to do it a minute ago?” Confusion.

It’s not like you're confused about what he wants you to do, you have been with a man before but not like this and he definitely did not ask you to do that . No one else has even seen you do that before so why does he want you to do it all of a sudden? Like he’s at the theater and you’re the midnight showing. He stays silent for so long that you’re sure he left.

“I w-want to w-watch,” Garbled muttering. “-you touch.” Now, you’re sweating again because the idea that maybe he wanted to touch you had you shivering on the floor in front of him, but now, the idea that he wants to watch you do one of the most private things you’ve ever done right in front of him? On the floor? And worse, you can’t even see where the fuck he is now that he’s pulled his feather touch away from you.

Sweating. It’s beaded across your forehead because what? You’re still thinking about what he’s just said when a strong, hot calloused hand cups your dripping sex with much more force than before. He’s pressed the flat of his four fingers and his palm against you. It draws a gasp from you in the dark and you bring your hands up to your mouth to cover them because if the kid woke up now you’d throw yourself off a cliff.

The child thankfully, doesn’t wake up. Just cooing quietly in his floating orb.

“I-,” He starts again in the dark, to talk to you again but he’s so hesitant to say it, you can hear him from inside the helmet stumbling again over his words. “I just want to w-watch. Here”

You exhale so loudly and so hard because again, why? What does he get out of it?

“Were you just holding your breath?” He asks in the darkness.

Yes. You had been. Maker.

“Maybe.” You retort quickly, the heat in your cheeks is back and now you’re embarrassed again.

“What if I ask nicely ?” The garbles do nothing to hide the tone behind his voice. He’s aroused. Deeply aroused and Mando wants to watch you masturbate.

An instinctual buck upwards of your hips slips his middle finger between your folds and instead of pushing away, he pushes back against you and you feel the rough skin of his hands against you and starts to slowly drag his hand up your middle.

Oh, Maker, you feel him. This is not a feather touch. No, it's so much more. It’s like all of your senses have been heightened in the dark. You can feel everything. Every ridge and callous and the heat, oh Maker he’s so warm. Like he’s been held to flames until the exact moment he reached out to touch you. You feel like hes branding you with his finger it’s so fucking hot.

“S-so wet.” He sounds like he's in awe of what you’ve been hiding from him between your legs.

As the tip of his finger leaves you, your hand brushes his and his whole body is hot like his fingers had been, you feel as though you’ve been branded again but now, your head is spinning and he probably could have really branded you and you wouldn’t have cared.

It’s too much, he’s been talking for too long and you know what he wants now, you don’t care why. You’re too tired, you’re too excited. You secretly have been wanting just this, well not this exactly but whatever this is leading to, you want him to give you that, so you do what he’s asking in hopes that he will satisfy you, do something other than just watch.

Mando rests one hand on your knee that’s closest to him and grips it so gently it's almost like it’s not even there at all. But regardless, your hands have found what he wants you to touch.

“Yes.” He sighs softly. “Like that.” There is a sound of relief to his voice like he’s been anticipating this for so long and now it’s finally happening. Your two fingers start moving in slow, lazy circles. You dip your fingers down to your entrance and coat them in your slickness, moving them back up to your aching clit and tightening the motion, speeding up slightly.

Mando’s fingers dig into you. Not hard but enough to know that he’s still there, he’s still watching. You wonder if he’s naked now, or if he still has his suit on? He definitely doesn’t have his gloves on anymore but you wonder what else he could be doing in the dark. He’s just watching you touch yourself? Watching as your fingers start to move with meaning. It’s starting to feel good… so good. It’s good enough to make you close your eyes, little pants leaving your nose as the stimulation courses through you.

The hand on your knee is gone and you’re shuddering with the idea that he’s had his fun and now he’s most surely left you to have to finish what he started in the dark but no, his hand’s cupping your breast now. Squeezing it gently in his hand. Like it’s the most fragile and precious thing he’s ever seen. One finger moves across the curve of your flesh and drags so gently across your hardened peak.

“Oh Maker .” You pant, because you’re holding your breath again. It was such a small, gentle touch you’re barely sure it was there but then he grips you, is feeling how soft and fleshy your mound is and your fingers move faster because this is the most erotic thing you’ve ever done and it feels so good to have the burning hot heat of his hand on you and you’d wish he’d touch you more and then he does. It draws another gasp from your chest when he take your nipple between his fingers and gently starts to twist and pull and roll it between them.

“Don’t stop.” He says as your fingers start to slow at the new sensation he’s giving you. “Please.” He’s being so polite, and his voice sounds so breathless. It’s making you wetter than you’ve ever been, its practically gushing out of you. You can feel it dripping.

Mando just holds you, his fingers still pulling and twisting your nub between his fingers. You slide two fingers into yourself now, and curl them upwards against your g-spot. You hold your breath again so as not to moan or groan or make any noise at all because it’s so quiet in the ship you’re sure it’ll wake up the child. It’s futile, you gasp softly and arch your back into his hand. It’s so good. You haven’t made yourself feel this way in so long and you can’t stop now. It’s so good, the little growing ball of warmth and pressure building slowly inside you.

“Oh M-maker.” You hear Mando whisper softly into the darkness. And then he’s still. Watching you plunge the two fingers back inside of you. “So b-beautiful.” He says it so exasperated.

The sounds of your excitement are audible within the ship's walls. Like it’s echoing. Your fingers are plunging in and out of you now, your eyes are closed and your heads thrown back as you're getting yourself so close. Close so that he can watch you come.

“May I?”

You’re so confused because he’s just asked you to do it yourself and now he wants to? Reluctantly, with a small whine of protest, you move your hand and his other hand replaces yours. Two fingers push into you deeply. Gently. He holds them there for what feels like an hour. Not moving, just holding them inside you.

“S-so, so wet.” He’s breathless behind his helmet.

You’re sure the sun is going to rise before you see bliss, and then it’ll be too late because the kid will have woken up.

Then he withdrawals them.

“Go ahead.” He says.

“That’s it?” You’re disappointed. It’s evident in your voice.

“Keep going.”

So you do. You replace your fingers and his hand starts to grope you again. Moving now between your two supple mounds. And then you hear him.

Over the wetness between your legs and your own ragged breathing, you hear the soft sound of skin slapping skin. He’s touching himself, he used your juices as lubricant to touch himself. To rub all over himself. Now the thought that Mando is kneeling on the ground over you in the dark, watching you about to bring yourself to orgasm, touching himself with your wetness just about does it.

Your fingers speed and curl against your spot and you let your head fall back. You try so hard to keep your breathing steady, anything to keep yourself from crying out. Biting your bottom lip to try and stifle it, your fingers work faster. You can feel Mando’s body shaking and jolting with each thrust of his fist on himself in the hand he’s using to squeeze your breast. You pull your knees into your body, keeping them spread so he can watch, your head leans forward as you bring yourself closer. The pads of your fingers curling and uncurling against that place deep inside of you over and over again, the feeling of your palm pressed against your clit is too much. The sounds of his soft moaning send you over the edge though, his hand gripping your chest the way he is, like his life depended on it. Squeezing you with his strong, hot hand. You can hear the way he’s making himself feel good over you.

“I’m gon-” But the words are stolen from you as he pinches your nipple, the rest of his hand still groping you. He’s panting for lost breath in his search for pleasure.

“P-please. D-do it, m-make it wetter.” He stutters and his breath is also ragged now, the sound of skin on skin is more frantic now and his groping at you is sloppy, like he’s can’t control his hands anymore.

It happens, the bliss and the lights behind your eyes. The warmth and pressure in your lower stomach explode and you need to use your free hand to cover your mouth again. Your hips buck up against your own hand as you coax the orgasm out of yourself. Maker, it’s so good. You haven’t had a release like this since before you got onto Mando’s ship.

Now you hear him groan softly, he grips you tightly, like he had gripped your arm earlier. Your own heart is still racing, and you can barely catch your breath but you feel the warmth on your belly.

Did… did Mando just– Did he?

He’s still hovering over you. The ship is quiet now. Just the sounds of yours and his labored breathing. He’s still groping you, holding on like he’s going to float away into the void if he lets go.

He definitely did. And he still is. He’s still letting go on your stomach, you can feel every time he empties a new rope onto your belly.

You lay there, hands at your sides, panting.

It’s tempting, to reach your hand up and swirl a finger to what he’s delivered to you and then taste him. You’ve never done that but something inside of you is screaming to do it. So, you take one of the two fingers that was just bringing you so much joy and you slide it through the puddle on your belly and bring it to your lips.

Mando gasps softly and grips you tighter. He’s still watching.

He’s salty and musky and it’s different, but it’s good. It’s something you’d let him give you more of if he wanted. You’re still sucking him off your fingers when he pulls away.

Maker. Please, you don’t want him to leave-

Mando’s fingers are at your entrance and he’s running the first digit of two between your folds, he’s not even really inside you. Just tracing your opening. Teasing you. Then his fingers are gone.

It’s so quiet again. He left you in the dark with his good time spent still all over your belly. Running both hands over your face, dragging them down your cheeks in exasperation.

All these new thoughts are going through your head at warp speed and then you hear from so close to you, his modulated breathing.

“Are you still here?!” Whispered exasperation.

It's been so quiet again for so long.

“It’s my ship. Where would I go?”

“Oh my Mak-” You’re almost in tears because he’s right. Where would he go? His bed is just across the room. “What are you doing?”

“Tasting you.”

You’re now a puddle in front of him. His fingers are back at your entrance again, still, just tracing and coating themselves in your wetness. Then they’re gone again.

“You’re delicious.”

Mando was still tasting you. Currently. Doing it as he spoke to you. You hear him let out the softest sigh of satisfaction as your flavor touches his tongue.

“I like it.” It’s said like you should know it. Like you’ve accused him of taking too much from between your legs.

“Okay.” Is all you can manage to say because you’re hoping he does it again, you keep your knees open in anticipation but he doesn’t. You don’t hear him breathing anymore either.

You lay there and slowly close your knees. Brush the hair that’s gotten in your face away and sigh. Wonder where the fuck Mando is in this Maker forsaken dark room. You hear him now, shuffling across the room and he’s getting closer to you. When had he left?

Mando kneels down beside you again. Maybe this is round two? So you slowly open your legs for him but he stops you with his hand and then you feel the coolness and dampness of fabric on your belly. The Mandolorian is cleaning you off, wiping you tenderly, not missing anything. He reaches down and wipes between your legs. Very thoroughly. You wish he’d move the cloth and touch you again but his touch is gone again.

You almost groan in disappointment but you stop yourself. You didn’t hear him leave.

“You really are so beautiful. Just like the pictures.” He garbles quietly.

“They’re doodles.” You explain into the void.

“Who was the man?”

You stay silent.

“It’s from my imagination.” You say quietly, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment again.

“So a made up man in my beskar?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Maker what do I say?

“Okay.” You retort. He doesn’t say anything for a long time and you wonder if he’s still there in the darkness next to you. You don’t dare reach out for him in fear of being rejected again. He didn’t let you touch him earlier even though he got free reign.

“I don’t look like that.”

“Okay?” You whisper again, exasperatedly.

“I’ll pose for you next time you want to doodle. ” And you hear it, the sarcasm in his voice. You honestly didn’t even know it was possible for him to do that or if he knew what it was.

Then you hear him walking away. He’s gone, back to be a part of the void and watch you in the darkness behind his helmet. You put your nightgown back on and lay there on your thin mat on the floor behind the cockpit. Mando gets into bed, you hear him moving in the sheets.

It’s still so dark and you wonder how much sleep you’ll be able to get before the child awakes and returns to his normal state of chaotic green cuteness.

If Mando ever asked you to do it again, you would. Not in so many words next time, but yes. You would.

Your notebook. You wonder if he put it back in your bag but it’s too dark and quiet to check now.

Hey, let's chat real quick.

So, this was the first Pedro character fic I ever wrote, and it was so heavily inspired by the legendary Rough Day (I'm saying it twice so no one can said I never said it)

It was supposed to be just a quick, hot, sexy little one-shot between you and The Mandalorian, but I ended up spiraling out of control and wrote over twenty chapters.

I have one chapter left until it's completely over and I thought I'd start posting it here so that once the final chapter is done-- I can post it to AO3 and Tumblr at the same time.

I'm pretty critical of my own stuff-- but this one particularly.

My disclaimers are- there will be spoilers to everything- season 1-3, the book of Boba Fett, and maybe even other things- I don't know because I didn't watch any of it.

All the crazy Mandalorian facts that come up in later chapters are just researched online. I misuse Mando'a and Manda'lor constantly so... punch me right in the face if you want... or yell at me in my asks.

Let me know if you like it with comments and reblogs and like and all that good shit. I love them.

#din x reader #din djarin #mando #mando x reader #grogu #smut #fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #spoliers #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #inspired by rough day #obviously #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader

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dancethroughthethunder · 2 months ago

Text

Bobby From High School Chapter Three: It's Not Prom, But It's Still Pretty Good

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Of All the Gin Joints, Chapter 2 Two Coffees

Summary: Friday rolls around and finds you, Bob, and the team at the Hard Deck. With a little meddling from the team, and a little reminiscing on high school memories, you and Bob find yourselves on the dance floor together.

Author’s Note: I just love BFHS Bobby. Here's chapter three! This work can also be found here at my ao3. I hope you enjoy! Divider by @/saradika

Normally, Bob is one of the first of the team to get to the Hard Deck but tonight he’s running late. He lost track of time on the phone with his older sister, who had been delighted to hear from their mom how you two had reconnected.

“Tell me everything. How is she? What is she up to? Is she still as pretty as she was in high school? Do you still have a big fat crush on her? Have you asked her out?” Allison asked, so excited it came out all in one breath.

“She’s good, working on base too. No, I think she’s even prettier now. Yes, and no. All in that order.” Bob admitted.

“Oh my god and she works on base too? Bob, come on, you have to ask her out.”

“I don’t know about that, Allie, I don’t even know if she’s even into me. Besides, we’re just reconnecting as friends right now.”

Allie hummed in a way that made Bob think she knew something he didn’t. Then again, maybe that was just wishful thinking. You and Allie had been friends and were on the softball team together but aside from following each other on social media, he didn’t think you talked much nowadays.

By the time he finally got off the phone (it had taken a while to even get Allie to move on to another topic of conversation), it was already right around when he would normally be arriving at the Hard Deck. Remembering your promise to be there, he quickly changed into a dark green shirt that Phoenix always said looked great on him before heading to his truck and making his way to the bar.

There are plenty of cars in the parking lot as he arrives, but he manages to find a spot right near Nat’s car. Walking inside, he notices the bar is similarly packed. Normally he might go say hi to Penny first but she seems pretty busy so he makes his way over towards the pool tables, where he knows his friends can normally be found.

He hadn’t noticed your car in the parking lot, and is a little bit surprised when he’s suddenly able to see you in conversation with Nat and Reuben.

“Hi guys. Sorry, I meant to get here earlier but Allie called.” He greets you all.

“Nah, you’re good.” Reuben says.

