#i desperately hope that in all years on tumblr someone made the same joke | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grapesodatozier · 3 years

Text

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

231 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Same River Twice (aka Time Travel Nie Bros) - part 4 - see ao3 or tumblr part 1, part 2, part 3

“You know what,” Nie Mingjue said, several shichen into the most awkward conversation he’d ever been forced to overhear in his life, “I think Wei Wuxian needs more friends.”

His father stopped contemplating the window with an expression that suggested he was considering throwing himself out of it and looked at him. “So you’ve mentioned before.”

“Yes, I know,” Nie Mingjue said, because he had in fact brought it up after Nie Huaisang’s no doubt unintentionally apt suggestion. “But on second thought, he needs them urgently. As does Huaisang. You don’t want them growing up barbaric and unsocialized, do you?”

His father mouthed the words ‘barbaric and unsocialized’ to himself, looking delighted. “By which you mean that you’d like to take them to visit the Lan sect, I assume?” he asked, not bothering to hide his amusement. “To learn good habits from them there?”

“To avoid learning bad habits here,” Nie Mingjue said. “Alternatively, you could always kick all of them out so that all of us can stop getting the loud and dramatic rendition of all the different types of bad decisions adults can make, courtesy of our friends in the Jiang sect and our new guest disciples.”

“…take Zonghui with you,” his father said. “Have a nice trip. Enjoy the quiet.”

There was a better than decent chance that he was being sarcastic, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t going to wait around long enough to find out – he saluted and turned to run away at once.

“Don’t get into too much trouble!” his father shouted after him.

That was ridiculous. What sort of trouble could Nie Mingjue get into in Gusu, of all places?

“Nie-gongzi, has anyone ever told you that you have really weird taste in rewards?” Nie Zonghui said, looking long-suffering as always.

Wei Wuxian, who was riding on his shoulders, craned his head down to look at him. “Rewards? What is Nie-da-ge getting rewarded for?”

“He performed especially well on his first ever night hunt,” Nie Zonghui told him, while Nie Mingjue flushed red and Nie Huaisang, who was riding on his shoulders, giggled. “His father wanted to reward him, and determined to do so by granting the first request he made.”

“He didn’t tell me he was planning on doing that,” Nie Mingjue hissed. If he had, he might’ve asked to visit Yunping City to collect Meng Yao – finding a reason to go there was much harder to achieve than arranging a simple visit to the Lan sect, which would’ve happened sooner or later anyway.

His thoughts hadn’t been focused on reward at all. He’d only really, truly desperately wanted to get away from any further discussion of Sect Leader Jiang’s sex life.

(Cangse Sanren was blunt and straightforward in her speech, something Nie Mingjue greatly appreciated right up until she was shouting things about size and shape and performance and also her husband…it was absolutely mortifying, even just as a spectator, except possibly Jiang Fengmian was into things like that because he just kept on arguing. In his past-future life, Nie Mingjue had had to sit across the table from Jiang Fengmian for years, and might yet have to do so again if he was not successful in adverting his father’s death, which was something he wouldn’t be able to if he kept hearing things like this! He didn’t want to know things like this!)

No, Nie Mingjue hadn’t thought about rewards at all – had already put away all thoughts of that particular night-hunt in favor of showing of his improvement with Baxia, who practically purred in his hands when he wielded her, so that he could win his independence sooner rather than later.

Even picking Gusu as their destination had been primarily motivated by seizing on the last place anyone had mentioned to him as a plausible destination that could be sold to his father.

Nie Huaisang had asked him, all big and wide-eyed and adorable, why they were going to somewhere as far away from the Unclean Realm as the Cloud Recesses, and Nie Mingjue had blamed Nie Huaisang’s suggestion of introducing Wei Wuxian to the Lan sect.

Nie Huaisang had also asked why they were going now and Nie Mingjue had explained in a rush of tangled words that sometimes grown-ups liked to talk about private things very loudly and maybe it would be better to leave them to it.

Nie Huaisang had found that dreadfully funny for some reason, giggling until both he and Wei Wuxian were rolling around on the ground laughing their heads off at the idea of going to Gusu –

Nie Mingjue didn’t care. As long as they went, and with them his excuse to go as well!

(Besides, it would be nice to see Lan Xichen.)

“Of course he didn’t tell you about it, Nie-gongzi,” Nie Zonghui said patiently. “It was meant to be a surprise. Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if you knew about it, would it?”

Nie Mingjue sighed. Nie Zonghui was a half-generation above him – older than him by over a decade, entitling him (if only technically) to be called uncle rather than cousin, but young enough that he sometimes felt more like a peer. Certainly once Nie Mingjue himself had become sect leader, having someone like him to help figure out how to communicate with the elders had been priceless.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to punch the man in the face on a regular basis.

Stupid sense of humor.

“Wouldn’t da-ge be happier if he could pick what he got?” Nie Huaisang asked. “What if he’d asked for something stupid, like a map?”

Nie Mingjue reached up to one of the legs currently dangling next to his ear and pinched him lightly, making his little brother squeak and then giggle again. He wasn’t sure why Nie Huaisang was still so worried about his offer to buy him a map – he hadn’t even known that the under-five age group could have a sense of financial economy, much less guilt over it, but then again he didn’t know much about kids that age anyway – but no matter what he wasn’t having any of it.

In this life, his brother would be happy for as long as Nie Mingjue could give him.

Of course, making Nie Huaisang happy would be easier if he wasn’t so picky.

“Didi, didi, it’s all right,” he said, trying to be soothing and not really remembering how. “You don’t need to be afraid - Lan Xichen is a friend…I’m sorry, Xichen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“It’s no problem,” Lan Xichen said, looking exactly as one would expect a nine-year-old being addressed as a peer by a twelve-year-old that his guardian routinely praised as a role model would be – which was to say, a little pleased, a little uncertain, and mostly confused. The shrieking four-year-old wasn’t helping matters, either. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to offend him...?”

“You’re blind,” Nie Huaisang hissed at him, tears still streaming down his face. “Blind, blind, blind!”

“No, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said helplessly. He had no idea where Nie Huaisang got these ideas into his head, was it a feature of early childhood or something? “He’s not – look, the bandage is around his forehead, right? Not his eyes. And since when do you have something against blind people anyway?”

Nie Huaisang buried his face into his side. “Stupid da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue patted him on the back. “Sorry,” he said to Lan Xichen again. “This isn’t exactly the first impression I was hoping for.”

Lan Xichen abruptly grinned, looking for a moment like a regular child rather than the polite and reserved young man Nie Mingjue had known for so many years – it reminded him a little of the boy from the future timeline that he’d only seen brief glimpses of through the pieces of his soul that were attached to the pieces of his body, the loud and irreverent one called Lan Jingyi.

Back then he'd wondered abstractly how exactly such a boy could be related to the Lan clan, stately and elegant even when they acted radically, and now all of a sudden he saw that boy staring out of him from Lan Xichen’s immature face.

