#so I don’t go completely off route(I’m near though) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oh-bonerline · 10 months

Note

kiss prompt 20 please 🥹🥹🥹

20…on a scar. (another one that was requested by a handful of people, so here you go! also, just fyi, there is some slight filth in this one.)

Matty has Ross stretched out on his bed, moving over every inch of his skin with his mouth and his fingers. He is cataloging him. He is learning him. He knows most of his tattoos by now, but there are some that are newer and less familiar and there are some whose meaning Matty has forgotten. (“I just liked it,” Ross usually says when he asks.) And he is still memorizing the constellations of freckles on his back, on the insides of his arms, on the backs of his thighs. He is still studying the routes of his veins, the depth of his pores. He is still exploring the seemingly unmarked parts of his skin for anything of interest, any landmarks or curiosities.

“I wanna draw a map of your body,” he says, bending to press his mouth to a freckle at the base of Ross’ spine, dragging his lips up his back.

“D’you know anything about cartography?” Ross asks. He’s lying on his stomach with his head turned sideways and half smushed into the pillow. The half of his face that Matty can see is smiling, scrunched up, teasing.

Matty loves him. Matty adores him.

“No,” he says. “I could learn though.”

“I’m not losing you to another YouTube tutorial rabbit hole,” Ross says, trying to sit up a little so he can properly turn and look at Matty. But Matty is sitting on the backs of Ross’ legs, effectively pinning him to the bed.

Matty leans down and takes a bit of Ross’ skin between his teeth, a soft bit of skin under Ross’ shoulder blade. “Fuck you,” he growls, completely unserious.

“Ow,” Ross says because he knows it’ll get Matty to bite down harder. Matty does, sinking his teeth in and leaving behind red tooth marks. He kisses them and then rubs gently with his fingertips until they’re mostly gone.

He continues his survey of Ross’ body and finds himself thinking of the people before him and what they might have discovered and laid claim to on Ross’ body. Who might have planted their flag on the trio of moles on Ross’ left side, just a few inches below his armpit? Who might have given a name to the expanse of unmarked skin between his box tattoo and his compass tattoo? Who might have made their home amongst the soft, dark hair on his forearm?

Matty allows himself a moment of sadness over not being the first one–not being the only one–to make this trek and know this body. He resolves to be the first one to know it entirely.

Acting on this thought, he spreads Ross’ arse cheeks apart. He has explored this part of Ross with his mouth, his fingers, his cock, but not with his eyes and not in broad daylight.

“Hey.” An immediate but half-hearted objection.

“Hey, what?” Matty asks, studying the hair growing in his crack and letting his fingertip brush against Ross’ hole. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

Ross squirms under him and Matty lets his dry finger slip inside him briefly, watching Ross close his eyes. “It’s different when we’re fucking,” he says.

“Who says we’re not fucking?” Matty asks because he is in fact hard and has been this entire time. He pushes his finger in a little further.

“Matty,” Ross says in his Big Boy voice and Matty obediently removes his finger.

“Alright, fine,” he concedes. He makes a quick note about a small mole down near Ross’ perineum and then takes his hands away from his arse completely. He kisses one of Ross’ cheeks, wet and sloppy, just to make Ross laugh again.

And then, Matty notices something he hasn’t seen before, low on the left side of Ross’ back. A small spot where the skin is lighter and raised a bit, an old and mostly faded scar. The mid-morning sunlight is coming through the window just right and illuminating it for Matty–a new discovery. He touches his fingertip to it, feeling the slight difference in texture.

“What’s this?” he asks, his voice low as if the scar might be scared off.

Ross twists his neck to see and then drops his head back down. “You don’t remember?”

Matty keeps his eyes on the scar, not wanting to forget where it is. “Remind me,” he says.

“2009,” Ross says. “That awful party we went to. One of George’s weird friends was throwing it.”

“Hmm,” Matty says, distracted. The scar is oval shaped, maybe a quarter of an inch long. There is something pearlescent about it as it catches the light. Something achingly beautiful. He imagines it as an abstract paining–thick oil paints on canvas.

Ross pushes himself up onto his elbows so he can better turn to look at Matty. “You really don’t remember?” There is hurt and disappointment in the question.

Matty closes his eyes so he can refocus and think back. But, frankly, George had a lot of weird friends who threw parties in 2009. He tries to think if any were particularly notable and then it comes back to him all at once, like cold water thrown in his face.

“I gave you this scar,” he says, opening his eyes and looking at the scar again.

“Well, technically the hob someone had stupidly left on gave it to me,” Ross says. “But it was your fault.”

The specifics of the party–whose house, who else had been there–are blurry, but the important details come rushing back.

He remembers Ross had been in a bad mood that night and had almost stayed home. Matty had pouted for ten minutes, only half joking when he told Ross he wouldn’t have any fun if he wasn’t there. Eventually Ross gave in.

He remembers there weren’t that many people there, only a dozen or so. He remembers someone there had coke, but Ross had given him a look from across the room–annoyed and apprehensive–so he’d waved it off, opting to chain smoke instead. He remembers feeling quite virtuous about that sacrifice, quite clean and good. He remembers hoping Ross thought so too.

He remembers everyone was playing a ridiculous and confusing drinking game where the rules were being made up as they went along. This had, of course, infuriated Ross and he’d walked out after the first round, moaning about no one playing fair. Matty was enjoying himself, but losing miserably and getting too drunk too quickly, so he decided to pull himself out of the game after the third round and go find Ross.

He found Ross in the kitchen where he was staring moodily out the window above the sink.

“Game’s shit,” Matty said, standing next to him and looking out too. There was nothing to see out there but a flickering streetlight, a beat up old car, a tree without any leaves.

“Yeah,” Ross said. “Whole party’s shit honestly. Whole night’s shit.”

“What are we looking at?” Matty asked, trying to change the subject. He wanted to know what was wrong, wanted to ask Ross if he was okay, but they were twenty year old boys so of course he couldn’t just fucking ask him.

He moved in a little closer so they were shoulder to shoulder. He stood on his toes to match Ross’ height, as if he was trying to see through his eyes. The scene outside the window remained the same, but he could see the sliver of the moon now.

Ross just blinked and looked over at Matty like he’d forgotten anyone else was there. “Nothing,” he said, turning away from the window and leaning back against the counter.

“Alright,” Matty said, turning around as well.

They were still standing close and their hands were resting next to each other on the edge of the counter. Matty let his hand rest against Ross’, his pinky just barely touching Ross’ pinky.

There was something about Ross when he was in a dark mood like this that Matty felt drawn to. He turned mysterious and unknowable. Ross, who was normally so open, suddenly became someone with a myriad of secrets that Matty was dying to know. Matty was drunk enough by then that he could admit to himself he had a huge fucking crush on moody Ross. He wanted moody Ross to take him home, put on the Cure, and kiss him in a bruised lip, sad teenage poetry kind of way.

He felt Ross’ pinky uncurl and brush against his before quickly moving away again. He uncurled his own pinky and hooked it into Ross’, not letting go. He was drunk enough to admit to himself that he had a huge fucking crush on Ross no matter what sort of mood he was in.

There was a burst of laughter from the living room. George’s voice rising above it all to say, “Oh, fuck off, you have to drink now!” And then more laughter, more shouting.

Matty felt Ross tense up at the sound. “You wanna go somewhere else?” he asked, tightening his grip on Ross’ finger, moving his arm closer so he could feel Ross’ skin against his.

Ross looked at him sideways, a small smile on his lips. “Nah,” he said, but he shifted on his feet so that his side was fully pressing into Matty and he moved his hand so that it was covering Matty’s.

Matty still doesn’t remember who turned first, but suddenly he had a fistful of Ross’ t-shirt and Ross’ hands were on his face and they were kissing furiously, desperately. There was no art to the kiss, no skill, just their mouths seeking contact and more contact, seeking whatever they could get.

And that’s when Matty put his hands on Ross’ hips and tried to push him back into the counter to regain control. But he pushed him into the stove instead which neither of them realized had been left on. Ross hissed suddenly and yelled out, “Fuck!” And Matty tore his mouth away and stepped back from him just as Adam and George and a few of the others came in from the living room to see what all the commotion was about.

The room was suddenly too crowded and Matty stood apart from everyone, observing it all from someplace dazed and blurry. Adam was looking seriously at the spot where Ross had been burned as if he were a doctor, saying, “I think you need cold water.” George was cracking up at the whole situation. Ross was angrily asking who the fuck left the burner turned on.

“What the fuck were you doing, mate?” George asked through tears of laughter.

“Who fucking cares? I’m injured!” Ross yelled.

“Oh, he’s injured!” George said mocking Ross’ shrill tone and nudging Matty with an elbow, eyebrows raised.

Matty could feel that his cheeks were burning, and he tried to laugh along. But he was thinking about the split second before chaos had erupted–his bottom lip captured between Ross’ lips, the taste of him, the feeling of him. He was thinking about how everything had gone wrong just as they were about to get it so right.

“Fuck off,” Ross said to everyone crowding around him. He sounded legitimately angry which was rare from Ross, out of character, so people listened and obeyed. They left the room, leaving Matty and Ross alone again.

Matty found an old dish towel and ran it under the cold tap, handing it to Ross without meeting his eyes.

“Would you? It’s hard to reach” Ross said, turning his back to Matty and lifting up his shirt.

The skin there was red, angry. Matty pressed the towel against it gently, pulling back when Ross inhaled sharply, and pressing again when Ross nodded to him.

“Sorry,” Matty said.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Ross said, turning to look at Matty over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Matty said, smiling up at him, and then he lifted the towel off of Ross’ back. “Does it still hurt?”

Ross’ cheeks were red and there was something sparkling in his eyes. “Not so much,” he said.

Now, Matty leans forward and presses his mouth to the scar, licks at it with his tongue. “Of course I remember,” he says. He kisses it again and again and again.

This is his scar, he thinks. This is where he will center his map. This is where he will plant his flag.

“Not many kisses leave actual scars, but yours did,” Ross says, sounding far too soft and poetic for Matty to handle.

“I love you,” he says, kissing the scar again. He stretches the length of his body out on top of Ross’ back. He kisses the corner of Ross’ mouth, the back of his ear, his beard, any place on Ross’ face that he can reach.

“I love you, too,” Ross says, laughing and twisting his head so he can catch Matty’s mouth with his own.