“You’re not really late as long as you’re still here before Bradshaw.” Nat laughs.

“No way! How is Allie? I miss her!” Your eyes light up at the mention of his sister.

“She’s good. She told me to say hi to you.” Actually, she was too busy grilling him to say such a thing, but he figures it was implied.

“God, we haven’t talked in ages. I’ll have to text her.” You say as you pull out your phone, presumably to do that right away.

“Nice shirt.” Nat tells him with a knowing smile, and a quick glance to you where you’re busy texting Allie.

“Yeah, that’s a really nice color on you, Bobby.” You say as you look back up, tucking your phone in your back pocket.

“Thank you.” He says, trying not to look at Nat who is wiggling her eyebrows as if to say I know you’re wearing that for her. “I didn’t think I saw your car out there.” Bob tries to change the topic of conversation.

“Nope, Nat was kind enough to give me a ride.”

“Don’t worry, Bob, she hasn’t given me too much embarrassing high school information. Not yet anyways.”

Bob rolls his eyes as you all laugh. He knew that you two had been texting all week and is glad you’re becoming friends, but didn’t realize you were close enough for her to offer you a ride. He’s not sure when he’ll have a chance to get Phoenix alone later, but he makes a mental note to ask her more about this.

Somehow despite (or maybe because of) his recent arrival, Bob gets talked into going to get drinks for everyone. Luckily since everyone seems to want something, and Bob only has two hands, Payback offers to go with him and help carry everything back. Bob says hi to Penny and chats with Payback while they wait, and tries not to stare at you too much on the way back with the drinks. You have your phone out again and given the way he can see you scrolling, it looks like you’re looking for something while chatting with Phoenix.

“Okay so as requested, straight from my Facebook, here it is!” You hand Nat your phone. “I have to warn you, I got talked into getting a few inches cut off a week before prom by my hairdresser and ended up hating it. In retrospect, it’s kind of cute though.”

Nat looks down to see a photo of you and Bob all dressed up. Bob is in a full suit with a boutonniere, and you’re in an emerald gown with a silver corsage on your wrist. You two each have an arm around the other, and Nat notes with pride that Bob’s hand is securely on your waist.

“Shut up, did you two go to prom together?” Nat exclaims as you indicate she can swipe through to the next photo. Nat nearly screams at the next photo, a sweet shot of you two looking at each other, clearly mid-laughter, arms still around one another.

“No, unfortunately. I was going to ask him but it was too late and someone else beat me to it.”

Right then, Bob walks back up to join you.

“What’s that, oh is that prom?” He asks, trying to look at the photo in Nat’s hands as he passes you both your drinks.

“Yeah, she was just telling me how she was going to ask you until you got another date, heartbreaker.” Nat bumps her shoulder into his.

“She told you what? ” It’s comical the way Bob whips his head in confusion to look at you.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t know.” You laugh.

“I promise you I didn’t.” He says, with equal parts sincerity and bewilderment. “What do you mean you were going to ask me?”

“Oh Bobby, I had this whole plan!”

By now, the rest of the team (including Rooster who must have arrived while Bob was up at the bar) have started paying attention to your conversation. Your phone is getting passed from aviator to aviator, all of whom heard the words “Bob” and “prom” and reacted like a dog hearing the word “treat”. All of the attention is on you, but you don’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Alright, I don’t know if you remember but I asked you one day if you were planning on going to prom. I figured that was a good place to start because if you weren’t going at all, I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to just for me. Actually, now that I think about it, I think that even though she was in college by then, I texted Allie about it.”

Bob doesn’t entirely remember this, there were so many conversations about who was or wasn’t going to go to prom and who they were or were not going with, that it isn’t surprising that he doesn’t remember you asking if he was going but he nods anyway, interested to hear the rest of your story.

“You had mentioned recently that you wanted to get a copy of the Hobbit. With all of the attention on the movie, you said it was about time you had a copy of your own, since you originally read a copy you borrowed from the library.”

“Right, I remember, you gave me a copy one day, which was really nice of you.” He nods as he says this, clearly visualizing the copy you sweetly pressed into his hands during last period one day.

“Exactly!” You say, blushing slightly, despite the fact this happened close to a decade ago. “So, that was part of my plan. Originally, there was a bookmark tucked into the cover that I had decorated with the words “Will you go to prom with me?” on it.”

“What? I know I opened the front cover, you left me a note in it. But it didn’t say anything about prom, I’m sure I would have noticed that.” There’s no way Bob would have missed that, is there?

“No, you’re right. I left a little note on the inside cover about how you had your own copy now, but I was too worried to mention prom right there since it would be in the book forever.” You laugh. “No, I gave you the book and not-so-smoothly brought up the conversation of prom, and you said something like ‘oh yeah, I figured you might have heard.’ and mentioned how Jack had arranged your date. Something about how his crush would only go if everyone in her friend group had a date, so you ended up agreeing to go with Julia.”

Bob hears a muttered “Oh shit” from somewhere to his left, and looking back on this moment later, he’ll realize how objectively funny it is for a group of adults to be so engrossed in a conversation about a prom that you both, happily, attended so long ago.

“I had not, in fact, heard anything about this date so while you were telling me about it, I grabbed the bookmark out of the book and handed it back to you, sans bookmark. I think I lied and said that it was the receipt I had left in there. You didn’t open the book and see the other note until after I said that, so you didn’t notice.” You shrug.

“You were really going to ask me to the prom.” Bob says in amazement.

“I really was. I think I called Allie the second I got home to tell her about it. I know she and I were good friends too but there was something almost mortifying to have to admit to your sister that I didn’t even get the chance to ask. But, it was okay! You went with Jack and that group, and I asked a friend from another school.”

“And you just ignored your dates and took photos together anyways?” Hangman asks with a wry smile.

“Oh god no, I think we took hundreds of photos before that. I took a friend’s brother, Ben, who was our age. Since I was friends with his sister and knew his whole family, we did photos with them, and with my family, and then all of the group photos, and that was even before we even met up with Bob’s group.” To prove your point, you swipe out of the photo quickly to show the hundreds of thumbnails of other photos.

Bob holds a hand out to you, and you wordlessly pass your phone back to him. Bob takes a second to look at all of the images before re-opening the photo of the two of you.

“Allie took this, didn’t she?” He asks, as the memory comes back to him.

“Yeah, I wanted a photo with you so badly but was worried I’d show my hand if I asked, so she did it for me. I nearly killed her for it.” You laugh at the memory.

“I thought she was asking for me, I think I did the same thing.” Bob admits.

“I’m pretty sure she also made you promise to ask me to dance at least once.”

“Oh my god you guys are too cute. Did you end up dancing?” Nat asks.

“We did.” Bob says as you nod. “Julia was nice but we were really acquaintances more than friends, and we really only went together since my best friend wanted to date her best friend. She didn’t seem to mind when I asked you to dance.” He looks at you.

“What song did you dance to?” Fanboy asks.

“I have no clue, honestly. Do you remember? Something quintessentially prom, I’m sure. Maybe some early Ed Sheeran? Bruno Mars? Probably a country ballad, actually.” You shrug and laugh.

“I can’t remember either. I know we hung out during some of the fast songs too, but we definitely had one slow song in there, I think you’re right it was probably country.” Bob admits. Neither of you notice the way Nat nudges Rooster, or the way he disappears over towards the jukebox across the bar.

“So if this was junior year, why didn’t you go together senior year?” Hangman asks.

“Oh, rumor got around that he was getting ready to ask someone so I texted Ben and asked if he wanted to join me again.” You say, matter-of-factly.

“I was going to ask you .” Bob blurts out.

“ Oh .” Your eyes widen in shock. “Well, it’s about a decade too late, but I would’ve said yes.”

“Do you have photos from that one too?” Nat asks.

While you and Bob are busy, leaning over your phone scrolling to the correct album, Rooster walks back up and nods at Nat.

“Let me see those.” Rooster says, taking your phone. “Look at these cute kids.” He says, with a teasing smile towards you and Bob.

This time, you’re in dark blue but once again, you and Bob have your arms around one another and big smiles on your face.

“Look at those legs!” Natasha says, swiping to the next photo where you’re posed much less formally. You’re standing on your right leg, right arm propped up on Bob’s shoulder, your left leg is bent at the knee with your foot kicked up towards your butt. The pose highlights your sparkly high heels, and the slit in your dress that goes up to your mid-thigh. In addition, the arm that isn’t around Bob is thrown up straight in the air and your mouth is wide open in laughter.. It looks like you’re caught mid-celebration.

For Bob, he’s got his left arm still tight around your waist, and you can’t tell from the photo but you both remember his steady grip, worried that you’d topple over balancing on one foot. While you’re looking right at the camera, Bob is looking at you. Truth be told, it was one of your favorite photos from the night, from high school overall.

Hangman asks you a question, but Bob is too busy staring down at the photo of the two of you to hear him. Maybe Allie was onto something earlier, maybe he should ask you out.

While you turn towards Hangman to answer him, the song playing on the jukebox fades out and Bob hears the opening few notes of a Shania Twain ballad. It’s not really the normal soundtrack for the Hard Deck, and remembering your comment just a few minutes ago trying to guess what you might have danced to at prom, Bob looks up at Natasha who has the biggest smirk he’s ever seen.

“Come on, Bob, ask the girl to dance.” She says, nudging him.

“Nat, we’re in the middle of the Hard Deck. Nobody else is dancing. Do you even know the meaning of the word subtle?” It’s not that Bob doesn’t want to dance with you, he just doesn’t want to do it in the middle of a bar, crowded with people who aren’t dancing. He doesn’t want to put you on the spot, or make you uncomfortable. Before he can figure out what to do about it, Nat just winks at him.

“Alright, we’ll give you someone else to dance with.” To Rooster’s clear surprise, Nat grabs him by the hand and drags him over closer to the jukebox to dance.

“We’re doing this for you, Bob.” Fanboy says with a joking salute, as he goes over to sway by the jukebox, not afraid to dance by himself.

Bob thinks about the way you smiled when you told him you would have gone to prom with him, he thinks about how much fun you two had getting coffee, and he thinks that if he waits any longer, Hangman might scoop you up for a dance himself. He takes a breath to prepare himself to brush it off as purely platonic, in case you hesitate, and takes a step closer to you.

“What do you say? I know it’s not prom, but maybe for old times sake?” Bob has one hand held out, and the two seconds it takes you to reply feel like the longest of his life.

“I’d love to, Bobby.” You grab his hand, and he leads you over towards Phoenix, Rooster, and Fanboy. It looks like some other people have followed Phoenix and Rooster’s lead and have coupled up for a dance, and he finds himself glad about the way his friends seem to draw attention and start trends. It makes him less nervous, to think that there are less eyes on the two of you.

Bob pulls you into him, and you immediately rest your head on his chest, still holding onto the hand that led you through the throngs of people. Bob rests his other hand gently on your back, and as the two of you sway back and forth together, all he can think is how right it feels to have you in his arms like this.

“You’re right, it’s not prom but I think it’s still pretty good.” You mumble, and Bob fights the urge to press a kiss to the top of your head.

Bob hears you giggle and follows your eyesight over towards Fanboy, who has somehow roped Coyote into a very dramatic, very ridiculous dance.

“I like your friends.” You say, when you finally get your giggles under control.

“I’m glad. I know they can be a lot.” He says.

“I think Allie would like Nat. They’re both trouble.” You say and Bob bites back a groan. Of course you noticed Nat’s not-so-subtle attempt at matchmaking. “But it’s hard to be mad when they’ve got such good ideas.” You reach up and brush back a piece of Bob’s hair that’s fallen across his face.

“Do you want to go out with me? On a date, sometime?” Bob surprises himself by asking.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Bob feels a swell of pride at the way your face lights up at his question. You tuck your head back into his chest, and the two of you stay like that through the rest of the song.

As the final notes of the song die down, Bob takes a step back from you, keeps his left hand in yours and uses his right hand, already on your waist, to gently guide you into a little spin. He thinks there might not be anything better than the way you laugh as you twirl, before you come crashing back into his arms. That is, until you lean up and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks for the dance, Bobby.”

He’s sure that Nat couldn’t have seen the kiss by the way she comes flying over to grab you to go grab another drink together.

“Way to go, Bob.” Rooster says, clapping him on the back.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thanks for the assist with the jukebox.” He replies.

The two make their way back over to their original corner, where the rest of the team shortly joins them. You and Nat come back, and you each have your hands full. You’re carrying a tray full of everyone’s preferred drink for the night, and Nat has a tray full of shots. Somehow between the two of you, everyone (Bob included) gets talked into taking the shot together.

While everyone talks and laughs, somehow you end up right back next to Bob. You’re standing half a step in front of him and are leaning back so that your back and hip are pressed against his. You look up at him with a smile, subtly making sure he’s okay with it. He definitely is.

As conversation turns back to someone else in the group, Bob is thinking back to your not-date from last week and remembers what you said about the Farmers Market. “Hey.” He nudges you gently. “Do you want to go to the Market for our date?” He remembers too late that the Market is only open on Saturdays and that he’s inadvertently asked you out for the very next morning. Before he can clarify that it doesn’t have to be tomorrow, you smile and nod.

“Sounds like a plan. Want to come to my house first and we can go together?”

“Okay, yeah. We can figure out a specific time later.” Bob tells you. He can’t even imagine what Allie will say when she finds out, and wonders which one of you will manage to tell her first. He figures it’ll probably be him, that he’ll call her on his way home tonight while you’re likely getting interrogated by Nat.

The two of you are so lost in your conversation that you don’t notice that conversation has slowed down.

“What was your high school mascot?”

“What?” The two of you look away from one another to see Hangman looking at you.

“It was the Tigers. Why?”

“If you’re going to be joining us more often, you need a name too, Tiger.” Jake says.

“You know what, it could be worse. I’ll take it.” Bob half expected you to argue, to point out that you do have a name, thank you very much. He’s glad when you recognize it for what it is, an invitation into the group as more than just a one-off.

“By the way, Tiger,” Jake continues. “My bad about interrupting your coffee date last weekend, it was genuinely an accident.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” You say, brushing him off. “Besides, it wasn’t a date. Just two friends catching up.”

You gently bump your hip into Bob’s and he tries not to smile at the flirty contact.

“Okay, that’s it. Bob, we love you. This is an intervention. Ask the woman out.” Hangman tells him and Bob can hear you trying not to laugh, especially as Coyote reaches over to smack Jake.

“Subtle, Bagman.” Nat groans.

“I have.” Bob says, to everyone’s surprise.

“No fucking way, Baby on Board. Get it. So where are you going?”

“No way, Jake.” You say. “Last week might have been an accident, but you can’t convince me you guys wouldn’t show up if we told you. No way. You’ll have to be patient and find out after.”

You’re laughing as you tease Jake, and Bob feels like he’s on top of the world. He’s surprised to find that he’s not nervous or embarrassed to have everyone know about your date but then again, just through your attention, you’ve always brought out his confident side.

Bob tests the waters and slides an arm around your shoulders. In response, you look back up at him with that sweet smile, and go back to laughing with everyone. He’s got a pretty girl leaning against him, a pretty girl who he has a date with tomorrow, who fits in well with his friends. Life feels pretty good right now.