“Bet you thought you’d look a lot more dashing, didn’t you?” Lan Xichen asked merrily. “Flying in on your swords, jumping down for a perfect landing, and then – waaaaaaah!”

Nie Mingjue laughed, because it really had happened a bit like that.

“Don’t forget the domino effect,” he said wryly, glancing over at where Wei Wuxian was being plied with treats from a bag pulled from Nie Zonghui’s sleeve – he’d started sympathy crying when Nie Huaisang had inexplicably started wailing, and was having trouble stopping even though he admitted that nothing was actually wrong with him other than having feelings. “They’re probably just over-tired from the trip.”

“Did you really fly all the way from Qinghe?” Lan Xichen asked eagerly. “All by yourself?”

“We made a lot of stops –”

“But you were on your own sword, right? Just you?”

“It’s a saber and I was carrying Huaisang, but yes, in terms of who was in charge of propulsion, it was just me.”

Lan Xichen heaved a sigh full of obvious envy, and Nie Mingjue smiled. “If you want, I can petition your uncle that you act as my guide to the surrounding environs as well as the Cloud Recesses itself? He’d have to let you fly by yourself if that was the case.”

“Oh, would you?” Lan Xichen enthused. “That would be great! I’m not that good yet, but I’m not going to get good if I don’t have a chance to practice, except Uncle is always saying that – oh, wait, I’m not supposed to say –”

“Speaking of others behind their back is prohibited,” Nie Mingjue said solemnly, then cracked up at the dumbfounded expression on Lan Xichen’s face. “No, I’m sorry, I won’t quote your sect rules at you, I promise, it was just a joke…”

“You’d better!”

He rather liked this enthusiastic version of Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue thought.

Even Nie Huaisang seemed to have gotten over his initial fright to start begrudgingly enjoying all of Lan Xichen’s chattering and bustling around – Nie Mingjue thought he might, given that Lan Xichen currently reminded him immensely of an extremely chatty blue-breasted quail and Nie Huaisang had always liked those. There was so much life in Lan Xichen, good humor and cheer filling him up until he was practically bursting with it; he hadn’t yet had to learn how to hold back his feelings and hide them, hadn’t yet learned that the only acceptable way to interact with others was through a carefully practiced smile.

Perhaps what was why Lan Xichen had been so drawn to Meng Yao, Nie Mingjue reflected – Meng Yao had hidden himself underneath a smile, too. Where he himself had admired Meng Yao for what he had thought was his strength of character, his ability to ignore the jibes and the slights he faced in favor of carrying on and doing what must be done, just as Nie Mingjue longed to be able to do, perhaps Lan Xichen had from the very first moment seen Meng Yao as someone in need of sympathy and affection. Perhaps it had been his own suffering projected onto Meng Yao’s open, facile face that had so tugged on his heartstrings.

It was a little odd, though.

It was a long time ago, but Nie Mingjue recalled meeting Lan Xichen when they were both quite young, and if he put his mind to thinking about it, he was pretty sure they would have met in about two years’ time – his fourteen to Lan Xichen’s eleven, with Nie Huaisang nearly six and Lan Wangji nearly seven. And yet the Lan Xichen he had met had been so very different from this, far more serious and reserved, quiet more often than not, that practiced smile already on his face and only with great reluctance melting into something real…

He wondered why there had been such a great change.

In the meantime, Nie Mingjue relieved Nie Zonghui of his duties on account of their safety – the older man had been to Gusu before for discussion conferences, and looked extremely bored – and took Nie Huaisang’s hand in one hand and Wei Wuxian’s in the other, and the three of them followed Lan Xichen around as he pointed out all the things he liked best.

Wei Wuxian broke away at one point and sped into the brush, shrieking something about a rabbit, and when they gave chase and found him again, he’d somehow bumped into Lan Wangji, who with his white clothing and solemn expression resembled nothing so much a bunny himself.

“Nie-da-ge, this is my friend!” Wei Wuxian hollered, even though they couldn’t have been talking for more than a few minutes before the rest of them caught up. “His name’s Lan Zhan! I’m keeping him forever!”

Nie Huaisang sniggered, and Nie Mingjue poked him – it was rude to laugh at other people’s earnestness.

“That’s nice, Wuxian,” he said, and formally saluted Lan Wangji, knowing how much the other boy liked rules and things being done right. “I’m pleased to meet you, Wangji. I hope we can be friends as well.”

Lan Wangji stared at him mutely for a long moment, and then his entire face slowly turned bright red as if he were boiling.

Nie Mingjue blinked, unsure about the reason for such an extreme reaction, but standing beside him Lan Xichen cackled. “Oh, oh, this is great,” he crowed. “Wait till I tell Mom!”

Lan Wangji attempted to bite him, which naturally made Wei Wuxian leap to his friend’s assistance, and somehow Nie Huaisang ended up wading into the fray with a stick that he waved around like a war-fan, seeking inexplicably to defend Lan Xichen despite having previously displayed no fondness for him at all.

Nie Mingjue waded in as well, of course, trying to separate them and somehow ending up as everyone’s target when they realized that he was strong enough to pick them all up and toss them (lightly) into the piles of soft grass that covered the meadow, even Lan Xichen, and at that point they all threw themselves at him eagerly in order to be throw back.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t really thinking about that, though. He was thinking about what Lan Xichen had said.

He was thinking about – Mom.

Not Nie Mingjue’s own, naturally. She’d been gone since he was younger than Nie Huaisang was now. Perhaps it was because Nie Mingjue had his father and his aunts and his uncles, but he had never really felt the lack of her all that much, except maybe when he needed to learn some etiquette he didn’t know or when his peers spoke fondly of their own mothers. Nor was he thinking of Nie Huaisang’s mother, who had been very nice and whose untimely death had upset him immensely; he honestly hadn’t thought of either of them in years and years by the time he’d died.

But rather, he thought about Lan Xichen’s mother – Lan Wangji’s mother –

Nie Mingjue hadn’t learned the story of her fate until much, much later in life, when he was very nearly an adult. The Lan sect had always kept their secrets very well, and he might never have learned the details if it hadn’t been for Lan Xichen willingly divulging them. He’d told him the whole awful story of how his mother had not loved his father even though he loved her, how she had killed someone dear to him, how he had married her to save her and gone into seclusion to punish himself, how the Lan sect, ever concerned with its face, had covered it all up by forcing her into permanent seclusion…

The story had never really sat right with him. A punishment was one thing, entirely justifiable; murder was murder, and life imprisonment was a valid sentence, a valid commutation of the death sentence that she probably ought to have received. It was not Nie Mingjue’s place to question how the Lan sect selected and imposed punishments…

And yet, something about it had always felt rotten.

Maybe it was only that the Nie sect didn’t believe in solitary imprisonment. Or, well, really solitary anything, with even seclusion being done in a relatively well-traveled area so that those inside could, if they wished, open a one-sided window to hear the noise and know that their family was around them. Even their tombs, their saber halls, were joined together into what was practically a necropolis – even in death, the Nie sect would rather be together than apart.

