#anyway this one was a little angsty and a little long-winded | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lonely-cowboy · 3 months

Text

future of us

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: after finding a box of home videos, you're overwhelmed with thoughts of the future. only connor can ease your worries.

word count: 2k

warnings: panic attack sorta, good ol' daddy issues, a 6yo (and a however old you are)yo having an existential crisis about death, i actually don't know what this is i just felt like writing it, rushed ending

author's note: yes i was complaining about my angsty gameplay in my last post and yes i am posting angst after saying i needed more fluff to feel happy. what about it. i like the angst, it makes me feel smth.

masterlist ⟡ requests

The television flickered in the dim living room, the shadows shifting like otherworldly creatures. The heavy rain pounded against the windows combined with the quiet whistle of the winds. You would think that with such advanced technology nowadays the intense weather wouldn’t affect the power. Apparently, that hadn’t been a priority during this era of technological breakthroughs. But you didn’t mind. The flickering screen and hissing static were comforting, reminding you of the days Hank still had his old-fashioned television.

In the peaceful hours of the early morning (or late night depending on who you asked), you sat huddled on the couch with your eyes glued to the television. Wearing one of Hank’s old sweatshirts that was far too long for you, you hugged your knees tightly.

You watched the screen as a little girl sat bashfully at the head of a long dining table, kicking her feet giddily as a birthday cake with six blazing candles was placed in front of her. She was surrounded by loved ones who looked at her fondly, singing in unison with enthusiastic, booming voices. One voice– the cameraman's– overpowered them all, his voice uncharacteristically jaunty and cheerful. As the singing reached its end and the little girl blew out her candles with a big breath (and a lot of spit), the cameraman squished himself into the frame with a wide grin.

And there was Hank Anderson. A younger, much happier Hank, but Hank nonetheless. He grinned at the camera, calling the little girl’s attention. They both smiled brightly into the camera, ignoring that it was a video and not a picture. Hank and his goddaughter. Hank and you.

You were honestly surprised when you found the box of old VHS tapes. Yes, VHS tapes. No, you weren’t that old, far from it actually. Hank was just always old-fashioned; he never had a knack for technology. So any videos from your childhood were found on VHS tapes that Hank had kept for all these years.

You found them when you were organizing his garage. The entire day, you had been cleaning around his house with Connor’s help because his drunk ass could never do it. You hoped that maybe by giving him a clean environment he might be able to clean up his act. You weren’t too sure about that, but the thought was there.

When you found the tapes, it was already well into the night. Hank had passed out hours ago, and you released Connor to recharge not long ago. That’s when you decided you were deserving of a much-needed break, dragging the hefty box of VHS tapes into the living room for your viewing pleasure.

Only you hadn’t realized the experience would be the exact opposite of pleasurable. The more videos you watched, the more your misery grew.

You couldn’t exactly explain why you were so upset. All you knew was that your chest was heavy with dread, your eyes forlorn as you watched video after video.

You were so distracted by the video of your sixth birthday (Hank was now interrogating you about the differences between being five and six, ever the detective) that you hadn’t heard Connor’s light footfalls. Though you probably wouldn’t have heard them anyway. Androids were scarily sneaky like that. You didn’t realize Connor was even in the room until he was standing right beside you, his figure nothing but a shadow in your peripheral vision. You had almost forgotten he was here, simply resting (or whatever it was androids did) in Hank’s spare room.

Your attention snapped to him, fumbling for the remote to pause the video. With only the light of the television to guide you, you struggled to find the pause button. By the time you finally found it, your cheeks were unbearably warm with embarrassment.

Watching videos of your childhood self to remember the good times with Hank before he practically cut you off completely, dried tear stains on your cheeks and fresh tears welling in your eyes? Pathetic.

With your face buried in the baggy sleeves of Hank’s sweatshirt, you tried to casually wipe away your tears, but you knew it was too late. Connor had already seen them. And even if he hadn’t seen them, you were sure he could guess by the shaky tone of your voice.

“Hi, Connor,” you greeted weakly.

Connor was silent for a moment as his eyes trailed over your figure, surely analyzing you. His LED circled yellow for a long time. Even when he sat down beside you, it continued to show yellow.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked softly, reaching a hand forward to rest on your knee and giving it a loving squeeze.

You were so surprised that he didn’t offer some kind of thorough analysis of your current mental state that a guttural laugh escaped your lips. The sound confused even Connor, his eyebrows furrowing at your impromptu reaction. You covered your mouth sheepishly, flashing Connor a look that said “I’m-sorry-I-don’t-know-what-that-was-either-kindly-ignore-that.”

Connor was silent again as he considered what to say. His eyes flitted to the television screen that had paused on a frame of you shoving your face into the camera with a toothy smile. You were missing two of your bottom teeth.

“Is that you?” Connor inquired. He was only being polite. You both knew that with a simple facial scan he had already determined that it was, in fact, you.

“Yeah,” you answered lamely. “My sixth birthday.”

Connor’s hand that was resting on your knee moved to your hand, slowly pulling the remote out of your grip. He unpaused the video and sat stiffly, his eyes darting from you to the screen like he didn’t know which to watch. The television showed you as you flaunted your missing teeth before pulling back to answer another one of Hank’s questions.

“Alright, last question, kiddo,” Hank said off-screen, his tone teasingly serious. “We gotta hear the final verdict… d’you like being six?”

Your little self squinted her eyes in consideration, lips pursed into an extreme pout. For added effect, you put a finger to your chin and tapped it thoughtfully.

“Hmm…,” you thought loudly. “No!”

“No?” Hank repeated with a hearty laugh. “Why not?”

“I don’t wanna get old,” you admitted innocently as if it was the easiest answer in the world. “Getting old means I’ll die.”

You snatched the remote from Connor’s hand and hurriedly paused the video again. All of a sudden, your breaths were coming out in sharp pants as your body was filled to the brim with an inexplicable panic. You needed a distraction, you didn’t want to think about any of this.

Connor was calling your name calmly, his voice a steady, grounding force. Your wide eyes snapped to meet his, hands moving to clutch both of his. As you latched onto his warm gaze, you felt an odd imbalance. You couldn’t tell if you were comforted or stressed by his presence.

“How can I help you?” Connor murmured, allowing you to grip his hands as tightly as possible.

“I don’t know… I don’t know,” you stammered. “I’m scared, Connor.”

“What are you scared of?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay… okay,” Connor whispered soothingly.

Freeing one of his hands from your grasp, Connor’s hand snaked to the back of your head and pulled you forward until your forehead was resting against his lips. He pressed light kisses against your skin, murmuring comforting words as tears started to silently spill from the corners of your eyes. You collapsed forward until your face was buried in the crook of Connor’s neck. His lips moved to your head, kissing along the top of your head.

Why were you crying? Why were you crying? Why were you crying?

You didn’t understand why you were so overwhelmed, you just knew that you were. You had felt it so suddenly that there hadn’t been time to ask why.

“Are you scared of… losing Hank?” Connor questioned.

No, that wasn’t it. Well, yes, you were. But that wasn’t the cause of your unexpected anxiousness.

“Are you scared of… dying?”

Yes. Yes, that was it. That was it. Sort of, at least.

Too broken to speak, you simply nodded against Connor’s body.

“Can you tell me what scares you about it?”

Could you? You thought about it, blinking furiously to slow the tears. Why were you scared? Sure, death was scary in general, but there was something else. There had to be something else because your heart was still pounding furiously.

“I… don’t know,” you croaked.

“Okay,” Connor said patiently. “That’s alright. You don’t need to know.”

With his hands still on you, Connor carefully pulled away from you to meet your gaze. The corners of his lips were raised in a loving smile as he studied you, his thumb absentmindedly running along your knuckles.

“I want you to know that you’re safe with me,” he continued.

You matched Connor’s smile hesitantly, feeling your heartbeat slow to a resting state. Your attention was drawn to Connor’s spiraling LED as it returned to its usual blue.

That was it.

Your smile vanished quicker than it appeared. Your eyes were now fixated on the LED at Connor’s temple, a constant reminder that he was an android. And you were only human.

“I’m going to lose you,” you whispered hoarsely.

A puzzled look crossed Connor’s features, the crease between his brows returning. His LED blinked yellow again as he realized you were still in distress.

“You won’t lose me,” Connor promised, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can’t lose me.”

“That’s the problem, Connor,” you sniffled. “Someday, I’ll die. And you’ll keep living.”

The tension in Connor’s face eased as he realized the root of your sadness, though he didn’t look at ease himself. His LED quickly turned to a solid red. He looked so… sad. As if it hadn’t occurred to him until now the inevitable future of the two of you.

The look on his face made you want to apologize profusely. You were sorry for ever putting that thought in his head. But you didn’t have the words to speak. You were frozen, just as he was.

Connor broke your suspended state by inhaling slowly, nodding his head as he thought to himself. You noticed that his grip on your hand was tighter as if he was afraid to let go. His other hand had moved to rest on your upper arm, rubbing it soothingly. It seemed to be a calming gesture for both you and him.

“Maybe that is how it will be,” Connor muttered, his eyes finding yours again. “Or maybe there’s another way we don’t know of. But that… that’s far in the future. That’s not something we need to concern ourselves with right now. Right now… is right now.”

Your tears had stopped falling long ago once there were no more left to cry. You resorted to chewing your lip worriedly, ignoring the bead of blood that infested your tastebuds. Connor’s hand moved to caress your jaw, running a thumb across your lips to stop you from hurting yourself.

“Right now… I’m holding you. On this couch. Because I care about you,” Connor continued, though his voice was still slightly frazzled. “And that’s all we need to worry about.”

Either way, his words did do something to calm you. You nodded along as he spoke, leaning into the warmth of his smooth palm. Your fear wasn’t gone, not completely anyway. But it was certainly less than it was before.

You moved quickly into Connor’s arms, pushing him back so that he was lying on the couch. Your head curled against his chest, holding the front of his shirt tightly. You never wanted him to leave. His arms naturally fell around you and lightly rubbed your back.

It wasn’t necessary for Connor to breathe, but you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. You knew he was doing it for your sake. You followed the pattern of his breathing until you finally felt a sense of peace for the first time that night.

“Will you keep holding me like this?” you mumbled.

“I’ll hold you like this, right now and forever.”

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

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sleepy-wyvern · 11 months

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His Hummingbird (Miguel O'Hara x female!reader smut)

{Angsty smut oneshot}

Available: here on Tumblr and AO3

WC: ~2.2k [oneshot]

Synopsis: You're a human female who has a boyfriend from another dimension; Spider-Man 2099. Miguel visits your apartment late at night as a surprise after not seeing him for a week.

I HAD TO GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD BEFORE I COULD FOCUS ON OTHER FICS IM SORRY ;-;

Inspirations: the song Hummingbird by Metro Bloomin and James Blake and you know the fang scene… man definitely bites 👀

A/N: If y’all want/request more I may write more, otherwise this is a one shot ❤️ leave a comment or reblog if you liked.

Warnings/tags: Angst, Smut (18+ Minors DNI), hickies (lotsa biting), fingering, light begging from reader, p in v (condom), light male whimpering

Disclaimer: I borrowed my spanglish friend for some of the translations here. Feel free to send an ask or comment if something feels off.

Enjoy!

The moon shone bright through the heavy clouds as you wondered where your spider was.

Fighting crime, defeating evil, saving lives, all nothing you could complain about. Another universe, another day, another “business trip.” He used that phrase to try and make you feel better but it couldn’t take away from the fact that one day he may not return. Perhaps if things went bad enough you wouldn’t ever be able to know what happened to him, just spending the rest of your life waiting for someone who would never return. You tried your best to shove the thought away as you fiddled with the window latch.

You pushed open the window widely to get whatever cool night air you could in your little city apartment. As the hot summer days neared closer you took solace in the cold rainy night. The sound of the rain and the city traffic was oddly comforting.

You turned and walked toward the kitchen sink opposite of the room figuring you'd at least try to get some chores done. It was a small-ish apartment the size of a hotel room really. The biggest room was the merged kitchen and living room. Still, it was familiar enough space for you to sense the presence behind you.

The moment you turned your back you heard the window blinds gently tap against the window pane; anyone else would’ve thought that had been the wind. Anyone else without a spider person lover anyways.

“Do spiders ever use the door?” You spoke without turning around, instead you turned the faucet on to do the dishes.

“You should start locking that window at night,” his gruff voice was directly behind you.

“Miguel,” you sighed, twisting the tap off before turning around.

It had been a week since his last visit, the longest ever since you started “seeing” each other. You hadn’t put a label on anything yet, what could you call a lover from another dimension that could never stay with you?

Every time you saw him after a prolonged period you were intimidated by how he stood over you. He hadn’t meant to be intimidating as his mask was already removed, yet it was hard to ignore his height and size of his build especially when he had to look down at you.

“Nobody can enter a 4th story window,” you smiled. “Just you.”

Despite that you were angry he was gone for so long your heart melted at the sight of his brown locks falling gracefully over his forehead. He wore his blue and red spider suit as he always did when traveling.

He wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you close into his hot embrace. He planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Te extrañé…” He trailed off as he pulled back to look into your eyes.

He held his hands against your face when you eyed his bracelet; the thing that let him stay here with you without “glitching out.” It was a grim reminder of what could never be. Despite the comfort you got from his rough hands against your soft face, it made you sad.

“I missed you too,” you sighed, overlapping his hand with your smaller one.

The bracelet was cool to the touch as you frowned. “Where have you been?” You scolded, “You told me you’d be back by Monday. It’s Friday!”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed furrowing his brows. “It’s work.”

“It always is,” You turn around putting your hands on the smooth countertop.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he offered, sounding sad and hopeful.

You knew he didn’t mean to make you worry or make you sad. You both wished things were different. It would make it so much easier. You knew though that if he could change things he would and you didn’t want to hold what was out of his control against him. It wasn’t his fault you were born in different worlds, different universes. It didn’t help that you weren’t a spider person either.

You felt his hands gently against your waist as he moved closer to you.

“I'm sorry." He sighed. "Mi pequeña colibrí…” he whispered into your ear. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck sending shivers down your body.

“Oh stop, you can’t use the español to make me feel better! No fair!” You laughed.

He placed a kiss on your ear that tickled before you spun back around, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

“My spiderman,” You giggled as his look of concern melted into happiness. "I'm not mad at you. Just try to let me know if you'll be late next time."

The corner of his lips turned upward ever so slightly in relief. "I promise."

Another thing that was likely yours only; Miguel’s smile. When Jessica met you she was surprised you were even real. She warned you to not mention much of Miguel’s personal life activities to the other spider people but it was hard to remember. Once you accidentally mentioned the flowers on your table were from Miguel to Gwen she nearly fainted. You adored the way he treated you special even if you weren’t sure why he chose you. You could never be mad at him for something he couldn't control.

He brushed his thumbs in a circular motion against your waist as he held you. His dark eyes were full of love as he looked down at you.

You ran your fingers back through his brown hair. He seemed to sigh beneath your touch, it was thrilling in a way to know he was comfortable enough around you to let his guard down. Nobody else could see Miguel the way you did.

“You need to stop being so stressed. Relax more.” You sighed bringing your fingers to his forehead. “Grumpy wrinkles.”

He chuckled low as he held you tightly. He brought his face down into your neck to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume that he loved so much.

“I know what helps with that,” his voice was deep and silky and fuck it made your body melt.

You giggled as his sweet kisses turned into loving nibbles. He was careful to not hurt you with his fangs but he knew how much you loved his gentle biting. You had a hunch he loved it as much as you did. On top of that it’s been a week without it and damn you missed him.

You let his touch overwhelm you as he held you, softly biting against your delicate skin. His body tensed against you the moment you let out a small pleasurable gasp.

“Hm,” He huffed deeply as he pulled back. “I forgot my strength. I’m sorry, mi colibrí.”

He brought his fingers up to your neck, wiping away the wetness before examining the hickie left behind.

“That’s what makeup is for,” you reassured. “Now, you have a week to make up for…”

“No better time to start than now,” he knocked off the stack of papers that were laying on the countertop.

Before you could react he grabbed your hips, lifting you into the air. You let out a faint gasp as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Miguel!” You scolded as he smirked at you, placing you on the empty countertop space. “Naughty, what has become of you?” You teased him.

“You have become of me,” he pressed his hot lips against yours hungrily.

He brought his hands around to the back of your head holding you close so he could kiss you deeply. It wasn’t long before you could feel his cool tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth letting him in, his cold mouth meeting your warm one.

You brought your hands to his shoulders feeling the fabric of his suit. Eagerly you moved your fingers to his back, grasping for the zipper. You rotated between feeling the muscles of his back and fumbling with the damn zipper making your kisses turn sloppy.

“Eager aren’t we?” He laughed low and deep in his throat, it wasn’t a mocking tone. In fact you knew he loved it.

He shimmied his shoulders out of the suit and it took all of your power not to basically drool over him. You wasted no time bringing your hands to feel his hot skin, tracing your fingers lovingly over the scars on his chest.

You buried your fingers in his hair as your lips met again. The man loves to kiss you, almost as much as he loves to bite you. He took the opportunity to switch to biting your neck whenever you pulled back to breathe.

He slowly brought his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, running his calloused fingers along your silky smooth torso. You separated from him only long enough to remove the pesky fabric of your top before diving back into him again.

You could feel the bulge in his underwear against your leg as he leaned forward to undo the clasp of your bra. He brought his large hands to your breasts lovingly cupping and massaging them. Goosebumps rose against his skin at the sound of your soft, lustful moans.

“More baby,” you whispered.

He brought his lips to your nipple, his hair tickling your chest. You tilted your head down letting yourself get lost in the scent of his shampoo while he planted wet kisses against your stiff nipple. His grabs on your body slowly turned more rough as you felt his teeth against your skin.

“More,” you demand. It’s been a week and damn you wanted him more than anything.

He hooked his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your leggings and panties as you shimmied to help. Your body shivered as the fabric pooled to the floor. Miguel looked at your body with a mixture of awe and hunger- a deep lust filled hunger.

He brought his index and middle finger to your entrance, smiling when he felt how wet you were.

“You really did miss me huh, mi pequeña colibrí?”

You nodded “mmm’, yes I did. Need you, Miguel.” You whined feeling him circle your entrance.

He wasn’t cruel to make you wait as he plunged his fingers in. Your back arched as you gasped, spreading your legs desperate for him deeper. Feeling his fingers arch against your walls and watching the movements of his wrist as he pleased you was intoxicating.

Still you wanted more.

“Please, baby,” you whimpered.

Your body whined when he stopped and pulled his fingers out.

“What is it, cariño?” His voice purred. He brought his fingers to his lips, rolling his tongue over your sweetness.

“You,” your lip quivered as you shuddered from the cool apartment air. “Please.”

You knew this was a game he could normally play for a long time. Not today though, neither of you could handle it. Instead your heart raced as he nodded to the kitchen drawer where you kept the condoms since counter sex had become a more regular activity.

He brought his large, hard cock out of his boxers, stroking lightly. You swallowed at the sight wondering how you could ever take him.

He smirked at your expression “are you afraid?”

You shook your head, reaching your hands out to his broad shoulders trying to bring him closer. You fumbled with the condom, bringing your hands to his hot cock. He gasped lightly as your hands held him him, rolling the condom down over him.

He lined his tip against your entrance, soaking himself in your juices and teasing you just a little.

“Are you ready?” He whispered and for the first time tonight you heard his voice start to shake.

You bit your lip as you nodded “I am.”

He slowly slid himself in as you let out a moan of tight, firey pressure. The moment he was fully inside you both let out a gasp; you both waited so long for this moment. You wrapped your arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck while you got used to the feeling of all of him inside.

He waited for you to nod and give him the okay to continue. He planted a kiss on your cheek as he pulled out slightly before thrusting in again. You spread your legs further apart, moaning at the next deeper thrust. You grasped at the muscles of his back for an anchor.

“Just like that, cariño,” He whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He thrusted against, harder and faster as you felt your pleasure start to build. He kept a lovely, steady pace and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you reached your climax.

“Oh Miguel,” you moaned, making him shiver. “Baby, I’m close.”

You grasped at his back desperate to have more of him. His heavy breaths and grunts sent electricity through you while his cock pressed lovingly against that sweet spot.

“Don’t move,” his voice was a quiet whimper while you held him.

Fuck, hearing him whimper always sent you feral but you did your best to keep still while he pounded into your tight cunt. Your back arched as the waves of pleasure crashed down into a lovely orgasm.

“You feel so good,” he whispered in your ear.

You knew he was close and you wrapped your legs around him not letting him go.

“I’m, I’m-“ his voice broke off as you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

His arms held you tightly to him as you were wrapped around him lovingly. The heat of your bodies, the feeling of his heart beating and the rise and fall of his chest as he heavily breathed through the pleasure… Despite that soon he’d have to leave again these moments are what make it worth it.

"Te amo," his voice was a husky whisper as he held you.

For now, you got to enjoy the warm embrace of your spider.

===

💙💙💙💙

Thanks so much for reading, let me know if you enjoyed with any comments/reblogs, I appreciate them all!

-Wyv

#miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x female!reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x female!reader smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x female!reader #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #fan fic #fan fics #fan fiction #fan fictions

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wayfayrr · 5 months

Note

I see your human!reader and raise you: the Chain struggling to find food they can actually eat, reader feeling terrible and maybe a bit like a burden because of it, and getting into a dangerous situation in order to make it up to them

Source: the Owl House :)

I'm so sorry that this took so long to answer!! I've been quite busy recently but while I haven't watched the owl house I hope this does what you wanted justice, it got out of hand the more I wrote!!! I've heard it's great I just don't really watch shows :( Fair warning this got way more angsty then I planned for it too, with reader being pretty flippant about their own safety than they really should be, there's a brief not very detailed description of gore too. (it's also fairly wars centric towards the end)

[masterlist]

“[Name]! So wind and I’ve just been to the village right? I think I’ve finally found something I can cook that you should be able to eat! It was quite expensive but I’m sure it’ll be worth it for you!”

“We looked around for ages, so if you can’t eat this then there might not be anything in Hyrule that you can eat!”

Wind means well with what he’s saying; I know that Wild does too, they don’t mean to make me feel bad - I think they don’t anyway. Not like they really need to try with how much of a burden to them I am. Buying expensive supplies just for me? When they’re already struggling to afford their own basic supplies, now I’m just adding unnecessary costs for them. Don’t get me started with the looks of pity they give me either.

“Thank you both but, please don’t go spending so much on me.”

“But we have to find something you can eat, you’ll just be a… It’s not good for you to starve!”

That - that’s the closest any of them have gotten to saying it outright, they really do just see me as a burden - they aren’t even trying to hide it now. No wonder I’ve always been kept to the side in any fights, Hyrule can’t heal me so I’d just be deadweight if I got hurt, I can’t fight like they can really all I’m good for is as a meat shield to defend them from magic. “Hey [name], are you alright? You zoned out a bit there…”

“Oh, yeah I just - I think I just need to have some time alone if that’s alright? I’ll make sure to stay in distance of the camp.”

“As long as you’re careful and not there too long, I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll tell the others for you.”

I hope he doesn’t.

He seemed content with how I nodded at him, so I should be in the clear to go and just vanish for a while even if it’s just to pretend I’m not causing them issues for a little while.

It doesn’t feel like it takes me long to get to a nice place to sit, so it should still be pretty close to camp - not that they should be worried for me. Somewhere nice and open to sit next to a gentle babbling brook, it’s calm and I’m alone, everything I need at the moment.

Shit - how did I not see a sleeping lynel!? No no, not now I don’t even have a weapon! … What if I did kill it though - their parts can be sold for a fortune… I could pay my way and prove I’m not just useless. Even if I don’t - well they won’t have to worry about me in that case.

It hasn’t seemed to notice me yet, maybe there’s a chance I can come back from it. If I just stay low and as silent as I can then I should be able to jump it.

Stay quiet, take its weapon. Wow, that’s a lot lighter than Wild makes it out to be. Now to just - Just go for its neck! I - I actually managed to slit its throat!

IT’S STILL ALIVE!?

Okay. OKAY! Its movements are sluggish and it seems to be bleeding out so just get away from it -

Why - why can’t I feel my arm properly? Why is my shoulder so wet all of a -! The pain hit harder than a truck every nerve on my left side feels like it’s being set ablaze, there wasn’t a single hope of keeping in the scream I just let out, one I didn’t even realise had ripped its way from my throat. Tilting my head down to see the cause; suddenly my body feeling nothing but raw visceral pain suddenly makes a lot more sense than before. The stupid thing cut half through my shoulder with my arm now hanging limply by my side.

“[NAME]! WHAT ARE YOU DOING - YOU’VE BEEN MISSING FOR HOURS - WHAT Did you - [name]!?”

Wars is here..? Didn’t Wild say I was going off for a bit? Why would he be looking for me? I can’t be worth so much that he’d go off on his own to look for me.

“Oh goddesses [name] what - no, no, no stay awake, you’ve got to stay with me darling.”

“‘m awake… ‘m - still ‘ere…”

Is that really what I sound like right now… I sound so slurred… like - like how people on tv sounded when they were. Oh.

I’m bleeding out and delirious then, no wonder Wars is ‘here’, he’s just my brain giving me one last happy memory before I kick the bucket. Isn’t that wonderful, to spend my last moments hallucinating my unreciprocated crush caring for me. Closing my eyes feels all too easy, even when I’m about to drift off it still feels as if he’s holding me, maybe this won’t be too bad?

“[Name] don’t you DARE close your eyes, you - I’m not losing anyone else I care about - I can't lose you… I haven't even-”

A harsh slap to the face after a shaky breath - one that feels all too real - has me reconsidering things, the feeling of something tears dropping onto my face is the thing that finally has me opening my eyes despite how hard it is to do so.