When he got to the bar earlier, he thought that maybe he’d have a chance to ask you to hang out again, if he was lucky. Somehow by the time he gets home later, he’ll have ended up with two more dances with you, the promise of (and more specifics about) your date, and another kiss on the cheek. Bob remembers fondly how much fun he had at prom, but he thinks that today, this random Friday with all of his friends, might have been even better.

#bobby from high school #bfhs #bob floyd #my writing #in which meg writes #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #tgm #tgm x reader #tgm fic #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x y/n #ongoing fic #divider credit: saradika

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estrellami-1 · 2 years ago

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If I Should Stay

Y’all are the best. Seriously. I love y’all. One quick note: if y’all reblog, please include the tag “#if I should stay” (mind the capital i) so people can find the rest of the parts! Thanks so much!!! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Eddie does end up following Robin because he does not, in fact, have a death wish.

Even if, apparently, he dies in the future. Go figure.

She instructs him to grab his guitar. “Why in the fuck,” he starts, then reconsiders when Robin whips around to stare at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re terrifying?”

Robin shrugs a shoulder. “Not as much as they should.”

She stashes her bike in the back of his van and directs him to the Harrington residence, where Steve’s waiting, arms crossed, wondering smile on his face. “Miracle worker,” he calls, and Robin laughs as she grabs her bike from the back.

“Hate to break it to ya, Dingus, but you’re just not scary.”

“I’m plenty scary. I’ve got a nail bat.”

“Right, because that would beat Nance’s sawed-off in a fight.”

“Hey, it could! You never know! They’ve got different ranges!”

Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie, like she’s asking if he can believe it, which. No. No he can’t.

“Sorry,” he says, regretting everything when they both look at him. “What the actual fuck is happening?”

“Come inside,” Steve says, suddenly all business. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.” His eyes find Robin’s. “One of ‘em took Barb last night.”

“Fuck,” Robin whispers.

“Yup. Will’s been missing for two days. Maybe, if we get down there soon enough…”

“Let’s hope so. Which one of the rugrats found El?”

“I think they all did? But Mike’s the one who took her in.” He shakes his head, mouth a grim line. “I saw Dustin today. They’re kids, Robs.”

“So are we,” she reminds him, heaving a tired-sounding sigh. “A buncha kids fighting real-life monsters.”

“Monsters?” Eddie parrots.

Somehow they end up inside while Steve goes to pick up the Party. Who the party is, Eddie doesn’t know. Just like he doesn’t know why he’s in Steve’s Harrington’s house with someone who isn’t Steve Harrington.

“Who’s the Party?” He asks Robin. “And why am I here again? If I die, doesn’t that mean I shouldn’t be here? Should be somewhere far, far away instead?”

“The Party’s a group of kids Steve babysits. They’re the first ones to go through this whole mess. And admittedly, you’re here partially because you can help, and partially for selfish reasons.” She offers him a lopsided grin. “Believe it or not, watching you die was kinda traumatic.”

“Right,” he says slowly. “And you and Steve? How do you know each other? He and Nancy Wheeler are the talk of the town, and if he’s stepping out-”

“He wouldn’t,” she says harshly. “Ever.” She takes a breath. “Two years from now, or a year ago, he and I work together in a mall. Long story short, we get captured and tortured by Russians. High on truth serum, I tell him I’m a lesbian in the bathroom, we help take down the big bad, and boom. Instant platonic soulmates.”

Eddie gapes at her. “What the fuck.”

“Just about,” she nods. “Oh, and the kids love D&D, so you’ll have plenty to talk about. They’re little shits but they’re also kinda great once you get to know them.”

Eddie stares at her. The front door opens, and Steve walks in, followed by a gaggle of preteens and Nancy Wheeler.

“Robs,” Steve says, not slowing his stride as he begins taking the stairs two at a time. “Bathroom. Now.”

Robin grimaces. “Breakdown time,” she murmurs to Eddie, then follows Steve, leaving everyone else staring at each other.

“So,” Eddie says. “I heard you like D&D?”

A dark-haired kid who looks suspiciously like Nancy narrows his eyes. “You play?”

“Play!” Eddie repeats. “I don’t just play, my young friend, I am the greatest Dungeon Master this side of the Mississippi.”

A curly-haired kid begins to grin. “I think we should put that to the test.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

@paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @little-gae-shit

#if I should stay #eventual steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #he’s the curly-haired boy at the end #in case it wasn’t obvious lmao #time travel au #fix it fic #starambles

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xkaidaxxxx · 11 months ago

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Aizawa's New Girl

mentions: Unhappy marriage, Wifie material, tease, Fluff.

reblogs are appreciated <3

I am taking requests

Aizawa has been best friends with you since you both were in high school.You've loved him for such a long time but he’s been married for 5 years now. Recently, that means 2 years ago he hated his marriage. His wife started bitching for kids. His words not yours. He was not ready for that. From there she started making life impossible for him as well. Here he is now at your home.

“ I think I should divorce her.” he said to you. You are all for it. “You should divorce her Shōta. She’s been treating you like crap. How do you even deal with that?” you asked and served him dinner.You’re basically his wife at this point. You have been cooking his meals. He passes by for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Every week he comes to wash his clothes since he doesn’t even want to see her face. After a while he’d leave his clothes in your guest room. Sometimes he crashes the night. “ I’m tired of her. I nap during school hours, to me that says a lot. My favorite meal. You’re the best y/n.” he said. You felt bad for him. He’s your best friend. “I’m here to support you. Always.” you said.

2 weeks later he got a great lawyer and he kicked his wife out of HIS house. He’s healing and you’re there to support him. “Thanks for helping me with this. You’re always by my side. I appreciate everything you do for me.” he said. “ Better together, remember.” you replied. You then heard banging from the door. He checked the cameras and you got your quirk ready. “It’s her. Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” he said pressing a button. You heard the sprinklers go off and you started laughing. He laughed along with you. Her screams made it even funnier.

Time passed and he is happily divorced. He ended up moving in with you and left his old home as a vacation home. You bring him lunch every day to work. As you walked inside the students whispered. Some of the male students were drooling. You were wearing simple clothing. Although your top did show cleavage and your skirt was very teaseful. You walked up to the boys. “Hey, your Aizawa’s students. Can you tell me where I can find him if he’s not in this office?” You asked with a smile. The girls immediately knew you loved him. “ you’re so pretty.” Denki said. “Thank you sweetie” you replied “If he’s not in this office, he’s in class or resting outside,” Bakugou said. You booped his nose. The rest tried holding back their laughs. “DO YOU WANT TO DIE !!??” He yelled. “WHY YOU DISRESPECTFUL SON OF A BI-“ you yelled and got interrupted by the love of your life. “Hey” he greeted. “you’re in love with him, right? Omg?” Mina was losing her mind. “Uh, he’s my bestie girly pop.” You replied. “Yeah, which is why you show up every day with lunch for him.” She giggled. The girls giggled and whispered. “Umm, I made your favorite today. I hope you enjoy it.” You said handing him a large bento box. He looked at you up and down, loving how sexy you look. He gulped as he took the bento box from you.“I always enjoy your meals. I appreciate you coming to drop off lunch.” He replied and soon you had to head home. “Mr.Aizawa you were totally checking her out. She is a goddess you better make a move before somebody else does.” Mina said and the rest of the girls agreed. She was right and deep down he knew that so once school ended he went to buy you a pretty diamond jewelry set, a special specific ring, and a bouquet of 100 red roses. He was taking forever. “It’s already 9pm,” you said aloud. “Mhm, maybe something came up with hero work.” You yawned. Minutes later he showed up. “Y/n! Hey! Sorry, I’m late, come downstairs! I have something for you!” He called out. “I’m in the kitchen!” You replied cleaning the counter. “Close your eyes.” He ordered and you did just that. He stood in front of you. “Open.” He said. You opened your eyes and saw the beautiful sight. “ I know…I suck at gifts but umm…I hope this shows how much I love and appreciate everything you do for me. I’m trying to ask if you want to be my girlfriend? Partner? Wife? Girlfriend?” He asked, choosing many titles because he had no idea what he was doing. “ Girlfriend and then hopefully wife.” You replied. You shared a soft and loving kiss with him. Aizawa has no idea how much his life is going to change now that he’s with the woman he’s always loved and will forever.

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concreteangel92 · 9 months ago

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I have a request! Do you think maybe you’d write a oneshot of Noah subbing for fem!reader on a leash? Holding him to you while he eats you out. Calling him ‘puppy’ 🥺 Him being mischievous and up to no good. Fucking adores his collar. Making him come before he’s allowed so you can punish him or have him make it up to you

Also please please please Noah having a thing for high heels like. They can stay on during sex. Something about the way you keep him at bay with one on pressing into his chest makes him 😵‍💫(But also the idea of him helping take them off and kissing down her thighs to her ankles. I swoon.)

Oh I love me a bit of a subby Noah, he looks far too good on his knees in my opinion 🥵

Now I done a one shot a while ago where the reader uses the lead to hold him into her, etc so I’ll link that here and I’ll continue under the cut the rest of your request and it can be a part 2 if you will haha hope you enjoy!!

18+ below the cut

Noah had a real thing for you in heels. 6 inch black platform stilettos are a particular favourite, they drive him absolutely wild.

Something you were well aware of when you got dressed for your date night tonight, Noah was taking you out for dinner so you decided to rile him up.

It definitely worked, the moment he saw you in your little black dress and heels, his jaw practically dropped.

“Fuck me”

You smirked, knowing you were going to keep him waiting all night before you let him indulge.

Over dinner you could see the longing in his eyes, how he shifted in his seat, you knew he could think of nothing else but you in your heels. Whispering “easy puppy” in his ear as you went to the toilets definitely caused a shift within him.

More than once you had to brush his hand away from your legs under the table, not missing the cheeky smile he had, he knew he was pushing you.

Once back at home, you could tell he was eager to have you, but tonight you were in charge and you wanted to make him beg for it.

“On your knees baby”

Noah looked at you and you saw him surrendering and he dropped down onto his knees in front of you.

“You were very disobedient at the restaurant, how many times did I have to move your hands away?”

You stared down at him with a look of annoyance, although it didn’t run deep.

“Three”

You bent down and grabbed his chin so he looked up at you.

“Three what?”

“Three times mistress”

You then firmly but not to hard, smacked the side of his cheek before gripping his chin again, not missing the groan that fell from his lips.

“Now you should know better my sweet boy? I’ve trained you better than that…makes me think that you wanted to upset me just so I can punish you eh?”

Noah hadn’t taken his eyes off you, he started to shake his head but you caught the small smile on his lips.

“Looks like you decided to be a brat today, that’s fine pup, I can forgive it…”

You sat down on the sofa behind you and spread your legs to reveal you had no underwear on.

“If you make sure that you apologise properly”

Noah let out another groan and went to dive forward onto you until you pressed one heel into his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Ah, ah, ah. Did I say you could eat yet?”

“No mistress, I’m sorry”

You pressed the heel more into his chest as you quickly slipped your dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your heels.

“Mistress please, I’m sorry for acting up tonight”

You giggled, he looked like he was already pussy drunk before he’d even had you.

“I don’t think you deserve any treats tonight”

You reached your hand down and started to rub slow circles on your clit, making the point of letting out your low moans. Noah’s mouth fell open and you could see how painfully tight his trousers were.

“What’s the matter baby? Getting a bit warm with your clothes on?”

Noah nodded, his eyes not leaving your movements, you could see his hand going towards his bulge.

“Don’t. Even. Think. About it”

You circled your clit harder and then pushed your hand down further so you could slip a finger inside, feeling how wet you were, you moaned out as your eyes fell closed briefly.

“You may strip puppy but don’t you dare touch yourself”

Noah quickly rid himself of his clothes, carelessly tossing them to the side and knelt back in front of you and you finally saw how hard he was, he was already leaking and looked almost painful. What a beautiful sight.

“Please mistress, I’ll do anything but please let me do something or give me something”

“I’m already giving you a show”

You saw Noah look like he was about to cry in frustration, his fingers were twitching on his thighs and his breathing was getting faster.

You pulled your fingers out and leant forward.

“Open”

Noah done as he was told and you pressed your fingers into his mouth which he immediately sucked on, cleaning your own juices off of them.

When he moaned, you pulled your hand back and put your heel back into his chest, watching it dig into the tattoos.

“Don’t be greedy baby….You love me in these shoes don’t you?”

Noah nodded.

“I really do mistress”

“Then kiss them and show me that you’re sorry”

Noah’s hand gently wrapped around your ankle to support the weight of your leg and he kissed the top of your heel and then carried on leaving light kisses up your leg, his fingers leaving a tingling sensation as he traced your skin.

You spread your legs wider when he started to kiss your inner thighs, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. You wound your fingers into his hair to caress his head as he then started to go where you needed him most.

You felt him lick a long strip up your centre and back down to have a taste of you before he moved his lips to your clit and you felt his fingers around your entrance.

“Don’t play with me baby and remember….no touching yourself”

Noah nodded in between your legs, not once removing his mouth, he slipped in an inked digit and you felt your walls gripping onto him, the sensation so much better then when you do it due to the size difference of your hands.

“Oh fuck…”

Noah didn’t tease you anymore, he started up a fast, steady pace with his hand and he continued working his tongue and mouth on your clit, shaking his head and causing you to pull him into you more by his hair.

You threw one of your legs over his shoulder so he would feel your heel digging in and you felt your stomach start to twist up tighter.

“Noah, don’t stop, I’m so close”

Noah didn’t stop, he added a second finger and continued to eat you out like a man starved until you cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your hips crashing into his face as you rode out your high.

You pulled Noah’s face away and pulled him into a kiss, not caring in the slightest that his lower face was drenched.

When you pulled back, Noah leant his head on yours.

“Please mistress, please can I touch myself now, please I’m begging you”

You shushed him gently and kissed him once more.

“I’ll do better then that, sit up here pup, I’m going to ride you”

Noah’s eyes lit up at your words and he sat himself on the sofa next to you, his dick looking heavy as it fell back into his stomach, pre cum dripping onto his own skin in the process.

You moved so you were straddling him, you reached down and helped line him up before sinking down, Noah instantly letting out a low growl and his hands gripping your hips so hard he’d leave bruises.

“You always stretch me so perfectly baby, you’re so perfect for me”

Noah’s eyes had fallen shut, his brows were frowned and his lips fell open. You gripped his chin to make him look at you.

“Now puppy, you are not allowed to cum until I say so, is that clear?”

“Mistress I really don’t think I’m going to las..”

You bounced your hips up and down hard to cut his words off which got lost in his throat with a choked gasp.

“I’m not asking again, you’re going to let me use you as I like, would you like that? For me to use you puppy?”

Noah’s hands gripped your hips harder and his eyes were blown black with lust.

“Yes mistress please use me”

You smiled and stroked his cheek before you settled your hands on his shoulders and started to bounce your hips up and down, slowly at first but when the sensation started to rise, you moved faster.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin as the layer of sweat started to coat both your bodies, both of your moans and groans echoing around the room.