If he recalled correctly, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji’s mother would soon be taken away from them for good. She’d died when Lan Xichen was – ten? Ten to Lan Wangji’s six, yes, that sounded right.

A year from now, then. Less, maybe.

“– xiongzhang is da-ge, not er-ge!”

“No, you don’t understand, my da-ge is older – and bigger – so he’s da-ge, and your xiongzhang is er-ge, and that means you’d be san-ge, and Wei-gege is – wait, which one of you is older?”

“Huaisang, it doesn’t work that way, we’re not the same family –”

“What are you even talking about?” Nie Mingjue asked, abruptly coming out of his thoughts. They’d continued playing while he daydreamed, and now Lan Xichen was perched on his back like a monkey, with Nie Huaisang on one of Nie Mingjue’s shoulder while Wei Wuxian hung off the other arm’s bicep and Lan Wangi clung to his neck in front like a sloth on a branch, as Nie Mingjue demonstrated that he could, in fact, keep walking with all of them attached. Every single one of them seemed to think this was the absolute height of entertainment. “Who’s related to what now? Huaisang, can’t you just call Xichen Xichen-ge or something?”

“Oh, fine. Xichen-gege! Xichen-gege!”

“Nie-didi! Nie-didi!”

“Too loud,” Lan Wangji sniffed.

“Didn’t you hear Lan Zhan?!” Wei Wuxian promptly hollered at the top of his lungs. “You’re all being too loud!”

“I’m going to throw each and every one of you into a pond,” Nie Mingjue said. “One by one, if I have to.”

“Do you promise?” Lan Xichen giggled in his ear. “That sounds like fun!”

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, “I had a different thought. How about we play hide-and-seek?”

The advantage of future knowledge, Nie Mingjue thought, was that he knew exactly where Madame Lan’s home was and how to get there within the time period he’d suggested for the initial hiding.

The disadvantage was that he was so focused on achieving his goal that he forgot that what implications might be taken from a twelve-year-old boy breaking into a woman’s home, especially at a time when she wasn’t expecting visitors.

“I’m so sorry!” he all but shrieked, covering his eyes even though he had already turned his back. “Please put on clothing!”

“Oh, your face –” Madame Lan was guffawing. “You’re so red – boy, you don’t have to throw yourself out the window in penance or anything. I’m still wearing my inner robe, you can’t even see anything.”

“It’s still inappropriate!”

“Could be worse. I could’ve been –”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” he begged. “I swear I’m not actually doing this because I have a crush on you, so please, please, please don’t give me any details about what you do in the privacy of your own home, okay? And stop offering me your under-things! I don’t want them!”

“I was only doing laundry,” she said, almost crying with laughter. “I didn’t mean to throw my underwear at your face, it was really just the closest thing to hand…who are you, anyway? Shouldn’t you be introducing yourself to me?”

“I’ll introduce myself when you’re dressed and not a moment earlier.”

“Oh, all right, have it your way. Give me a moment.” There was some rustling. “All right, turn around.”

He peeked and sighed with relief: Madame Lan was, in fact, appropriately dressed in a lovely white silk dress, adorned with the typical Lan sect cloud embroidery and everything. The style was a little freer and less conservative than he might have expected to see the mistress of a Great Sect wearing, but then again he supposed she’d never actually had to do the work associated with it. It was hard to host a society party from seclusion…

“Qinghe Nie’s Nie Mingjue greets He Kexin, Madame Lan,” he said, saluting properly. “I’m a visitor to your sect.”

“I hadn’t realized that we were anticipating visitors from another Great Sect,” she remarked. “Normally there’s a great deal more hustle and bustle involved with preparing to receive a visit.”

“It’s an informal one,” Nie Mingjue explained. “Somewhat, uh, abrupt. We didn’t send word in advance. You see, we recently accepted Cangse Sanren and her husband as guest disciples, and shortly thereafter the Jiang sect paid us an unexpected visit…”

Madame Lan had clearly heard about that disaster, if the way she put her hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle her chortling was any indication.

“I think I see the issue, being as I happen to remember Cangse Sanren very well,” she said, her eyes dancing. “What a troublemaker. She even shaved off Qiren-xiaoshuzi’s beard one time! I’m guessing based on the way you turned into a boiled crayfish that she scared you out of your own home?”

Nie Mingjue opened his mouth to protest, except, well, that wasn’t entirely inaccurate…

“What a charming little egg you are! You’re such a rotten liar that you can’t even do it to save face.”

“Being dishonest isn’t saving face,” Nie Mingjue said, even though his face felt like it was burning and he was probably just as red as she said he was. “The truth is what the truth is, that’s all. You’re not wrong, that’s more or less what happened – I brought Huaisang and Wuxian here so that we could get away from all the yelling.”

“You picked a good place for that,” Madame Lan said, and there was a dull look in her eye all of a sudden. Nothing like the liveliness from a few moments before. “There’s nowhere like the Cloud Recesses for quiet.”

Nie Mingjue bit his lip, not quite sure how to say what he wanted to say. Right up until that moment, she hadn’t seemed at all sick, the way he’d thought she’d be – less than a year before she died, from what he remembered of Lan Xichen’s stories. He’d assumed she’d already be ill with the early stages whatever it was that had eventually taken her from her sons.

But now, he didn’t think she was sick, not really, only…bored.

Dreadfully, horribly bored. The sort of bored that drained your life away bit by bit.

Formal training in swordsmanship and scholarship began at six at the Cloud Recesses, Nie Mingjue abruptly remembered. There were plenty of lessons prior to that, of course, but at age six they would become formalized, the children shifting over from the realm of babies to proper young-adults-to-be. Once Lan Wangji turned six, Madame Lan would have had nothing to look forward to in life.

Nothing, except for her children starting to drift further and further away from her: nothing to do, no purpose, no friends…

Just boredom.

“The Unclean Realm has a communal prison,” he blurted out, and then smacked his hands into his face to hide his shame for being such an inconsiderate ass. Why had he thought he could do this by himself?

He wasn’t even sure what he’d originally come here to accomplish, other than to let Madame Lan know that she ought to see a doctor sooner rather than later in the hopes that they would be able to catch and stymie whatever disease it had been that had killed her, except now of course Nie Mingjue understood that it was no disease at all.

“…what?” she said blankly.

It was too late to retreat, so Nie Mingjue gathered up every bit of courage he’d ever had and barreled onwards.

“I just mean,” he said, tripping over his words, “if you’d like to be – a bit less quiet. Even if your sentence is life imprisonment, surely you don’t have to necessarily serve it here, right?”

Madame Lan stared at him. His shoulders started creeping up to his ears.

“Actually,” she said abruptly, “I was never sentenced.”

He gaped at her. “You – what?”

“Qiren-xiaoshuzi pushed for it, said it was only fair that I knew the exact contours of my punishment, but the sect elders refused,” she explained. “They didn’t want to lose face by having a trial at all, not even privately.”

“But – but if you haven’t been sentenced, you can’t be imprisoned!”