“I - I have some bandages, a potio- no that’s not going to help you I’ve got bandages I just need you to talk to me while I use them, so I know you aren’t close to passing out. You’re going to make it out of this - I need you to make it out of this.”

The agony of him adjusting my arm to bind it, well it’s proof that I am still very much alive. If he really wants me to talk… well then I might as well try to get some answers out of him.

“Why - why ‘re you - wh’ ‘d you come lookin’ fr me?”

“You - vanished for hours without a word, did you really think none of us would get worried? Even if none of the others would, I will always come for you.”

“Hm’ wild said he w’s gonna tell the rs’ o’ you… b’sides ‘m just a burden ‘nt I? Wil’ pretty muh said i’.”

“...Wild. but why would he risk - he wouldn’t put you in the… Don’t worry about what wild says he’s lying, you’re not a burden, even if you were. You’re one I would choose to carry every day for the rest of my life without a single regret. Don’t let what he says get to you, darling.”

Murderous, that’s the best way I could hope to describe the look on his face, it’s like he wants wild dead. His bandages seem to have stopped the bleeding though, so while I still feel lightheaded I should live as long as the wound doesn’t get infected.

“Wai’ why’r you callin’ me darlin’? ‘M not - you’r…”

A little smirk crossed his face then barely lasting long enough for me to just notice it before it was replaced by concern, did I forget something, I mean it’s not impossible that I also hit my head right? Right?

“But you’re my partner, honeybee, we’ve been together for a few days now - you - you can’t have forgotten that right? If that’s the only price for you surviving, I mean we can always just make better memories. You - You’re still alive and that’s the most important thing.”

Well that’s not impossible, I know I’ve had feelings for him for a while so if he did ask I would’ve said yes…

“We can remake the memories later after you recover. You know I’m so glad that human blood flows slower than ours, those precious few extra seconds are literally lifesaving.”

He’s just babbling to himself now, must’ve been stressed over me; now that I’m safer it’s all just draining out of him. The way he’s clinging to me and shaking shows that fairly well too, like he doesn’t plan to let me out of his arms for a long while.

“Please never do this ever again, I don’t even know what you were planning but you could’ve died [name], you could’ve died and I wouldn’t have had a chance to say goodbye. Please you have to explain why when you’re better. Please promise me you’ll tell me why.”

“I will Wars, I swear.”

“...That’s all I needed to hear, thank you darling.”

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #humans are space orcs #kinda #feels appropriate still <3 #this is the heaviest angst I've written so far lol #moss✦writes #lu warriors x reader #lu warriors #yandere link

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lottesreads · 6 months

Text

Why Me? - Part 5

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Cursing, insecurities, pining, mommy/daddy issues, dirty jokes, mentions of death, mentions of being drunk/drinking, angst, forbidden relationship, Rooster (he's gonna be his own warning from now on)

Word Count: 5141

Summary: You can't get enough of Bob, and it seems he can't get enough of you either. You finally get to meet Phoenix's girlfriend, all while trying to sort out your own complicated feelings for each other.

A/N: I am loving all the reblogs and likes, and I apologize this took me so long! Things are starting to get a little more angsty, but I am SO excited for the next part so please stay tuned! I should have that one out a lot sooner than it took me to get this one out.

Masterlist

You scrunch your eyebrows, taking a look around the parking lot and back to Bob’s heaving form. “Brunch?”

“Yeah”, he breathes, “Phoenix was thinking of getting together so I thought-”

“Ok.” You cut him off. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Really?”

“Yeah”, you smile. “Just as long as Phoenix is ok with me coming.” Bob continues to rest his hands in the window of your car as you grip your steering wheel tighter so as to not reach out and touch him like you so desperately want to. This man should really cover his hands in public, it’s indecent.

“Of course.” He takes a second just to look at you and that small smile on your face. It was much better than the look you had when Penny stopped by your table. Realizing he’d been staring for too long he clears his throat. “Yeah, so I’ll- I’ll text you later and then- then see you tomorrow.”

“Sounds great”, you smile. Throwing caution to the wind you pat his hand, “Thanks Bobby.” You say it with sincerity, hoping he’ll notice just how thankful you are for him.

Bob’s resolve immediately melts at your name for him as he feels the tension leave his shoulders, “No problem”, he barely makes out. And then you’re finally out on the road, driving home. Watching you leave, he makes a call to Phoenix. He’s smiling as he does so, the last time you called him Bobby was last night when he was falling asleep next to you, your hand resting on his chest-

“Bob, what’s up?” Phoenix's voice breaks him out of his memory.

“Hey, is it alright if Mantis comes to brunch with us tomorrow?”

“Really?” “Yeah”, he begins fiddling with the side mirror of his truck hoping she’ll say ‘yes’. “I mean I kind of already invited her, and she’s all alone this weekend.”

“I mean, I was gonna introduce her to Rachel anyway, but when I made these plans you couldn’t even look her in the eye. Let alone have a conversation with her.” Even though Phoenix can’t see him, she knows he’s feeling embarrassed. “But I guess after sharing a bed together-”

“Is that a yes?” He cuts her off.

“Yes, Floyd. Now I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya’.” Well perfect, now he can see you again tomorrow. And then everyday at work after that. Where he promised to not ghost you. How could he possibly stop talking to you now? It was like you turned on a faucet, you got him started and he can’t stop. But now he had to text you, not right now obviously. He didn’t want to seem too eager, he’ll just have to drive home, wait the appropriate amount of time to make it seem like he was calling Phoenix, and then text you.

It was about an hour after you got home that Bob texted you to let you know everything was good for tomorrow. You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy that he wanted to spend more time with you so soon. And you very quickly attempted to tamp that feeling down. This was a nice budding friendship, best not to ruin it with your feelings about him and how hot he looks in jeans and a t-shirt (or anything really). Or how his eyes sparkle up close, or how you want to map out each and every freckle on his face- no, you weren’t going to think about that.

That was until you were getting ready to go to sleep and you found the sweatpants you had lent him. Still neatly folded and clean, just the way he gave them back to you. You run your hand over the soft material, as if he were still in them. Drawing your hand back, you take them off the pillow and bring them to your nose. Thank goodness, they still smelled like him. Staring down to the pillow they were just sitting on, you lean forward and take a sniff of that as well. Oh dear lord that smells like him, too.

Ok maybe that’s a problem. Shaking your head, sweatpants in hand, you take them to your dresser and put them away. You climb under the sheets and face his pillow. It didn’t matter what you did now to try and make his scent go away, it was always going to be his pillow. The one he slept on after you begged him to stay. After he made sure you were home safe. You slide your hand out from under your comforter and lay it on the pillow. Taking in a deep breath, you close your eyes as your mind wanders. Whether you want it to or not.

The next morning you spend a little extra time getting ready. You pin it all on the fact that you haven’t been out a lot lately, and any excuse to wear a sundress is a good one. You and Bob decide to meet Phoenix at the restaurant, you still feel bad he was practically your chauffeur the past two days. You swipe on some mascara before you run out the door, making your way to the restaurant. Phoenix had told you a little bit about the girl she was seeing, not wanting to make a big deal out of it before it was something serious. You could tell by the way she talked about her that she was down bad. When she was vulnerable, Phoenix liked to hide behind a facade, but there was no way she could hide how much she liked Rachel.

It’s a busy Sunday as you find a place to park and make your way to the building. Bob texted to let you know he was waiting outside for you, and even through the line of people it’s not hard to spot him from behind. He’s wearing a pair of light khaki pants, with a blue button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Oh god those forearms. That’s going to be a problem. You shake your head, walking up to him and tapping his broad shoulder. He turns and smiles, his eyes widening once he glances up and down your form, fitted underneath the floral dress you chose. The blue flowers almost a perfect match for the color of his shirt. His mouth remains slightly open as he gazes at your attire, “Wow.”

“Is it too much?” You ask. Concerned, you stare down at the outfit you chose today. Maybe you had overdressed for the occasion.

“No”, he responds immediately, “not at all. It’s perfect- you look amazing.” You avoid his gaze again, hoping he doesn’t see the flush you feel dusting your cheeks.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself. I’m glad you got the memo about wearing blue today.” He looks down at his shirt, smiling to himself.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to feel left out.” He looks back up with a crooked smile as you mirror his expression. “Anyway, Phoenix and Rachel should be here soon, I’ve already got us a table reserved, they just needed more than one person to seat us.”

“Lead the way.” Bob ushers you inside, opening the door like the true gentleman he is. And when the waitress leads you to your table his hand hovers behind your lower back, never touching. He even goes so far as to pull out your chair for you, tucking you back into the table once you’re sat. You begin to look over the menus together as Bob’s hand sits on the back of your chair. You’re not sure if he’s fully aware of what he’s doing, but you aren’t going to mention it, afraid that if you do he’ll pull away. “So how’s Sylvia doing?”, you ask, taking a sip from your water. Bob looks up and smiles at the fact you remembered the name of his precious baby, despite having learned it almost a week ago in a fleeting conversation.

“She’s doing good, still a little skittish around new people, but we’re working on that.”

“Sounds like her dad”, you respond. He lets out a small laugh and scratches the back of his neck with the hand that was previously on your chair.

“What can I say? It must be genetic.” You laugh through your nose as his hand returns right behind your back.

“Well, if she’s anything like you, once you get through the initial shyness, there is no turning back.”

“Really, no turning back?”

“Nope.” You respond, popping the ‘p’.

Just looking at you in the morning light makes Bob want to tell you how much the last couple days have meant to him. The fact that you set time aside especially for him on Friday, and then continued to want to get to know him makes him feel special. You make him feel special, and he hopes he does the same for you. It’s not even the first time now as you tell him you’re not going anywhere, that he’s wanted to confess. Since being assigned to the initial mission, every time that you’ve gone out of your way to try and talk to him he thought it was out of pity, or obligation. But he’s now realizing you did it because you’re a nice person, a good person who wanted to get to know him. Bob hasn’t come across that kind of pure intention a lot in his lifetime. Learning to put up walls to keep himself safe. But you make him feel safe, like he could tell you anything. Well, almost anything.

You’ve since looked back down at the menu, but his eyes have stayed on you. He’s trying to be discreet about it, but it’s hard when you look absolutely stunning. It’s the first time he’s seen you in a dress, but he’s certainly hoping it’s not the last. Bob never went to a high-school dance, and now as you sit before him he can’t help but imagine taking you to one. You’d probably been to all of them, with a handsome date hanging on your arm. He wishes he could have met you when he was younger, saved him from being ditched by Mandy Harrison. But he doesn’t like to think about her. He’s with you, and as he looks up at the door behind your head he realizes he’s also with Phoenix and Rachel. He waves them over as you look up from your menu to greet them.

Rachel is just as gorgeous as Phoenix described, only a couple inches shorter, with flowing ginger hair. The two of them donne sundresses as well, making you smile even wider at their arrival. You stand to greet the two, hugging Phoenix while trying to discreetly whisper in her ear, “Well done.” She laughs as you move on to Rachel who already has her arms open to greet you as if you were already friends.

“You must be Mantis, it’s so nice to meet you!”

“You as well!” you say as you break apart, “I’d say you’re even more beautiful than Phoenix described, but you live up to the expectations of ‘the most gorgeous woman to ever walk the earth’” Rachel blushes as Phoenix gives you a playful glare.

“And you of course must be Bob”

“Must be”, Bob lets out as he accepts his own hug. He seemed surprised to say the least, but not unwelcome. As you sit back down, Bob tucks your chair back in for you as you look back and give him a small thank you. “Any time”, he says just loud enough for you to hear.

You look back to the menu, trying with all your might to not notice that Bob’s hand is still on the back of your chair.

“So how long have you two worked with Nat, or Phoenix as I should say?” Rachel asks.

“Well, Nat and I actually went to the Academy together. She was a year ahead of me, but she made my time there a lot more interesting.” You respond with a small laugh.

“Hey, I’m not the one who got absolutely wasted on her 21st birthday and had to sneak back into her bunk.” Phoenix retaliates with a playful glare.

“And who’s idea was it to go out in the first place? Huh?” She surrenders as her arms go up, giving you a small smile. You remember Your 21st birthday quite well. Once again your dad was deployed, still believing you were attending UVA rather than the Naval Academy. He had always promised to take you out for your first drink, so when Nat found you in your dorm wiping away tears, she vowed to make your birthday one you would never forget. Turns out you did forget a lot of it, blacking out about halfway through the night, waking up the next morning not sure how you got back in your room. Still, she made you feel important on a day you were expecting to wallow in your room alone.

“I wasn’t about to let you spend the night of your 21st alone in your room, crying.” Bob furrows his brow as you send an indignant smile over to Phoenix.

“Why were you crying?” Bob asks as you turn back to him.

“Oh, it was nothing. Just- my dad always said he would take me out for my first drink, but he was in the middle of the Pacific at the time.”

“I’m sorry” Bob gives you. And even though it was something he had no control over, and he didn’t even know you at the time, his apology is so genuine. As if he was the one who made you cry.