As you felt your high start to approach once more, you felt Noah’s hips rut up into yours as he cried out.

“Mistress…I can’t…”

The next thing you felt was hot ropes of Noah’s release coating your walls as his hips jolted and his head fell onto your shoulder with a low groan.

You stopped your movements as Noah tried to catch his breath back.

“Oh dear baby, looks like we need to train you to be more obedient”

The rest of the night, you made sure to punish your sweet boy in the most beautiful, sinful of ways.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian davis #concreteangel92 #concreteangelasks #sub!noah #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah bad omens #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian smut

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therabbitthatpostthings · 1 year ago

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Timeline isn’t gonna match up or make sense so don’t think about it. This was for an OC I didn't care enough to fully flesh out. Kinda sorta post-canon (all Hashira alive). Little OOC so don't think about that either. Might do a part 2 with background. She/Her pronouns (I'm sorry. I'm lazy)

(Masterpost)

Tomioka Giyuu isn’t what you would call, active. In fact, the thought of him having a life outside the Demon Corps never crossed the Hashira’s minds (mostly because they didn’t think he had one IN the corps either).

He was early. Extremely early, actually. Tomioka was not the latest Hashira by any means but, up so early was, off, to say the least. Shinobu noted this when saying her ‘hellos’ to present Hashira. Tomioka, of course, stood off to the side, not making an effort to interact with anyone aside from a simple “Good Morning.” Even for the ever stoic Tomioka this behavior was weird.

“I guess he remembered us after all.” Shinazugawa hissed coming to the group. It was true that the last three meetings Tomioka had missed (granted they’ve all missed meetings due to work but never three in a row) and the thought of Tomioka slacking off and getting off scotch free added on to Shinazugawa’s ever-growing list of reasons to hate Tomioka.

“It must have been a hard mission.” Kanaroji chimed in.

This didn’t sway Shinobu or Shinazugawa. Shinobu knew it couldn’t have been missions for the last three months, Tomioka hadn’t stopped by the Butterfly Mansion once, not even to get ointment for aches and pains. Strong as they are, the Hashira are not invincible. In fact Tomioka hadn’t been badly injured since last spring. Shinobu knew all this. Even outside of missions Tomioka had just been missing overall. It’s like the silence was even quieter without him there. She peered over to Rengoku and Himajima who looked notably tired well- as tired as they possibly could -as they both lightly chatted with amongst themselves. Tomioka would say something back to them and then go back to staring blankly at the porch.

“He’s finally starting to slack off.” Obanai hissed from up high, the group now noticing he’s been here. “I hope he doesn’t think getting here early will absolve him.”

“Obanai you don’t mean Tomioka got here before you?” Shinobu teased

With a fluster shifting of his eyes, Obanai chose to glare at Giyuu rather than return her gaze. “I saw him coming from inside. Maybe Master snapped on him.”

Though they all doubted Master Ubuyashiki would ever raise his voice, the thought did fill Shinazugawa with momentary joy.

With the final Hashira, Muchiro, walking into the garden it was only a matter of time before the Master appeared. With the opening of the door, everyone’s head snapped up and voices hushed. Shinobu snuck a glance at Tomioka who seemed slightly off. He stood a little too straight and struggled to not ball his fist. Obanai’s theory suddenly seemed more plausible.

—

With the meeting concluded you could practically hear the sigh escape Giyuu’s lips as he walked to the porch. He could feel all the eyes on him as he stepped up there only to be stopped by Hinaki.

“I have to ask that you wait here.” She said calmly.

“But me and Hiro-“

“OI! Have some respect Tomioka!” Shinazugawa yelled. He approached the porch. “Who do you think you are to go around ordering people?!”

He caught Giyuu’s glare from on high. His unchanging eyes shifting back to Hinaki only angered Shinagawa more. “He’s looking down on me,” Shinazugawa thought this an act of war.

Glaring back at him, he said “It’s one thing for you to skip meetings but to disrespect the Master’s family.”

“I’m not disrespecting her, I had a question.” Giyuu replied plainly. He was feeling slightly annoyed and very fearful now. This was not how today was supposed to go. He turned back to Hinaki, “Please, we must be on our way-“

“You bastard.” Shinazugawa was already reaching to pull Giyuu off the porch (not wanting to beat him on the porch, that would be disrespectful). Giyuu was ready to draw his sword when the sound of footsteps alerted them all. Out from the door burst Kiriya and another small child. They maneuvered around Giyuu and Hanaki before Kiriya had tripped taking the small boy with him. Before they could launch themselves off the porch Giyuu caught one under each arm and held onto Hinaki’s collar to keep her from falling over.

He set the children down gently, “Forgive me please, Ubuyashiki-san.”

“No, thank you Tomioka-San.” Hinaki replied, graceful as ever. Lady Ubuyashiki was quick behind them to collect her son. Giyuu apologized once again.

“Hiroshi,” Giyuu turned back to the small boy. He stood slightly behind Kiriya with his head low in shame. Giyuu knelt down, “You should apologize to Lady Ubuyashiki and Hinaki.”

Big blue eyes filled with embarrassment the boy complied. Lady Ubuyashiki smiled kindly, “Please be careful next time you return.”

“He can come back?” Kiriya asked

“As long as Tomioka is okay with it.” She smiled kindly

“Of course.” Giyuu replied as the three kids waved off. “Come on, we’re going home.” The boy followed behind Giyuu quietly. He had a small round face and wild black hair sticking out in all directions. Following along, Hiroshi started to sniffle and finally stopped on the bottom step, tugging on Giyuu’s haori.

“What’s wrong?” Giyuu asked

“I’m sorry Papa.” He cried softly as Giyuu picked him up in his arms trying to soothe the boy.

“It’s okay Hiroshi, I know it was an accident but there’s two of you and only one Hinaki. She could have been hurt. Please be more careful.”

The boy nodded sniffling into his fathers shoulder.

The remaining Hashira stared in astonishment at the action. By the time he got his son to calm down Giyuu had finally noticed that he never left the garden and out the front of the home as intended. Still holding Hiroshi, Giyuu bowed his goodbye and left the garden. Before the rest of Hashira could finish processing what just happened Rengoku and Himajime also left quietly behind him.

—

The next meeting came about a month and a half later. This time Giyuu entered at his normal time with Muichiro coming afterwards. He actively stood apart hoping they all would have forgotten (they didn’t), and suffered silently as the many eyes bore into his head.

It wasn’t just Giyuu, Shinobu was also shooting her glance to Himejima and Rengoku. Himejima was holding up well (surprisingly) but Rengoku was going to pop. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Tengen spent the last week and a half trying to break whatever secret Tomioka had about the same child out of him. An unstoppable force and an immovable object and all that.

Giyuu was silently praying for this meeting to end soon and end this mental game all the Hashira were taking part in. He had already prepared an exit tragedy to get out with the least amount of questions. He looked at Rengoku and Himejima. The game plan was set and they just need to be ready to go.

You could feel the tension ease when Master Ubuyashiki called the meeting to a close. They all stood quietly, paitiently waiting for him to go inside before all hell broke loose. And just as the door closed Lady Ubuyashiki called out, “Tomioka-San. A word please.”

Rengoku was screaming on the inside as Giyuu looked over to him briefly. Tengen hardly waited for Giyuu to take a single step, “How come you two got to know but we didn’t?”

“A secret child Tomioka?” Shinobu called out “You must not like us if we didn’t get to know.”

“It’s not that…” Giyuu finally broke his silence. He reached for the door when it suddenly swung open and the little pitter of footsteps was heard. Giyuu jumped back and was quick to catch the small figure barreling towards him, “Hiroshi!? What are you doing here?”

“Mama hurt her feet.” Hiroshi replied like it was obvious. All heads snapped to the door and out stepped a woman on a pink kimono.

“(Y/N)?” He looked surprised.

“Ah, Giyuu!” She peered up walking over to him

“What happened?” He stepped closer to hold onto her waist.

“Just some sores and aches. Lady Ubuyashiki has been so kind.” She turned to both of them “It’s been in honor in your presence.”

“The pleasure is ours, Lady Tomioka.”

And that’s what broke the string holding all together. The family wordlessly walked off the porch and headed to leave..

Shinobu called out “T-Tomioka?!”

“Yes?” Said (Y/N) and Hiroshi as all three turned to face them.

“Oh! Rengoku-San, Himajime-San! So good to see you both.” (Y/N) smiled

Himejima finally exhaled as both men walked over to greet (Y/N). Both of them gave Giyuu an apologetic look. Hiroshi looked over their shoulders to the remaining Hashira still in a daze. Looking at them side by side there was no denying it. Hiroshi is identical to Giyuu, just smaller and with the cutest round face that Mitsuri just had to gush over.

“You are so cute! Like a mini Tomioka!” She squealed.

“Your hair looks like mochi!” Hiroshi stayed proudly. “Mama, can we get mochi!”

(Y/N) smiled, “That sounds like our que. It was an honor to meet you all.”

The family walked out the garden, with Rengoku and Himejima sneaking out with them.

“What the fuck just happened?” Shinazugawa broke the silence.

—

The next meeting was well over two months and the pillars were determined to not let Giyuu go without answers. Especially since he’d recently had to heal up at the Butterfly Mansion while Shinobu was out. Before he could even think of leaving they had him cornered, Obanai watching over Rengoku and Himejima.

“When were you gonna tell us you were married?!” Uzui shouted

“No one asked and I’d rather have a small wedding…” Giyuu answered plainly.

“What about your ring then?”

Giyuu pulled down his collar to show a silver ring on a chain tucked into his undershirt.

“How did you two find out then?” Obanai hissed.

“Tomioka requested I accompany him on a mission so he could be home earlier,” Himejima stated.

“I had an urgent matter with the Master and happened to meet them all as they were leaving.” Rengoku said.

“Wait so Master knows too?” Mitsuri asked

“Yes, they were at the wedding.” Giyuu replied.

“You are unbelievable.” Shinazugawa muttered. “How were you able to get married?”

Giyuu didn’t seem to have an answer. It’s something he thought to himself many times but when (Y/N) smiled at him he always forgot about it. Before he could try to answer, he heard (Y/N) calling out to him. The Hashira were surprised to (Y/N) walk up in a demon slayer uniform and golden checkered haori. She smiled and bowed to the Hashira, “Hello, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, I'm done here.” Giyuu replied.

“Wait, Tomioka!” Shinobu called as they turned to leave.

“Yes?” They both answered to Shinobu’s annoyance. They did it again.

(Y/N) nudged Giyuu forward as she assumed they meant him. Uzui cut in, “We only wanted to officially meet you, Lady Tomioka.”

“Oh!” (Y/N) smiled “I’m honored to meet you all, I am Tomioka (Y/N), (Y/N) is fine.”

“It's so good to meet you! How long have you and Giyuu been together?” Mitsuri asked, the only genuine person in all this.

“I’ve known him since I joined the Corps, we met while I was on my way to a job, it was in separate areas but we met up on the way back.” (Y/N) answered recalling their younger years.

“We’ve been married for five years.” Giyuu answered. The Hashira took note that their son looked about that age. It took all of Uzui’s strength for him to not comment on it.

“How sweet!” Mitsuri cheered “I had no idea you had such a happy family Tomioka!”

“We try not to talk about it,” (Y/N) smiled. A lot more open than Giyuu but (Y/N) also enjoyed their privacy. “Up until now, only Master Ubuyashiki knew. Hiroshi and Kiriya became good friends.”

The Hashira had a million other questions but they tethered on inappropriate or just plain mean. Out of respect for Lady Tomioka, they held themselves together. The strangeness of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them. They were happy though. The couple said their goodbyes and turned to leave. The Hashira saw the tension lift off Giyuu’s shoulders as he smiled with his wife.

“Why must we question Tomioka,” Himejima spoke once they left. “Lord Uzui is married with three wives.”

“Yeah but that was before he joined the corps,” Sanemi said “We didn’t know him then, we know Tomioka- barley. He’s a fucking buzzkill and he has a sweet woman that not only married him but slept with him at least once!?”

With those “graceful” last words they parted for the evening.

#shitpost #shitposting #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tomioka giyu x reader #tomioka giyuu #writing fanfics at 3 am #cringe-#no beta we die like men #Giyuu Secret Family AU

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greyjoy-girl · 27 days ago

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Salt and Snow: Part XIV

Summary: After Balon Greyjoy's uprising fails, a young Theon Greyjoy is taken to Winterfell as a ward and hostage. Within the castle's looming stone walls, he meets Lord Stark's bastard daughter, a sharp-eyed girl who seems to look straight through him. As the years pass, their shared loneliness transforms their childhood rivalry into a complicated bond forged from shared loneliness and feelings of isolation. As tensions rise in Westeros, war breaks out and Theon is pulled between Pyke and Winterfell, testing the strength of their bond.

Pairing: Theon Greyjoy x Snow! Reader

18+, minors DNI

Warnings: Ohhh boy. Ramsay Bolton is fully in the picture now, this chapter contains descriptions/mentions of torture, beatings, unwanted sexual advances. Also descriptions of mental health stuff, including depersonalization and self loathing.

Length: 2.3k words

Notes: I am trying to speed through this arc while still preserving the outline I had for the story. It's necessary for the development, but I honestly cannot write a lot of this stuff. It's too much body horror (I cannot deal with teeth stuff or genital mutilation) and the trauma stuff is just hard to write. Hoping to finish with the Boltons in <4 chapters. My original outline had the story as 1/3 before Ramsay to establish the relationship, 1/3 during to have some character development, and 1/3 after for healing. I think it's going to end up being more 1/1 before, 1/4 during, and 2/4 healing because I don't want to write for Theon without some major healing.

Masterlist

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━─━────༺Part XIV༻────━─━

299 AC— Early Autumn, The Dreadfort

Three, maybe four, days had passed since you’d arrived. The days blend together in the cold, grey light of the Dreadfort. A fitting name, you think. The air always smells faintly of blood and the chamber they put you in is never warm, no matter how close you sit to the hearth.

They tell you you’re not a prisoner.

Lord Roose Bolton had said so himself, pale and wraithlike in his high-backed chair, during your single meeting the day you arrived. He asked you questions you didn’t know the answers to, about Theon, Bran and Rickon, Winterfell.

“You are a guest,” he’d said as he finished their conversation. “But until we can be certain of your loyalties, you’ll have to excuse our precautions.”

And with that, they’d shut you in a room. Two guards stand outside your door at all hours, there to “help” you with any needs, but really just to ensure you stay inside.

So, you wait.

Sometimes, servants come in, always mute. A young girl with a tray of food, a sour-smelling old woman who dumps buckets of lukewarm water in the tub. No one would tell you what time it was. No one would you anything. You stop asking after the second day.

A knock comes when you least expect it. Three sharp raps. The door opens before you can reach it.

Ramsay Snow steps in like he owns the world.

He wears black and pink now, having abandoned his rags, his black hair still greasy but now brushed. His hands are covered in soft leather gloves. There’s something on his lips that you think is a smile, but it doesn’t reach his cold eyes.