“Is that so?” she asked, looking amused.

“You can’t,” Nie Mingjue insisted, horrified. “The laws of war say that someone can be executed on the spot for committing a crime, but in peacetime they have to be sentenced first even if you catch them red-handed. What if your accuser recants his accusation, whether because he was wrong or because he decided not to press charges? If they recant, you can’t be tried; if you can’t be tried, even if everyone knows you’ve done wrong, you still must be released. No trial, no sentence, no imprisonment!”

“Tell that to the Lan sect,” she said dryly. “Not even my husband could do more than he did to forestall my punishment, and he’s sect leader. Nominally, anyway.”

This did seem to be a problem of the Lan sect. Of all sects, really – he had his own share of old men causing issues and sticking their noses into things – but he’d never had anywhere near the problem with the sect elders as Lan Xichen had had with his Lan sect.

“Why should I?” Nie Mingjue asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t see why we have to tell them anything at all.”

“Why are we doing this?” Nie Huaisang asked, tugging on Nie Mingjue’s sleeve.

“I already explained,” Nie Mingjue said, which he had. He’d also explained that he’d run in there by accident while looking for a place to hide, and he’d tried to look as much like a stupid twelve-year-old as possible when he said it. “About the lack of a trial –”

Nie Huaisang tugged again. “Not that. Why are we rescuing her?”

“Because she might die if we don’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “She’s very bored in there all by herself.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so? It’d make Xichen and Wangji sad if she died.”

“So?”

“So they shouldn’t be sad if they don’t have to be! I don’t want them to be sad because they lost a parent…don’t you remember being sad about your mom having died, Huaisang?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said. “I had da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. He’d keep this conversation in mind for later when Nie Huaisang was old enough to actually understand the concept of death, and then he’d use it to torment him forever.

“Wouldn’t you be sad if da-ge died, then?” he asked, and felt Nie Huaisang’s hands abruptly clutch tight on his arms. “There you go. That’s why we’re doing this.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, but he was still scowling a little in his adorable childhood way, and Nie Mingjue thought for a second that he heard him murmuring something about inviting unnecessary trouble under his voice, but…whatever, it wasn’t important.

What was more important was that Lan Xichen had arrived with what Nie Mingjue had asked him to fetch for him, his cheeks bright pink with excitement. “Nie-da-ge,” he hissed even though there wasn’t anyone in the area, thrusting the package into Nie Mingjue’s arms. “I got it!”

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said, then paused. “Er, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind? Mind what?”

“That I’m kind of, uh, well – I mean, I’m kidnapping your mother. You won’t be able to see her as often as you do now if this works…”

“She’ll be free,” Lan Wangji, trailing behind Lan Xichen as always, said solemnly. Then he stuck his thumb in his mouth, which somewhat ruined the effect.

Wei Wuxian, who’d rushed over to stand next to him as soon as he’d seen him, hugged him tightly. “You’ll come over all the time,” he assured him. “My mom will like your mom, and we’ll all go outside and play all the time. We’ll be really happy!”

Lan Wangji sniffed and buried his face into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

“It’s like Wangji said,” Lan Xichen said. His eyes were intense. “She’s not happy here, she’s not free here, and we only see her once a month anyway – less, in the future, once we’re both busy with lessons all the time. If she can be free somewhere else…you will let us come visit, right?”

“As often as you’re allowed,” Nie Mingjue promised, as it was about all he could do. “I’ll talk to my father about it…”

His father would probably have a fit.

Still, this was an injustice. Even if his father disagreed, it was something he had to do. He’d justify it with reference to their sect principles, and take any punishment duty his father chose to impose.

“It doesn’t matter, he’ll agree,” he said firmly. “You’ll definitely be able to visit.”

“Can I raise an objection?” Nie Zonghui said mournfully from where he was hovering by the side of the clearing. “Possibly two – no, three objections.”

Nie Mingjue looked at him and tilted his head to the side in silent question.

“One, your father said not to get into trouble, if you’ll trouble yourself to remember back that far,” he said, raising a finger. “Two, how exactly do you plan to break the array keeping Madame Lan imprisoned? And three, even if you do break it, how do you plan to get her out?”

The first was irrelevant. The other two…

“We’re going to walk out the front gate,” Nie Mingjue said, and opened up the package Lan Xichen had gotten him – as he’d suspected, there had been spare robes for Qinghe Nie disciples left behind from the previous discussion conference, and sure enough the Lan sect had kept hold of them as a courtesy to the owners. “The Lan sect has never affirmatively stated that Madame Lan wasn’t allowed to leave; they just said she was too sickly to do so. Therefore, if we leave with a Nie sect disciple who is clearly capable of walking out, there’s nothing they can do to stop us without admitting that it’s her and that she’s a prisoner – which they won’t do, because then they’d lose face.”

“That barely counts as a plan,” Nie Zonghui said, and for some reason Nie Huaisang nodded in agreement. “But sadly I think it might actually work.”

Nie Huaisang looked betrayed.

“It will work,” Lan Xichen said. “Especially if you insist that she’s one of yours. They won’t be able to call you out without calling you a liar, and they wouldn’t want to do that. Not publicly, not about this.”

“Won’t there be a problem that she’s a girl wearing boy’s clothing?” Wei Wuxian asked, patting Lan Wangji’s head.

“No, that’s not a problem in Qinghe,” Nie Huaisang told him. “You’re new, so you’re not used to it, but it really isn’t. I mean, she could be misaligned or something, it’s not our business.”

“And we won’t be lying about her being one of ours,” Nie Mingjue said. “Since I’ve offered her sanctuary in our sect, it’s even technically true.”

Nie Zonghui sighed. “And if they ask Lan-gongzi and Lan-er-gongzi if she’s their mother?”

“Wangji won’t say anything,” Lan Xichen said at once. “And I’ll – I’ll lie if I have to.”

He was truly unbearably cute at this age.

Nie Zonghui appeared to be suffering from a similar problem, reaching over and patting him lightly on the head in helpless amusement. “Okay, okay. Let’s hope they don’t ask,” he said. “But – Nie-gongzi, we still have the second problem. How do you intend to get Madame Lan out of the imprisonment array?”

Nie Mingjue patted his cousin – who he knew from his future experience was one of the finest array breakers in their sect, a charming side-effect courtesy of his dual-wielded saber cultivation style – on the shoulder. “I intend to delegate.”

Nie Zonghui blinked, then glared. “I walked myself into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Nie Mingjue said peaceably. “Can you break it? I can use Baxia, if it’ll help.”

“Hmph. Yes, it would help a great deal, but will she agree to consume an array for you? That’s fairly high-grade work, and talent or no talent, you’re still fairly new to mastering the saber.”