“I’m fine, it was like a million years ago, and Nat made my night better.” As Bob smiles and nods, you give him one final look before glancing back at the couple.

Rachel gives you a smile before kissing her cheek, “I’m not surprised she would do that. She’s always making my day better, too.” You can’t help but notice the small blush that creeps up her cheeks at the sentiment. It’s nice to see her a little less serious, more comfortable being a little vulnerable. “Anyway, Bob, how long have you known Nat?”

“I met her when this detachment started, a few months now. I didn’t know anybody in our squad actually”

“But we got to know each other real quick”, Phoenix chimes in, “You have to place a lot of trust in each other when you’re operating the same plane.” The waitress makes her way back over as she grabs your orders and menus from you, leaving once more.

“So you two hadn’t met each other before this detachment?” Rachel asks as she points between you and Bob.

“No”, you laugh as you look at Bob, “And I feel like I’m just barely getting to know him.”

“Yeah, this weekend definitely served as a bonding experience” Bob smiles right alongside you.

“Oh yeah”, Phoenix smirks, “I heard about your little ‘sleep-over’”. Your eyes snap from Bob’s to hers, as she eyes you from over the rim of her glass. He moves to take a large sip of his water to avoid tripping over his own words. But as you’re opening your mouth to say something Rachel pipes up from beside Phoenix.

“Oh! Are you two dating?”, she asks excitedly.

“What?” Your eyes widen at her as Bob chokes on his water, immediately garnering all your attention. He begins to cough as you pat at his back, Bob waves you off, once he catches his breath. Realizing you’re still rubbing at his back you immediately withdraw your hand and look back to Rachel. “No, no. We are not dating”, you reiterate. “Bob drove me home because I was drunk, and stayed the night to make sure I was ok because otherwise I would have been alone.” You know you’re explaining this to Rachel as she nods at your explanation, but you can’t help but try to understand your own words in the back of your head. Bob only stayed because he’s a good person and your friend. That is it. And that’s all he’s ever going to be.

“I was just joking around”, Phoenix tells her girlfriend, “Mantis’ dad happens to be our Captain and I was giving Bob a hard time about it yesterday.” In all the commotion Bob’s hand left your chair, and now both sit in his lap as he stares down at them. Right in the nick of time, the waitress brings out everyone’s food diverging the previous conversation. It isn’t until everyone has had time to eat a couple bites that Phoenix starts talking again. “Besides, dating or ‘fraternization’ as the Navy loves to call it, is strictly frowned upon. If anyone in our squad broke that rule, they’d be out in a second flat.” You force yourself to swallow the bite of french toast in your mouth, pushing it down into the pit that had become your stomach. You nervously glance out of the corner of your eye to see Bob’s fork full of food that he has not yet brought to his mouth. He sits there for a good few seconds before finally deciding to take a drink of water instead.

The rest of your meal isn’t as chaotic as you talk to Rachel about how she and Phoenix met (Rachel nearly ran her over while roller blading at Mission Beach). Bob speaks when necessary, but the two of you don’t say much. Especially not to each other. There was a definitive shift in the energy, one that you’re not sure if you’re responsible for. Phoenix doesn’t mention it if she notices, you’re hoping she doesn’t as she focuses her attention back to Rachel and smiles.

It’s only when your half of the bill comes that Bob picks it up immediately. There’s not even enough time to find your purse before he places his card inside and hands it back to the waitress.

“Hey-” You start

“I told you I’d get the next one.” Your brows are furrowed as he looks at your expression. He knows you want to be mad at him, but he can’t help but smile at the look of determination on your face.

“Fine” you relent. The previous conversation doesn’t loom so large over your heads now. It’s just you and Bob. Best friends apparently. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that! You’re glad to call Bob your friend. He’s smart, funny, kind, insightful, cute, quite possibly the most handsome man you have ever met- You shut your eyes, hard. Trying to visibly shake the thoughts from your mind.

Your thoughts are broken by the sound of chairs scraping the floor. You get up and follow the rest of your party to the entrance, Bob following shortly behind you, hands still at his sides. You bid the couple goodbye, letting Rachel know how wonderful it was to meet her. They walk back to their car, leaving you and Bob at the front of the restaurant.

“Thanks for the meal, and the invite”, you tell Bob. Feeling a little uncomfortable in your own skin at the moment.

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you could come”, he gives you a shy smile as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, see ya tomorrow” You both turn to walk your separate ways, only making it a few more feet before you turn around and yell.

“Hey Floyd?” He turns around at your call, “Don’t ghost me tomorrow.” He gives you a slight smile and nods before you move to walk to your car.

“Hey Mitchell?” You stop at the sound of his voice, “I already promised I wouldn’t. And I don’t break my promises.” Both of you give each other one last smile before you’re off.

True to his word, when you arrive on base the next day Bob greets you with a smile as you take a seat behind him. He turns toward you, asking how your weekend was as if he wasn’t with you the entire time. It’s only when Rooster walks in that you decide to take the conversation in a separate direction. Whether it be the fact that him and your dad went out yet again without inviting you, or just the fact that you can’t stand to look at him, you were going to ruffle his feathers. “My weekend was pretty good, beat this chump in pool.” You’re speaking a little louder now, hoping that he’ll hear you. And by the fact that he turns his head in your direction once he sits down you know he has. “It’s alright though, he learned his lesson.”

You can hear Rooster huff as he shakes his head. “At least I can hold my liquor.” You turn completely in his direction as he glares at you.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you lost?” He shakes his head again as he starts flipping through his papers.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” More of the squad who had yet to arrive begin filtering through the door as your conversation gains an audience.

“Haven’t quit yet, might explain why I also haven’t lost yet either.” There’s a glint of something in his eyes, as if he knows what he’s about to say next will push you over the edge. Hopefully rendering you speechless for once. He knows it’s going to hurt, and that’s exactly why he’s going to say it.

“Is that why you didn’t fly on our last mission?” It hits you exactly where he intended it to. You square your jaw as the ghost of a smirk takes over his face. His eyes are still set on yours as if he’s daring you to say something else. You can hear the snickers of others as Hangman lets out a low whistle.

“Maybe if I did, everyone would have made it back to the carrier the first time around.” You grit the statement out as you watch Rooster’s nostrils flare. He sets down whatever reports he was about to start working on and stands, heading to your seat. You stand as he gets closer, not allowing him to look down at you anymore than he already has. “If it wasn’t for me your dad would be rotting in enemy territory.”

“If it wasn’t for you and your shitty flying he wouldn’t have been shot down in the first place.” The silence in the room is palpable, you could almost hear everyone’s eyes flick between you and Rooster. Waiting to see what would happen next. Any sense of messing around is lost on your faces as you square off. This was getting personal, and it was getting personal fast. “I’m surprised you didn’t just leave him behind again.” You move to sit down, noticing Bob has been standing behind you the entire time. “That’s the one thing you’re good at.” You look to the folder of your upcoming flight maneuvers in your hands, not even giving Rooster the decency of giving him your full attention as he scoffs. Before he’s even able to give you a comeback, your dad waltzes up to his podium with a smile on his face until he notices the energy in the room. He stops and takes a look around, noticing Rooster with a stormy look on his face, one that he is all but used to.

“Everything alright?”, he asks, completely oblivious once again.

“Just peachy”, you respond, not looking up from your papers. Rooster and the rest of the team make their way back to their seats as Bob turns around.

“Hey, are you ok?” You take in a deep breath and look up at his concerned face.

“I’m great, ready to kick some ass.”

“Seems like you already did.” He mutters with a small smile, turning to face your father. You let a breath out of your nose as you try to hold back your own small smile.

It’s hard not to be happy when he looks at you. Wide blue eyes and his own crooked smile. It’s dangerous, you think, how often you’ve been close to getting lost in them. And now they’re staring back at you a lot more. As you’re lost in your own thoughts of the blue-eyed beauty in front of you, you can’t feel the pair of brown eyes watching you from under a furrowed brow.

“Alright aviators”, your dad begins, “We are going to be trying out some new maneuvers this week if the weather permits. A supposed hurricane should be blowing in the next few weeks, that means we’re going to start them and execute as soon as we can. Am I understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, sir” is heard as he moves on.

The rest of the week goes off without a hitch. You’ve been flying at your best with the new maneuvers Mav assigned, and you’ve spoken to Bob every single day. He’s stayed when you sat down with Phoenix during lunch. He might be talking to Fanboy, but you catch each other's eyes every single time. He’s even started saving a seat for you right next to him, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Hey can I sit here”, Fanboy asks him as he kicks the seat next to him. Bob looks up with a slight grimace.

“Actually, I’m saving that for Mantis. You can pull up a chair though.”

“Are you serious?” Fanboy huffs out a laugh.

“What?”

“You could barely even talk to her two weeks ago. And now you’re saving her a seat?” Bob rubs the back of his neck as he looks around to find an empty seat for Mickey.

“Here, I’ll go grab one for you.” Fanboy simply nudges him to sit back down.

“Nah, it’s fine. If you wanted to get on Mav’s good side you could've just told me.” He laughs. As he walks away Bob’s brain starts running a mile a minute. Is that what everyone thought? That he was only your friend because he wanted to get on Mav’s good side? That’s not the reason at all. The reason he wanted to be your friend is because you are someone he likes to be around. In fact, he doesn’t even think about your dad anymore, he tries his darndest not to. Especially when he’s thinking about how he wants to kiss you and-

“Hey”, you say as you take the seat next to him. “Everything alright?” Without unfurrowing his brow he stares at you and lets his thoughts bubble out.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m your friend because I want to be on your dad’s good side.” Your sandwich stops halfway to your mouth as you stare at him. “Apparently that’s what some people think, but I want you to know that’s not the case.” You set your food down, reaching out to rest your hand on top of his.

“I believe you.” Bob lets out a breath of relief at your admission. He blinks a couple of times as he looks at you with a soft smile. It wasn’t just the fact that you seemed to have a sort of blind faith in him, but he felt he had one toward you as well. It felt good to be able to share that sort of trust with someone. He obviously shares some with Phoenix, as they have to rely on each other to fly a jet, but with you it felt more… intimate. He didn’t even know you completely as a person, and yet he would trust you with his entire life and more. He instinctively squeezes the hand you laid on top of his, and looks down at it. It feels right. That is until Phoenix and Rooster plop their trays of food down at the table. Your hand immediately leaves his as you go back to poking your sandwich. You don’t even look up as they drag their own chairs over to sit at your table.

Bob gladly smiles at Phoenix, while begrudgingly doing the same to Rooster. He never had anything against the man until this weekend. Now he couldn’t stand to look at him, but he still had manners. He notices you stop attempting to eat your food, now just picking at the bread at this point. As if Rooster’s appearance made you lose your appetite.

“Hey”, he quietly asks, trying to get your attention, “Are you doing anything later?”

“No”, you whisper back, “Why?”

“Well, Sylvia’s been asking to meet you.” This causes you to crack a smile as you nod in serious consideration.

“Have you been telling her about me?” Even though Bob knows you’re joking, you don’t know that there is some truth behind your question.

“Maybe. I had to tell her why I didn’t come home last Friday night and now you’re all she can talk about.” You try to hide your smile by staring down at your feet, but Bob can see right through it.

“She’s been thinking about me a lot then?” You glance a peak at Bob as he holds your gaze.

“Yeah”, he breathes out, “In fact, you’re all she’s been able to think about.” Bob can feel his heart speed up as you lift your head to give him your full attention, even if you’re still trying to hide your beautiful smile.

“I’ve been thinking about her a lot, too.” And even though he knows he’s not talking about his dog, he only wishes you weren’t either.

“You wanna come over today and meet her then?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” You’re resting your face in your chin as you bite your cheek in an attempt to stifle your smile. Bob wishes you’d allow yourself to smile fully, but he still thinks you’re just as cute like this.

“Hey Bob”, he flicks his gaze over to Phoenix as Rooster watches the two of you with an indifferent gaze. “You been on any dates lately?”, she asks, taking him completely by surprise as he lets out a small snort.

“Uh, no. No I have not.”

“Listen, I’m throwing a little get-together-

“Party”, Rooster coughs out.

“Get-together”, she emphasizes, “next weekend, and Rachel has a friend that she thinks would be perfect for you.”

“For me?”, Bob asks with wide eyes.

“Yeah you.” Bob can’t help but look over as you begin to pick at your nails, not too interested in the conversation at the table before you.“I don’t know Phoenix-” “Listen, she’ll be at the party. Nothing has to happen, but I just thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet her.” He looks between Phoenix and Rooster, watching as Rooster leans back in his seat, eyes still glued to you. “Just think about it.”

Taglist:

@lemmons1998

@itsmytimetoodream

#bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #mavdad #robert bob floyd x female reader #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #lewis pullman

109 notes · View notes

uchihaharlot · 3 months

Note

I didn't mean to break their hearts, I was just curious, srry!😭😭 (but Itachi's one was kinda funny-)

But anyway, now I'm wondering about how they would react if they found out that you can draw really cool and beautiful.