“My lady,” he says, mock-gallant and bowing deeply. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

Confused, you don’t respond. He steps closer to you.

“I meant to welcome you at Winterfell, you see, Prince Greyjoy had promised you to me.” Your stomach tightens at the mention of Theon. Had he really thrown you away, planned to give you to this man?

“Unfortunately, things turned… messy.” He sighs theatrically, like a man burdened by others’ failures. “You must be scared. New place, new faces. I remember what that’s like.”

He pauses, studying your face. “You know, we have something in common, you and I. We’re both bastards, born wrong, raised wrong. Never quite wanted.”

You flinch at that. You hadn’t told him anything about you, you’d made sure to keep quiet around him, but he knows anyways. He gives you a sickly-sweet smile. “I’m sorry I lied,” he continues, voice softer now. “About being Reek, I mean. I just wanted to know who I could trust. It’s a dangerous world, you understand that.”

You step back, dig your nails into your palms.

He smiles again, meaty lips twisting into a strange shape. “You’re quiet. Good, you’re a good girl. I like good little girls. But I do wish you’d look at me when I’m talking.”

You turn your eyes to him fast, just fast enough to see his face change. You don’t, however, see the hand that connects with your face.

Your head snaps sideways. Pain blooms across your head and blood trickles from your lip. You can taste the blood. Tears spring to your eyes, whether from shock or fear you’re not quite sure.

He leans in, voice low and almost tender. “There, there. That’s better, you cry so prettily. I don’t like when people try to be brave, it spoils the game.”

He brushes a thumb across your cheek. “There’s no need to be afraid, sweet lady,” he whispers as he heads back to the door. “Not yet.”

Then, he walks out, whistling a soft tune as if nothing had happened at all. You stay standing in your spot long after he leaves.

═══════════════

There are no windows in the dungeons. No sky to mark the hours. The hours crawl in circles.

They’d taken his clothes first, put him in rags. Then his boots. Then his dignity. But they haven’t taken everything. Not yet.

The stone floor is always wet. Piss and stale water, he hopes, he doesn’t want to think about what else there is. No one ever comes to clean it. Iron chains bite into his wrists, rubbing them raw. The only light is from a torch outside his cell, just outside his reach.

Sometimes it’s there. Sometimes it’s not.

The stump where he’d once had little finger always hurts. The bastard had flayed the skin from it, whittled it down over countless hours, forced him to beg for days to take it off. Ramsay had snapped the joint out like a chicken bone. Theon still remembers the pop it made.

Next, it was his left ring and forefingers. His hand is useless now, warped and horrible. Rot had set in, black and fetid. He tries not to look at it.

But he’s still alive. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

The bastard is careful. Always takes just enough to remind him who he had been, and who he no longer was.

I am Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon, Prince of the Iron Islands.

Sometimes, he repeats it aloud. Tries to convince himself.

Liar. He’s a liar.

Footsteps. Slow. He doesn’t lift his head.

Not Ramsay. Ramsay walks heavy, drags his feet when he steps.

A key turns. The cell door groans open.

“You’re still breathing,” a cold voice calls. “Good.”

Roose Bolton. Theon forces his head up. “L-lord Bolton.” His throat is dry and his lips are cracked. His voice is strange now, doesn’t feel like him.

Roose steps inside the cell, unbothered by the filth on the flood. “Still breathing,” he repeats. “Good.”

He said it like he was talking about livestock.

Theon tries to smile, but his face doesn’t respond. “I’m—I’m worth something. To Robb. Or the Greyjoys, please, you know that.”

Roose hums. “Perhaps, if they care enough.” He steps closer. “Do you still think yourself a prince, Theon Greyjoy?”

Theon says nothing.

“My bastard is many things. Unpleasant, yes, but he has his uses.”

“You let him do this to me,” Theon rasps, shifting around on the floor. “You let him—”

Roose cuts him off with a look, cold eyes killing the words on Theon’s tongue.

“I allow him to damage you,” Roose says. “Not destroy you. You are still my guest, and one of certain value.”

Guest. Theon would laugh.

Is she another guest in the castle? Had he doomed her to the same fate as him.

Theon raises his eyes. “She…” he trails off as Roose tilts his head. No use in asking. He has no right.

After a moment, Roose turns to leave. At the gate of the cell, he pauses. “My bastard may visit you again. He grows… restless.”

Theon’s breath catches. “If he takes anything else, it will be with my leave. Consider what that means.”

And then he was gone, purple cloak trailing behind him into the darkness.

Theon sits there, slumped, chained, staring at the door.

He counts his fingers. Just to be sure.

Seven.

Still worth something.

═══════════════

The beatings have become a routine over the past weeks. The first few had been warnings, slaps that left bruises, but now, Ramsay has no reason to pretend anymore, nothing to hide, since Roose had gone back to the Twins. Punches to your stomach, kicks to your ribs. A few times, he’d even cut you. Nothing too obvious, nothing fatal, but enough to remind you of your place. Here, you’re not a person. You’re a toy.

Sometimes, he sends the maester to “care” for you after his violence. The bandages are always too tight, but never clean, and the salves sting more than they should. He likes to watch you flinch, stands in the corner while you shiver in your dirty smock letting the maester “inspect” you. As if the injuries aren’t evident enough on their own.

You hate his touch, but his whispers are the worst. Low and mocking, always some disgusting thought designed to hurt.

Today, like so many other days, you are kept in your room. The silence weighs heavy on you. You wonder if you’re even alive anymore, or if maybe you’d died long ago and your body just kept going without you.

The door swings open. It’s Ramsay, again. He’s brought one of his gifts. Wilting flowers and a new dress. Same as always. He likes to dress you up and parade you like his lady, before beating you bloody and laughing. The dress is loose and the fabric is thin, offering no protection from the cold. “Oh,” he simpers. “My poor sweet thing. You’ve lost weight, aren’t you getting enough to eat?” He smiles, taking you by the arm and leading you out.

The only time you leave your chambers is for these little performances, Ramsay offering you crumbs from old meals, making a show of dabbing your mouth. Sometimes, Ramsay shares news with you, though you think he means it as another torment. Today, it’s about Robb and his new bride. “Your brother’s made a grave mistake, sweet thing,” he remarks joyfully. “Did you know that? Betraying a promise to the Freys, there’s no coming back from that.”

You make a show of looking scared. He likes when you’re scared, when you cry. Holding it in just makes him push harder. He touches your face. You flinch. “Oh, my lady, you wound me,” he laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. I wonder, why didn’t you marry? Pretty little thing like you, you’d’ve have made a lovely bride. Not my first choice, but a lovely bride nonetheless.”

The words are cutting and he knows it. He wants to remind you that you’re his property, he’s taken your body, your choices, your future.

The silence stretches between you. Your mind wanders, it’s been doing that more often, taking you to safer places, happier times.

Today, you think of Theon.

He'd left you behind so many times, thrown you away every chance he got. He should have just left you the first time and let you keep your memories, but he had to ruin those too. Now, you can’t even look back on them for comfort. Who cares if he’s alive. Not you. He certainly doesn’t care if you are.

Ramsay grabs your throat. “It’s rude to be so distracted at dinner. What else do you have to think about?” He tightens his grip. You gasp.

“You should be grateful I take care of you,” he whispers, pulling you closer. “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.” He presses a kiss to your temple and releases your neck.

He stands, pulls you up by your arm. “You must be tired, let’s get you to your room. You need to rest, sweet thing.” He leads you back, shuts the door and clicks the lock shut.

You are alone. Everyone you’ve ever known is far away, dead, dying. You crawl to your bed and let yourself cry, really cry.

═══════════════

The pain is dull now. Not gone, just dull. Numbed by the filth and exhaustion. Theon might’ve passed out at some point. Or maybe that was earlier. It’s all fog. Everything is.

Something’s missing again.

Toes, that’s right, toes. Two of them.

He remembers the sound, like wet branches crunching underfoot.

He might’ve screamed. He doesn’t remember, but the hoarseness in his throat tells him he did.

His cheek is pressed to the floor, something wet underneath. Blood, maybe. He doesn’t look. Doesn’t move. He’s not supposed to move.

Across the room, a chair creaks under Ramsay’s shifting weight. “You’ve taken well to silence,” he says, voice casual and content. “I do miss the whimpering though,” he sighs. “You used to be so loud.”

Another creak. He’s being watched. Don’t move.

“You’ll be happy to know,” Ramsay continues, “my father has plans. For the Young Wolf. You were like an older brother to him, no?”

He doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be at this point. He knows he’s not Theon Greyjoy, but he’s nothing else. He’s a nothing-thing. Ache and absence shivering in the dark.

“It’s only natural, you know. One brother must die for the other to thrive, do you think you’ll thrive here?”

Theon twitches. Ramsay sees it. He always sees. “Ah, good. You are still with me.”

Ramsay leans forward in his chair, examining him. He smiles. “I dress her up sometimes, you know. Gave her a necklace, black pearls. Goes well with the bruises. You’d like it” He laughs.

Theon tries not to react. Fails.

“You know, I could arrange a reunion,” the bastard says in a mock-thoughtful tone, though Theon can tell he’s seriously considering it. “Dress her up pretty, bring her down here? She’d stare at you with those big, sad eyes, I wonder what she’d think? You were her prince once, weren’t you?”

The chair scrapes as Ramsay stands, approaching him. He twitches. Ramsay grins. He knows he’s getting to him. “Then again, she might not even recognize you. Do you think she’d still want you now? Your pretty mouth bloody and your fingers gone?”

The silence stretches. Theon curls up a little tighter. “She’ll need comfort soon,” he whispers. “Someone to take your place. Be cruel to keep her waiting so long, I think.”

Ramsay turns to leave, pausing at the door. “She’ll visit soon. It’ll do you both good to remember your place.”

The door slams shut with a groan. Theon closes his eyes tight, trying to push her face from his mind, but her memory clings, stubborn and raw. All he can do is wait, shivering in the dark, a creature hollow and ruined.

He wonders if she’ll hate him as much as he hates himself. Wonders if it even matters anymore.

═══════════════

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#theon greyjoy #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #theon #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf x you #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #theon greyjoy x reader #theon x reader #got x reader #got

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kazumist · 2 years ago

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EPISODE 7 ★ FUZZY FEELING

FAKE IT TILL WE MAKE IT — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU

masterpost / prev ep / next ep / timestamps don't matter

scaramouche must have been crazy.

seriously? a date? it was the last thing you expected! however, if you were going to pretend to be a couple, going on dates is actually a given. and like you said in your message to him:

we both have to suck it up.

even if that means having your first date with the guy you hate.

luckily enough, the awkward ride to the aquarium ended faster than you expected. but now that you’re here, how does one enjoy an aquarium date anyway? or what does one even talk about on their first date in general?

these were the questions running through both of your heads as you mindlessly wandered around.

“hey,” scaramouche starts.

“hmm?”

“this fish looks a lot like childe for some reason.”

when you turned to look at what he was looking at, you seriously had to hold back a loud laugh. because why does the fish actually look like childe? “that’s a clownfish, right?” you ask him.

“you know about these things?”

“not really; i just watched finding nemo back then as a kid.”

“oh wait, here’s the description. yeah, it’s a clownfish, and it seems like even their description fits childe even more,” scaramouche says, pointing his head at a podium nearby with his hands inside his pockets.

“clownfish are active and territorial fish with an erratic swimming pattern who sometimes appear to be doing acrobatics while defending the area around their anemone," you read aloud. “see? it fits him perfectly.”

“are you saying childe seems to do acrobatics sometimes?”

“no, i’m saying that he’s way too hyper for his own good.”

“isn’t that supposed to be venti, though?”

“they’re practically the same kind; does it really matter who is who?”

you laugh at his response.

maybe this isn’t so bad. just maybe.

with the sun almost setting, your little trip to the aquarium ends, and you both decide to stop by a cafe on the way home.

but unfortunately, the awkward tension comes back.

what now? are you supposed to say, “hey, i had fun today,” and just move along? are you supposed to ask, “so how did the date go for you? did you have fun like i did?” you couldn’t find the right words to say, but you couldn’t stand this awkward atmosphere either.

“i… kinda had fun today.”

can this guy read minds or something?

"likewise."

time flew by faster than you expected, and now you were walking out of the cafe with scaramouche. “thanks for today, even though i was kinda against it at first,” you said.

“i hope you realize that we have to do this often if we really want to be convincing.”

“yeah, yeah, i get it. give me a break. who would’ve thought that i would be going on a date with you, of all people?”

“why do you sound so icked by the thought of going out with me?” he rolled his eyes.

“because i am icked by it, smart ass.”

“says the one who equally enjoyed the day like i did?”

“sorry, my pride is too high to make me admit that i actually enjoyed your company.”

he shakes his head at your response. how very… likely of you to say such a thing.

“i guess this is goodbye, then?” scaramouche asks.

“yeah. why? do you not want the day to end?”

“don’t put words into my mouth.”

“you didn’t really deny it, you know.”

“why are you like this?”

“why shouldn’t i be like this?”

from your peripheral vision, you could see a familiar sight of blue-ish white hair as well as a blonde walking nearby. since they didn’t really know that this wasn’t real, you acted out of impulse. but what did you do exactly?

you kissed scaramouche on the cheek and waved him goodbye, just like that.

extra notes.

i didn't expect this chapter to be so long uhm idk im 50/50 on the narrations bc deadass it was hard 2 write for me ... OTL

theyre kinda getting close! emphasize on kinda though

more silly little romance in the next chapter haha pls stay tuned

synopsis.

what happens when scaramouche, your rival since the first year of highschool, had some annoying admirers on his back? easy—he (fake) dates you to shoo them off. nothing can possibly go wrong with faking a relationship with the guy you hate, right?

spoiler: apparently, a lot can go wrong.

taglist (open): @niiheng @yinyinggie @ilyuu @veekoko @motherscrustytoenailclippings @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @akairaindrops @kichiyoshi @lxkeeeee @user11918163805279 @sketcheeee @yukiipc @kyouzki @quokkatss @ynverse @yuyumaru @danhenglovebot @sheep-from-rad @gekkow @aeongiies @scararaw @beriiov @thenightsflower @simpforsubmissivemen @sakurapeach @akxtagawaxryxn0sxke @naheana @supernova25 @mitsu-moshi @yelleloww @kiyomi-hoku @kazemiya @theblueblub @lazy-sanns

#( smau — fake it till we make it ! )#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smau #wanderer smau #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin smau #x reader

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captain-mj · 2 years ago

Text

Angels of Digitalism

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Roach hummed and messaged. “Want to come back to my place?”

Soap blushed immediately. “Sure. I’d love to.” He went to say something else before seeing the waitress grab the card, immediately pouting. “Are you sure you can pay for it?”

“She already has my card!” Roach shook his head, exasperated. “Don’t worry about it.”

Soap huffed but nodded. They went home together and Roach put his hand on Soap’s back and opened the door to the hotel room.

“Huh. What a gentleman.” That Scottish accent sounded sinful. Roach wanted to bite him.