Nie Mingjue put his hand on Baxia’s blade, which felt warm and pleased. Practically purring. At some point he would need to investigate why she was so happy all the time – she’d never been this compliant in his first life, and he’d expected her to be more vicious, not less. “Yes, she’ll be happy to help.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” Nie Zonghui paused briefly. “Also, if your father asks, you held Baxia to my throat and made me do it. It was definitely not me being curious about whether or not I could break such a complicated array.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Nie Mingjue said understandingly, and drew Baxia. “All right. Let’s go get ourselves banned from the Cloud Recesses.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #lan xichen #wei wuxian #lan wangji #nie zonghui #madame lan #my fic #my fics #time travel nie bros

314 notes · View notes

edengarden · 3 years

Text

Midnight Proposals

Synopsis: Tendou wakes up in the dead of night, where he's alone with his thoughts. Sort of.

Genre: fluff, pure fluff

Warnings: mentions of tragedy (though it’s not tendou’s or the reader’s), absolutely not proofread

Note: I told myself I’d work on requests and instead I pop this shit out of my ass. I also haven’t written in so long so forgive me if it’s not exactly standard tumblr quality

One second, he was unaware of the world as it kept moving and the next, he lay wide awake in his bed. The freezing breeze from the air conditioner made him shiver and turn on his side, tugging the blankets above his shoulders and curling up beside you in order to steal some of your body heat. He almost wanted to laugh; cranking up the air conditioning was your idea in the first place. You had been complaining about how hot it was at night, how you’d rather be freezing than dying of heat. And yet he was the one paying the price.

Though, he supposes, it’s not that bad of a price. He’s sure there’s worse than this.

Tendou turns on his back, watching the show of lights on the ceiling of your shared apartment. He wonders for a second, why were people on the road at -- he checks the time, -- two fifty four in the morning? Surely some were in a crisis; driving loved ones to hospitals, rushing out of the city for various reasons, heading to or coming home from jobs… He’s always found it fascinating that his life, his entire world isn’t the world. Being with you, spending time with you since he can remember, has felt like everything to him.

He recalls it quite easily; the way you stumbled towards him, six and confident, and introduced yourself. It was quite simple; a name, an age, and a friendship proposal. Although you groan, blush and hide your face in your hands when he mentions it, you were indeed a very, very shameless kid. One of those sweet, young things that didn’t believe in bad people just yet. He’s seen you go around, make numerous friends and come back to him. All the time. Every single day. A part of him has always wondered if you were deaf to the comments other kids made about him, or if you were just too stubborn to hear or believe them. Either way, he can’t complain; it ended pretty well for him.

It’s still so surprising to acknowledge that you didn’t leave his side through the years. Yes, you both grew into persons of your own, but you’ve always found your way back to your comfort zone; a childhood friend who made you feel welcome. He’d done the exact same thing. And to now lay here, at twenty five, in the same bed as someone who has shared over nineteen years of his life with him, felt unreal. He felt undeserving of such a thing.

It felt like a big, cosmic joke. You were here, you’d always been here for him. He doubts that, if anything happened to you (he curses himself for just bringing the idea into the world), he could find any better than you. Or anything remotely close to you. There was, indeed, no way out of this relationship. It was both comforting and terrifying. But it was concrete.

Satori’s heart flutters at the thought that you’re the one. You’re his person, an addition to his own self that he never wants to let go of. The freezing temperature seems to die down, leaving him warm and fuzzy, like how he used to be when he shared all his firsts with you. He shifts again, to his side now, hoping that the nice thoughts in his head might help him fall back asleep. He desperately needed the rest.

“Can’t sleep?” Your voice makes him sigh in disappointment. He hadn’t intended on waking you up, but after half an hour of tossing and turning, anyone would have gotten annoyed.

“Yeah, sorry,” He mutters back as you lay an arm over his torso and entangle your legs with his. “I guess I thought too hard and now my brain’s awake.”

“Hmm, thinking. Careful, don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You warn, suppressing a giggle when your partner playfully whacks your shoulder. After Satori half-heartedly whines about how you’re being so mean to him at three thirty in the morning, a comfortable silence falls over the two of you. A silence that brings back his stupid thoughts. A silence that leaves him aching to fill it with something, anything.

“Y/n?” He whispers into the dark, half-hoping that you’re already asleep. Instead, you shift again, humming in order to let him know that you’re listening. His heart races. He wants to do this. He knows he’ll do this eventually, he just has to, but he’s got zero preparations. It’s the middle of the night, you’re barely conscious and it’s the least romantic scenario he could ever think of, but he wants to do it now. Now, now, now! “Will you marry me?”

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu drabble #hq drabble #tendou satori #tendou x reader

106 notes · View notes

katierosefun · 3 years

Text

i originally had a september wrap-up post queued but then tumblr fucking ate it, which made me very angry because i didn’t want to re-type the whole thing, but i’m procrastinating, so here i am, re-typing the whole thing of all the things i watched/consumed over the month of september, even if it’s a little late: (it’s fine, i didn’t watch a whole ton of stuff except...a lot of kdramas lmao. oh, and visions.)

k-dramas:

beyond evil

okay, so i think this has been on my rec list for literally forever now, but...besties, i’m on my fifth watch of this goddamn show in the span of maybe two months, so if that doesn’t tell you how much this show has been a comfort/eating my brain lately, idk what will.

i literally never shut up about this show, but if you’ve somehow been missing from my blog for a little bit, a quick summary: lee dong sik (played by the ever-wonderful shin ha kyun) was accused of murder + kidnapping a few young women, including his own twin sister 20 years ago. he’s lived a pretty quiet life on his own, and now 20 years later, his whole world is turned upside down again when hotshot new inspector han joo won (played by the talented yeo jin goo) comes into this little town. when the murders start up again, these two are thrown into a hellishly complex mystery. will throw you in for a hellish loop. i think my thoughts best summarize this show as come for the murder mystery, stay for whatever the hell joo won and dong sik have.

okay, but all joking aside about how much i love joo won and dong sik (because...i truly do love them), this show was incredibly healing. once again: this show has quickly become a comfort show, basically to the point where i just watch it whenever i feel down (which happens to be a lot these days). idk man. humans aren’t meant to carry burdens on their own and all that stuff. sometimes u just need to remind yourself that.

the crowned clown

so, after watching beyond evil the fourth time, i realized that maybe i wanted to watch some of the actors’ other works. that was how i found myself watching the crowned clown, which...is an excellent kdrama now available on netflix (also on viki for free, just as beyond evil is). honestly, it’s been a hot second since i’ve watched historical dramas (saeguks), so i was a little unsure what to expect, but this show. bro. this show reminded me just how much i love historical dramas, because the court politics? the costumes? the music? the acting? fantastic.

basically, this show is about the young clown (ie. performer) ha seon (played by yeo jin goo) who now has to replace the king, who might be like...two seconds away from snapping (if he hasn’t already). the reason they’re able to do this is because they look exactly identical despite not being related.