#asks #kiss prompts #the 1975 rpf #matty healy rpf #ross macdonald rpf #matty and ross #fic #anyway everyone go to the dermatologist get your moles checked!#about to move all of these to AO3 as well because it's making me anxious to just have them floating around on my tumblr

25 notes · View notes

iheartchv · 2 months

Note

Hey I was hoping I could get a cod matchup? Sorry in advance for the yapping

Umm as for appearance I am 5’4” in my early twenties. I have layered curly brown hair that comes to just above my shoulder, blue eyes, freckles pale as hell, a few scars here and there that I’m kinda proud of (from various causes) I don’t really have a specific style it can range from a tank top and sweats to t-shirt and jeans or something completely wild, color coded decked out in jewelry, skirts, layers the whole bit. Relatively active build, used to be a gymnast until an injury now I just workout twice a week w a friend. Interests; I like movies top five rn probably Scream (1996), Spiderverse, 10 things I hate about you, the last unicorn, Dead poets society, +Star Wars cause I can’t leave it out. I like playing chess every now and then, I’d say I’m pretty good but I still have a ways to go. I’m also an artist, and I like music I can’t do anything music related I just like listening to it, all kinds. I like baking when I’m stressed, typically cookies during finals week at 2 am. My future prospects, or at least what they are currently, is just going to law school, after that I’m not really sure, I’ve thought ab going the military route, both of my parents served/are serving, so I’ve thought ab the possibility of being a military JAG or something in Intel, but I’m still feeling for it, I mostly like law cause I’m pretty good at it and I like knowing more than people. I’m Bi so my taste in Men/Women varies. As much as I’d like to say I don’t have a type, hot people are hot, there have been patterns in the past few fictional guys. Tbh my taste in men is shit, like I don’t have daddy issues, I have a great relationship with him, but my past fictional crushes say other wise. But basically, capability is HOT, if they’re good at something to the point of mastering it I’m entranced. Women are just pretty, there’s not much there. I’m relatively paranoid, even describing myself like this online is strange, I think it’s just growing up around military but I’m typically just cautious. That and trust issues. I’ve done some martial arts/self defense and I think sparring is really fun I just need someone to teach me. Also I am a huge simp (with shit taste as my friends say) I’m an ambiavert, so I like to be pretty adaptable depending on who I’m around. I’m also German/American but definitely more American than anything else, I ‘grew up’ in south Germany and we still have family there but since we moved here I’ve forgotten most of the language. JFC in hindsight I am SO SORRY about all this I got carried away. I hope it didn’t come across as self absorbed 😭😅 thanks

Sorry again

🤔 I'll pair you with...

Captain John Price 🚬

Price might be the one to fall for you

If you ever decide/decided to join the military, him and Laswell will look through files and find you

He can't help but feel that you would bring something to the table

Recruiting you, along with many others, he'd be watching you

Through the tests, he'd be silently hoping you'd pass

When he asks to see you, you think you've done something wrong

Instead he just tells you that you've done a good job with all the training and tests he's put you through

"I admit, I thought you would call it quits anytime soon... but... you're determination surprised me."

"You've got guts, spirit. I like that"

He wants to take you under his wing and train you

He was right about you; there was something special there

Though he didn't know just how special you would be to him later on 🤭

After many months and near death experiences later, he'd come to realize he cares about you... a lot

💞

When off duty, he will take you somewhere to talk

Price doesn't play games, you know that

So... he tells you that he really likes you

All this time he'd spent getting to know you, he felt something he hadn't in a long time

One time, when he looked like he was about to fall asleep he was surprised that you showed so much concern for him; You wanted to do something, anything, for him

His hand gently held yours, showing how gentle he can be

"If you'll have me, love, I can make you happy... even if it takes my whole life to"

15 notes · View notes

alolanrain · 1 year

Text

some Aurafangshipping HC bc I love them and a little dash of Delia/Giovanni bc I’m in the mood for somewhat redeemed old men.

\ Ash gets his green thumb from Delia and has forbidden Raihan from touching any of his plants unless under dire situations.

\ Raihan likes to woodwork in his free time, usually he reads but when he’s to fidgety he’s gotta use his hands to do something. so woodworking. he’s kinda has a bartering system with Dawn and Zoey going on.

\ he makes Ash a greenhouse for the plants that can’t fit into the house since there's a shit ton of them. he tries to put down a no more plant rule but he came home from work to see five new ones on the kitchen counter.

\ Raihan also makes Ash a big thing so all his starter plants, like clippings and such, could be in vials of water together in one place. not like how they were before hand, spread across the house and a good chunk of them forgotten since there's so many.

\ Raihan can cook but he can’t bake, which is good because Ash can bake but he can’t cook.

\ Raihan comes from almost a military family, rose not including, so he’s up with the sun even on his days off. unlike Ash who stays in bed until well in to the afternoon if he doesn’t have any plans for the day.

\ Ash is a tea enjoyer at heart though he mainlines coffee on the daily since he’s used to drinking it while travelling. Raihan's slowly been working him off it usually when Ash ask’s for a cup of coffee mid-fucking-day and he offers tea instead. Raihan is the major coffee drinker because he can’t mentally keep up with his much younger gym trainee’s.

\ when their together, Pikachu is always on Raihan’s shoulders. solely for the fact that Raihan is ridiculously taller.

\ Ash is a country music enjoyer while Raihan is more techno. so they compromise and make a playlist with softer songs for when their home and need background noise. it’s not unusual for other gym leaders to walk into the backyard and year a country song switch to lofi after it’s done spill from the open windows.

\ Ash and Raihan’s house is on the outskirts of Hammerlocke, past the walls and deeper into the countryside. they are at the end of a very stereotypical Americanesque white suburb street and have the biggest property, though their house is very modern and large compared to the other two story houses.

\ Ash tries to make friends with the neighborhood kids on his walks with Pikachu almost every morning, saying hi to them at the bus stop as they head to school, but they don’t really greet him back. not because they don’t want to but because their parents don’t trust Ash.

\ they trust Riahan, which Ash can get behind because he is the towns famous Gym Leader, but it get’s annoying quick when they keep implying that Ash is a maid of all things when they show up on their shared porch steps.

\ just like the neighborhood, very stereotypical neighbors as well. they even have two different pastors living in the neighborhood as well. every house is apart of an HOA while Ash and Raihan are the outliers, probably why they don’t want their kids near Ash. Hypocrites.

\ The front door is always locked but the back isn’t, so a lot of the league members that are close to Ash and Riahan just unlock the fence door and go that route, completely ignoring the front. they’ve had the police called to their house a lot because of it.

\ Raihan actually likes rougher fabrics since they tend to with hold up against the weather effects he finds himself in multiple times a day but he switches into a pair of softer clothes before heading home since Ash has a thing against rougher textures. it’s funny because he tries so hard not to touch Raihan’s chest in the morning when giving the taller a goodbye kiss, and every morning he ends up having to touch the others shirt to get a good angle. making gagging noises when they pull back from each other.

\ despite being quiet wider in shoulder length and older then Raihan, Giovanni is absolutely terrified of Ash’s lover. Delia immediately gave her approval once she saw Raihan tower over her husband at the first family event Ash dragged him too. scared the shit out of Lance as well and Delia basically told Ash if he doesn’t marry Raihan then she will.

\ Raihan isn’t a fan of Professor Oak, preferring to work with either Tracey or Gary than the old man, but keeps his comments to himself since Ash still tolerates him. the old coot has done some pretty not okay things to Gary and Daisy when they were younger but Ash assured him that Gary and Him terrorized Oak back when they were younger.

\ out of the two, Raihan has only met Burnet despite staying in Alola for two weeks at a time during the start of Galar’s off season. it’s not for lack of trying on both men parts, it just seems like the universe doesn’t want them to meet. Raihan doesn’t question it when Ash finds that particularly funny.

\ it takes a long while for Raihan to even begin to get used to the really small legendary and mythical's. for his comfort Ash had made a no godly pokemon in the house rule unless under dire situations like one needed to be stitched up or to hide them from poachers.

\ it’s a sight for the neighborhood to see Zacian getting washed and sprayed down with a hose by Ash, all the while Raihan is either seen in the front window or standing in the open front door.

\ dinner party’s are a big thing to them since Ash and Raihan didn’t grow up with a social family. all are welcomed to bring extra dishes or other things or show up empty handed. they just want everyone to bring good vibes to dinner.

\ Piers and Gordie share one out of the two shared bedrooms, the other is for Ash’s moms or visiting friends, and it’s such a mess inside from the two oposit styles that both Riahan and Ash refuse to clean anywhere inside.

#ash ketchum #gym leader raihan #aurafangshipping #gym leader piers #delia ketchum #professor oak #gary oak #gym leader gordie #pikachu

24 notes · View notes

winterpinetrees · 3 months

Text

This is 1500 words. Tumblr is infectious and the symptom is “write about your ocs and post it online”. I don’t think I’m even using consistent tenses, but it exists. @caliburn-the-sword and @lokiwaffles, this is for you and also your fault.

………..

There was no way that the computer on the table was making it to the end of the road trip. Sierra has her (heavily modified, like the car) laptop on open to a google map of West Coast highways. The rich kids have been arguing over it for half an hour. In that time, their acquaintance had (re?) introduced himself. His name was Martin, his family was somewhere in the elaborate network of power that the boys had grown up in, and details weren’t important. The important thing was where they were going next.

“We should go south to Los Angeles, and then west. That way we’ll be in the desert for the solstice and have the most hours of daylight.” That was Clay’s plan. He had a goal to visit as many national parks as possible.

“If we do that, we’ll be in the desert for the hottest part of the summer! We go north on route 101 and follow the ocean all the way to the Canada border”. Brian explains for at least the fifth time.

“You only want to follow the ocean because you’ll die if you go a summer without surfing” Clay replies.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. We can go to Redwoods!”

“We live in San Francisco. We have been to Redwoods a dozen times”.

“And they rock! Those trees are thousands of years old. We can drive the car through a tree.”

Martin speaks for the first time in a while. “The hottest part of the summer isn’t the solstice. It’s a few weeks after that. Anyway, the Mojave desert will be miserable until October. You want to go north”. They’d almost forgotten he was there. It was a little shocking. The boy carried himself with confidence that didn’t feel like it should be ignored.

Clay immediately yields. “Fine. We go north to Redwoods.”

The boys put away their things and walk outside. Martin -Marin, whoever he is- follows behind them. Telling him to leave was unthinkable. Literally, the thought never crossed their minds. They walk down smaller, empty streets. Oddly empty. Well, it isn’t good weather, and that mild earthquake two days must have everyone a bit nervous. That must be the reason. Brian keeps looking over his shoulder though, especially as the fog grows and their visibility drops.

Sierra fidgets with the zipper of her sweatshirt. “Why is the fog so thick? It’s the afternoon?”

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but there was also movement, and lights down a side street. Sierra’s vision flashes electric blue. She knows that humans sometimes see blue light when exposed to high amounts of radiation (It’s called Cherenkov Radiation, but where would it come from?) but she also remembers a rumor that a strange glow might be your only warning if supernatural danger is near. She reaches for Brian. The taller boy has already stepped away to stare down their strange acquaintance, but Martin looks even more afraid than they do. He swings the messenger bag off of his shoulder. “I’m sorry I dragged all of you into this. You need to run”.

Brian takes another step towards him. “Dragged us into what?”

Sierra finally grabs his arm. “I think I know. Run.”

By this point, Clay is already fifteen feet away from them. Brian does not run. Instead, he and his friend watch as -somehow- Martin reaches an entire arm into his small bag. He spins on his heels and draws an entire quarterstaff. His ears grow pointed, his hazel eyes begin to glow, and as if waiting for that signal, four figures step out of the fog.

They are from a different genre. That’s the only explanation. The soldiers around them hold glowing guns and shining blades and wear helmets that completely cover their faces. Lines of colored light run underneath the silver plates of their armor, which seems made for speed instead of true protection. One, tall and thin and wearing the electric blue that Sierra recognized, dashes at Clay fast enough that they are only visible as a blur. They have the human boy in a chokehold within a second. Another, more broad and colored pale yellow, turns to Martin and yells something in a language that is very much not English.

He throws his messenger bag at the remaining humans. “Grab the gun and turn the dial all the way to the left. We win or we die!”

Martin turns back to his attacker and snarls a reply in the same language. He drops into a fighting stance and briefly flickers like a hologram. Brian catches the bag and they finally run, ducking behind a car parked on the street. He passes the bag to Sierra, who puts the entire top half of her body inside, “It’s bigger on the inside! ...wait”. (She refuses to die making a Doctor Who reference).