(I'm an artist, so😎)

Nonny 🥹🥹

That put me in an really good mood; lol. That was way too fun to write; maybe I can one day write a super angsty break up (but I love them too much!!!).

I love all artists 😭😭😭 Painters, writers — digital or paper. Anything that expresses the inner workings of someone’s mind and the fact that they can manifest it to reality is so so so beautiful. I hope I’ve secretly seen your art, I’d probably simp over it. Always simp over art. 😂😂🥹🥹

N/SFW; very cute Uchiha men adoring your artwork! 🥹🥹🥹 (ooc Madara??); Simpy Obito; …Scandalous Shisui; abnormally observant Itachi 😂 suggestive themes rolled out the further I got. For some reason, I just had to. (P.s. I should not be allowed to write when tired??? Half of this was done while my eyes rolled shut in bed).

Madara:

It’s not everyday that Madara is blown like a leaf in the wind. When you mentioned being a patron of the arts, he thought maybe the art of battle?? Didn’t expect your weapon to be a paint brush with some acrylic paint. Thought it was some weird jutsu infused shit.

And then you just had to go above and beyond and do a portrait of him for his birthday!!!!! It’s hung on the living room center wall so that it’s the first thing anyone sees! Honestly, this man is a brute, but your art envokes his softer side! A side that he hasn’t been in touch with for…well, a long time.

Makes sure that everyone and I mean, everyone, is aware of your talent! Still, he tries to find the side hussle in it, soliciting customers for you and all. 😭😭 Will trash talk the chalk art children make on the sidewalk, which ‘…that’s not nice, they’re children..’ you say. He shrugs, nobody is as good as you.

Obito:

Finds out and tries to ‘secretly’ commission you lmao. Makes it totally obvious too, his handwriting is shit and eveeeerrryyyyone knows who Tobi really is…. Plus how can you even begin without discussing what he wants done!! Duh, Obito! Unfortunately for him, you are more interested in drawing matters of the flesh. He’ll only show his chest, nothing more.

‘That’s fine.’ You shrug, and get to work. Obito, however, does not have the resolve to sit still! It’s frustrating to no end, but alas, after what seems an eternity— its done. Sort of. Still much to add, but the basics are there and you’ll work better when he’s not asking how does it look every twenty minutes.

Eventually you do finish this beautiful piece of him, and Obito cries. You made his scars tolerable and beautiful with your mind’s creativity, he feels less self conscious about them, only a little.

Shisui:

Is the least normal about it when he discovered your sketchbook — more like snatched and played keep away. Had to fight him for it, literally. Will ask you to paint/draw him naked…many times lol and you respectfully say no... Not that he likes people to see him naked (ok maybe a little?) but he secretly hopes it might happen one day. It would be a private thing for the two of you, cause he wants that ass.

And when you do cave to his whim, just to satiate him. He’s nervous lmao. Had this oh so macho man idea of rocking a hard on but Shisui simply maintains his usual semi. It’s nice though, you make sure it’s extremely detailed..as he asked for.

But, ‘(y/n)… this is chibbi!!!’ Lol, jokes on Shisui!! He didn’t say how to draw his pp.

Itachi:

Is the most normal about it. Though he still will praise you every time you finish a piece and show him, he is still massively impressed. How does your wrist not get tired? …maybe this is why your hand jobs are so good. 😈 Just watching you try a new technique (pointillism, which is my favorite style) makes his wrist hurt. Enjoys when you ask him for ideas! He has lots of them! Mostly…obscure and derelict landscapes though.

Would not be opposed to having his portrait done, but it’s really not his style. He is disciplined enough to sit still but doesn’t see the value in it. Not until the final product is revealed, does he truly understand how important this piece was. You’ve captured his personality in a new light.

#madara headcanons #obito headcanons #shisui headcanons #itachi headcanons #madara x reader #obito x reader #shisui x reader #itachi x reader #madara uchiha #obito uchiha #shisui uchiha #itachi uchiha #uchiha clan #uchiha family #uchiha headcanons

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angxlofvenus · 9 months

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ohhh my gosh your writing is so darn lovely! im also very happy that you also put love on asmo's parts bc he needs sm of it!! argh!!

anyways, i would love to req a soft mc! the kind of mc that's-

in flowy clothing, facing the field of sunflowers and the sea as one of them watches their hair flow through the wind. mc realises that their lover is behind them, so they turn and smile sweetly with the golden rays of the sun making mc look like a painting...

id like to request all of the brothers if thats fine! but i dont mind if u only use a handful of characters :) make sure asmo is there tho! >m<)

Hi!! Thank you sm for the request! Sorry it took so long to get done, I made a more small scenario route for each of them instead of headcanons but I hope the point still got across ! 💗

genre: fluff Ship: The Brothers x reader Tw: soft mc, gender neutral mc, the author knows nothing about flowers/where they grow, Spoilers to OG! Om! Chapter 16, Beel and Belphie's part get a lil angsty, References to the Celestial War, kind off ooc Wordcount: 1107 Not proof read !

Complete with you.

A picnic date between you and him located in a grassy field in the human realm has him thinking of you just a little more tenderly...

Lucifer

He is always busy, Busy with work, with Diavolo, With his brothers- He never gets a break

He stands in a field of tall grass, Him several steps behind you. He holds a picnic basket in one hand as he watches you pass through the brush with ease

Your hair, shining in the sun, A halo-like effect softly surrounding your body as your shirt/dress glided in soft ripples beneath the wind

“Luci, come on! I found the perfect spot!” You’d glance back at him, A huge smile on your face.

And he is weak, He feels his knees almost give out as he looks at you, He had never seen anything so blissful as you.

Speeding up his steps, He catches up to you as the blanket you were carrying is laid out on the ground below your feet- He sets the wicker basket full of food and drinks down

laughs and fun fill the time as you all eat and talk, His attention never leaves yours, The way your eyes are so bright, The way you laugh at his little jokes, Jokes he only makes to see you smile.

He dreads when the two of you will have to return to the House of Lamentation. When the brother's bickering will fill his ears instead of your soft voice, But for now- The only people to exist is you and him. And he will forever cherish this.

Mammon

He isn’t the best with his words, He knows he can be a jerk sometimes because he doesn’t know how to regulate his emotions but right now? Everything is different right now.

He follows you through the field in a blur, He doesn’t remember the journey or any of the beauty of the human world he rarely sees because he was looking at you the entire time.

And now, He walks hand in hand with you to wherever you're taking him, He doesn’t care as long as he gets to be by your side.

The two of you lay side by side in the grass in the spot you picked, The clouds above you sway above you. He hears your contempt sigh as you fully relax, But Mammon has his eyes on you- only on you.

It’s times like these when he is so close to you- He can’t help but let his love fall from his mouth, In sweet promises and words of eternal love.

Words of eternal love are whispered between the two, Nobody else will ever get in the way of them, Mammon will always fight for that.

Levi

The small picnic date in the human world had been scheduled for weeks, Levi had tried not to overthink it, But he was not only going on a date with you, You! But it's also in the human world?!

The sun hit his back as the two of you stood at the edge of a pond, nobody was around- The only sounds were of the wind and your voice. Levi felt whole as he got to just exist next to you as you cooed at the small fish swimming around.

He couldn’t help but reach out for your hand, All nerves being thrown to the wind, as You rested your head on his shoulder.

When in a world where he can be completely himself, In a world where the only person he cares to take in is you.

Satan

Satan had been waiting for a day like this, Just you and him, Some sun, and relaxation.

And he was right, This is exactly what he needed

He rested his back against a large oak tree while you laid your head in his lap- He had been reading to the two of you, His voice breaking through the nearly silent air around you all.

Your eyes slowly opened as he stopped speaking, His face looked down at yours, He didn’t say anything, Just took you in. “What?” You giggled.

“Nothing, I just have never felt calmer than in this very moment, Thank you mc.”

Asmo

A cute DevilGram-worthy date? Sign him up, He’s already packed!

He basked in the sun as you led him to a flower field, Lush colors surrounded the two of you as you laid out the picnic made for two

A light breeze waved the flowers back and forth as you placed a flower crown upon his head, In return he tucked a white Lily behind their ear, Basking in each other's presence, Asmo knew he would take the flowers home and later on press them into a photo album filled with only him and Mc.

For now though, He will take enjoyment in having nothing but beauty around him, Anything he could ever want in the world is right here with him.

Beel

You had him sold at picnic cmon now, That’s how he found himself carrying not one, but two baskets while you walked in front of him holding the third.

The tall grass crashed underneath them as Mc laid out the blanket, Quickly bring Beel to the ground with them.

The food wouldn’t last long, You both knew that, But to have an afternoon spent in the comfort of eachother.

The wind softly waved through your hair as He basked in just you, After the fall, Beel felt like he would never feel such peace again, And for a long time, He didn’t. It was only when you came along and not only helped heal his brothers but also helped him to grow from his guilt and learn that it wasn’t his fault. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever thank you enough for the love you have shown him.

Belphie

He woke up to hands combing through his hair as he felt the sun beat down on the picnic you had made for two.

His head lay in your lap as you spoiled him, A tranquil moment in time. Nothing could break the bubble you all had created around yourselves- The way your soft laugh had brought him to sleep as you had treated him not like the demon he was- But a fragile and precious creature instead.

He rarely tells you, But the nightmares of his wrongings have haunted him, The thought of his hands around your throat has broken him from deep sleep many times, and it scares him. It scares him that he could hurt you like that, But as the two of you lay in the human world, Something he never thought he’d do again, Filled with nothing but love for eachother.

He has hope, Hope for the two of you and hope for himself.

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sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 1 year

Text

Let's settle down for the night.

Quick summary: You’ve been each other’s for a long time. You trust him with your life, your body, you time, and he trusts you with his. Sometimes, though, you find yourself craving a quieter kind of intimacy. Without the helmet.

Word count: 6.3K

Warnings: A lot of fluff 😩😩; may be inaccurate ‘cause, I gotta say, I’m a Star Wars fan but I did not proper hyperfixate on it like with some of the other stuff I’ve written about (buffs, please help me out here); kind of angsty??? like, reader’s an orphan etc; allusions to smut (under the shirt stuff amiright amiright); explicit mentions of smut.

A/N: What a fittie, guys. Bound to happen. This one goes out to @manicdream for giving me a lil’ prompt where you and Din are in looove aaaand—I guess you’ll have to keep reading for the fluuuff and feels! I really had fun with this one! Love this stoic, brooding, dramatic lad, and I enjoyed exploring love languages, their communication, etc, etc. i have no idea when this would take place, so just try to follow along, I guess??? I hope you enjoy this short, little story! I think this is gonna be just one part by the way. For all you Pedro Pascal sluts out there 😌😌😌, I do think I’m gonna write a smut thing for Joel Miller TLOU. NO PROMISES, THOUGH. Just finished the latest episode and what the fuck 😀😀😀 it just gets more and more traumatising huh. Anyway, please enjoy this happy fic!

ੈ✩‧₊˚

We’ve been walking for a while, now. Muscles aching, legs straining. The low, sloping sands of the Tatooine desert are pink in the setting suns, stretching on for years and years.

The light flames up brilliant red and orange and bright white in his beskar, and I have to squint my eyes when I look over at him. From this angle, he looks like he’s all armour. When the suns finally go down, he’ll be a silhouette. That time of day always suits him best. You know how people you meet just seem like things sometimes. Din’s like rich soil, the kind that you can sink your fingers deep into with one single push. Or like a rock – with how little he talks, I used to think he was a rock. He’s also dusk. Dusk happens to be my favourite time of day.

My feet are dragging again. If I were with anyone else, I’d never let my guard down—but it’s just us, and we’re in the middle of nowhere, and we’ve got a whole bunch of credits in my pack that’s almost enough to finally buy us our own ship. Won’t have to put up with sceptical glances on commercial flights anymore, or getting bashed about by produce on cargo ships we’ve had to sneak onto. Maker, I miss the comfort of the Razor Crest. But, y’know, it’s—it’s what it is. Lucky for us, transportation is the worst of our problems – it’s been a relatively quiet trip over the planet; no trouble—yet. Quietly trading with sketchy contractors in isolated taverns. We never ask questions about the high-paying ones, whether we’re implicitly tipping the scales of some political bantha shit, but I’m always curious.

A dry gust of wind cools my stifling skin, a break from the still weather.

“You alright back there?”

Din has his head angled slightly back towards me. His grainy, modulated voice curves my mouth up into a smile, and I stare fondly over at him as he slows his pace a little to fall into step with me. I urge him not to slack with the jerk of my head.

“Yeah, ‘f’course,” I assure him, tongue buzzing with foul saliva. Can’t drink just yet, though, ‘cause I already chugged about half of my waterskin way back at sun-up. He’s offered me the rest of his, but I refused to take it. Though, right now, grimacing at the bile in my mouth, I am thinking hard about changing my mind. “We’re safe,” I say confidently. We’ve been careful.

“I know.” Yeah, I know he knows. “I was just wonderin’ cause, y’know, you’ve been a little quiet.”