this story is honestly wonderful. i loved it, and it’s an interesting way to look at the story behind the actual king (because. apparently this king was a real person, and i think his story has inspired quite a few other korean movies/shows). i thought yeo jin goo was brilliant in this show, and it’s really no surprise he became the youngest person ever nominated for a baeksang award because of this series. i was truly blown away by just how versatile he proved to be of an actor, and his dynamics with the other characters (the queen, the secretary being my fave, as well as the old eunuch jo), i just...bro. i’ll admit i wasn’t the biggest fan of the romance (don’t get me wrong! it was sweet!), but i think that might have been because this was so court politics heavy, and i adored it for that. if you’ve never watched a historical drama but want to and just don’t know where to start, i highly recommend this.

d.p.

bro....this show was dark. i watched it all in 2 days (pretty easy to do, considering it’s 6 episodes and maybe 40-50 minutes long per episode), and i needed to lie down. this is just one of those shows that i feel is...very important to watch, even if the content matter isn’t very bright.

basically, dp is about two deserter pursuit officers: ahn jun ho (played by jung hae in) and han ho yul (played by koo kyo hwan). deserter pursuit officers are basically people who chase after people who deserted their military post--and for those who don’t know, being in the military is mandatory for men in south korea. this is the result of the armistice between the north and the south--basically, since north korea never agreed to an actual peace treaty, south korea is constantly under threat of war, which is why men need to serve at least a few years. (this is why a lot of actors + kpop band members often take breaks from their careers--to fulfill their military service time. because yup, even celebrities aren’t exempt from service!)

anyways, this show really doesn’t pull back their punches. major trigger warnings for things like intense harrassment, suicide, domestic violence...it really does capture just how dark life can be, and also how toxic the military can be for men. because of that, i felt this show was incredibly well-crafted, incredibly nuanced, and in the end, i just felt sad. that said though, there was a hopeful ending, and i’m glad that this show was renewed for a second season, as i think this show is just...really important.

squid game

okay, so i don’t want to be that person, but your girl was watching squid game right after it came out, so i was here before the hype train--but okay, okay, i digress. (i am glad that this show is getting hype. i feel it’s very important that people watch this show.)

if you haven’t noticed how squid game’s climbed to #1 on netflix worldwide (i think, anyways), well, then...buddy. squid game is about a bunch of people who have the chance to earn lots of money by playing what seems like innocent children’s games. (spoilers: they are far from innocent.)

this show scarred me, to be honest. i needed to watch something lighthearted after this, just because it was so intense. lots of trigger warnings for blood and gore, as well as just. losing faith in humanity. but also, like dp, i felt this show was necessary. it was incredibly well-constructed in that it showed just what desperate people will do in order to survive, as well as exactly what a terrible capitalistic society will do to the working class. it’s depressing and sad, but also incredibly chilling because like. you can’t help but watch the characters and think, but would i do the same thing? i just want to pay off my own debt and take care of my family. wouldn’t i do the same thing?

i won’t say more of this show for fear of spoilers, but. let me just say. that i really am glad this show exists. i hope people actually notice what the fuck it’s saying about our current system too, because hm, maybe i just want to suck the fun out of things, but there’s something very disturbing about how people are already cute-ifying this show (ie. “this is what i would wear to the squid games! :D” and “look at these squid-game inspired cookies! :D”, as if this show didn’t just deliver a heart-crushing message about capitalism + how the wealthy fuck over anyone who isn’t the 1% BUT ANYWAYS)

star wars: visions

lately i’ve been feeling weird about star wars for lots of different reasons which i don’t particularly feel like addressing today, but. visions really reminded me why i fell in love with star wars in the first place. i think for starters, well. it’s no surprise when i say that i felt an intense amount of joy of seeing east asian cultures so beautifully incorporated and respected in this show (no surprise seeing that this show was literally crafted by japanese anime studios), but like. it really was. a beautiful thing. i cried at least once per episode, either because i was so in awe of the animation and the themes or because i was just in awe that this thing exists.

i think my favorite episode had to be the village bride--there was something so incredibly powerful about seeing someone who looked a bit like me say i am a jedi. what an iconic line. what an iconic story about a sad traumatized gal deciding to step up and fight, actually. peak star wars.

but besides all that...i really did feel like...this show captured the beauty and essence of what makes star wars actually good. the themes of good versus evil, a lot of stuff between siblings (bro....the twins and lop and ocho FUCKED ME UP), choosing to have brighter and better days ahead (the village bride, the ninth jedi, the duel, tatooine rhapsody)...like, i really loved how each episode really took everything that was good about star wars and just turned it into something even more beautiful. this series will stay with me for a long time, i think--and i am very grateful for the people involved in this project for reminding me why i fell in love with this universe in the first place. :”)

#caroline recs #a few days late but here it is!

16 notes · View notes

mimisempai · 3 years

Text

I love you too much to let you go

Summary:

Mobius says to himself that he did what he had to do to make Loki happy... fortunately he will come back to his senses and open his eyes.

Tumblr request : how about a break up and then forgiveness story?

Notes:

Honestly I never write break-ups, I am not fond making "my" characters suffer. I won't be doing it again anytime soon, but I hope I've met the challenge.

HAPPY ENDING!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32753194

1428 words - Rating G

Mobius rubbed his eyes, stretched, and slowly sat up. He reached out to the other side, out of habit. The space next to him was empty. Because Mobius did the right thing.

He stood up, walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. He looked at his reflection in the mirror without seeing it.

"I just think it's wiser to stop things before they go too far."

"We've been together for over a year, we've already gone too far." had replied Loki

"I am old and mortal. You have your whole life ahead of you and I do not wish to stand in your way. "

"In my way? But what way Mobius?" Mobius could sense the incomprehension in Loki's voice.

"I do not wish to be a burden to you."

"Mobius, how can you say that?" The voice was now pleading

"I'm saying that we should... that it's in our best interest to..."

"You're breaking up with me. Say it."

"Yes I want us to break up, before it hurts too much."

He saw Loki's features contort with anger. His gaze was as cold as ice.

"You'll thank me eventually...it's the right thing to do."

"How can I thank you when you are sacrificing me on the altar of your integrity, sacrificing our love on the altar of your fear.I thought you said I had the choice to do what I wanted with my life, but do you realize you just took that choice away from me? Who is now the scared little boy?"

Mobius answered nothing and stood in the middle of the living room until Loki walked out, closing the door, gently, without slamming it.

Mobius lived through that day and the next. The apartment was filled with Loki's absence, and Mobius spent more time at work to avoid feeling it. He told himself that Loki's things should be packed, but the thought of touching anything that evoked his presence made him sick.

"Go home!" HB ordered him when she realized that Mobius hardly ever went home and slept in his office.

"This is not my home anymore..." muttered Mobius.

"It's your fault" HB knew all about their breakup and had called Mobius an idiot more than once. "Go to sleep and especially get yourself a wash!"

"I'm sorry," Mobius said. He straightened up and went home.

Once the door was closed, he leaned on it and let himself slide against it. After a few seconds, he realized he was not alone and heard voices coming from the living room.

"Loki, did you even read all those books?" asked a voice Mobius knew. Casey.

"Almost all of them," Loki said with a tired tone, and Mobius froze, "The ones I didn't read were from Mobius, who..."