The bag is at least the size of their car. She hears the sci-fi sounds of guns firing outside and pulls the rest of her body in. Sierra grabs a gun, hopefully the one Martin told him to, and crawls back out. The gun is pretty big, more like a rifle than a phaser, and she needs both hands to aim it. It’s a difficult task. The five elves in the fight are all moving faster than they should, and her acquaintance (ha) keeps blinking in and out of sight. Sierra checks to make sure that the dial is to the left (Is that the stun setting or the kill setting? What is she about to do?) and fires the moment one of the faceless soldiers pauses for breath.

A blast of emerald green energy shoots out of the gun and nearly misses the figure. Instead, it hits the soldier just above the elbow and all but takes off their left arm. They fall to one knee, then disappear with a faint pop and a bit of cobalt blue light. Simultaneously, the kickback sends Sierra to the ground. Brian picks up the gun and fires a useless shot. He manages to stay standing, at least. Three enemies remain. The speedy blue soldier who knocked out (Brian can’t let himself think about the alternative) Clay, the yellow leader, and a short cyan one that has raised its gun at- oh no. Brian ducks back behind the car and reaches back into the bag as light sears the air right above his head.

The boys hiding behind the car look at eachother and reach a silent agreement. Sierra takes back the gun. Their inhuman ally seems to be winning, at least. He’s impossibly fast and is keeping up with all three opponents. With the cyan one distracted, Martin takes the opportunity and does something magical that leaves the soldier on the ground. They vanish with a pop, and unlike Martin, don’t come back. Clay, thank god, starts moving again. He makes eye contact with Sierra just as the blue soldier knocks Martin’s staff from his hands. The prince looks towards the humans behind the car. He seems terrified. The leader charges at him, holding their shortsword in a backward grip. They say something again, quietly, and Martin doesn’t respond. He tries to vanish again, but some magical pulse from the leader reveals his location. A blue blur knocks Martin to the ground and points its gun at his head.

Sierra tosses her own gun at Clay, and Brian vaults over the hood of the car towards the fight. He is still holding the bag in his left hand. The leader notices the 6’3”, adrenaline-fueled teenager running at him and turns away from Martin. Wild humans, even untrained ones, are very dangerous. Brian pulls something heavy from the bag as a sword swings at him. He dodges the weapon on instinct and feels the edge of a blade skim his chest. He lifts whatever it is he’s holding. A club? A crowbar? Brian holds it in both hands like a baseball bat and swings like his father is watching. The bat connects. He brings twenty pounds of pointed steel down with arms that can hit a baseball at 100mph. The armor over the soldier’s chest cracks- and so do the bones. They gasp and their armor begins to glow far more brightly. Brian is close enough to see two blindingly bright eyes behind their dark faceplate. Then a bolt of energy hits the soldier in the back and the light fades. They sway for a moment and fall with their sword still clutched in their hand. Clay glares at the body over the barrel of his gun. He adjusts his glasses without blinking.

The blue soldier is gone as well, also having been shot while Brian charged his enemy. The street is quiet again. The fog begins to lift. All four of them cautiously move towards the fallen leader lying face down on the pavement. Whatever these soldiers are, they bleed red just like humans do.

#by me #the gap years #writing that *is*#my oc stuff #the road trip

4 notes · View notes

newpathwrites · 5 months

Text

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 12 - Home

Anyway, you were totally unbothered, completely relaxed on top of him now… and you appeared to have no intention of moving.

“What is this , Cyar’ika?” he chuckled softly. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

“Hmmm…” you sighed, contented. “I’m tired… and happy…”

He smiled broadly, even though you couldn’t see it, your eyes closing as you began to nod off. “I’m happy, too, riduur,” he whispered. “I’m glad we found our way back to each other.”

Summary: Things never quite go back to normal after Din’s injury, and it appears there is trouble in paradise. Maybe it’s the end… or maybe it’s a new beginning.

Note: Bear with me. It gets weird for a bit, but the payoff is satisfying I think. And believe me, it’s going to get weirder still because I’m going to push the limits of non-sexual physical intimacy in the next few chapters.

The events of this chapter are alluded to briefly in the “there was only one bed” prequel and hinted at in the “confessions” installment.

Warnings: Angst, sexual references, kissing, and intimate (but non-sexual) touching. Lots of innuendos that go straight over Din’s head.

Read on AO3

————————————————————————

“Alright, explain to me again why Greef won’t tell us what’s going on. I don’t like this…”

You could hear Din shifting in the passenger seat behind you, clearly getting agitated with your refusal to simply accept the conditions of this job. “Please, just stop worrying,” his voice crackled through the modulator. “Everything will be fine. He just doesn’t want to give anything away over the comms. He’ll tell us everything when we get there.”

After so many years, you knew every tell in this man’s voice and body language. And that’s how, even with your back to him, you immediately recognized it.

He was lying.

Din never lied to you.

This was a worrisome development, and now you were no longer just concerned about this mysterious job Greef Karga was using to lure you to Nevarro. You were legitimately worried about your marriage.

Everything had felt off since Din’s near-fatal injury a few months ago. There was no particular conflict between you on a personal level, and easy affection endured as always, even if more intimate activity had been severely limited since his recovery. But every conversation around your work was strained - fraught with an emotional weight that had been throwing your partnership off course.

You were both getting older - no way around it… And after very nearly losing Din to what was supposed to be a simple mission, you’d become even more averse to the kinds of risky jobs that tended to attract his attention, the overly confident and stubborn warrior that he was. But he’d proven now that, even with his beskar, he wasn’t invincible. And so, in your opinion, it simply wasn’t worth the risk. You’d been pushing safer jobs, the kind that were boring and didn’t pay as well… you didn’t need the extra credits, anyway. In fact, you could both retire right now and live comfortably enough for the rest of your days.

Din, on the other hand, had no interest in admitting that he was no longer the same man he was at twenty years old… that if he hoped to live twenty more with you, he might have to take the softer route - or as Din viewed it… the cowardly one. There had been a lot of back and forth on this issue, a source of frustration for you both.

And it was weird… because there had never been anything but peace and contentment between you before all of this. And in these past few weeks, the unease had evolved into something new… something worse… You were quite certain he was keeping a secret from you…

—-------------------------------------

For the first time ever, your arrival in Nevarro was met with little fanfare, Greef apparently disposing of his typical flamboyant hospitality. It was almost eerie in its uncharacteristic lack of ostentation, and that set you even more on edge. Had your circumstances on this planet changed without your knowledge?

As you stepped off the ramp, Din was suddenly exuding anxiety - a nervous state that was incredibly rare for him. No longer were you confused and annoyed with the situation… you were truly fearful… What in the ever-loving kriff was going on here? Were you walking into a death trap or something?

Din didn’t say anything but started walking off toward the town center, and you hesitantly followed.

But as you approached and then passed Greef’s headquarters without stopping, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You grabbed Din by the arm, forcing him to stop and look at you. “Tell me what is happening right now,” you demanded as you poked the center of his chest plate . “I know you are hiding something from me.”

He stood stock-still for a moment, like you’d caught him unprepared. “Cyar’ika… I… It’s a…” he stumbled over his words before sighing loudly. “Everything is fine. I promise.” He took your hands and curled them over the top edge of his chest plate, mimicking the gesture he’d once used to silently ask you to remove his armor and consummate your marriage, one he used often still to remind you of the immense trust placed in your bond. “ Please, just trust me…”

You stared into his visor long enough to make him squirm a bit. You were never like this - almost cold - especially not with him. But you conceded, finally, to his vow of trust. In nearly a decade he’d never given you reason not to, so why would you suddenly mistrust him now?

“Okay. Fine.” You nodded slightly, and he breathed a small sigh of relief before continuing on toward the secret destination.

————————————————————

You didn’t walk much further before Greef Karga came into view, standing in front of a rather small but cozy-looking home, and dressed not in his usual indulgent attire but instead ratty work clothes covered in dust and grime.

“Mando!” he boomed as Din approached with an outstretched hand. “Marshall Dune and I have been doing a little sprucing up in anticipation of your arrival. Consider it a housewarming present.”

Huh?

Din took his forearm warmly, the nervous tension suddenly draining from his form. “Thanks, Greef. It’s good to see you.”

“And it’s always good to see you, old friend,” the man replied with an almost fatherly affection.

Karga turned to you then with a brilliant smile. “Ah, you are a sight for sore eyes,” he said as he put an arm around your shoulder and swept the other across the view of the property. “Welcome, my dear… to your humble abode.”

Din held his breath as he watched the understanding dawn on your face. But what felt like a full minute passed, and you still hadn’t said a word, head cocked to the side in confusion and your expression unreadable.

The silence was broken as Cara walked up behind Din and hit him hard in the shoulder. “Did you seriously not tell her, dummy?”

He was enticed to speak then - he had to know what you were thinking. “Cyar’ika… if you don’t like it, I can…”

You put up a hand to stop him. This was a story that needed to be told from the beginning.

Greef and Cara quickly excused themselves to give you a moment of privacy. This was a rather scary look on you.

“So… This place is mine ?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Ours.” Alright, so at least this wasn’t a parting gift.

“You bought it?” He nodded in affirmation. “When?”

He looked down a bit sheepishly. “A few years ago… with what I had left of the reward on Gideon. Remember the mission I took alone with Boba here in Nevarro?”

Damn . He’d been keeping this secret from you for years .

You shook your head, still confused. “Din, why wouldn’t you tell me? Maker… was this a backup plan…?” Had he considered severing your partnership?

He stepped forward quickly and held you by the shoulders, visor looking straight into your eyes. “Cyar’ika, no. I always planned on telling you about it eventually… and if you don’t like it, we can sell it. I shouldn’t have done this behind your back...”

“But why did you do it behind my back in the first place? You and I don’t keep secrets like this.” You really couldn’t fathom why he would have done this. However benign this infraction, it was still a glaring omission in an otherwise exceedingly open and honest partnership.

His visor dropped to his feet. “I… I don’t know…”

There was something vulnerable in his voice then that softened you, and all of your fears about the recent tension in your marriage faded away in an instant. Din would never do something in regards to you or your relationship with anything but the best and most loving intentions in mind… even if he sometimes missed the mark.

You lifted his chin with your finger and then met his helmet in a keldabe. “Yes, you do…” you whispered. “Tell me.”

He took a deep breath before finally responding to your gentle inquiry. “I don’t know how many times you’ve told me that someday you would retire from hunting and sell your ship, settle down and stay in one place for once… and I want you to have that…”

“So you set this up in anticipation of future needs?”

He nodded against your forehead. “Karga had been telling me that properties were going cheap, and I figured Nevarro would be a good planet for us. We have friends here… easier work with the New Republic if we needed it…” He paused for a moment to gather his wits. “And I didn’t tell you because… I wasn’t ready yet to stay in one place. I’ve lived my entire adult life among the stars…”

You started to shake your head, assure him that you would never force him into such a thing when he wasn’t ready, but he went on -

“And you give me so much… things I didn't even know I wanted… and for once, I figured maybe I could do the same for you… the one grand gesture I could offer you someday…”

Oh, Din …

“The notion that you don’t give me enough is ridiculous - of course you do… But we’ll talk about that later.” You gestured toward the front door. “Why don’t you show me the house.”

He straightened up at that. “You’re not angry?”

“I’m… confused… and we need to discuss some things - or maybe a lot of things. But I know when your heart is in the right place, riduur.” You smiled genuinely then, putting his mind at ease, before moving away to pull him by the hand along with you toward your new second home.

————————————————————

Cara and Greef were still scrambling as you opened the door, trying to appear casual, as if they hadn’t been spying on you through the glass.