Playfully, I nudge into him (damn that beskar) and laugh as he shoves me back. “What, so you’re saying you want my ‘mindless chit-chatting’ back now, huh?”

I’m talking out of my ass, of course. We’ve had a thing going for a while, now – it’s been just us for a while. I know he doesn’t mean any harm when he teases me like that. It takes a lot for him to hurt my feelings, and he never does. Maybe at first, when neither of us would admit that we were happier being together than apart. I don’t know why I didn’t just tag along with him sooner. If I had known that those gruff, little grunts he’d make during conversation when we’d cross paths during jobs meant that he was enjoying himself?—well, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time in asking him to be my partner. In all senses.

But still, he feels the need to explain: “Ah, you know I was just—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I suppose that, after so long needing to be strong and tough and brave and coarse to get on with life and work, he likes being soft. This is soft for him: letting me walk ahead just slightly, his shoulder behind mine, so that he’s always got my six; teasing me about things he’s told me are his favourite qualities of mine; secretly watching me from behind the security of his visor. I don’t tell him I love it, and I don’t tell him I notice, but he knows, I think.

He turns away to complete a quick scan of the horizon on his blind side, and I do the same for mine, before we turn back to each other. He’s tired – I can tell by the way he’s leaning in towards me, like he wants to be held. The privacy of this big, wide desert must be a comfort to him. I know it is to me.

“How’s your day been?” he asks me lowly.

I laugh. “You mean the day we’re currently spending together?”

He nods. “Tell me about it.”

Stars, I’m glad it’s getting dark, because my cheeks start to glow with warmth. Not necessarily just his voice or even the words. Consistently, he always asks about my day. Yesterday, it was in a dingy tavern, after avoiding a bar fight (some prick tried to trick me out of a drink the contractor bought me fair ‘n’ square). The day before, it was in the dead of night, looking up at the stars, with the bounty, unconscious, lying between us.

“I liked it.” He scoffs. “I did. There’s been no trouble, and, y’know, I grew up on a desert planet like this.”

“Bantha farmers, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He grunts.

I laugh again. “You bastard! You’re so judgemental. Honestly worse than those Coruscanti pricks we worked for ages back. Remember how they looked at us when we traded? Tried to underpay us? Bet they’ve never risked even chipping a nail.” Bounty hunting is a little more difficult these days without the assurance of carbonite freezing, without the security of the Guild – we’ve had to complete ten times as many jobs for five times lesser rates just to get where we are now. Reminds me of when I first started out: bounties fighting back, trying to make a run for it. But what else are we supposed to do?—take up a job where?

The suns slip below the horizon, and everything is washed a low, gentle violet—and Din is that silhouette, now, and everything seems peaceful, like it all fits together just right. Even though, of course, it might not fit together just right when I try to haggle the price of that gunship down a few credits or so and the vendor absolutely obliterates me with the most personal, cutting insults in the entire galaxy. Din’s no help in the communication sector there – the stoic type – but, if anything, he’ll be able to stand behind me with that armour and steel glare and weapons of his to try and intimidate that damn stubborn seller all the way to fuckin’ Bargain Town. Because, damn, we’re relying on it. Peli, bless her soul, doesn’t have anything large or powerful enough to support the three of us on our run from the Empire.

Speaking of the three of us, the kid’s absence, I hate to say it, is kind of nice. Of course, I worry about him, but I trust that he’s being well-looked-after at the garage. Safer than he would be with us. But I haven’t had Din to myself in what seems like years. Last time he touched me was—was—a long time ago. Too much stress. Not enough time to savour it. And he’s all about savouring those kind of things, those moments, dragging them out as long as possible.

I can feel his stare on the side of my face. My sweaty, greasy, clogged face – stars, I can’t wait until we reach a water supply.

“Are you looking at me right now?” I ask, amused.

He does another strategically-timed scan of the area, turning away from me even though I can’t see his face. I wonder if he blushes under that helmet, if it’s really obvious. “You’re looking at me.”

I roll my eyes and smile softly, lowering the scarf around my nose and mouth and tucking the fabric beneath my chin. “How was your day?”

“Good.”

“Good why?”

“‘Cause I’ve got your mindless chit-chattin’ to keep me company.”

Forcing a laugh, I glare at him again. “Ha-ha, you’re so funny, Din. Real knee-slapper right there.”

It goes quiet again – he becomes like that, sometimes, after I use his name. The first time I spoke it was in the dark hull of the Razor Crest, in hyperspace. He sat and stared straight ahead at the streaking silver, motionless, wordless. Here, the desert air is still and calm. His shoulder is still brushing up against mine.

“Are you tired?”

Yes. My legs feel like they’re about to fuckin’ fall off. Here, walking along the plain, is good, but earlier, climbing over dunes and rocks and boulders, was hell. But we need to be getting back to the kid as soon as possible. As much as I trust Peli, I need to see him and make sure he’s okay. So, I shake my head and say, “It’s only a little ways up till the next settlement.”

“It’s a lot further.”

My heart drops. “Oh.” Wishful thinking’s just got me forging fake memories at this point. My knees threaten to buckle beneath me.

“D’you think we should stop?”

“No, we can—”

“I’m tired—” he abruptly comes to a halt, apparently deciding that this little patch of sand will be a nice bed, “—let’s stop for the night.” He beckons me to him, coming in close and retrieving the lamp from inside the sling-bag, setting it down.

Well, if he insists.

You know, it’s moments like these where I just let myself be fond of him. I let myself stare freely at him, admire the shape of his body, the sleek, smart make of his helmet, let myself wonder if his face is any bit as handsome as he sounds. Everything about him is rough. The way he fights, the way he bargains, the way he pilots. His hands. I think about the texture of his hands as I sit down. I remove my gloves and stuff them away, gliding my skin across my skin to just try and simulate that touch.

“You’re not cold?”

I untwine the bag from my shoulders, setting it down and retrieving our remaining food for this day. “I’m not cold. I have, like, five layers on.”

He eyes me doubtfully. “Okay.” And he sits down on the opposite side of the lamp, facing me, one leg propped up as a rest for his arm. The pulse rifle lays by his side, ready.

I offer him a hardening clump of bread and a few stout, odd-looking, white-and-purple vegetables (generously given to us by a farmer we passed a while back)—but Din shakes his head and urges me to eat as much as I can. I bite back a remark about that helmet of his – he must be starving.

“We’ll get something better to eat when we get to the city.”

I snort. “It’s hardly a city.”

“You know what I mean.”

Stupid Din always making stupid decisions and rationalising them because he thinks it’s for me. He knows I can take care of myself, that I’m good at it, but that doesn’t stop him from dropping everything to try. It’s nice for someone to have my back, for that someone to be as wonderful as him, but, holy kriff, he’s so stupid sometimes.

I tell him flat-out, “We don’t have enough credits,” because we don’t. We have barely enough to cover a scrappy, little ship. We definitely don’t have enough to purchase any food. We’ve relied on favours and luck for long enough, and we can go for longer until we’re off-planet. Peli’s got—edible food—probably. I don’t trust it won’t make me shit my brains out as soon as we’re in hyperspace, though.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, though. “We’ll get a worse ship.”

“Din.” Stupid. I toss him a chunk of bread, swivelling around to give him privacy.

He protests, “I’m not hungry,” and reaches over and taps it against my shoulder – I shrug him away.

“I’m already stuffed, so what’re you gonna do about it?”

He sighs in exasperation. “Thought you might say that.”

“‘Cause I’m just so predictable?”

“You’re stubborn.”

Snapping my head over my shoulder, I scoff and give him an incredulous look. “I’m stubborn?”

He tilts his head to the side as if to goad me further. “Yes.” The warm light of the lamp glows along the strong planes and clean lines of his armour. His hand leisurely dangling from his knee, he rubs his gloved fingers together, and I’m suddenly jealous of a clothing item. I know he must notice the slight catch in my breath.

I turn back around to face him, the sand moulding easily beneath my smooth movements. “And there’s not a brooding Mandalorian sitting across from me now, refusing to eat.”

The first few years of working with Din, I never once saw him eat or drink a thing. It was like he was a droid (don’t tell him I said that): always working, working hard, but fuelled by seemingly—nothing? Obviously, I figured he had to eat some time. When I became his partner, sharing the Razor Crest, he’d retreat to his bunk to eat. And when I asked him his favourite food, he said he didn’t really hate or love anything – as long as he could consume it and it wouldn’t kill him, he’d tolerate it. Over the years, though, I’ve learned he tries to steer clear from any kind of berries. Doesn’t trust ‘em. And he’s not a fan of fish, but the kid is, and I am, so we have it more often, now.

Din jerks his head and allows me to toss him one of those weird vegetables. Having already finished my chunk of bread (on the brink of mould—so yummy!), I take a large, eager bite right out of the vegetable. My mouth is flooded with its bitter juice, and I squint my face up a little at the greenish tang.

“How’s that taste?” he asks.

“Like dirt.” I chew the mouthful slowly, careful not to judge too quickly, and eventually hum in contentment. “But—” I retract, “—sorta sweet underneath. You ever tasted a beet?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s sorta like that.”

He watches me for a few heartbeats, calm in the steady, amber light. I smile at him.

“Turn around,” he tells me brusquely.

I wink at him and do as I’m told, shuffling around again and turning to back the blue and purple horizon, the lamp and his gaze warm on my back.

I’m silent as he unseals his helmet with a quiet click and hiss. I try to imagine him again. Every single time, I feel guilty over it, because I know how dedicated he is to his religion—but, oh, I can’t help myself. I run my tongue over my teeth, enjoying the remains of that bite, before taking another, crunching down into the flesh. As I do, I hear Din do the same. My heart stops a little in my chest, and I let out a slow breath.

“It’s nice.”

Stars. Stars, that voice. His voice, unfiltered by the modulator. Slightly hoarse from lack of water, scraping a little in his throat, but smooth in its low, rich tone. Like dirt you can sink your fingers right down into.

I set my hand flat on the sand my by side before pushing them vertically down, down, down, past the cooling surface and to where the glowing spirit of the day lingers.

Calm yourself down. It’s just a voice.

“You should have the rest of it,” he continues, and there’s the tap of the vegetable against my shoulder again.

Oh, stars. He hasn’t got his helmet on. He hasn’t got his helmet on. If I turned, he could be right there. Just him. I think about clamping my eyes shut to avoid the temptation of looking at him, but I can’t really co-ordinate myself at the moment. He taps again, encouraging me to take it back. My fingers hook up inside the sand, and it slips around me to my satisfaction.

“If you like it,” I say dryly, “you should eat it.”

The vegetable disappears from my peripheral. Another crunch, and another, and another. We sit in silence as he finishes it. The horizon is finally flat and unwavering in the cool of the night.

He gives my shoulder a squeeze when he’s done, hiking up the scarf around my head so it doesn’t slip too far over my hair. When I turn around, the helmet’s back on.

I wonder if he saw the colours of the sunset earlier. I had my head turned up for hours, watching every single shift in pink and orange and blue with wonderstruck eyes—but Din was striding on ahead, uninterested. I’m no engineer, alright? I don’t exactly know what he’s seeing in that helmet of his, or why. Infrared sensors for tracking, like in a rifle I once had that – that was one of the best damn weapons I ever owned, guaranteed to locate and hit your target, and I loved it to bits—until it got fuckin’ stolen by a bunch of fuckin’ Jawas. Point is, isn’t it just black and white in there? Sort of a purple-y black and white, and you can see changes in tone and depth and all, but black and white nonetheless. Red for footprints, though. Is that what he saw when I told him to look at the sky at sundown? Black and white? What is he seeing as he’s looking at me now? Me, I’m admiring the regal gleam of his beskar again. But he won’t be able to interpret the warmth of the lamp’s light on my face the same way as I did for him. I’m not the prettiest in the galaxy by a long shot, I know, but isn’t he missing out? On the beauty of the natural world? I think I’m prettiest at sundown – something in my undertone, I dunno – but he’s only seen me in that greyscale. Imagine if he just thinks I’m—okay-looking.

Overthinking it again. Din doesn’t waste time with things he doesn’t think add to his life. He doesn’t think I’m just okay-looking.

“You’ve got a good voice,” I tell him, grinning widely.

“You’ve heard my voice before.” The raw clarity of his words are lost once again behind the modulator. I shift my position, wriggling away from my disappointment.

“I know.”

A chill passes brightly through the air, and I tug my cloak tighter around myself, bringing my knees in close. Din doesn’t move a muscle, though, and he sits there and observes me a little longer.

We’ve been each other’s for a long, long time. We’ve been through a lot of shit together. And I’m not exactly thinking critically, and I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but I find myself asking, “When Mandalorians get married, they can take their helmets off around their partner, right?”

The mortification immediately sets in.

Holy kriff.

Din looks at me carefully. Then, he nods the slightest of nods.

Holy kriff.