It was me who read them aloud to both of us.

"It must be nice to have someone take care of you like that."

"Yeah it is... unbelievable," Loki said, and Mobius could hear the clenching of his teeth.

"Mobius is great," Casey replied, "Everyone loves him."

"Sometimes that's not enough," Loki answered softly.

Casey didn't seem to hear him and continued, "To think that before he met you it was Loki-this or Loki-that, and even more so, after he met you it was the same. For anyone who knew Mobius, like me, it was crystal clear that he was completely dedicated to you. He had never put his head on the line for anyone like you."

"Shut up," Loki muttered. Mobius put his head in his hands.

What have I done?

"When you left, when you followed the variant, it wasn't the same. I'd never seen him like that in all the time I've known him. He hardly slept at all, until we found you."

"Mobius loves me, I know that," Loki said softly. "It's just... Like I told you, apparently that's not enough for him. It's not enough for him to fight."

"Loki," Casey continued, "I know most people think I'm an idiot. But you kept talking to me and being nice. So why are you letting him break up with you? You have to fight for him. You love each other. Everyone can see it, the young recruits when they hear about you, they call you the Time Lovers. For three days you've been a shadow of yourself."

"I'll have to find another light then," Loki blurted out.

Casey didn't respond and sighed.

Mobius decided it was time to make his presence known. He cleared his throat and walked toward the living room. "Good evening."

"Mobius!" Loki turned around. "I was, uh, packing up some stuff. I thought you'd be home later."

"I decided to come home early today."

Mobius realized that Loki was indeed a shadow of himself as Casey had said, and Mobius was to be blamed. The magnitude of his mistake was clear to him. He took a step towards Loki, then became aware of Casey's presence.

"Casey... do you-"

"I'm leaving." he paused, looked at Loki and said without letting out a sound, "Fight for it."

Loki nodded and Casey left.

Mobius waited for the front door to close.

"Loki, I'm sorry, I think I made a big mistake."

"You think?" Loki replied in a bitter tone.

"I'm sure of it. I lost faith in us for a while because I overheard a conversation that I probably shouldn't have. People were comparing us and saying how I was no good for you. That I was holding you back. I could only see my flaws, I could only see how I could possibly hurt you. I didn't realize...I didn't know...I couldn't see what I could offer you anymore." Mobius could no longer hold back his words, nor his tears, so desperate was he to convince Loki.

"I love you with all my being, Loki. Without you, nothing has any meaning, taste, flavor, light. And I realize that I am no longer able to live without you, so even if it makes me selfish, please Loki, come back to me."

Loki approached him and took his hand, "Mobius, how can you believe that you are not good for me? You trusted me when in the eyes of the universe I was anything but trustworthy, you saw the good in me when I had done nothing but evil, you made me want to become good, to become trustworthy, to become as you saw me. If you are not good for me, then no one is. How can you think you are holding me back when you have set me free and because of you I am no longer tied to the ground by my destiny." Tears were also running down Loki's cheeks. He continued, his voice trembling, "Even as you broke up with me I knew you loved me and I didn't stop loving you."

"Loki, I'm so sorry for the harm I may have done, for acting like a fool."

Loki shook his head, "You acted like a real idiot, but the harm you did was to both of us. You know, for a long time I thought I'd be the one to do the first stupid thing, to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing to make you want to leave me. I didn't think you would do it alone."

"I apologize with all my heart Loki."

Mobius took Loki's face in his hands and with his forehead against his, eyes in eyes, he said in a clear voice.

"I love you."

"For all time"

"Always."

"So we don't break up then?" joked Loki, who leaned in until his mouth was inches from Mobius'.

Mobius closed the distance then kissed Loki long and hard.

When they parted, Loki said softly, "I love you. I love everything about you. And I can't stand one more day of life without you. It's been a hell of a few days Mobius. I forgive you with all my heart but don't let this kind of thing break us up like this again. We've trusted each other since the very beginning, so trust me too when you doubt yourself."

"Thank you." whispered Mobius, exhaling with relief.

Loki took Mobius by the hand and led him to the couch, where he sat Mobius down, then got into his favorite position, his head in Mobius' lap, this time facing Mobius and wrapped his long arms around his waist before whispering against his stomach, "Don't ever do that to me again, Mobius. It was worse than the day I found out I was adopted, I thought my heart was being ripped out."

"Never again," Mobius promised, "I swear it to you." He leaned over and placed a long kiss on Loki's forehead.

They stayed like that for a long time, savoring the moment.

Their love had survived. _________

Whole series of oneshots here : X

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#lokius #lokius fic #loki seris #loki #mobius m mobius #moki #wowki #loki x mobius #timehusbands #time frost #established relationship #break up and make up #casey (loki)#Hunter B-15

31 notes · View notes

boogiewrites · 3 years

Text

Burning Star

Chapter 1

Characters: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian / Reader / You

Summary: Din Djarin is a long-time associate and friend. When faced with the truth about the creed he's taken, doubts begin to grow in his mind about his choices. He comes to you, looking for a confidant and he finds more than he bargained for. Begins latter part of S2, porn with plot. A growing romance between two characters that thought of themselves as solitary creatures now wanting to no longer be alone. But with The Mandalorian being who he is, things can never be so simple.

Warnings/Tags: Sexual Content. Dry humping. Confessions of feelings. Hurt/Comfort. Touch Starved.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

You couldn’t recall the exact BBY you’d met The Mandalorian. But then again, you weren’t even sure of your birth year, so dates tended to blend into one another in your memory. You recalled every encounter though, every mission he’d asked you to assist him on, the times you’d healed him and his ship, and especially the time he’d come to your planet for refuge with a strange but endearing little green creature. Your small, backwater planet didn’t have much. But that was one of the main things that had drawn you to it. Your parents were nomads, and you’d adopted the same after their death. So you made yourself a home on a green little planet after years of travel. It homed tiny hubs for weary travelers dotted along with the mountainous surface. But the one they called Mando always came to yours.

You had entertained the idea of becoming a Mandalorian after your parent’s death. They were prospectors, planet-hopping and hoping to make a fortune. On one expedition the Imperials decided the planet you and hundreds of others were on was now theirs for the resources. If you want to call it luck, you did live. You were taken in by an orphanage, one of many overrun with children just like you. You were full of anger and hurt and wanted revenge.

You were caught one night, trying to leave, and a woman fatefully saw you and brought you back in, having the first real heart to heart you’d had in your life. With tears in your eyes, you said you wanted the people who killed your parents, dead. You didn’t see this as unreasonable and you still didn't truthfully. You had read about The Mandalorians and were going to join them you’d told her. You were going to learn to fight and be a warrior and take your revenge. Young and full of rage, this was the only thing that made sense. But this woman, who had been watching you knew better than you did. She saw your softness, that capacity for love and sensitivity, and stopped you.

“Do not let their hate make you hard. It’s what they want. You will act recklessly and in their interests with hate in your heart. The only way to defeat evil is with kindness and love.”