Din surprised even you as you both stepped inside, reaching up to release his helmet and pulling it off his head. Apparently, Greef Karga was one of the chosen ones. Your husband was turning over a new leaf.

Greef stood in utter shock, the blood draining from his face, while Cara looked on in delighted amusement.

“Is this how I die, Mando? After all these years of friendship…”

Din subtly rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “I’ll let you live,” he replied, voice dripping with his typical sarcasm before heading toward the living space. “This time…”

Greef looked frantically between you and Cara, chuckling nervously. “He’s joking… right?”

“It is hard to tell sometimes, isn’t it?” you joked, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. “You’re safe, Greef.”

He released a relieved exhale, mumbling to himself, “Of course he’s a looker under there…” But he got his bearings back quickly, guiding you further into the home. “Alright, now - let me give you a tour of the place.”

Despite the small size of the home, the general living space was actually quite roomy, and in keeping with your and Din’s rather minimal lifestyle, Karga had provided only the bare essentials of furnishings, leaving plenty for you to work with as needed.

You were duly impressed. Already, this home felt quite fitting for you.

“Din, look at all this empty space. We’ve never had this much room to move around. We could spar in here if we wanted to.”

Cara couldn’t hold back a snicker. “Yeah, you can ‘spar’ in every room to bless the place.”

Din looked back at her blankly. “That’s a terrible idea,” he deadpanned, completely serious. “We would break things.”

The former rebel was legitimately laughing now, Karga following suit. “Excuse me, I forgot… you two will just ‘ hug and kiss’ in every room…”

You shook your head, finding these same old jokes quite tiresome, while Din grew more confused. “Why in every room? Even the fresher?” He looked at you for clarification. Was this some sort of custom?

Cara couldn’t help it. “ Especially the fresher…”

“Okay, that’s enough.” You gave her a warning look before speaking to Din under your breath. “I’ll explain it to you later.”

————————————————————

Karga guided you through a small, simple kitchen before showing you to the fresher. It wasn’t huge by any means, but relatively speaking, it was enormous compared to the cramped space you were using on your ship.

He looked at you with delight before pulling back the curtain. “I think you’ll like this. It’s got one of these new-fangled shower heads with several different settings, and you can see there’s plenty of space in here.”

The shower was pretty basic, but you’d dreamed of having one of even standard size. “Hey, Din - come look at this. You can take a shower in here without touching the walls.” You turned back to Karga with an appreciative smile as Din came to look over your shoulder. “You were right, Greef. I do like this.”

Cara cleared her throat behind you and coughed out, “Looks big enough for two…”

Din froze for a moment, glancing sideways at you. Ah, he understood that one.

You turned around and glared at her, mouthing quietly to please stop . It was one thing to joke with you privately, which you could handle with good-natured humor, but not with Din and Greef standing right there . Your intimate life, an unconventional one at that, was a personal thing and had been suffering quite a bit of strain recently.

It did strike you as odd, though, that you were so self-conscious in front of Din himself. Normally, it was something you would both laugh off and forget about - a total non-issue. So why did it feel like an issue now?

Stars , things were really getting weird between you two. Tonight, you decided, it was time to air all of this out.

————————————————————

“Not a word,” you whispered in Cara’s ear as Greef made his way to the sleeping area. You were terrified at this point of what other uncomfortable allusions might leave her mouth in regards to your sleeping arrangements.

“Here we have your master bedroom,” he started. “Bed sleeps two comfortably assuming you plan to share it.”

He opened the door to a second room right next to it, adding, “And if you don’t, there’s a second smaller bedroom here. It would also work well for a certain tiny, green foundling who may visit from time to time. Cara and I dragged a bedrail over for him - on us. It’s in the corner there.” He winked at Din who appeared to genuinely appreciate the gesture.

“Grogu’s room…” Din whispered with a sad smile, and you reached over to squeeze his gloved hand once in comfort before offering your combined gratitude.

“That’s very thoughtful. Thank you, both.”

Cara smiled. “You’re welcome.” She turned her face toward you and added under her breath, “Proud of me? I didn’t say one word about all of the room you’ll have in that bed for ‘ activities ’…”

“Please, Cara,” you groaned. “I really need you to stop with the innuendos…”

The two men had moved on to the back of the house now, so you had a moment of relative privacy, and Cara took advantage, turning to face you fully with a look of concern.

“Hey,” she started, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Is everything alright between you two?”

You looked back at her for a few long seconds, inwardly debating how much you should tell her about the recent tension in your relationship. Maybe talking about it with someone who knew you both so well would be helpful…

“It’s just… weird… right now.”

“How so?” she prodded, eyes narrowed. “Has he not been handling his recovery well?”

You shrugged, “Well, that’s part of it, though the fact that he brought me here suggests we may be closer to an understanding than I thought. I guess he just needed some time to work through everything…”

“Okay, sure,” Cara replied, unconvinced. “But what’s with this reaction to the sex jokes? You know I’m just kidding around. You’re both being really awkward, honestly, and it’s very unlike you.” She paused, thinking through your behavior earlier. “Did something happen? You know… sexually?”

Your head dropped into your hands - this was the part that was especially hard to talk about.

“Sort of…” you started, feeling out of your depth discussing this. “But no… ”

Cara huffed, both amused and a little frustrated with your equivocal response. You and Din had quite the unusual relationship. “Okay, walk me through it…” she suggested kindly.

Deep breath - you could do this with her. “So we were kissing…”

“Like ‘greeting your mother’ kissing… or ‘necking like teenagers’ kissing?” Cara immediately interrupted. “I need context.”

“Uhhh…” This was already getting embarrassing. “More like the second one…”

She nodded in understanding and gestured for you to continue.

Alright, rip off the bandage.

“He… grabbed my breast.”

Cara stared at you for a moment, not sure how to interpret that statement. “Okay…?”

No, that sounded weirder than it actually was. “It was definitely an accident,” you clarified. “I’m positive.”

Cara believed you entirely on that front - Din was endearingly polite and respectful. “I mean… it’s weird, I guess, if he doesn’t usually touch you there, but if it was an accident… What’s the big deal?”

You closed your eyes, willing away the flush that was overtaking your body in embarrassment. “I liked it…”

Cara snorted against her will at that. “Sorry… I’m sorry… What happened after that?”

“He apologized right away… but I was extremely awkward because I was so thrown off by my own reaction… Ever since then, he’s been affectionate but not very physical at all. He’s barely touched me in weeks… and pulls away when I try to initiate anything…”

“Maybe he feels like he violated you?” Cara offered thoughtfully. “Have you talked to him about it?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know what to say…” Navigating this kind of intimacy was brand new territory. Din had told you a long time ago that he was willing to give anything a try if you were interested, but even so, you’d never ventured beyond some mildly passionate kissing, hands always remaining safely in neutral areas.

“Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do,” she started with mock authority. “You’re going to say, ‘Din, please join me in our enormous new bed so that I can jump your bones…’”

“ Kriff , Cara… It’s not a sexual thing… and keep your voice down…” you whispered.

She cocked her head to the side, now even more confused by you. “How is it not sexual?”

“Because it has nothing to do with sex… It’s more sensual - the way you would enjoy a massage… and there’s just something very satisfying about the idea of allowing someone you trust to be intimately familiar with your body. It doesn’t have to lead to anything more…”

She looked at you pointedly. “It sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought…”

“Well,” you started timidly. “Kissing and cuddling are nice, but it’s been the same thing for years. I’d been itching to try something new - but terrified to ask…”

Cara sighed and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can offer much help, friend. If I’m touching breasts, it’s definitely a sex thing… But anyway, talk to him . You two are good at that.” She squeezed your shoulder once more in support. “Come on. Karga’s probably chomping at the bit waiting to show you the back of the house.”

————————————————————

“Now this ,” Karga announced dramatically, “is the most impressive feature of the home - my idea - and customized just for you, Mando.”

Din went to put his helmet on before stepping out onto the screened-in back porch, but Karga stopped him with a hand to the forearm.

“You don’t need that.”

He showed you both that you could easily view your surroundings through the screens, as if you were sitting outside, perfect to enjoy the sun on clear days - and then demonstrated that those on the outside couldn’t see in… It was a one-way view.

“You see - perfect for a man like yourself who needs some privacy, and you can sit out here together in the evenings without the helmet. You like it?”

Din shook his head in wonder. “Greef, this is… thank you…”

Karga embraced him by the forearms. “After everything you’ve done for our little planet, it is my pleasure… and I understand the significance of allowing me to know your face… so thank you … Din.”

The two separated rather abruptly soon after the exchange, self-conscious masculinity winning out. But it had been a rather sweet moment between these two hardened men, and both you and Cara couldn’t help but smile.

As your friends prepared to leave you to your first night in your new home, Din insisted that he should cover the cost of all of the furnishings Karga had provided out of his own pocket, which the older man adamantly refused. You supposed if throwing his money around was Greef Karga’s love language, then so be it.

————————————————————

“How does it feel to be in your own home?” you asked Din, head resting against his shoulder, as you sat together on the back porch admiring the Nevarro sunset.

He shrugged noncommittally. “I haven’t had a home like this since I was a young boy in Aq Vetina.” He paused and took a sip of the expensive wine Karga had left as a housewarming gift. “But as far as I’m concerned… home is where you are.”

Ah… be still your heart.

“That’s an incredibly sweet thing to say. I feel the same.”

“Well, it’s the truth.” That was Din for you, just telling it like it is.

“So…” you began hesitantly, the alcohol ameliorating your nerves just enough to broach this difficult conversation. “What exactly is going on here? Are we retiring? Selling the ship? Forgive me, but this is a bit of a turnaround for you…”

He huffed quietly. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to give it up yet… but maybe we can slow down a little and lay low here between jobs… Would that be alright with you?” He turned his head to look at you, gauging your reaction.

“Of course,” you replied. “That’s all I've been asking for, really. What changed your mind?”

He paused for several moments, numerous emotions passing over his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. “I saw you crying… when you were cleaning out the storage compartment a few weeks ago. It was the box we’d brought my armor home from the med center in - the one with my bloody flack vest… wasn’t it?”

You nodded - being reminded of him lying there on that base in a pool of his own blood had made you suddenly emotional. But you hadn’t realized that Din saw you that day.

“In Mandalorian culture, we’re only worth as much as we provide for our tribe. I was so against slowing down because… if I couldn’t provide… then what use was I to you?” The emotion in his voice was clear - he’d been dealing with a huge internal conflict these last few months.

“But seeing your reaction that day,” he continued, “reminded me that you just want me alive and well by your side… and it helped me to see all of it from a different perspective...”

“I understand,” you replied softly. “And this is the first, small step in slowing down… I get it.”

He chuckled lightly. “You always do…”

You felt the heavy weight that had settled around your relationship lifting then. You’d both been dealing with some demons as Din recovered from his nearly fatal injury, and it understandably took some time to find your rhythm together again. But it felt really good to be back in this place.

You spent much of the evening just sitting together talking, slowly wrapping more fully around each other’s bodies, your arm winding around his middle and his around your back, finally finding the physical closeness that had been so lacking recently.

Eventually, when things were feeling comfortable again, you broached the topic you’d been avoiding out of embarrassment - and maybe a bit of fear.

“Din, I want to ask you something…”

He tilted his head down at you and gestured for you to go ahead.