“I’m not—” I stutter out, eyes darting away, over there, over here, anywhere but his constant, steady, shameless attention, “—‘m not asking you to marry me, Din. I was—I was just wondering ‘cause, y’know, I think you mentioned it to me once, ages back, and—and I was just thinkin’ that maybe—” you pause, glancing up at him; he doesn’t move a muscle, and there’s nothing that gives away any kind of anything he might be feeling, “—maybe I’d like to see—what—you—look—like.”

Wow. Wow, I’m almost amazed at how slick I am with these things. God, Imperial spies could learn a thing or two from the master.

I clear my throat, deciding to embrace the grave I’ve dug for myself. “But I’m not asking you to marry me, so you can stop looking at me like that, now, alright?.”

He says nothing, does nothing.

I situate myself with untying my waterskin from beneath my cloak, hiding my face in my shoulder and cursing, “Damn voice. Gets me too damn stupid-excited,” under my breath, like it’s a secret, like he can’t hear every fuckin’ word I’m saying on a planet seemingly stripped from all other noise.

Seething at myself, I crunch back into my vegetable, then tearing off a piece of bread to stuff in alongside it, taking a careless swig from my waterskin to wash it all down. Honestly, at this point, I’d rather die from dehydration than address the awful, awful statement I just made. Stars. Probably scared him right off. We’re as close to married as the real thing anyway. Din’s more of an actions-over-words kind of guy – I don’t need to call him my husband. It’s not like—well, marriage is companionship, and we have that already. Marriage is trust, and we have that already. I don’t need to call him my husband. He’s just—my guy. My person. Would be nice to have it on paper, I guess. Proof that he’s my person, that he wants to be my person. Bless him, but for every single thing he does for me, every action, I still crave him saying those words. Not shit to do with marriage, exactly. Just: “You’re my person. I’m yours.” Words aren’t his forte.

“I’d marry you.”

I swallow the hard lump of bread with difficulty, scrunching my face up into a grimace. “Hmm?” I ask, drifting back to the present.

“I’d marry you,” he repeats, and my eyes go wide. Oh. “Right here. If you want me.”

Huh. Huh. I dunno what the appropriate reaction is here, so I just continue staring unblinkingly at him. My stomach is erupting in flutters, and I just stare at Din.

Then, I look around us, at the barren desert. And look, yeah, I grew up on a planet very similar to Tatooine, and, yeah, sure, I have fond memories of my childhood. And then they get not-so fond. I scrunch my nose up in disapproval. “Not here.”

“Where?”

I shrug, brows knitted together in deep consideration. “I dunno.” And I really don’t, because—because I didn’t think we were the marrying type. Just the together type. Growing old and pissy together, living together, fighting together, figuring it out together—type. Mandalorians value community and strength and The Way over everything else – not necessarily love. Didn’t take him for the marrying type.

I screw my mouth together and exhale deeply. “Just somewhere prettier, I guess,” I decide on. “Not this quiet, but still pretty quiet. Y’know, somewhere with trees. Proper, green trees. But not the kind where there’s stuff in there waiting to kill you.” I want there to be as many colours as possible, in the sky, in the flowers, so he can see me and see all that beauty all together at once.

He tilts his head. “Like, with mountains?” he asks.

I smile. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind mountains.”

He glances down at the sand, tracing some kind of pattern into it with his forefinger. “We could go to Takodana?”

Stars. My smile widens. Stars, is this a proposal? Did I just propose to him? Did he just propose right back? That’s actually quite funny, that is. In the middle of nowhere, running out of water, running low on food. Romantic.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Din?” I ask, more confident.

He grunts and shakes his head. “Not really.”

“‘Not really’,” you mock him, deepening your voice and attempting to widen your shoulders. I laugh at my own impression, leaning back on my hands and huffing a strand of hair out of my face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shifts, clearing his throat and adjusting to a more comfortable position. “I mean, I’ve kissed you—between your legs,” he tells me, nervous, like I’ve managed to forget how well he treats me, how eager he is to kneel down in the pitch-black and take care of me like that.

Heat blooms in my stomach. “Great work down there, by the way,” I tell him through a sly grin.

“Thank you, mesh’la.” Is he blushing? Does he blush? I find myself wondering over that again.

I smile and stare at him.

“Could I kiss you?” The suggestion just slips out without a second thought. I just think that, after some food and water and rest, I don’t really have to filter anything out anymore. I don’t have any complaints – just some recommendations for fun we could be having.

Din doesn’t reply.

Ah, shit. Shit, what the fuck is wrong with me? Mandalorian, remember? Stupid, stupid. If there’s anything anyone knows about Din, it’s that he’s a Mandalorian first. He’s a Mandalorian before he’s mine – he’d never say it out loud, but we both know it’s true. I’d never ask him to choose because that’s cruel. Am I being cruel?

Either way, I can’t seem to stop, and I don’t seem to care: “I’d keep my eyes shut,” I blurt out, trying to keep my breathing from becoming heavy with lust, and failing a little more than a little bit. Stars, I’m turning myself on at this point; he just has to sit there and look pretty. “You know I’d keep ‘em shut. I wouldn’t look. I just—wanna—” you sigh, “—I just wanna kiss you. It’s nice, I swear. Nice feeling. I’d keep my eyes closed. Or—or you could tie something around ‘em?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Stars,” I curse. “I’m sorry.” I wipe my eyes from dust and dirt and blink hard. “I think I’m just tired.”

“You’re tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Is ‘tired’ why you’re pressing onto yourself down there?”

He flicks his fingers over to where I’ve got my hand stuffed between my legs, rocking softly against the heel of my palm. I swallow hard. Fuck, I didn’t even notice I was doing that. I convinced myself I was—ha!—I was just warming up my hands.

I shift my eyes sheepishly back up to meet Din’s, guilty as charged.

He sighs deep from within the chest. “You keep ‘em closed and we tie something around ‘em.”

Silent, I nod in agreement. My thighs squeeze together.

He jerks his head to beckon me over, and I go shuffling on over to him on my knees, probably looking like a right idiot, but, then again, I don’t really give a fuck because I’m about to kiss Din Djarin. I’m about to kiss my Mandalorian. I’m about to kiss my companion of almost a decade, more if you count all those shady bounties we used to end up competing for. My Mandalorian, my Din Djarin, mine, mine, mine. I’m not possessive, I don’t think, but, gods, I—I—I can’t believe it sometimes. That I get to know him like this. That I get to know such an incredible person. That he won’t say more than two words at a time to anyone, not even those we’re close with, like Peli—but, with me, he’ll talk for hours. He jokes that he’s just humouring me, but I know he loves it. He tells me so.

Din makes a motion with his hand to turn around, so I do, and I let him tie an old, folded food cloth around my head – unsanitary, sure, but, again, I don’t care, and my head’s reeling, and my heart’s racing so hard, thrumming in my ears, and he’s so close, and his fingers are tangling through my hair as he lowers my scarf, and they’re brushing against the nape of my neck now, and—

“Can you take your gloves off, Din?” I ask, and, unfortunately, the neediness seeps right through my voice. “Please?” Stars, I’m pathetic.

Behind me, there’s the shuffle and quiet groan of leather as he tugs them off, and then a quiet pat! as he tosses them to the side.

And then his hands are back. Rough, calloused fingertips ghosting over my ears, my hair, as he knots the cloth, then knots it again for good measure. Darkness is closed over my eyes, tinged the rich green of the fabric. My breath seems nearer this way, short, shallow, hot. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, still, as he cups the back of my neck, his touch cool.

I reach over my shoulder, taking a deep inhale as I run my fingers over the dips and hills of his knuckles. I fold my hands over his and squeeze, bringing them forward and kissing his fingertips gently. I feel the texture and thickness of his fingers, trace the lines of his palm. Din comes in close behind me, the solidity of his chestplate (cuirass? I dunno, once, he got all pissy ‘cause I didn’t call by it’s actual name) pressing up against my shoulder blades.

I smooth my thumbs along the deepest crease in his palm. “Y’know, once, before I met you, I met someone who told me he could foretell my whole life, and my child’s life, and their child’s life, just from the lines on my hands.”

“Oh, yeah?” His voice is right in my ear, low and intimate. Maker. “What do mine say?”

“All good things,” you reply shakily.

“Anything about Takodana?”

He twists his hand over, enveloping my right and rubbing circles into the back of it.

Then, he’s letting me go, leaning away—and there’s that hiss and click of him removing his helmet. I blink against the green cloth, my eyelashes dragging up slowly. If I hold my breath, I can hear him breathing.

“Turn around,” he tells me, and I do.

It’s too dark for silhouettes anymore. If we were in daylight again, maybe I could’ve seen the vaguest outline of him. But we’re not in daylight. I blink again against the cloth, hard.

His hands reach out and grasp my hips, and they’re warm and large and I never get used to it. The breath is still knocked out of my chest. He angles and adjusts me to face him, and I place my hands on his shoulders, fumbling around his armour before settling them instead on his neck.

His neck. Bare skin. I smooth my hand up the column of his pretty, perfect neck, feeling every inch of him. I already know the texture of his hair. When he’s between my legs and kissing me there, I like to thread my fingers through it. It’s thick and wavy and slightly too long. But otherwise, I keep my hands to myself. Even though I’m not technically seeing him in the dark when he takes his helmet off to taste me, I don’t reach out and touch his face—because it’s his. It’s his, and he’s taken an oath to keep it that way. He’s never initiated a kiss, so I’ve never asked. I’ve been content. I’ve been patient.

But I guess my patience has reached a limit. Slowly, tentatively, I drift my touch up, up, and feel along his jawline, coarse with longer scruff. His breath hitches, and I smile and continue. I smooth my fingers right along his cheekbone – Din gently circles his hand around my wrist, pressing his nose into my palm, then kissing it, soft, careful, dragging the tip of his nose along the line of the vein that trails over my arm.

Stars.

I blink hard again behind the green cloth, clenching my jaw down till my teeth grit together.

I feel along the jagged bridge of his nose, take note of how it’s slightly crooked to the right, like he’s broken it before (wouldn’t surprise me). I learn the shape of his brow, the broadness of his forehead. I feel the feather-light brush of his eyelashes against my wrist. I’m silent—and I’m grinning like an idiot, because what else can I do? It’s like I’m seeing his face. I’m not, but it’s sure as hell the closest thing. The weight of his head in my hands, the cautious squeeze of his hands on my arms. I whisper some kind of babbling, incoherent request, and he relaxes his eyes – I can feel the muscles in his face release tension – for me to trace my middle finger over the shape of his eye. I’m not crying, but, fuck, it’s getting a little moist up in this blindfold.

His eyes droop down slightly at the ends. I like eyes like that – kind eyes. My mother used to say these types of eyes only belonged to the kindest of people. Stars. Don’t cry.

“You look insane, mesh’la,” he whispers, close to me, lifting his hands to tenderly hold my face, like I might break.

“Ah, bantha shit, baby,” I retort. “You’re loving this.”

And I can feel him smile. I can feel it crinkle up the sides of his eyes, and I can feel the squint of them, and the way his cheeks lift. He smiles a little lop-sidedly, actually, the left corner of his mouth just a touch higher than the right. I try to memorise every single bit of information I discover, as urgent and as desperate as if my life depended upon it.

Quivering with want, I press my lips to the inner corner of his eye, firm and sure and needy, my hands grasping around his face. Din grabs fistfuls of my cloak, bringing me nearer to him.

He smells like dust and tastes like sweat and salt, but, Maker, this is good. Satisfies some deep, hellacious ache that would have otherwise consumed me.

I kiss the ridge of his cheekbone with the same fervour, and then I kiss the corner of his mouth, the left side, the side that quirks up when he smiles.

Only, he’s not really smiling right now. He’s breathing heavily, almost panting, and stroking my hair away from my face and neck before mumbling out, “So pretty.” I press my nose against his, breathless with anticipation, heady at the warmth of his body. “S’good. You look so good—like this. Y’look good all the time—”

But I’m kissing him already, frantic, fingers pressing into the back of his neck, into his shoulders, bringing him as near to me as humanly possible. I sob dryly as he reciprocates, nudging his nose flat against my cheek. He opens his mouth to suck in a breath, and I lick into him, taste him deeply, practically having climbed into his lap during my whirlwind pursuit. His cold hands slip under my cloak, arms wrapping around me in a second.

The kiss is dry and rough, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It seems befitting of him somehow.

And when he makes a pathetic sound, a whimper or something, at the back of his throat, I almost melt right into the ground.

Closer, closer, closer – that’s all I can really comprehend at the moment. Even with our bodies slotted together, even though I can feel each shaky breath he takes as his stomach flexes over my own, I feel hungry for more. It’s Din. My Din, kissing me, his hands on me, his eyes on me. My Din, grunting into me as I shift in his lap and squeeze my legs around him. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine—

He grabs my face gently by the chin, urging me away from him for a few moments. I sit there, blind, his open mouth still hovering over mine. Oh, stars, I think of the softness of his tongue, and I kiss the corner of his mouth, wanting, asking.

Din angles my face to the side, coming in slow, warm, and languidly slides his tongue into my hot mouth, breath fanning out across my glowing face. Maker. I can’t control myself – a helpless noise passes through me as I take it good and kiss him back, eager, wide open.