They moved closer to each other and Roach trailed his fingers over Soap’s arm. Soap swallowed thickly.

“Drink?” Luckily the sign was pretty simple and it seemed Soap had already picked up on it because he responded.

“Yeah. Hope you don’t mind I’m picking, but you have Scotch?”

Roach turned around, staying rather close. His back temporarily pressed against Soap’s chest before he left to make him a glass. Two fingers. No ice because Roach hadn’t grabbed any from the ice machine lately.

They brushed hands when Roach set it in his hands. A bold part of him wanted to be bold. Sit in his lap. Something stupid and crazy that the shy person always did in fanfiction.

Instead, he tentatively sat next to him. He was a celebrity. Almost anyone would be throwing themselves at him. Instead the tension was just so high he felt like he could explode with it. Maybe he could try touching him. When Ghost wanted someone, he put his hand on their inner thigh and leaned in, putting all of their attention on him.

Maybe it would work on Soap?

Roach went to touch him but Soap perked up before he had a chance. “You have a nintendo? What games do you have?”

The man had his celebrity crush practically presenting to him on a silver platter and he wanted to play a video game.

They played six rounds of mario kart and Roach beat him every time. By a while.

“What the fuck.” Soap whispered to the second place spot on the screen.

Roach smiled at him and stuck his tongue out.

“You little.” Soap lunged at him, grabbing him and pinning him down. Roach gasped and immediately started laughing. He threw his head back and his mask came undone. Soap looked away immediately but Roach just slipped it off the rest of the way and dropped it on the floor. He grabbed Soap’s face and pulled him back to look at him.

The kiss was perfect. Tasted like Scotch. Soap had just a small amount of stubble that contrasted the soft feeling of his lips.

Roach pulled him in to deepen the kiss, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Soap’s tongue ran over his bottom lip and he quickly opened it to let him in.

The whole situation felt shockingly sensual. Soap had all of his attention so squarely on Roach. He pulled back to look over him, eyes lingering over his lips and then back up to his eyes.

His door clicked open and it was quite literally the worst moment of Roach’s entire life up until this point.

Ghost’s voice. Thick and rough and full of Manchester. “Hey, Gary. Hope you don’t mind I took you up on the offer to come over. Just…” He trailed off, awkwardly staring back at the two.

Maskless.

Ghost didn’t have his mask on.

All three of them realized at the same time but no one moved besides Soap who quickly covered his eyes.

“I didn’t see anything. Promise.”

Ghost grabbed his jacket and brought it up to his nose. “Sorry, Roach. Didn’t know you had company…”

Roach wanted to die. He wanted to explode and die. Yeah, he wanted to get over Ghost and this felt like divine punishment, but he didn’t want to shove this in the guy’s face.

Soap got up and pulled his jacket back on. “Maybe I should go. I am so sorry I….” He was gone before Roach could remind him that he drove them. Hopefully he could get an uber. Roach would paypal him some money later for the trip.

Ghost stood there, just staring.

A worse kind of tension.

Roach started to sign. “What made you come in here? Everything okay?”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry for messing up your date.” Ghost turned around to leave.

Roach grabbed his sleeve and tugged him. He frowned up at him and signed again. “You alright?”

Ghost gently removed himself and his eyes crinkled like he smiled. Roach had a feeling he was faking it. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. I really am sorry for messing up your date.”

He left and Roach quietly cleaned up. He shot a message to Soap to make sure he got home safe and then went inside.

Ghost felt… Well. He certainly felt.

Seeing Roach with someone else was… new. Certainly. He tried to not feel upset over it. It was dumb to feel jealous of his best friend.

But it had to be him?? The cute artist Ghost was trying to flirt with? It was his fault for not saying something sooner. Plus, it was probably for the best. He didn’t want anything long term and this would make Roach happy.

As long as he would be happy.

Ghost went to work the next morning on his bike instead of riding with Roach. He showed up late so he could sit in the parking lot alone for a few minutes. The cigarette was nice. Good flavor and the smoke perked him up.

Then Soap was there. Coffees already in hand. “Wanted to get it before I came in today.”

Ghost looked at the coffee silently before sitting up. He turned around and put his hand on Soap’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “Listen to me careful.”

Soap’s eyes widened and he was blushed brightly. “Yes?”

“You treat Gary respectfully and like a person. I don’t care that he’s a celebrity. If you guys are going to go out, you’re going to treat him right.”

Soap blinked and gasped a little. He smiled, trying to recover from whatever epiphany he just had. “Of course. Yeah, I’ll treat him right for you.”

For me?

Ghost nodded. “Good. Ever catch you being a dick, I’ll snap you in half.”

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littlelalu · 8 months ago

Text

Bookstore | Ben Plunkett (Milo Manheim)

The wind picked up as I walked down the street to a small bookstore. It looked like a storm was coming—dark clouds, wind, and slight thunder. I hope I don’t catch the rain until I get there. I just desperately needed some time away from my family. My parents and I moved here about 2 weeks ago, and they have been with me almost every second I am home. I haven’t made friends, so the only option I have is to go alone to places, or with my parents.

After following Siri's directions on my phone, I found the bookstore. The bell above the door chimed softly as I entered. As I started to explore the place, all I could think was, “Wow. This place looks like a maze!”. Shelves towered high, crammed with books waiting to be discovered. I may have found my favorite place to go on a Friday night.

Lost in my thoughts, I rounded a corner and collided with someone. I looked up and saw a tall guy whose brown eyes looked worried.

“Oh my gosh. I-I'm so sorry.” He stuttered, still looking guilty.

“It’s fine. It was my fault too. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” I said with a shy smile. He smiled back. He’s cute.

Before he could say anything else, a girl showed up beside him. Maybe his girlfriend? Not sure.

“Did he bump into you? I am sorry about him. He’s too clumsy.” She laughed

I giggled. The guy playfully rolled his eyes at her.

“I’m Maddie. This is my best friend, Ben!” She said, pointing at him.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” I said shyly.

Maddie’s phone began to ring. “Oh, I’m sorry, I gotta take this. It's Graham.” She said, She quickly went outside to take a call.

“So... Y/N… Are you new here?” He asked awkwardly.

“Yeah. I just moved here a couple of weeks ago.” I replied with a smile.

“Well…. Welcome to Seattle. It’s not the best, but you’ll get used to it,” he said, making me laugh.

“Ha-ha, I’ll try. Do you come here often? I asked him.

“Yes. Maddie and I come here every Friday. Then we catch a movie and eat some waffles after.”

“Sounds like fun!” I said. Maddie came back inside.

“Graham needs me. I must go. I’m so sorry." She said to Ben.

"Maddie, you’re going to blow off our plans?” Ben asked

“Just today, I promise.” She looked at me and then back at Ben. “Maybe Y/N can keep you company today.” She said, winking at Ben and me.

I saw Ben’s cheeks turn a slight shade of pink.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Maddie said as she left the bookstore.

Ben looked at me with a nervous smile. “Okay… Umm... Y/N. I do have a question for you that I wanted to ask. Do you want to hang out with me tonight? If you want to, of course. As new friends, nothing else. Only if you’re okay with it.“ He said nervously.

“I would love to, Ben. What would you like to do?” He smiled when I agreed.

“Great. Do you want to go to the movies, or are you hungry now?”

“I am hungry. I haven’t had dinner yet, and it's almost 8.” I said.

“Oooo you should try the place Maddie and I go to for waffles. It’s delicious.”

“I’m down. Lead the way.”

We headed out of the store. He took me to the blue car that he parked in front of the bookstore. He went to the passenger’s side first to open the door for me. “Get in, malady.” He gestured to the seat.

I laughed at his gesture. “Thank you, kind sir.” He smiled.

He jogged over to his side and got in. He plugged in his phone. “Do you want to listen to anything in particular?”

“Nah. You pick.”

I saw him go on Spotify and click one of his playlists. The first song that played was “My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark” by Fall Out Boy.

I gasped. “Oh my gosh. Do you like Fall Out Boy?”

“Um Duh! Who doesn’t? I saw them last year when they played at the local arena. They are one of my favorite bands.”

“Be careful making wishes in the dark-dark. Can't be sure when they've hit their mark,” I began singing.

“And besides, in the mean-meantime I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart,” Ben continued.

We laughed and continued talking about our love for the band for the rest of the 15-minute car ride.

Ben pulled up to a corner restaurant called ‘Deacon’s Corner’. It had a classy dinner vibe to it.

He parked his car and turned it off. “I got your door.” He got out and came to my side to open the door. He stuck out his hand to help me out.

I grabbed his soft hand. “Thanks, Ben. You’re such a gentleman.”

“I try to be." He winked at me and smiled.

He guided me to the entrance and picked a table out for us. I sat across from him.

“So, besides waffles, what else do you recommend?” I asked.

He thought about it for a second. “Their cheeseburgers, for sure. Want me to order you that? I have to place our order with the cashier,” he said, pointing to the lady at the bar.

“Yes! Can I also get some fries and a Dr. Pepper? Please and thank you.”

He nodded. Ben got up and went up to order.

I have never gone out with a guy alone. It’s not a date, but still. I don’t know how to act or what to talk about. I just met him!

My thoughts were interrupted when Ben came back to our table.

“She said it will be about 20 minutes.” He said.

“That’s fine,” I said.

Ben and I proceeded to tell each other more about ourselves. The more I looked at him as he talked, I realized his stutter wasn’t there as much, nor was he shy anymore. He seemed more chill and happier. When the food came, we switched the topic of talking about our lives to our favorite things like music, shows, books, etc. He is very nerdy, which I love because we have a lot in common.

“Wow, Y/N. You are honestly amazing. I am glad I met you tonight. You made it even better.” He said, acting shy again.

I felt myself blushing slightly. “Same goes for you.” I looked at my phone, and it was 10:30 p.m. “Oh my. It’s getting late. I should head home soon.”

“Let me go pay first.” He said.

“How much was my half?” I asked

“Don’t worry about it. I got you.”

“Ben, no! Let me help you, please."

“Nah. You already made my Friday night better anyway," he said and got up to go pay.

He came back, and we headed out back to the car.

I gave him my address so that he could take me home. We jammed out again for the next 10 minutes until we got to my house.

“Thank you for tonight, Ben. This was probably the first day that I had fun since I got here.” I laughed slightly.

“No problem, Y/N. Thanks for keeping me company last minute.” He joked.

“Hahaha. You’re welcome. Bye, Ben,” I said as I got out the door.

I was beginning to make my way to my front door when I heard a car door shut. I turned around, and it was Ben.

“Y/N wait!” He said and walked over to me.

I looked up at his brown eyes. “Yes?”

He sighed. “Umm... I-I have never felt so comfortable with someone this fast. I can easily talk to you. I enjoyed being with you.” He looked nervous and was blushing again. “So... I l-like you and wanted to know if, umm maybe you wanted to go out again sometime? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t want to ruin what we have. As friends, of course! I am sorry I didn’t mean – “

“Ben, it's fine. I like you too. I would love to go out with you again,” I said as I cut him off from his rambling.

“Really?” He asked.

I smiled and nodded. He took his phone out for me to put my number in. I handed the phone back to him.

“Good night, Y/N,” he said.

“Good night, Ben,” I said. He pulled me into a hug. He smelled great. His cologne made me instantly melt.

As we pulled away, I looked up at him again, and he looked down at me. Our gazes made me get butterflies in my stomach. It felt like the world stopped around us and it was just us two. He put one hand on my cheek, leaned down, and kissed me. I kissed back almost instantly. His soft and warm lips are on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his hands moved down to my waist. He pulled away after a minute (or two), leaving my lips wanting more.

Our arms are still around each other. Just looking at each other with a goofy smile. “I have been wanting to do that but wasn’t sure if it would ruin things between us.” He said.

“It was the perfect moment,” I said with a wink.

He smiled big. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N. Bye,” he said and kissed my cheek.

“See you soon, Ben,” I said and walked into my house.

I quickly walked over to my living room window to see him leave. Ben walked back to his car, happily pumping his fists in the air. I giggle seeing him do so.

________________________________________

Note: Hello again :) I rewatched Prom Pact again and loved seeing a geeky and awkward Milo Manheim character. Have a good night everyone :)

#ben plunkett #disney zombies #milo manheim fan fiction #milo manheim #ryan baker #school spirits #wally clark #zed necrodopolis #prom pact #dancing with the stars

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hannahssimblr · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter Eleven (Part 2)

The thunderstorm is in full power outside by the time the party reaches its crescendo. Rain beats violently against the windows, and lightning forks across the sky. The sounds of Creedence Clearwater and The Zombies drown out the thunder, but still, I could swear that I can feel it vibrate through my bones. I’ve never been so close to a storm in my life, and as I gaze out of the window, blurry with rain to the flashes in the sky, I have a wild desire to be alone with it. I take a cursory glance around and hope nobody is watching me as I dash up the metal staircase to the next floor.

The lights are off on the upper floor, and as I wander into a room off the hallway, which happens to be a bathroom, I find myself pausing at the window to stare out at the sky. It is magnificent. It’s terrifying. I want to run from it as much as I want to stand beneath it and let the rain soak my clothes to my skin. I climb into the bath just so that I can sit on the rim and watch the sky, and lose all sense of how long I sit for. Long enough to hear the muffled chorus of “Zum Geburtstag Viel Glueck” through the floor. Long enough for the edge of the tub to dig uncomfortably into my legs. Long enough to get the urge to look for this fabled painting studio. I leave the bathroom and make my way back down the hallway, peering into darkened rooms as I pass them, feeling as though I’m doing something against the law.

I crack open the door to Leon’s photography studio after trying several others, and walk inside. I glance around at the equipment, all of the cameras and their lenses. Tripods, different kinds of lighting, the large, white backdrop that’s hung against one wall. What a luxury it must be to have a space like this in your home. I hardly dare to touch any of it, only gently brushing my index finger over the cool metal of one lens, when a deep voice almost makes me rattle out of my skin.

“I’d a feeling I’d find you snooping around somewhere.” Jude stands in the doorway, and my heart kicks into high gear. “Fuck sake.” I wheeze. “You snuck up on me.”

“Sorry.” He says, and steps inside to wander slowly around and look at all of the same things I was looking at.

I brush invisible lint off my clothes, just to have something to do with my hands, and look him over briefly. “It’s very weird to see you in a suit like that.” I remark. “All cleaned up with your hair combed back.”

“Freaky, is it?”

“A bit.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, you look very nice. At least one of us has managed to.”

“I look absolutely mad, it’s alright to say it.”

“She did look a bit mad though, didn’t she? I think you pulled it off fairly well.” He approaches the shelf of cameras and pulls one off, and I say with alarm, “You shouldn’t touch the cameras.”

“It’s fine.” He grins. “It’s my camera.”

“How’s it yours?”

“I come here to photograph my work. Leon has the best setup. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Really?”

“Yes! I swear.” He laughs. “I feel like you don’t believe me.”

“Well, I do.” I say hesitantly. I nod towards the Canon in his hands. “Are you going to take a photograph of me or something?”

“Would you like me to?”

“If you’d like to.”