“Why have you been avoiding being intimate with me? It’s been ever since… a certain inadvertent grabbing incident…”

Despite his guilt, Din was glad you were bringing this up - it had been eating him up inside…

“You reacted like you were upset…”

“I wasn’t, by the way,” you interjected. “Even if I was being a little weird…”

Well, that was good to know.

He continued, “And the last time I touched you there… like really touched you, besides some accidental brush… was almost a huge mistake… and I’ve been so afraid that I had hurt you somehow, even if it was an accident…”

The last time?

Oh… He was referring to what happened just before his duel with Bo-Katan, less than a year into your marriage. His death felt imminent at the time, and a whirlwind of fear, panic, and a desperation to feel close to each other one last time had fostered a sudden and unexpected desire.

You’d put a stop to it, sensing it would be a mistake. But by the time you got your bearings, your shirt was open, pants were coming unfastened, and hands were drifting into places they’d never been before and hadn’t been since.

“You’re talking about what happened before the duel with Bo-Katan…”

He nodded.

“Din, that was five years ago…”

“And I still feel guilty about it… If I ever did something to traumatize you, I would never forgive myself… and I was so afraid I’d done it again…”

You put a hand to his chest and looked directly into his eyes, needing him to really understand this. “Stop that. What happened back then was a two-man job… you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, letting out a relieved exhale. “Okay…”

“And Din, I would never fault you for an accident.”

He opened his eyes and looked at you, this time less guiltily and more confused. “But the way you reacted…”

You cleared your throat nervously before revealing the truth, asking, “What if I told you… I would like it…?”

“If I touched your…”

You nodded, not sure what else to say here. You needed to gauge his reaction first.

“I would be… surprised…”

At least he wasn’t shocked and appalled…

“Cyar’ika,” he started again carefully, “Explain this to me…”

“Okay…” you exhaled. You could do this . “I don’t mean any offense - our kissing sessions are extremely enjoyable - but physical intimacy has felt a little stale recently… always the same…”

He nodded along as you spoke. Apparently, he had similar feelings.

“I don’t want sex - that’s still true… But there’s a lot of territory in between… and I’m interested in exploring that if you are…”

He was interested - you could see that in his expression, but so much here was an unknown for you both.

“Can you give me some examples of what you’d be comfortable trying? I don’t want to make any assumptions.” Respectful as always.

“Uhhh…” You tried desperately to sound casual, like you hadn’t spent hours thinking about this and making yourself weirdly self-conscious. “Maybe just… existing together in fewer clothes… or no clothes… like when we go to bed at night… or removing the limits on where we can touch… or someday doing as Cara suggested and use the shower together… stuff like that?”

He didn’t respond for several long moments, and you were afraid he was disgusted with you. But then he smiled. “Alright… but I’ll need to work up to the naked thing…”

You chuckled in spite of yourself. He was up for anything as long as he kept his clothes on - that was so very Din.

“Deal.”

You looked at each other, smiling, truly content after a long period of feeling somewhat estranged. And it was sort of exciting, the prospect of trying something new.

Even so, it surprised you when Din suddenly rose and held out a hand in your direction. “Come on.” He gestured toward the door which opened to the inside of the home.

And suddenly you were nervous. Already? Right now?

————————————————————

He led you to the master bedroom and stood before you, leaning in to rest his forehead on yours as he wrapped your hands around his chest plate. “What do you say we re-dedicate this thing?”

Stars… He wanted to consummate your marriage a second time… The idea was very fitting.

You laughed softly and whispered back, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

You were much more familiar now with the armor than you had been the first time you’d done this. And that allowed for this to be a more intimate moment, kissing him gently now and then as pieces of beskar came free and were placed on the bed behind him, while he ran his ungloved hands up and down your arms and over your shoulders.

It had been so long since you felt close to him like this. And it felt wonderful .

When the last pieces of beskar were removed and the flight suit pulled off, leaving him in the thin shirt and pants he wore underneath, he walked backwards to sit on the edge of the bed and moved to pull you into his lap.

Ah… he was recreating those first moments of your truly consummated marriage years ago.

But you had another idea…

He looked up at you in confusion, not having expected resistance to his gentle pull, but you moved forward to stand between his legs, smiling mischievously down at him.

“When we started working together and sharing the bunk, I started wearing extra clothes to bed at night - for your comfort…”

You took his hands and held them in your own.

“But taking off the breast band at the end of the day is glorious… and by the way, I hate wearing pants while I sleep…”

You slid his palms up under your top until his fingers just brushed the bindings at your chest.

“I’m thinking it’s a boundary that we don’t really need anymore, and if you're comfortable with that… maybe you’d like to do the honors…”

It was an admittedly silly reversal of the disarmoring you’d just performed on him, but it was genuine and a low risk way to ease into a new kind of intimacy.

He surprised you, though, by letting out a huff of laughter, hands still bunched up under your tunic. “Cyar’ika, you’ve been uncomfortable in your own bed for a full decade on my account? Maker… You can wear whatever you want…”

He was laughing so hard that you couldn’t help but giggle - he was never like this. “Be that as it may, riduur,” you said, trying to sound serious. “I was going for something playfully alluring here…”

Oh, he was getting it now - this was an intimate thing… and one that had no other expectations attached to it. This was what you meant…

He was still shaking his head in amusement as he fumbled around underneath the fabric to find the knot and untie it, eventually allowing the thin band to fall to the floor. And then his hands moved to the waist of your pants as he looked up at you for permission. You nodded, and he proceeded to unbutton and pull them down over your hips, leaving you finally in just your tunic and underwear.

You were still fully covered, only your legs somewhat bare, but he could understand why you wouldn’t have wanted to wear so little when he first came to live on the ship.

You took both of his hands in your own again and brought them slowly enough to hover over your chest that he had plenty of time to pull away if he wanted to - but he didn’t, curiosity passing over his features. Finally, you pressed his palms firmly into your cloth-covered breasts.

“There - now we’ve broken the ice… so there was absolutely no harm done…”

You pulled his hands away from your body then and asked with seriousness, gesturing to your relatively underdressed form, “Is this alright? Comfortable?”

“Yeah…” He shook his head, adding, “You are so soft…”

You chuckled and finally sunk into his lap, legs straddling his hips, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“I’ve really missed you, sweetheart,” you whispered softly into his neck.

He squeezed you tighter, replying, “I’ve missed you, too, riduur… Can I kiss you?”

You pulled back to look at him, recalling certain memorable moments of your marriage - the shocked expression on his newly revealed face when you’d kissed him for the first time the day you took the vows, the pride you’d felt the first time he’d kissed you of his own volition a few weeks later, and the contentment he exuded that night on Tatooine when he’d realized that kissing you could be an intimate act unto itself - one that didn’t have to fundamentally change anything else about your relationship.

How could you have ever thought that this had just become routine?

And so you did, and you made up for the lost time, too, kissing him long and slow…

Din, for his part, was realizing that the unspoken limits that had been placed on your relationship years ago now, back when all of this was brand new and unfamiliar… didn’t really need to exist anymore…

So if he wanted to slip his fingers underneath your tunic to caress the soft skin of your back while he kissed you… he could simply do it…

And he did.

It surprised you for a moment, but it was not at all unwelcome. This was, in fact, exactly the kind of intimacy for which you’d been longing.

So you responded in kind, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, the one simple pleasure that could make this hyper-alert man fully relax in an instant. And then you took advantage of his slack-jawed state, your tongue meeting his through parted lips.

For the first time, you felt entirely free to let go and fully enjoy every part of this, wherever it led you, not worrying that if hands inadvertently wandered or arousal unexpectedly reared its head that it might then lead to some irrevocable change in the nature of your relationship.

It wouldn’t… because the decision to allow such things to fade away without further action was predetermined… and without judgment…

Like, for example, when you grew tired and reluctantly pulled away, shifting your weight so that he tipped backward on the bed, and your body rested atop him - he wordlessly grabbed you by the hips and pulled you several inches further up his torso, removing the stimulation of your pelvis pressed a bit too firmly against particular parts of his anatomy.

It really didn’t have to be a big, uncomfortable thing if you were on the same page…

Anyway, you were totally unbothered, completely relaxed on top of him now… and you appeared to have no intention of moving.

“What is this , Cyar’ika?” he chuckled softly. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

“Hmmm…” you sighed, contented. “I’m tired… and happy…”

He smiled broadly, even though you couldn’t see it, your eyes closing as you began to nod off. “I’m happy, too, riduur,” he whispered. “I’m glad we found our way back to each other.”

You mumbled something then that sounded like an agreement, but sleep had fully taken you at this point so he gently rolled you onto the mattress by his side before wrapping his body protectively around yours and succumbing to sleep himself.

————————————————————

Your first awareness the next morning was of warm flesh against your bare stomach as your eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling. It took several moments to fully put it all together.

“Good morning, cyar’ika,” Din greeted you, and you turned your head to look at him.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You lifted a hand to smooth your thumb over his beard. “You look well-rested.”

You took stock of your own state then. Your tunic had bunched up during the night, baring your abdomen, and Din had taken the initiative to try something he’d never done before without the barrier of clothing, brushing circles on your stomach with his knuckles.

So he’d been itching to try out some things, too, it seemed.

“Is this okay?” he asked, a bit insecure in this new territory.

You nodded and smiled before taking his hand and laying it flat against your skin. “You’re welcome to explore further…”

He froze and looked at you, curiosity in his expression mixed with some healthy trepidation. He needed your explicit permission before he did anything else. He wasn’t sure what ‘further’ even meant…

So you showed him, covering his hand with yours and sliding it up under the fabric until his fingers were splayed across the middle of your chest. “You can touch… if you want to…”

While your words and actions last night had certainly fostered quite a lot of curiosity about this exceedingly soft part of your body… all of this bare skin was a bit overwhelming for him if he was being really honest. This felt like something he’d need to work up to…

He hoped you weren’t disappointed.

But you were nothing of the sort when he drew his hand back down to rest on your stomach.

“I…”

“Hey, no…” you interrupted him right away. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t ever want you to do something that you don’t enthusiastically want to do.” You solidified the point by lifting his hand to your lips and kissing his palm before laying it over your heart, this time on top of the fabric. “We’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” he nodded. “I just need to take this slow… but it does feel good to explore stuff with you again… like old times…” He referred to the early days of marriage, when the ability to be with you sans armor and helmet opened up so many possibilities for physical closeness that he’d never experienced before.

You smiled. “Like old times.”

You were interrupted then by a knock at the front door, and Din grabbed his helmet before getting up to head into the main living space. “Who in the galaxy would that be?”

��———————————————————

You heard the front door sliding shut and figured it was safe to emerge from the bedroom, Din probably having sent the unexpected visitor away.

“Hey, Din, who was at the…”

The words died on your lips as you took in Greef and Cara’s bewildered faces.

Kriff… you weren’t wearing much, and the thin fabric of your tunic left little to the imagination.

Greef’s eyes immediately turned to the floor as he fumbled over a morning greeting, while Cara’s lips turned up in a delighted smirk. Din stood there, helpless, having no idea what to do in this uncomfortable situation.

You yourself looked like a bantha in the headlights. But Cara Dune, cool and collected as always, grabbed you swiftly by the arm and dragged you into the bedroom.

“ Maker… ” you muttered. “That was embarrassing…”

Cara chuckled, endlessly amused. “I’m not sure Karga will ever look you in the eyes again.”

You groaned and immediately reached for your bags, digging around for a fresh set of clothes.