I guide his hand down the the base of my throat, just to feel his touch somewhere else. He squeezes there lightly.

His other hand manages to snake under my shirt, pressing flat across the small of my back, sliding up my spine and sending shivers all the way right through me.

It’s—good. Really good. Can’t-open-my-eyes-for-a-good-few-heartbeats type of good.

“Maker,” he curses hoarsely under his breath as I pull away, still leaning forward for me, chasing my touch.

“Good?” I ask him.

He presses a kiss to my cheek, smiling. “We can do this—more often—‘f you want.”

“If I want, huh?”

He kisses me deeply again, his thumb slotted beneath the cloth over my eyes. He pulls it taut to the side over so slightly, and I can make out that beautiful, warm glow over the sand and his armour again. I shut my eyes as he tilts my head up, though, as kisses down to the hollow of my throat and back up again.

I slide my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. “You’re beautiful, aren’t you?” I just know it. Everything about him is just beautiful. It’s just lovely, and I love it.

“Marry me and you can find out for sure,” he mumbles into my neck.

I can hardly hear him, of course – blood is pounding so hard in my ears that all I can understand from his words are that they rumble deep right through his chest, warm under the cool beskar.

I lift his head and press my nose into his cheek. “I can tell,” I continue, words brushing his lips. Again, I smooth my fingers over his face. “You’re so pretty, Din.”

“Marry me,” he urges, whispering against the fabric over my eye, warm.

I grin. “Later.”

He curses, something in Mando’a. “We’re going to Takodana as soon as we get that damn ship, you hear me?”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #rip razor crest #din you little fittie #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #din djarin #mesh’la is the cutest nickname 💀#grogu #is a little shit #but he’s perfect #i’m feral for this man #star wars

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fruityfroggy · 18 days

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ASGKJKUYFG TYSM @anonymocha FOR GIVING ME A DIRECTION TO GO WITH MY RAMBLINGS<3

Anyways…oh Verdigris, I’ve come up with so many extra bits and pieces to her lore in the past month or so and I didn’t really get to talk about her in the first place, so I’m glad that someone’s interested (this is gonna be so long, I can feel it)

First things first, we’ll get the big thing out of the way: her arcane skill. Kind of a big part of her story is how she is a “plant whisperer”, which means that she’s able to hear the voices of plants and therefore communicate with them. This made her form a prominent sense of empathy for plants, as they are unheard by everyone except her.

(Now, a lot of the things I’ll mention about Verdigris will make a lot more sense)

So a fun little fact is that plants have a “way of speaking” that sounds more poetic than your normal speech, since they’re just describing things based off of what they know from nature. And because of her arcane skill, Verdigris does talk like them a little (which just comes off as being poetic/dramatic). Another thing that comes with this “way of speaking” are “Titles of the Plants”, which is the thing that you remind the plants of, that they therefore refer to you by (Vertin is “The Wandering Wind”, Sonetto is “The Shade in Daylight”, etc).

Why am I mentioning this? Well but of course it’s for yuri reasons! Because this is the perfect way for Verdigris to subtly and sapphic-ly pine for a certain arcanist by the title: Ray of Sun (and who this refers to is not disclosed). She mentions this “Ray of Sun” quite frequently in her diary, which I’d imagine could be one of those pages of text you can find between stages, as well as in her intimacy voiceline (which I haven’t written, but we can imagine, okay).

Anywho…when it comes to interacting with other arcanists, Verdigris is very much the most likeable out of my three ocs here (she’s just a cinnamon roll, not toxic or hard to communicate with). So she gets along with basically everyone in the suitcase. Chaotic or calm, she’s patient enough to talk to them. Tho she’s the closest with Lilya I’d say, since they’re bonding over a shared language/heritage and shut up, it’s adorable. Especially since Verdigris didn’t have anyone to speak Russian to for a long time (she lived in Spain, that’s why) and Russian was her mother’s language (she never got to meet her, so it holds special significance to her (things are getting angsty haha)). This problem was the whole reason she created her own critters actually. But hey, now she has someone and the vibes are good again.

As for their dynamic, it’s obvious that they have a “balancing each other out” situation, and I like to call it “Lilya and her designated driver” as a joke. But truthfully, Verdigris is surprisingly down with most of her shenanigans and no one understands why. Lilya kinda just wants to show Verdigris all the “fun stuff” she usually does, and she just goes along with it while some of the other arcanists watch them in horror (they’re just having a good time tho). When Verdigris is busy, Lilya would go visit her workshop to see what she’s doing like: "What you making, Verdie?:]" (she finds it interesting).

Considering what she does, I feel like Verdigris would probably be crossing paths with Medpoc kinda often as well (hehe). Verdigris just isn’t super affected by Medpoc’s hostility, and still treats them very well after getting yelled at. Once they warm up to her tho, she kinda becomes their emotional support (aka the person they rant to while she hands them a cookie or smth), and they’d pass out together while working across from each other, since neither of them remember to sleep (or do anything else).

I also think that she could help Shamane repair and/or upgrade his mechanical arm (since that’s kinda her specialty), and in turn gain a new father figure. Shamane would definitely like her Dendrogues and greet them when he sees them hopping around as well.

Some honourable mentions are the other calm healers (Dikke and Tooth Fairy). Dikke would grow fond of Verdigris for how fair and thoughtful is, but she'd tell her to not be so tolerant of everything. As for her and Tooth Fairy’s situation, they actually have pretty similar vibes, so they’d probably do some somewhat questionable things together that aren’t so questionable if they’re doing it, like baking together (there’s definitely no tooth fairies in the muffins they’re making, don’t question the taste of plums) and going out into the forest to look for teeth.

Oh right! Verdigris also has a small interaction with Pristine after implanting the new heart she made for her, since Pristine’s original heart (crystal) is the thing that makes her body possessable to Arcana (there’s some context from this post that is needed to understand what I’m talking about). This is a big plot point in Pristine’s story, so guess who’s growing attached to Verdigris. Yeah, she kinda just follows her around whenever she sees her from there on out, maybe even tugs on her sleeve saying “Where art thou headed to? Let me go with thee!” (Welcome to motherhood, Verdigris!)

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queenofbaws · 3 months

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Mm a 9 and 17 from that great ol list for my fav angsty couple jossam mayhaps? 👀👀👀

Later, when all the lights were out and he lay awake listening to the wind screaming outside the windows, her body hunched and shivering beside his beneath every last one of the blankets, Josh would convince himself he hadn't been ignoring her when she'd first stumbled into the guest cabin.

Eventually, he'd even believe it. He was, after all, nothing if not a consummate mindgame professional...even when the mind in question was his own. But believing was one thing; knowing was another.

He had ignored Sam when she'd shown up. Not because he was heartless, not because he couldn't be troubled to find out why she was breathing so hard, not even because he'd finally managed to find a spot on the couch where sleeping might've been possible. No. No, no, no, friends and fans, it wasn't any of that. He'd ignored her because, in that moment, he'd hated her. Hated her more than he could explain.

So the door opened. And the door shut. And a second later he was buffeted by a blast of icy air that should've sent him reeling.

The keyword there, of course, was 'should've,' a word doing a lot of heavy lifting, in fact, because there was too much spite in him to shiver. He'd sworn from the moment he'd hidden himself away that no one and nothing would get him to move (not unless it was one of his sisters, anyway), and by God, he'd meant it.

Josh didn't react. Didn't move. Didn't so much as shift under the ratty little lap-blanket he'd thrown over himself back when he'd first stretched out on the couch. He just laid there, arms under his head, and listened to the ragged in-and-out of her breathing. For someone who prided themselves on being so athletic, she sounded awfully winded.

Not his problem. If she'd been stupid enough to set off running through the ice and snow, that was her prerogative. She sure as shit hadn't thought to do it last night. Maybe if she had, they wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe if she had, Hannah and Beth wouldn't...

The pit of anger in his chest tore open afresh, and he sucked the already raw flesh of his inner cheek between his teeth, grinding it there until he tasted blood.

Not his problem. Whatever had brought Sam out all the way over the river and through the woods to the guest cabin was not. His. Problem.

So he continued to ignore her...until he couldn't.

He didn't know how much time passed like that, him lying in front of the fire and her standing by the door, breathing in strange, rasping whoops, but it was long enough for doubt (maybe even worry) to begin wheedling its way through the mess of indignation and hurt clotting out the rest of his thoughts.

If she'd come to find him, why wasn't she saying anything?

If she hadn't come to find him, why was she there?

If she was trying to avoid him, why wasn't she at least moving away from the door and its awful fucking draft?

If she wasn't trying to avoid him, why was she...well...avoiding him?

And why was she still breathing like that?

Eventually, when the mystery of it all became too much, he propped himself up on his elbows, twisting around to get a better look at her. "You know, when a guy says something to the tune of 'leave me the fuck alone,' usually what he means is - " But then he did.

Get a better look at her, that is.

"Jesus fuck, Sam," and just like that he was on his feet, skirting the couch to kneel beside her where she'd fallen, an awkward lump on the cold, swollen hardwood. The sight of her there, pale and shivering, weak and exhausted, didn't erase his anger so much as push it to the side for the time being, making room for its good friend fear. Would this nightmare ever fucking end?!

He reached for the hood of her jacket and she moved as if to swat him away. Her arm didn't even come close. It was like she couldn't figure out where he was, couldn't decide whether he was above her or beside her, and after a second she simply gave up, collapsing into herself once more.

"Fine," she muttered in a voice that only sort of sounded like her own. "Five minutes."

"Five minutes? For what? You don't have a goddamn bio lab to get to up here in the middle of the woods, so who's rushing you?"

Sam swallowed hard. So hard, in fact, she had to open her mouth after to catch her breath, making him think of a little kid with the flu. "Need to...get back. Just...had to...sit."

Realization started creeping in, shouldering fear and anger both to the sidelines. He did manage to get at her hood that time, pulling it back just enough to see - fuck - how grey her lips had gone. Now he understood why she was breathing like that. Now her confused mumbling made sense.

"Dammit," he breathed, his mouth running on its own, entirely detached from the rest of him. "Goddammit. Don't tell me you're fucking hypothermic. Don't even - fuck."

It was like he'd been waiting for something like this to happen; he moved without thinking, checking off imaginary boxes in his head as he went. Sam's jacket was soaked with snow, so it had to go, ditto with her earwarmers and gloves. She barely even reacted as he moved her around, pulling her arms out of sleeves, her feet out of boots, so as he struggled to lift her under her arms, he was disheartened but not surprised to find her little more than dead weight.

The couch was four feet away. Five, maybe. And even so, every step was a monumental effort, Josh straining under her weight, Sam clumsily trying (and failing) to find her footing to help. He half-carried, half-dragged her in front of the fire, and when his strength gave out and he had no choice but to set her down on the floor, the agonized little whine that slipped out of her broke his heart.

"I know. I know it hurts. Thawing out isn't exactly going to be a walk in the park either." Josh was surprised then; surprised at the sound of his own voice in his ears, surprised at how all the venom he'd been soaking in earlier had gone out of it. He took the lap-blanket off the couch, wrapped it around Sam's shoulders, and tried his best not to think about what that might've meant.

Slowly, bit by bit, he watched the color come back into her face. Heard her breathing even out. The shivering didn't stop, and there was a glazed look in her eye, but he figured that was par for the course...at least until she tried to stand again.

"Excuse me? Where do you think you're going?" he asked, the weight of his hand on her arm more than enough to keep her rooted to the ground.

"Out," she said raggedly, her voice still strange. "I have to get back out there."

"And freeze to death. Uh huh. Okay, yeah, sure." He tried not to sigh aloud, knowing confusion and babbling both came part and parcel with the whole hypothermia deal. Still, tired and frustrated and thrown for a loop himself, he did his best to distract from the conflicting emotions threatening to choke him the only way he knew how: by being a smartass.

"How about this," Josh suggested, turning to face her more fully. "Solve my riddles three and I'll consider letting you bumble back out into the great white beyond, huh? Sound fair? Cool. So here's riddle number one. How many fingers am I holding up? And this is probably against the spirit of the thing, but I'll give you a hint: No, neither of my hands has six fingers, so if that's what you're thinking, you're - "

She turned to face him too, but he realized immediately it wasn't to look at his hand. The glazed look he'd noted before had changed, the glassiness of her eyes having welled into tears that refused to fall. "I have to go," Sam insisted though her body remained slumped and weak. "I have to find them, Josh. I...I can do it. I just...I just need to get back out there."

And then the cabin was very quiet; and then, so was his head. The fire crackled, popped, hushed in its grate. Even the wind seemed to soften outside the window panes.

What was left of his anger left him in a gout, bled dry by an invisible wound, and when he saw she didn't even have strength enough to cry, he wrapped her in his arms and did it for the both of them.

#icequeen-07 #six sentence weekend #until dawn #jossam #queenie writes supermassive #now you KNOW i can't say no to some JOSSAM BABYYYYYYYY #i have NOT been around this weekend alas but i HAD to get this puppy out before i EXPLODED hehehe

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