“Okay, I’d like to.” With his free hand he hauls a wooden bench into the centre of the backdrop and motions for me to sit on it. Then he fiddles with a few of the studio lights to make sure he’s got it set up the way he likes it.

“What should I do?” I ask him.

“You can just relax.” He suggests. “Maybe rest your foot against the bar of the stool, yep, like that, and your hands in your lap. Okay, yeah, just look at me.”

“I’m looking at you.”

“I know, good job.” He snaps a series of photographs while I sit there, stiff as a board. I don’t really know how to relax in front of a camera, I never have. “Maybe a smile?” He proposes.

“Like this?” I tug the corners of my mouth upwards, and feel twice as awkward in doing so. He nods. “Kind of. You don’t need to grimace like that.”

“I’m not grimacing. This is my smile.”

“That’s not your smile, darling. You don’t smile like that.”

A giggle escapes my lips. “What did you just call me?”

He blinks. “I don’t know. What did I say?”

“Darling. As in, lil darlin’” I laugh again, mostly at my abysmal attempt at an American accent, and he rolls his eyes. “That’s not my accent.”

“It is! Ye Haw.”

“Get a grip.” He snickers from behind the lens. “I could easily do a horrible impression of you and see how you feel about it.”

“Do it then.”

His eyebrow quirks up and so does the corner of his mouth. “Jude!” He cries in an accent-perfect midlands soprano. “Did you eat all of the crisps? You’re so greedy. And get your horrible foot away from my back, you’re actually the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

My mouth drops open and I insist that it sounds nothing like me, even though it absolutely does.

“Yeah right.” He says.

“You’ve been practising that in the mirror or something, you creep. You’re obsessed with me.”

“You’re obsessed with me.” He mimics and I almost take off my chunky sandal to toss it at him, but I’m startled by a sudden clap of lighting that slashes across the sky right outside the window, so close that it hits a rod on the building across the street. I snap to look. “Oh my God, wow!”

“Yeah, holy shit, wow.” He says, “I got a photo of that.”

“Of the lightning?”

“No of you looking at it.” He lifts the camera to look at the last batch. “I think these are good.”

“Are they?”

“Yeah, look.” He comes over to show me a series of photos from that quick moment, a flash of white over my face as my mouth falls open in a gasp, eyes wide with wonder. I look stunned, and thrilled, and kind of pretty. Then he scrolls back and shows me more of myself, of me smiling and laughing and pulling faces at him, and they must be the most relaxed photographs of myself that I’ve ever seen.

“Oh.” I whisper. “I like those a lot.I wish I looked like that all of the time.”

“Yeah, I like them too.” He says, “And actually, you do. That’s just how you look to me.” and in that small moment his gaze feels weighted, so much so that goosebumps erupt on my arms as though there’s an electrical current moving beneath my skin. I feel him watching my face, but meeting his eyes feels risky, it’s always felt a bit risky, because I want him so badly that sometimes it makes it hard to breathe. I fear that too much time spent looking at him might drive me to start doing the sorts of things I know I will spend time regretting.

I slide off the seat and wander out of the room.

“Where are you going?” He wants to know.

“To find the art studio.” I reply.

“It’s the next room.” He follows close behind me, and it’s impossible not to feel his presence, even when I can’t see him in the dark hallway. He opens the studio door and I slip in under his arm.

I don’t bother flipping the switch, because the light from outside is enough to allow a blue glow through the huge windows and over the floor. It’s so quiet that I can hear my heart in my neck and my ears. I walk over to the window and stare out over the place where his easel is facing, and through the wet and smears of the glass it’s difficult to see much but blurry lights, but still, I can make out the outline of a row of beautiful old buildings below. A cluster of trees, a castle, which I picture in the heat of summer sunshine, and a lump rises in my throat, because I want a place like more than almost anything. All my fantasies of my life and how it might turn out have included a studio just like this. With these canvases, these easels, these organised racks of paints, and brushes, halfway finished work, destined to be completed another day. I look at it all and I think I might start crying, because it feels like I’ve stepped into a fantasy that will never, never ever turn into reality.

“What are you thinking about?” Jude says softly after several moments, and his footsteps tread lightly behind me. I don’t look around at him. My voice is thick. “About how much I like this studio.”

“It’s pretty spectacular. And the view.”

“Yes, the view is nice. Although, I’m sure it’s nicer when it isn’t raining so much.”

“I like it like this too.” He comes to a stop next to me, and I feel him there, almost touching me, but not. I pat the corner of my eye with the pad of my finger and continue to look out at the sky. “I think that you could have something like this someday.” He says to me, “I think that if you want something really badly you can find a way to have it.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“Hm.”

He waits for me to look at him, and I am afraid to. “Evie,” He says, voice soft.

“Yeah?”

“Can you-”

I look. “What?”

He doesn’t tell me what. He leans into me and brushes his nose gently against mine before kissing me. Once, so lightly, as if testing that I want it. Twice. He draws back and our gazes mesh, and the third time he angles his head and takes my lower lip between his, and my body goes weak. I forgot what it was like to kiss him, in all of his wildness, abandon, and overconfidence, how the stroke of his lips over mine makes me lose all sense of myself and forget who I am.

I wind my fingers into his hair and pull him closer to me, and he holds my head in his hands, and he is perfect and I am lucky, so lucky to be here with him now as the thunder rumbles and the rain pelts against the windows, and his body is warm and his mouth is hot and it feels somehow more dangerous to be in here with him than it would to stand in the path of lightning.

He deepens the kiss, just as I clutch onto him tighter, and the feeling inside me turns desperate. I deserve this, I’ve loved him forever, and I can have this selfish moment if I want it. Maybe I don’t have to tell anyone about it, maybe we’re the only ones that need to know. I let him touch my body and make promises with his mouth and his hands that he can give me all of the things that I want the most, the things I’m too afraid to admit to wanting, the things I shouldn’t. I let myself feel the terror of him taking those things away from me as easily as he can give them to me, and I chase those feelings away with my lips and my tongue as I press into him and tug his lip between my teeth.

He breaks away for a moment while his eyes travel over my face as if looking for a sign that he should stop but I’m not ready for him to. I’ve been waiting years for this, so when he draws my waiting mouth to his again I arch my body into him and encourage him with eager little sounds that seem to knock the air out of him. His hands are trembling yet insistent as they come to seize my hips tightly and pull me against his, hard, so that I can feel him wanting me, but then suddenly, as though I’ve remembered who I am again, my hands grab his wrists in a steel, reflexive grip, and I take a step away from him. He seems confused, and takes an instinctive step towards me as I move away, unable to compute that I have stopped kissing him. I place my hand on his chest to block him.

“We can’t.”

He looks hurt. “Why?”

I stare at him incredulously. “Because of Astrid, obviously.”

His eyes skate across my face, confusion turning to panic as he swallows convulsively. “But I’ve broken up with her now.” He says. “Didn’t you know that?”

“No, I didn’t know that. When?”

“After Christmas.”

My brain feels like it’s functioning at a fraction of its capacity. “So, like, six weeks ago.”

“Yes!”

“After you bled all over my house.”

“It’s the first thing I did when I got back, I thought-”

“And you didn’t think to mention it at any point?” I turn away from him and catch sight of myself in the black window, and I look wild, hair out of place, lipstick completely gone and a bright blush across my cheeks. How long were we kissing?

Jude’s reflection stares at mine. “We’ve been out of touch.” He says. “We could never find a moment to call one another, Evie, I wanted to tell you, but there just wasn’t the right time, you were always in a rush, or I was too busy, and then, I dunno, I suppose after a while I started assuming that you’d heard it through the grapevine.”

“The grapevine.” I repeat, glaring at him. “What’s the grapevine? Shane Healy’s mouth? What on earth would he tell me that for? He doesn’t even tell me how his mother is.”

He spears a hand into his hair. “I’m sorry, I should have tried harder to tell you about it, but I didn’t want to scare you off, or make you think that it was your fault or something. Maybe I was in my head too much, but sending a random text to you on a Tuesday being like ‘So I broke up with Astrid’ seemed a bit too purposeful, a bit like I expected something from you. I don’t know.”

Ripples of fear and longing travel over my skin. “Well, did you break up with her because of me?”

His expression is tortured. “We were doing badly for a long time. We broke up over a year ago, firstly, because I was being a shit, and I couldn’t give her what she needed, and then after a few months we got back together, but it was always rocky from there, it never felt right, we always fought, in the end it just felt inevitable, and, well…” He trails off.

“And?” I prompt.

“And I… yeah, I had feelings for someone else.”

“For me.” The words don’t come out, exactly. I end up just mouthing them.

“Come on, Evie, I’ve always liked you. You know that. I always wondered about you when we were apart, I always thought about what would’ve happened if I’d never left. When I saw you again and I still felt all those things, well, honestly it felt a bit insane to be with someone else. Even last year, when we weren’t talking, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. All the time, like, there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about you. Every time I saw someone who reminded me of you, or something that I knew that you’d laugh at, I knew that the things I felt about Astrid weren’t the same, it wasn’t right, nor was it fair, so I ended things.”

“But then you got back together?” I glare at him.

“Yeah, I had a bad year, stuff happened with Jen, I felt isolated, I felt like shit, and then I met Astrid again at a party and…” He shrugs. “She was familiar, and I still had feelings for her so it just felt like a normal thing to do. Our breakup seemed kind of stupid for a while. Honestly, I was wondering what had gotten into me when I did it, and then I saw you again, and…” he trails off. “Well, I thought that you felt the same way as I do.”

I take a deep breath, palms tingling. “This is a lot to take on.” I say.

“I know.”

“I can’t help but think about how I’m just another one of your single friends, and now that you’re lonely-”

“It’s not like that at all.”

“But this is just what you do, you kiss your friends just because you can.” I don’t know why I’m saying these things, because every word appears to have the same effect on him as if I were slapping him in the face, but I can’t stop them from pouring out. Perhaps I just want him to disprove them or to validate me, or convince him that only foolish men like girls like me. He’s too clever for this.

“That was when I was a teenager. I’m an adult man now and this isn’t just an experiment. I’m in love with you” He says. “and like, for some reason you think that nobody in their right mind could ever love you, but I do. I really do. I can’t ever get you out of my head, I just think about how much I want you every time I look at you, and how scared I am of what I feel about you, but I love you. Not in a friend way. In an ‘I want you to be my girlfriend’ kind of way, and I can’t imagine wanting that with another person, with, like, anybody but you, and it’s not because I’m single and I’m lonely or that you’re in some way convenient to me, I loved you when I had Astrid and when you had Dean, but the time was never right, and now I think that it could be, so why not just… see?”

He stands there, completely vulnerable, and waits for me to say something to him, but I can’t. My mind is swirling with ancient insecurities, ones buried deep in my psyche, the ones that I never let out of me because they batter my self-confidence, smash it to pieces and remind me that I’m not enough for him, even if he foolishly believes that I am. I will disappoint him. What happens if I tell him that I feel the same? Where do we go from there? How do I be his girlfriend, how do I do the things he wants me to do? What? Hold his hand in public and have all of his friends think about how he left a six foot tall goddess for someone like me, have them say amongst themselves that he really downgraded and wonder what it is that’s so special about Evie Kilbride when he could have anybody. They’ll all learn, as he will eventually, that I have nothing to offer but failed promises and unfulfilled expectations, and joke later about that big mistake he made once while he holds another beauty queen in his arms. I think of that summer day in Kelly’s mobile home, and how she stared at me with amused contempt, as though the idea of him ever wanting me was hilarious because I’ll never be able to impress him, or give him the things he wants and expects from a girl. I won’t know how to be. I will ruin this like I’ve ruined everything else, and I will be the biggest mistake he’s ever made.

“My God, Evie, please say something.” He says desperately.

“Did you tell Astrid that you broke up with her because of me?”

He stares at me like I’m crazed. “What?”

“Does she know about how you feel?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” He drags a trembling hand through his hair and it all tumbles forward, free of the hold of the styling gel. “I’m not sure why that’s important to you at this moment.”

“She doesn’t seem to like me.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #this is the one #the most dramatic chapter #i love this moment so much

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holylulusworld · 2 years ago

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Not a queen - Prologue

Summary: You are no one. What if fate makes you queen?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Maid!Reader x Nick (Fowler) Barnes

Warnings: heavy angst, dystopian world, modern royal au, secrets,

This series takes place in the Two kings universe. I recommend to read this story first to understand this universe better. This story starts around 1 year before the wedding in arc 1 - Two kings

This is the 2nd arc to this: Of Kings and Queens Arcs

Not a queen (Arc 2) masterlist

The world is going to change. You can feel it. The wind told you so.

Of course, you can’t tell anyone about your dreams, and that the wind talks to you. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your head down. It’s the only thing you can do.

In this world the royal reign, and the normal people serve. Humanity got thrown back to the dark age when the war of the second sons destroyed the modern world.

“Y/N, stop daydreaming,” the elder maid tuts. Ruth is a nice old hag, always having your back. “We got to clean the prince’s chamber and the library. Then we are done for the day.”

“Hmm…” you nod. It’s almost the weekend, and you will get away from the castle for two days, relax and enjoy not scrubbing the floor or changing bed sheets. “Do you want me to clean the library or the chamber?”

“You already cleaned the kitchen. I’ll take care of the library, sweetie. You can take care of the prince’s chamber. Maybe you’ll get a glimpse of Prince Bucky too,” she gives you a wink.

“No-I,” you shrug. “He doesn’t even know I exist. Most of the time the royals pass us by without even noticing someone else is around. They live in a different world.”

“You never know, Y/N. Prince Bucky is a fine young man,” she says. “If you come out of your shell once in a while, you’ll see he will talk to you.”

“I don’t think so. Some months ago, I tried to talk to him and he ignored my question because that red-haired girl was around.”

“Natasha Romanoff?” Ruth huff. “She’s going to marry Lord Barton’s son. Romanoff is not interested in our prince.”

“Ruth, please. How could a prince ever be into me?”

“A girl can dream. Right?” she pats your cheek. “You’re a cute and smart girl. Kind too. A man would be blind to not see you.”

“Phew…done,” you sigh as you look around the prince’s chamber. Everything is clean, his clothes are in the hamper, and you even picked up the books he carelessly dropped to the floor. “Weekend, I’m coming.”

You’re spinning around, giggling as you will have the next two days off. “Having fun?” someone chuckles behind your back. The prince stands in the doorframe, watching you, a smug grin on his face.

“Sorry. I was just…” you trail off. “I just finished your room. I’ll go now, your highness.” You hurriedly grab your broom, dustpan, and bucket. “Have a great day.”

“Mouse, why the hurry?” he cocks his head as you try to brush past him. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“My shift is over. I got a long way home and want to arrive home before it gets dark. I don’t have knights around to protect me,” you quip, making the prince chuckle.

He quirks a brow as you walk past him and out of the room. You run off when he calls for you again. It’s not your job to keep him company or let him make fun of you.

You hurriedly make your way out of the castle, hoping to arrive home before the rain pouring down soaks your clothes.