“So…” Cara started cheekily as you pulled on a new pair of leggings. “Looks like you two had a great night…”

You ignored the innuendo and simply answered truthfully, peeling off your tunic and looking around for your breast band. “It was a really great night, honestly. We talked... and I think we’re in a good place…”

“So good that you dropped your pants and underclothes right here at the foot of the bed?” she asked in response, making note of where you finally found the missing breast band.

“It was… a little extra intimate last night… but nothing too risqué by your standards. The sexual stuff is just not who we are - as I keep telling you ,” you replied, tying the fabric in place and pulling a fresh shirt over your head. “Case in point… I’ve just now spent more time naked in front of you than in front of my own husband in the entirety of our marriage.” You shrugged. It was just a fact. “If that helps you understand.”

“Alright, I get it. But jokes aside,” she inquired genuinely. “You guys are really okay? I’m not going to have a heartbroken Mandalorian crying on my shoulder?”

You shook your head and smiled. “We’re okay. I promise.”

————————————————————

Meanwhile, Din was facing a similar inquisition and pretending as if he had no idea what Karga was talking about.

“Din, your wife just walked out here wearing almost nothing…”

“She doesn’t like wearing pants while she sleeps.”

Karga scoffed. “So you cuddled up with no pants on, and you’re really telling me that the conditions of your relationship haven’t changed?”

Din looked him straight in the eyes and answered simply, “Nope.” He shrugged, adding, “ I was wearing pants.”

Karga shook his head in frustration. “You’re being evasive, Mando. Dune will tell me. You know your wife is in there telling her everything, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, then. Keep your secrets…”

————————————————————

Over breakfast, Karga told you about a job he’d recommended you both for - a rather harmless target whose crimes were of the white collar variety - and who also happened to be very good at evading bounty hunters. It was low risk but still worthy of your skills, and for the first time in months, you and Din agreed on something in regards to your work.

You’d leave tonight, knowing your new home was here waiting for you when you finished - a safe haven where you could relax together and rest your aging joints and enjoy time with your little found family of close friends.

Maybe in time, you’d be here more often than not…

And you and Din… Well, you were discovering new, small ways to feel close to each other every day. The possibilities, it turned out, were endless when trust and honest communication prevailed.

It might have looked strange to an outsider, hovering over an invisible line without ever crossing it… but it was satisfying for both of you, and that’s all that mattered…

Because as Din so eloquently put it… as long as you were together, you were home .

————————————————————

THANKS FOR READING!

Post-note: If you want to read the referenced pre-duel scene and the original consummation of their marriage, check out chapter 5.

I feel like I’m often toeing the line with this fic, but I figure if sexual relationships sometimes need to be spiced up or rekindled, then why can’t a more sensual one go through that same evolution? Basically, they’re establishing that they can actually explore more intimate things without any implication or expectation of sex hanging over it.

And - this relationship is not entirely free of conflict because no two people can be together this long without some misunderstanding or difference of opinion. But their strength, as Cara mentions, is in their ability to communicate and feel safe doing so. That is how they overcome life’s obstacles together.

Also, it was subtle, but if you didn’t catch it - lesbian Cara all the way!

Next chapter

#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #a marriage of convenience #queerplatonic relationship #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #newpathwrites

5 notes · View notes

babyjakes · 2 years

Text

must be fate. [part two.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

← last part

summary | after unexpectedly connecting online with chris evans, you experience an even greater miracle by running into him at your favorite local cafe. though your life has been difficult lately, chris seems to know all the right things to say to get you feeling (at least a little bit) better.

pairing | chris evans x internet friend!reader

warnings | mentions of poor mental health (depression, loneliness), reader breaks down and sobs (big mood), chris being the sweetest human being ever <3 (like he holds you while you break down :’-))

word count | 1,384

requested by anon | Can I request a part 2 to must be nice? I have depression and it helped and was really well written!

an | hi friend, of course!! (i hope you are talking about must be fate!!) i’m really sorry you also deal with depression but im so so glad that you found some comfort in my writing <3 hope this helps as well, sending much much love your way!

“You sure this is okay?” you ask somewhat nervously from the passenger seat of Chris’s car as he drives through your quiet Massachusetts town, humming along quietly as Sammy Rae plays over the radio. After meeting up at the cafe, he ended up inviting you over for the afternoon, something completely unexpected and greatly appreciated. You still can’t believe it, though, as you sit beside him in his car, unable to wrap your mind around the fact that Chris Evans himself is really bringing you home with him.

“Course, doll. Wouldn’t have invited you if it wasn’t,” he assures you with a kind smile. Smiling back at him bashfully, you play with your hands in your lap, surprised to see as you look out the window that the route he’s taking appears awfully familiar.

After a few more blocks, he turns down a residential street. Your eyes widen at the name on the sign as you can barely make out, “W-wait. This is where you live?” Chris hums with a nod as he continues down the quiet road, coming up to a simple looking house and pulling into the driveway. “Wow, you’re a lot closer than I thought. I live just over on ________,” you tell him, naming the neighboring street that can’t be more than a few minutes of a drive away.

“________?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “No way; you really are close. I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other sooner given the fact that we’re practically neighbors.” He shifts into park and switches off the engine as you both undo your seatbelts, exiting the car and heading up the level driveway. Stopping at the front door, Chris reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, jamming it in the lock and twisting it to allow you both entry. “Oh boy. Incoming,” he warns playfully as a very excited Dodger greets you both as you step inside, wagging his tail happily and sniffing at your coat.

“Hi buddy, hi,” you fuss the sweet dog gently, giving him some scratches behind his ears. Chris is all over him as well, the love in his eyes as he interacts with his furry best friend melting your heart. After a few minutes of petting and tail-wagging, Dodger settles down, scampering off to go find one of his toys. “He’s so sweet,” you gush as you and Chris undo your boots and remove your coats.

“Yeah, he’s a big love,” the man agrees with a smile, taking both of your coats and hanging them up on a coatrack near the stairs. Having removed all of your winter outerwear, you take a moment to look around and absorb your surroundings. The house is somehow just as you imagined it would be: warm, cozy, inviting. A stark contrast to your cold, dim apartment. “It’s nothing extravagant,” Chris says almost sheepishly as he stands a few feet away from you, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “But I don’t know, I guess I like it that way. It’s home.”

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, not wanting him to think you’re in any underwhelmed or disappointed, “it’s so lovely, Chris. Really. You’re right. It’s-” You’re startled as a wave of emotion hits you, struggling to swallow back tears. “It really is a home.”

“Hey, y/n,” Chris says, your sudden shift in mood causing worry to appear on his face. Reaching out a hand to you, he offers, “You wanna come sit on the couch? We can get the fireplace going.” You accept his offer gratefully, his large fingers wrapping around your own as he leads you out of the entryway and into the living room. Settling you down on the long leather couch, he grabs a blanket from the coffeetable, unfolding it and draping it over you. “You okay?” he asks as he steps over to the electric fireplace and flips a switch, toasty flames springing up instantly behind the glass and sending a gentle heat towards you. “You’re shaking a little.”

“Y-yeah,” you shiver, thankful for the warmth of the fire and the blanket. “Still cold from outside, I guess.” Nodding, Chris steps back over to the couch, pausing before he makes any further advances.

“You alright if I sit next to you? Sharing the blanket will let us conserve body heat,” he checks in carefully. Heat rises through your cheeks as you nod, your eyes dropping to your lap as Chris sits down next to you, readjusting the blanket to now cover you both. Turning to face you, he gives you a moment, sensing you’re feeling slightly wary about the whole situation.

With your eyes fixated on the dark brown fabric covering your lap, you’re flustered to find that tears have once again built up behind your timid gaze. Sniffling, you try to blink them away, only to become more frustrated as more quickly take their place. “Y/n,” Chris says your name again, his voice so low and sensitive that it feels dangerous; you truly can’t remember the last time you were in a position like this, in the presence of someone who seemingly cared so much about you and wanted so badly to make sure you were alright. “Hey… is it… would it be okay if I gave you a hug, doll? I won’t if you’re not comfortable; it just really seems like you could use one.”

His question quite nearly reduces you to sobs, but you simply nod, doing your best to hold yourself together. As soon as his strong arms wrap around you, though, you simply can’t hold back anymore; with a defeated whimper, you burst into tears against his shoulder as he holds you close to him. “Oh sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice dripping with heartache.

“Hey, y/n. I gotcha, darlin’, ‘s okay,” Chris breathes as you cry into his sweater, bringing up a careful hand and rubbing it over your back. “Just let it out, doll. Shh, shhh,” he murmurs, the pure tenderness in his voice only making you cry harder; never in your life have you been treated so gently.

Through your mess of sobs and sniffles, you attempt to form an apology, but all that comes out is a jumble of stuttering and and hiccups. “No, sweet girl, none of that,” he says with a shake of his head, his other hand coming up to smooth over your hair. “It’s okay to get it out, sweetheart. Just let it go, you’re okay.” And as he continues to hold and comfort you, you can’t find much strength to do anything but just that: completely let go of all you’ve been holding in for so long. Your cries of pain and distress become louder, more heartwrenching, but Chris just carries you right through it, pulling you over onto his lap as he soothes, “Oh, honey… Shhh… I know, bubba. I know… ‘s okay. Gonna be okay, y/n.”

After several more minutes of uncontrollable crying in the safety of Chris’s arms, you’re eventually able to calm yourself down, your sobs dissolving into quiet whimpers as you hiccup like a child in the broad man’s lap. Leaning back slightly, Chris looks down at you, bringing his hand down from your hair to cup your cheek. “There you are; hi, sweetheart,” he hums lovingly as his thumb brushes over your damp skin. “You feel a little better now?” he asks. “Seems like you’d been holding that in for quite a while.”

“Y-yeah, that was- that felt really… good,” you admit bashfully, a burning sense of embarrassment creeping up inside you as you realize what’s just happened; you quite literally fell apart right in Chris Evans’s arms, not exactly the best first impression you could’ve made. “I-I’m really sorry, Chris. I-”

“No, no ‘sorry’s,” he cuts you off, his deep blue eyes gazing into yours with genuine concern. “You needed that, y/n; it’s okay. Everybody has a breaking point. I’m just glad I could be here to help you through it.” Snuggling you up against his chest again, he leans down, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “I hope you’ll let me continue to be here through it,” he whispers, “whatever it is, no matter how bad or ugly. I promised you, remember? You’ve got me now.”

← last part

#eun's writing #must be fate #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans blurb #chris evans drabble #chris evans headcanon #chris evans one shot #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff #hurt/comfort

60 notes · View notes

sebsxphia · 2 years

Note

To answer to what I think Rhett would be like with a woman that has a very successful career: I also think he would love and support her fully.

You mentioning him putting reader in her place though 🥵 🤤

How do you think that would go down? And if reader asked him where that very dominating and HOT sex came from how do you think he would reply? Do you think he would tell the truth that he feels inadequate sometimes? Or do you think he’d try to say how he feels but since he’s not the best with words it would come out wrong and chauvinistic making the reader think he thinks he’s superior to her?

Sorry if that was messy and didn’t make any sense lol. I’m very curious to hear your thoughts, I really love your headcanons!

awwh thank you so much dear anon!! 💌💖 that’s so lovely to hear, and i’m so pleased to hear you enjoy them!! no, no don’t apologise at all, i completely understand what you’re saying!!

I think you bring two very valid points to the table and I think Rhett is capable of either to be honest. However, if this was a one night fuck who had a successful career, Rhett would definitely go down the route of wanting to make himself appear superior to her.

But this ain’t the case! We’re talking about if Rhett was in a stable and loving relationship where he already supports you and your career. I think when Rhett falls, he falls hard and that also means him being truthful with himself and with his partner.

Firstly, Rhett would check you over and make you’re okay and not hurt. Secondly, when you ask him where all that fuckin’ hot sex came from, “I just wanted to put that fuckin’ successful ass back in place.” He’d say giving your ass a light smack before pulling you into his lap and holding you, pressing kisses to your shoulders and neck.

“Truth is sweets, I don’t feel near as successful as you sometimes. I just, fuck.” He’d trail off, running his hand through his hair and scratching his stubble, “you’re so good at what you do, so fuckin’ good. And I, I’m just a pissing rodeo rider.” It would hurt so much to hear, but I think it would be the honest truth.

let me know what you think dear anon!! 💌💖

#💌you’ve got mail #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #outer range

34 notes · View notes

sapphirerubycreates · 9 months

Text

Ghosting April

Missed Messages AU

Summary: Marvin hasn't seen Robin for a week. He's getting very worried so he goes to see her. Apparently, he was right to be worried.

First Friday in April, senior year

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

Marvin started to suspect something was off after a few days without hearing from Robin. Sure, not seeing her wasn’t completely out of the ordinary. Not texting him back was.

So he tried to catch up with her when she was working. Imagined he’d just do a nice casual slide into the chair across from her. But he couldn’t find her in any of her usual study spots. A few times he got a glimpse of her as she was walking around campus, but she always seemed to disappear whenever he tried to catch up. Several times during the past week, Marvin would be walking about after classes, trying to figure out what to do, and start up walking the route through campus that her group always took to get back home on Fridays. And when he’d realize what he was doing, he’d stop and go the other way. But then he’d always curse himself for not going by to check up on her. Made excuses that she was busy, it was near the end of the semester. Had projects and exams she dedicated her heart and time to and couldn’t make time for friends. Those arguments always felt like rubbish. And he felt in his entire body that something was very wrong. It was just a question of whether it was her, or it was him.

Once the week rolled around to Friday, Marvin had built up so much worry and anxiety that he physically couldn’t pussyfoot around anymore. If she didn’t meet up with her friends at the union, he’d find her and make sure she was okay. He showed up ten minutes early to ice cream Friday, trying to scope out the place in case she decided to watch from afar. But there was no such luck. Some of the others in the friend group started to gather, and he seized the opportunity to ask them about her.

“She’s fine. I mean, Capstone is dragging her through hell, but otherwise,” Ryan plainly answered.

“What’s the bastard done now?”

“It’s the same stuff as always. Not doing his work. And she’s doing everything. I overheard some of his friends bitching about how she doesn’t do enough work. I haven’t told her that.” Marvin could feel his temperature rising. “I’m still waiting for her to say I can tell him off.”

“Tell me when she finally agrees to it. I’ve got some things to say to him.” Marvin clenched his fist. But this wasn’t helping right now. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and unclenched as he breathed out. He tried to put the rage aside, for the moment. “Aside from him, do you know if anything else is bothering her?”

“I mean, she doesn’t really say that much. Can’t blame her though; everything else seems small in comparison.”

“I mean, I guess, sure. But do you know if she’s angry at me too? Maybe mentioned something in passing?”

“You? No, no, she’s not angry with you.” That emphasis gave him pause.

“Well, she’s been avoiding me, so I must have done something to piss her off.”

“Really? Avoiding? ... I don’t think it’s you, if that’s true.”

“Then what’s up with her?”

Ryan hummed to himself. “Y’know, maybe you should drop by, check in on her? Bring her something sweet?” Ryan smiled optimistically.

“But if she's avoiding me for an actual reason, chocolate isn’t an apology.”

“Marv. My dude. You are not the problem here. Trust me. She’s not avoiding you on purpose. Just make the first move and go see her. You can use the chocolate as an excuse. I'm sure she’ll feel a million times better when she sees your face.”

Marvin would have sworn that Ryan was trying to set him up with Robin. But why couldn’t he just say that ‘hey, Robin likes you.’ In any case, that was the final push Marvin needed. He immediately left the table, waving a quick goodbye to all as he headed down to the campus shop to buy some of her comfort food.

With an assortment of nuts, instant soup, and sweets in his bag, Marvin rushed across campus to get to her house without hesitation. When he arrived, he stopped and took a minute to catch his breath before knocking on the door.

Teresa was the one to answer the door. “Oh hey.” She motioned for him to come in. “What brings you by?” She shut the door behind him.

“I uh...” he slung his bag in front of him and opened the zipper to reveal the morsels. “I heard Robin wasn’t doing well cause of that asshole, so I brought her food.”

“Oh!” her face lit up. “Just sit on the couch. I’ll get her.” Marvin timidly sat down and waited as Teresa went upstairs to get Robin.

Finally, there were creaky stairs. He straightened his posture as he waited to finally see her. As Robin descended and came into view, she took a glance over at him. But her expression quickly turned from nonchalance to fear before she bolted back up into the shadows.

“Wait!” Marvin chased after her, almost crashing into Teresa as he desperately tried to follow her. But the door was slammed shut before he even got another look at her. Marvin frantically knocked on the door. “Robin please! What did I do?” He leaned his forehead against the door, wishing he could see her face to face. “Please,” he whispered softly, more for himself than her. He already didn’t want to lose her. He was hanging onto these weeks before graduation. And now they were slowly slipping through his fingers. He didn’t want their last conversation to be from last week, over his stupid market research presentation.

“Can we just...” go back to the way things were? “Whatever happened, I can fix it. Just, don’t shut me out. Please?” His voice hitched on that last word by accident. But he didn’t hear her moving towards the door. Or writing on a piece of paper. Or doing anything at all to give him some reassurance. Silence.

“If you don’t want to–” Marvin cleared his throat, buying himself time and fighting to keep the words flowing, “– don’t want to see me... just say so.” He waited for a response. But nothing. Wondered what she looked like right now. Scared? Upset, probably.

“Guess I’ll... give you your space for now then.” He took two heavy steps away from the door. Looked back longingly at it, fantastically hoping he could see her peeking out of it. But still nothing. So down the stairs he went.

Teresa was in the living room. Before she could make a sound, Marvin answered for her, “I’m leaving. Guess I’m, not welcome here right now.”

“For now, that’s probably best.”

“Yeah.” Marvin looked down at his unzipped backpack, teeming with snacks. With a full sigh, he bent down and started moving the food from his bag to the sofa cushion. “Can you... if she won’t take ’em, you girls can have ’em.”

“Oh, you don’t –”

“It’s fine,” Marvin finished, closing his bag and slinging it onto his back as he stood up. “Bye.” The word lingered in the air as he paused before making his way out.

Marvin wished he hadn’t come. Learned that her ghosting him was intentional. Gotten this looming closure that she was scared of him now. Yeah. He didn’t want to watch as he lost his best friend, but it was worse knowing he could do little to reconcile them now.

#jse fanfiction #jse egos #jse marvin #oc robin #sapphirerubywrites #marvin the magnificent #angst #jacksepticeye fanfiction #missed messages au

2 notes · View notes

iridescentlemoncandy · 1 year

Text

[1-2: Agree] [1-3: Yes]

[Part 1-4]

But even as we settle into the car, Osborn keeps his casual demeanour, as if he's in no hurry to get somewhere, and gives me a mischievous glance.

MC: Umm… are we not going?

Osborn: Did you forget something?

MC: Eh?

Osborn: So careless……

In an instant, I can feel his breath on my skin: gentle but insistent, carrying the unique warmth that is his alone.

At that very second, I forget how to breathe, and my mind goes completely blank.

MC: ……

Osborn: You didn’t wear your seatbelt.

“Click”— When his eyes gaze at my face, it's as though he's trying to conceal a smile while he assists me with buckling my seatbelt.

MC: Thanks. This is my first time joining you on a race, and I got so nervous that I completely forgot about it.

Osborn: You’re welcome. But why do you look a little bit disappointed, though?

MC: I am not…… You saw it wrong!

He smiles and raises his brows before starting the car.

We leave the city gridlock in a matter of seconds as the automobile roars and turns towards the exit route. When I open the window, the wind whips through my hair, and my eyes are met with a refreshing panorama along the road.

It's as if we're in a road movie, and Osborn is the hero who will turn the tables.

MC: It’s been a while since I felt like this.

Osborn: Feel like what?

MC: Taking off on a bright and sunny day for a destination near and dear to your heart!

Osborn: Sit tight.

The vehicle's pace picks up a little at a time. Turning a corner, we see the glistening ocean in front of us. The clouds are adrift in the evening light, and the sun shines goldenly through each layer of sea foam.

MC: Wow, what a beautiful sea!

Osborn: You can look at it all you want today.

I nod and turn back to stare out at the big ocean. As the sun sets, the distant landscape becomes hazy, and the great horizon almost blends into the sea.

As the car turns another corner, I notice an installed road sign - East Qian Mu Road.

MC: Eh? East Qian Mu Road……

The headline I saw right before leaving the office just now pops into my head. But before I have time to question and ask, the ear-splitting roar of a sports car engine fills the air. At the exact moment, we see several sports cars of all hues pull up.

They continue to barrel toward us without appearing to slow down or change course. Instead, they proceed without hesitation.

MC: Careful!

Upon realising that the cars are rapidly closing in on us, I let out a horrendous scream.

Osborn takes the same cautious approach he always does, gradually stepping on the brakes before coming to a stop in the middle of the road as if he is almost certain the other car will not crash into us.

At last, a piercing brake noise can be heard relatively close by.

Perhaps taken aback by Osborn's lack of fear, they decide to call it quits.

Osborn looks me over teasingly from head to toe, finally settling on my hand. Evidently, I do not recall the exact moment I began to grasp his sleeves closely......

Osborn: I'm concerned about how you'll do once the race begins.

MC: ……

??: How reliable of Boss Xiao. Have to hand it to you.

A few people exit the sports automobiles that are in our way. The man who started the conversation glances my way before he starts whistling mindlessly. Osborn stands icily in front of him as he pushes open the car door and stares him down, emitting an aura of hostility.

Osborn: Are we going to start now, or should I give you a little more time to prepare?

??: Hngh, we can start now. I’m not afraid of you.

The man raises his head to look at Osborn, who is taller and then clicks his tongue before pointing an index finger at him provocatively.

??: “1+1”. Whoever gets to the finish line on top of the mountain first wins. Only one round, okay?

Osborn: The starting order is up to you. Don't try to claim that I didn't give you a shot. Still, Xiao Bai, if you can't restrain your own eyes, don’t blame me for being merciless.

Xiao Bai: Tsk. Just wait and see!

Even though Osborn's face is unflinchingly serene, my stomach is in knots. Just what does that guy mean by saying "1+1"? And what does he mean by reaching the finish line at the top of the mountain? Is it possible that the race Osborn was referring to......is a drag race? After a moment of deliberation, I step out of the car.

MC: Osborn.

Hearing my voice, he turns around, lifts an eyebrow in mild surprise, and walks toward me.

Osborn: What’s up?

After mentally composing the appropriate words, I take a big breath and meet his gaze.

MC: When you say "race," do you mean to have a drag race with them here? I saw on the news that there was an accident here not long ago. Do……you know?

Osborn: Yep. I know.

For a brief second, my throat closes up, and as I turn to gaze at the drag-racing crew behind him, I begin to feel increasingly anxious.

MC: This is far too risky. Let's call off the race, please?

After a short pause in which Osborn says nothing, he leans over and puts his hands on the back of the car, trapping me between the two.

MC: !!!