It’s the worst day to forget your umbrella. “Oh no,” you crouch down to pick up the book the prince just dropped. You wonder how he can be here. Not moments ago, you bumped into him in his chamber. “Your Highness!”

You harrumph as he once again, ignores your existence. He doesn’t turn around but rather runs inside the castle to escape the rain.

“What…shit,” you turn around to walk back inside the castle. If you don’t return the book, someone might think you stole it.

Walking a little faster to make sure you can leave before the rain gets even worse you make your way toward the prince’s chamber. You take a deep breath and knock.

“Your Highness? You dropped the book outside,” you don’t wait for him to answer and step inside the chamber. “Your Highness? It’s me…uh…the mouse.”

“Mouse?”

The book slips out of your hands. “Your Highness?” you swallow thickly as not one prince but two, looking the same, stare at you with wide fearful eyes. “I-I didn’t want to interrupt. You dropped the book and…”

“It’s the maid I told you about, Nick.”

You step back when one of the men walks toward you. “We can’t let her go, Bucky. She will get us killed. What if she runs right to the council?”

“I won’t say a word,” you whimper. “Please.”

“Aw, mouse,” Bucky whispers lowly as he wraps his hand around your wrist, “you shouldn’t have entered the room…”

>> Part 1

Tags in reblog.

#nick fowler #bucky barnes #prince!bucky #prince!nick #angst #royal au #dystopian au #Not a queen - Prologue #bucky barnes x reader #nick fowler x reader

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0ccvltism · 1 year ago

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Pilot (Part 2)

Dean leaned against the side of the car, staring up at Sam’s bedroom window as they waited – as the youngest Winchester went back inside to pack his things and grab Kayleigh's bag – and the silence was deafening. She sat on the trunk of the car, picking under her nails with a knife she'd snagged from the organized chaos of his mobile arsenal.

"You cut a finger off, I'm not takin' you to the ER, you hear me?" Dean shot her way, not taking his eyes off the window. "That thing's sharp, you know."

"Wow, Winchester. Never would have fuckin’ guessed." Kayleigh shot back, lifting her hand up toward one of the nearby streetlights to inspect her nails. He scoffed quietly, shaking his head.

"You wanna tell me why you were camped out on Sammy's sofa?" Dean asked after a few moments of tense silence, his tone just as sarcastic as ever. "Last I knew you were livin' the good life in Oklahoma." He glanced her way, watching her posture go stiff, her expression sour as he added, "What, Prince Charming leave you high and dry in your pretty little condo? Had to start couch surfing?"

"Jasper died back in April." She said shortly. "Been back in Sioux Falls with Bobby – I just came out here to celebrate Sam's LSAT score, moral support for the interview, all that good shit."

Dean was silent for a moment, his stomach dropping. "Sorry to hear that." He finally offered a bit begrudgingly, shifting his weight against the car, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He was, uh –...” That one, he didn’t have a good word for. He hardly remembered meeting Kayleigh’s fiance that evening in Oklahoma, hardly remembered showing up on their doorstep unannounced. Hell, he could barely remember what Sammy had told him that dinner was for, though he seemed to remember it being something about Leigh’s job. He remembered Sam had said that he was going — and he’d been in the area on a job, and made, arguably, the worst decision he could have, a few too many drinks in.

He did remember, at least, that Jasper had been the reasonable one in that entire, shitty situation — how could he forget? He could never forget the white-hot rage and embarrassment as the other man had calmly, jokingly told Sam, “Looks like he pre-gamed this a little too hard - Leigh and I both have to be up early in the morning, so maybe you ought’a take him back to the motel. We weren’t planning on drinking.” He let the silence drag on for a moment, before he spoke again.

“You don’t gotta come with, you know.” He offered, half-hoping that she would take it as the hint that it was. Tonight had already been painfully awkward – he didn’t want to imagine how awkward, how tense, the trip to Jericho would be, let alone any longer than that. Kayleigh had returned to picking at her nails with the knife, albeit more carefully now that she was working with her non-dominant hand.

“Fuck that.” She said plainly. “You’re givin’ me an excuse to deck your Dad the second I see him. ‘Course I’m comin’ along.”

“Guess he’s got that coming.” He couldn’t help it – he let out a laugh in spite of himself, even if, god, it didn’t feel particularly funny. Maybe it was the confidence behind her words that did it, or the plain simplicity of it. “Gonna be a bit cramped in the car,” He attempted again.

“Not takin’ your car. I drove here.” Her tone dripped mild condescension, like she was saying something incredibly obvious. “You think I wanna get stuck in the middle’a fuck knows where with you? Or your Dad for that matter? Nah. ‘M takin’ my car.” She held her hand up to the streetlight once more, squinting up at her nails. God damn, he’d forgotten how stubborn she was – and he was running out of excuses to keep her from coming along. “‘Sides,” She started, her voice a bit softer now. “‘M not lettin’ you drag Sammy back into this by himself. He’s got a life, Winchester.”

He exhaled slowly, scrubbing his hands over his face, offering a terse, “You think I don’t know that?” He shook his head. “You think I wanna be draggin’ him back out there?”

“You had a choice.” She retorted, as if it was the most simple, obvious thing in the world – which, to her, he was sure it was. “Had a lot’a choices you could’a made, Winchester, ‘n you keep makin’ the wrong fuckin’ ones.” That venom, that condescension, was back in her voice, and he hated it, hated it with a passion.

“The hell’s that s’pposed to mean, huh, Leigh?” He demanded. “Who was I gonna call? You? Last time I saw you, you pointed a gun at me. Hell, you did this time, too. Doesn’t exactly put you at the top of the ‘in case of emergencies’ list. Can’t call Bobby, that’s your fuckin’ uncle, ‘n he wanted to shoot Dad last time. I don’t exactly got a lot of options here!” He opened his arms challengingly, the volume of his words increasing as he went.

Kayleigh stared at him – stared at him like he was stupid, like he just wasn’t getting it, and it grated on his nerves like nothing else. She practically slammed the knife down on the trunk, and immediately, his eyes went to the paint, just praying it hadn’t left a scratch. “No, Winchester, you don’t got a lot of options for who to call, and that’s your own damn fault. Hell, I was waitin’ for you to call for months.” His arms slowly lowered to his sides as he realized – this wasn’t about now, had never been about now. “‘N I dunno if you were just so far up your Dad’s ass that you didn’t think to, or if you just didn’t fuckin’ care, ‘cause believe me, I waited, but it’s your own damn fault I’m not on the top’a that fuckin’ list anymore.” She hauled herself up off of the trunk. “It’s your own damn fault that ‘m doin’ this for Sammy ‘n not for you.”

For a moment, Dean was speechless – he couldn’t get a single word out, couldn’t form a single thought – and then the anger was back. The anger that took the place of any sort of logical thought. “That’s what this’s about?” He demanded. “You’re pissed I left? What was I gonna do, huh? Tell Dad he was wrong? He was goin’ back to Montana whether I came with or not. I wasn’t just gonna ditch him and Sammy for some girl!”

He knew, immediately, that he’d gone too far, said the wrong thing, because the anger drained from her face and her posture like a deflating balloon. He hadn’t meant it like that, could never mean it like that, that she was just some girl, but he couldn’t find the words. He wasn’t sure she’d listen even if he could, but he tried anyway: “Leigh, that’s not what I –...”

She let out a humorless laugh, scrubbing her hands over her face, running them through her hair, staring down at the pavement beneath her feet for a moment. “You really got a fuckin’ way with words, Winchester.” She crossed her arms over her chest, glancing back up toward Sammy’s bedroom window. “Didn’t know I was just some girl.” The rest of her sentence was loud and clear, even unspoken – she wasn’t some girl, she’d been his girl. The expression on her face was painfully familiar, and for a moment, he could see her there, not even eighteen years old, standing on Bobby’s front porch in a pair of sweats and his Black Sabbath tee shirt, practically drowning in it, having given up on begging Dad not to go, and instead begging him to stay.

You weren’t, he wanted to tell her, but the words wouldn’t come, and he exhaled slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets once more, and once again, he defaulted to the only thing he knew – deflect, deflect, deflect. “‘S been eight years, Leigh.” Her expression hardened, and he felt his stomach drop.

“Yeah, I know.”

He was saved by the sound of gym shoes across the pavement, by Sam holding up his own bag in one hand, Leigh’s in the other – the younger Winchester opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as Kayleigh strode forward, snatching her bag by the strap, shouldering it without looking at either of them. “You got my keys?” She asked Sam shortly, and he glanced over to Dean questioningly as he fished a set of rather bare keys from his pocket – no keychains, no trinkets, just a single car key and two others – obediently handing them over. She didn’t even thank him, just crossing a few empty parking spots to the Mustang Dean had noticed – and silently admired – on his way in.

“Nice car,” He offered lamely as the lights flashed once as she unlocked it. He was rewarded with a very familiar finger displayed in his direction.

“The hell did you say to her?” Sam demanded, his tone a mixture of awe and horror. “I was gone, what, ten minutes?” He adjusted his grip on his bag, depositing it into the trunk once it was open.

“Just get in the car, Sam.” Dean ordered, slamming the trunk closed – narrowly missing Sam’s fingers in the process – casting a stare over at the Mustang, at Kayleigh, who already had the top down and the radio on, some loud, scream-heavy noise that he hardly thought counted as music.

For a moment, he almost thought she’d reconsider – she was taking an awful long time to get herself settled in her car, and part of him almost hoped she’d changed her mind, that she was driving back home to Sioux Falls, that he could pretend that the last ten minutes – hell, the last hour or two – was just a bad, bad dream. He could just pretend he hadn’t shoved his foot in his mouth, that he hadn’t said some of the worst things he could have said to Kayleigh, hadn’t driven the knife even deeper into a wound he hadn’t even realized was still open, twisted it and poured salt on it for good measure.

No such luck. She finally seemed to get herself settled and comfortable, resting her elbow on the side of the door, leaning over and waving a hand impatiently. “Are we goin’ or not?” She demanded, her voice raised just a bit to be heard over the god-awful noise blasting over the speakers.

Dean stared over the roof of the Impala at her, hand on the door handle, and the childish words slipped out before he could even try to stop them. “You gonna put on some actual music or not?” He mocked, earning himself two middle fingers this time. He couldn’t help but grin – even if it was a mildly rueful, humorless thing, sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling the door closed.

“You gonna tell me what that’s all about?” Sam prompted, glancing out the window toward Kayleigh’s car. “You really pissed her off. Like, really pissed her off.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Dean pulled slowly out of his parking spot, out toward the street, casting a glance at the rearview mirror, making sure Kayleigh was following. “She’ll get over it.” He wasn’t entirely sure she would, but that was her problem, wasn’t it? It certainly wasn’t his. It certainly wasn’t his problem that she’d held onto that anger for eight long years, that she seemed to have no problem continuing to hold onto it like a dog with a bone.

“Maybe you should talk to her.” Sam offered, leaning his elbow against the window and resting his chin in his hand, eyes darting between the rearview mirror, where he could see Kayleigh in the dim glow of the streetlights, and faintly hear the sound of her music still blasting at full volume, and his brother. His neighbors were going to hate him.

“She look like she’s in a talking mood to you, Sammy?” Dean bit out. “Or was the talking mood when she had the gun in my face?” Sam grimaced, but his brother continued anyway. “Or when she kicked my ass to the curb in Oklahoma?”

“You were drunk.” Sam offered, incredibly unhelpfully. “Like, really drunk – and you were kind of being a jerk, Dean.” Even if he didn’t remember it, Sam had provided the details the next morning in a very, very uncomfortable, very, very angry phone call – how he’d accused Jasper of ‘stealing’ Kayleigh somehow, even though it had been almost six years since they’d spoken last; how Kayleigh had, in true Kayleigh fashion, gone for her gun, because it was one thing to show up uninvited – it was another thing to show up drunk, uninvited, and starting fights, and there was only one way Winchesters ever handled things like that, and even if it wasn’t by blood, she was nothing if not a Winchester. He hadn’t heard from Sam since – save for a text the next morning informing him that Kayleigh wasn’t speaking to him, either, for telling Dean about the dinner.

“Whatever.” He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, flipping on his turn signal at the last second just to irritate Kayleigh. It worked, if the hand gesture she gave him in the mirror was any indication. “She wants to talk, she can talk. Nothing for me to apologize for.” He knew he was lying, Sam knew he was lying – but this time, the younger of the two was smarter not to argue. “No one’s makin’ her do this, either.”

“She’s trying to help.” Sam offered quietly, his voice resigned.

“Why the hell would I want her help, huh?” Dean demanded. He was driving far more aggressively than he probably ought to, exclusively for the pleasure of seeing Kayleigh continue to gesture at him from behind, increasingly animatedly. “She’d probably be thrilled if we never find Dad.” Or if they found him in a county morgue somewhere – he shoved that thought down aggressively.

“Dean…” Sam was quiet for a moment. “She’s got reasons. Good ones. You know that.” He hated it, how pleading Sam’s voice sounded, like he was just begging his older brother to cave, to try to understand.

“Yeah. Everybody’s got their reasons to wanna walk away.” Dean shot back. He immediately regretted the venom in his tone, regretted it the second Sam winced, turning his attention to his phone for some sort of distraction, but he didn’t apologize. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, jaw working as he stared out at the highway. “She could’a picked up the phone. Hell, she could’a written me a damn letter, if she was so damn worried –...”

“She and Bobby called Dad.” Sam offered quietly.

That made him pause, made his fingers go still on the steering wheel, his eyes darting back to him. “Yeah? ‘Bout what? To rip him a new one? Big shocker there, Sam.” He bit the words out, reaching for the radio dial, for something, anything, to fill the silence, to end the conversation, to–...

“I don’t think so.” Sam sounded unsure. “He didn’t – Dad would’ve hung up right away. Besides, it was – I don’t know. A few months later, I think. You weren’t there, and he told them that. He, uh – he gave me a few bucks, told me to go get some snacks from the vending machine. He was off the phone when I came back.”

Dean felt something twist uncomfortably in his stomach at that. A conversation with Bobby and Kayleigh was one thing – one that Dad hadn’t wanted Sam to be listening in on was something else entirely. “Probably ‘cause he cussed Bobby out,” He forced himself to give a one-shouldered shrug. “Couldn’t’a been anything too important, didn’t think he needed to loop me in.” Sam didn’t look entirely too convinced – Hell, he had a look on his face that told Dean he wasn’t, but he let it go. “‘Sides, she didn’t feel like she needed to try to call again. Didn’t want to talk to me that bad.” Dean added a bit bitterly in spite of himself.

“Dean…” Sam started, but fell silent as Dean went for the radio dial once more, this time turning the volume up before he could protest, louder, louder, louder still, until Foreigner was blasting so loudly that Sam could hardly think, let alone try to speak. He tried not to grimace at the irony as Head Games began to play, his eyes drifting back to the rearview mirror, where he could see the faint glow of a cigarette behind Kayleigh’s windshield.

As Dean drove on in cold, bitter silence, Sam rested his head against the window, and just tried to get some sleep.

Please do not copy/repost my work

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x oc #0ccvltism Writes

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