In that split second, his light scent permeates my senses. Like an invisible net, it entraps me and prevents me from wanting to break free. He pauses just by my ear and whispers.

Pic source: here

Osborn: Don’t you believe in me?

I momentarily feel his warm breath covering my entire earlobe and the heat rising on my face.

MC: I……

When I think about what I used to say, I nod enthusiastically. He lets go of me, and his attention is drawn to my face.

Osborn: Then don’t stop believing now.

[Part 2]

#light and night #osborn #xiao yi #光与夜之恋 #萧逸

8 notes · View notes

thewordworrier · 2 years

Text

An Attempt Was Made

Title is... A title and a statement? (And used in the fic?) Word count: 2,131 words. Ish. Notes: ~ ‘Reader’ is MCR’s drummer, newest to the group - Shelly is still their Tour Manager/Assistant, because, well that’s her job. ~ More of a friendshippy type thing. ~ Definitely more of a conversation fic. ~ Be gentle with me, I haven’t done this before! Okay, so this is my first attempt at like, a Reader fic? I have tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible, and the only ‘traits’ I’ve given ‘Reader’ is that they’re the drummer for MCR and they have hair? I think. I am... Not Sure how I feel about this really; not sure how I’ve done. It was hard! Like, damn! Maybe it’s because I tried to keep it too neutral and wasn’t too sure of where I wanted to go before I started. Well, that’s not true, I had a vague idea. If I do it again, maybe I can try the “you” route instead of being so neutral like I was here. This didn’t go where I had the intention of sending to but.... Ahhhh, I don’t know. I’m going to post it here anyway, I’m not sure if it’ll go on AO3.

- - - - - There was a gentle knock on the door; too soft to belong to one of the boys, but just soft enough to belong to a certain blonde. “Hey,” she called softly from the other side. “Can I come in?” Shelly waited for a moment, straining to hear through the door. “You know I’m gonna come in anyway if this door is unlocked,” she kept her tone friendly and unthreatening. Not that doing that was hard. “So, speak loud enough now or forever hold your peace?” Upon hearing nothing, she tried the door handle, honestly surprised to find it unlocked. She tsk’d to herself - this meant that no-one else had tried it or had tried to go into the room. She closed the door behind her and padded across the floor to the bed where she settled on the edge near the lump under the blankets. The curtains were drawn and the lamp on the side table was on. At least they weren’t completely in the dark. “Yeah,” she said gently. “Blanket cocoons make me feel a bit better too.” There was a soft chuckle from inside the cocoon and that made Shelly smile. That was a start after all. She shifted a little to be more comfortable and to sit on the bed a bit better - she wasn’t perched on the edge so much now. She hesitated before patting the part of the cocoon where she assumed her friend’s head was. The lump shifted closer to her and she hummed. “Yeah okay,” she said softly. “Do you want me to move a little so you can get closer?” “Please,” said a quiet voice. Shelly leant down to slip her shoes off before moving back against the headboard. “Come on then.” The blonde watched the cocoon move and the head of their drummer emerged before they shifted themselves to settle down closer to her. She held up a pillow and gestured to it, putting it on her lap when they nodded. Once she patted the pillow, the drummer settled their head on it. Once they were settled, Shelly started gently running her fingers through their hair. “There we go,” she said quietly. “Is that a bit better?” “Mm.” “Thought so,” Shelly nodded. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” They shook their head before speaking. “Why are you asking me a question that you probably already know the answer to?” “Because, sugar, I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it. If there was anything in particular that you wanted to talk about,” she kept running her fingers through their hair, slowly and soothingly. “I know I should talk about it, but I just feel so stupid.” “You have no reason to feel stupid,” Shelly kept her voice quiet and gentle. “You’re not stupid. You’re just feeling a bit vulnerable at the moment, and that’s okay.” “It doesn’t feel like it’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes though. Especially not with the image of the band.” Shelly snorted. “It’s very much okay to be vulnerable, band image be damned. We’re all human, you know. You’re allowed to have feelings, and more importantly, you’re allowed to express them.” “Yeah, but -” “No no, don’t give me whatever it is you’re gonna give me,” Shelly poked them in the earlobe gently, smiling a little when they squirmed. “You don’t have to express them in public if you don’t want to, you don’t even have to express them in front of the rest of the band, or even in front of me. But you’re allowed to feel things.” “Are you sure?” They sat up and leant against the headboard, next to Shelly. “Absolutely sure. Hell, it might even be healthy to express feelings in public; to show the fans that it’s okay to feel too, you know? The band is all about breaking out of the boxes, isn’t it?” “Mm, that’s true.” “It’s okay to show that things in the industry aren't all sunshine and rainbows too,” Shelly shifted in her spot on the bed to grab the drummer’s hand, giving it a squeeze. This earned her a smile. “Um,” they started, avoiding looking at their tour manager. “I know you said that I didn’t have to talk to you, but… Can I?” Shelly cooed softly and pulled them closer, humming as they leant their head against her shoulder. “Of course you can talk to me. Whenever you need to, you come and talk to me.” “Are you sure?” They glanced up at her. “Of course. I care about all of you. Why wouldn’t I?” “Well, it is kinda your job…” They mumbled, hiding their face in the blanket. “Hm… Yes, it is my job to look after you guys. But I don’t have to go as far as I do. I do it because I really do care.” They sighed. “Yeah, I know you do, really I do, deep down. Sometimes I just have trouble remembering it day to day.” “That’s alright you know. Everyone had moments like that, you know?” “Even you?” They smiled and spoke genuinely. “You know, ‘cause you’re so put together and well adjusted and all of that.” “Oh, pffft. Come here.” She gestured for them to lean against her again, smiling when they leant their head against her shoulder. “Yes, even me.” They chuckled and sighed as Shelly’s fingers found their way back into their hair. “Don’t believe you really.” “You should believe me,” she grumbled playfully. “You will eventually.” “Mm, we’ll see.” The blonde chuckled and they sat together quietly for a little bit. “I just…” Shelly tilted her head as they started talking so she could listen better. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t get as much support as the others,” the confession was quiet and almost shy. “From me? Or from fans?” They looked at the blonde, eyes wide to see her with a small frown on her face. “You? No no! You support all of us so well! You’re very fair with your time and energy!” This seemed to relax her - they felt it. “Okay, good, because I’d hate to think that I’m not doing my job properly. That I’m not being a good enough friend.” “No,” they shook their head; gently of course, they were still leaning against her. “It’s not you, you do a great job, both personally and professionally.” “Thank you,” Shelly said quietly. “That means a lot to me.” They nodded and the pair fell quiet for another few minutes. “From the fans?” Shelly said eventually, feeling them nod once. “Oh, honey.” They felt Shelly move a little and they sat up a bit better as they watched her pull her phone out of her pocket. She unlocked it with a tap and a swipe before opening one of her apps and typing something. She hummed for a moment as she waited for it to load before showing them her phone. On the screen was a photo album full of screenshots of social media posts. This folder was for them - the drummer. It had… Quite a lot of screenshots in it actually. “You can read as many as you want,” Shelly said quietly from beside them. “I can even send you some if you want.” “I have… A question?” “Sure darling.” “Why do you have screenshots? Don’t you like the posts on the apps?” “Ah,” she smiled. “A good question, actually. Yeah, I don’t like the posts on the apps because I’m normally using the band’s account. I hardly use my personal ones anymore. I don’t want the fans to figure out my personal and I think they’d freak out if the band’s account started liking their posts.” “I suppose if they found out that the band’s account was as active as you are on it, you’d probably get way more messages and that than you do.” “Exactly that.” Shelly nudged them gently. “Look at you with the brains and the talent.” She giggled softly as they blushed and grumbled in disagreement. “Maybe I just have the brain cell today. I’m sure one of the others normally has it.” Shelly snorted and laughed. “The idea that there’s just one or two brain cells that the band shares never fails to amuse me, but you know that’s not true.” “Yeah,” they grinned at her. “There’s only one brain cell between the whole band because you have to do all of our thinking for us.” She snorted again, shaking her head. “You and I both know that’s rubbish. You are all smart and talented and you all drive me absolutely insane.” The drummer laughed at that. “We don’t mean to, though, really Shell.” “Truthfully I think it would be boring if you didn’t,” she admitted. “But y’all are never too bad. It’s like you just like to tease and test me.” “Some more than others.” “Mm hm.” Shelly watched the newest band member scroll through her screenshots again, a small smile staying on their face as they did so. Good. That was what she wanted. But she did make a mental note to talk to Gerard about… Sharing the support a little more. “There are other posts,” she said quietly. “Other, ah… Good ones, but they’re not as family friendly as those. I don’t screenshot those but they’re out there. You do have your own little fan base though, just like the others do. They’re there. They might be a bit quieter, but they’re just as passionate in defending you and sticking up for you and supporting you as the fan groups for the others are.” She paused and lifted their chin. “Listen to me. You are loved just as much as the rest of the band, okay?” They nodded. “By the fans and by me.” A grin spread across their face. “Yeah, but you have your favourite.” Shelly blinked rapidly, let their face go and shook her head as her cheeks started to go pink. “Oh, shut up, I do not.” “Oh, you do! I know you do! I spent a lot of time observing, a lot of time listening.” They smiled at her, their voice softening. “I see the way you are with him.” “I don’t -” “And,” they continued, still gently and nicely. “I see the way he is with you.” “I have no idea what you mean,” Shelly’s cheeks went from a pale pink to a light red. “You should do something about that, really.” The look the assistant gave the drummer was one of the most unimpressed that they personally had ever been on the receiving end of. They chuckled nervously. “No, really,” they started, sounding less confident as they went on. “I mean, maybe? You should?” “Yeah, sure, that’s totally going to happen,” Shelly cleared her throat. “Hey, an attempt was made?” Shelly just rolled her eyes, though it was playful. “Enough of that… How’re you feeling?” The roll of her eyes was met with a shake of the drummer’s head. “Um. Yeah, I guess, not bad?” “Do you believe that you’re not as unsupported as you think?” Shelly asked gently. “Um… Maybe? I don’t know how much I believe it, but… I know it’s there?” “Mm hm. It is,” Shelly felt them lean against her again and she hummed as they settled together quietly for a little bit before she spoke again. “I’m gonna start sending you some of those screenshots whenever I think you’re having a down moment. Or you can ask me to send you one if you need the boost.” “That… That sounds like a good idea actually.” “Good! Because I’m gonna do it anyway, whether you ask me for them or not!” She smiled and her tone softened. “You’ll believe it eventually.” They sighed. “I… Hope so.” “You will.” She watched them shift away from her and stretch before rubbing the back of their neck as they glanced at her. “Something up?” “I… Can I have a hug?” “Can you -” the blonde snorted a little, sat up straight and held her arms out. “Of course you can have a hug, c’mere.” They didn’t need to be told twice, and soon they were wrapped up in one of Shelly’s tight, snuggly hugs as she stroked their hair. It was nice, and she smelt good. She was comforting. “You ever have any issues; with the others, with the fans, with the press, you come to me and I’ll sort it, okay?” She felt them nod. “I mean, not only is that my job, but it’s instinctual for me.” “Mama bear,” they mumbled with their cheek against her shoulder. “Mama lion,” she corrected gently. “But yes, same thing. You feeling better?” They hummed and nodded. Shelly groped for her phone and checked the time. “Shall we go and gather the others and go and get some food?”

#She Speaks #She Talks Writing #my writing #fan fic - vaguely I guess #September 2022 #friendship fic?#A Reader! Fic #I think #Ehhhh - jury is out on that one

10 notes · View notes