It didn’t make sense at the time and when you were in a heated mood you liked to act like it still didn’t. But she was right.

You had previously spent your days reading and learning, drawing the various landscapes your parents took you too and trying to befriend the local fauna. You were a curious child that grew into a curious adult and you had fought hard to keep that sensitivity the woman told you of. So far, it had served you well.

This didn’t mean you didn’t fight. You had to to survive, but when the opportunity for kindness arose you always gave the other being a chance. But if they betrayed that trust you killed them. It seemed fair when it all came down to it. Philosophically speaking, anyway.

You had settled a store for supplies on a long-abandoned mining planet where a nearly extinct mutated species of Nexu lived in the caves under the planet’s surface. You’d protected them for generations now and they trusted you. But they were deadly to anyone else. There were rumors of the mines not being empty, of treasures left behind because they were too tricky to extract. You knew this wasn’t true. You and your toothy, furry associates had explored every bit of the caves that you could find. But that didn’t stop the desperate from trying. This was unfortunately the root of most of the violence in your life. At least you were protecting others in the meantime.

Maybe that’s what drew your Mandalorian to you. He had taken one way, The Way, and you had taken another. You saw in each other what you could have been. He’d given in to his anger and rage when he was young, and you had learned to see past yours. You had the empathy that came from years of self-reflection and control. You had taken different paths, and you both found what was missing in each other. You had the excitement of helping him on quarry hunts on a handful of occasions and he could hide and mend when needed. It was a balance, much like the force you’d read about, and it fell into place without much effort.

Wasn’t it the way that days that began like any other would lead to things you’d never expected? This day was no different. You had previously been most excited about the stew you’d been brewing for the second day, taking your sweet time with an old recipe you’d found in one of the books one of your neighbors had given you. The term neighbor is used loosely as it would be a day's walk, at the least, to the closest person.

The excitement sparked inside your chest as you went out to greet whoever happened to be landing in the field by your settlement. Then you saw the relic hovering above the broken blades of grass. You hadn’t seen a Razor Crest since his and it was easy to know who was going to come off the ramp when it happened upon your humble patch of the planet. You shield your eyes from the burning sun, close this time of the year as the glint off his Beskar armor sends a shock to your eyes.

It was a relief to see you, he thought. Something familiar, consistent, and warm to come back to after the turbulent journey he’d found himself on with the child.

“Hey, stranger!”You call out loudly, waiting for him to be closer so you didn’t have to shout and scare the foul in the surrounding trees. “I know it’s not repairs bringing you in. Your ship is shining like the Bright Star it’s in such good condition. You been on a vacation or something?”

He knew you were joking, his eyes relaxing under his helmet even though you couldn’t see. “Just got back.” his voice hits your ears, the gritty muffle of mechanical filter making it feel remote. You let him approach you, before reaching to hug him. It was something he’d had to get used to, and something you insisted on. After growing close during your time spent on his ship, the trauma bonding of violence and high stakes forced intimacy between two otherwise solitary creatures. For as long as you spent apart, the time picked up where it started when you came back together. Almost dying is hard work, and saving another from it tends to fasten the bond between people with surprising speed.

You had never shied away from him, he’d never given you a reason to. You approached life with an open heart and only shut it to protect yourself when needed. The contact felt soothing despite his hard outer layers. Both physical and figurative. A wrap of strong arms around his helmet, the weight of someone against him, a slight tug down from the height difference. It all felt very sincere, very human to him. At the moment that’s all he was certain about. The helmet hid the troubled eyes that would’ve given him away, and he found himself thankful for it.

“Always good to see you, Manny.” you give him a good squeeze, a kiss to the helmet that you polish out, cooing up at him with attentiveness. You’d refused to call him Mando any longer after one particularly heinous mission. Calling him something everyone else did, something so generic, didn’t fit. So a pet name it was. He’d never had one before. He secretly preferred it. “This Beskar keeping you safe?” you ask, buffing the spot with your sleeve and then patting his chest plate.

“Yes.” he nods. “Except for all the people trying to kill me for it.” You laugh and pat his hard head.

“Can’t blame them. Stylish... strong... beautiful. Just like you, huh?” you give him a wrinkled nose snort and you hear the grunt of amusement and note the subtle nod.

“What I’m best known for. My looks.”

He spoke with such a monotone delivery that his jokes might’ve not landed to someone more fearful and not as knowledgeable of the Mandalorian's personality under all that flash. “Where’s your little guy?”

No sooner than the words were out of your mouth than a gurgle and chirp from a perfectly him sized sack hanging off his shoulders appeared the little green wrinkly friend. “Always close by. Except when I tell him to be. Then he prefers to wander.”

“This goo ball wouldn’t be bad would you?” he tilts his oversized ears and blinks at his father figure as if he’d brutally insulted him. “Never.” you coo and give him little rubs under his jowls. His eyes shut and he happily soaks up the affection. “C’mon. Let's get inside. I bet you’re hungry.”

“He’s always hungry.” a slightly disgruntled Mando grumbles behind you.

“Sounds like you need to eat too.” you retort, hears his heavy footsteps behind you as you enter the humble building you’d built. It was made from the trees that used to fill the little clearing where the landing pad and accommodations were now. They grew fat and had many low, heavy limbs, perfect for construction. The floor was wooden, the walls a mixture of found metal, clay, and beams, same as the roof which made a lovely sound when it rained and kept the harsh seasons out. Dried flowers and herbs hung from low rafters, all part of the long list of things you did to keep yourself busy. You loved making, and your space reflected that. Despite it not being used by anyone but yourself that often, you kept it clean. Shelves and bins as you entered, a small counter for business off the side, a few small tables and chairs on the other side of the large square space with a small kitchen and refresher through doors on the far wall. It wasn’t much, but you’d made it all and it’d served its purpose thus far.

You sit the child down on a table with a cushion in it, letting his round head reach just over the tabletop. He reaches for the flowers in a bottle while you speak and Mando keeps the child's hand from breaking anything.

“Here you go. Been simmering for two days. Broth, meat, and some herbs and veg from the garden. Doesn’t get better than that little one.” You hand him a tiny spoon you’d carved for his equally tiny hands and he makes a confused sound.

“She made that for you, remember? Be nice, use your manners.” he motions towards it with a nod. You watch the child struggle for a moment before giving up and raise the small bowl.

“That works too.” you grin. “You want some? You could get the broth through that absorption accessory I made you.”

“It was destroyed during a mission recently.”

“Ah.” you nod and purse your lips. “I think I have parts to make another.”

He was used to paying for things being made for him. But you and your hobby of tinkering in a little bit of everything had led to a few things that were one of a kind. You’d made a long device that could fit under his helmet to allow liquids to be consumed without removing his helmet. He thought it was thoughtful but it was purely selfish as you were tired of him not eating your food. Before, you had bartered to eat together in separate rooms so you could get feedback. He wasn’t very good at it. Eating to live was his main purpose of doing it at all, not like you that lived to eat.

“Thank you.” is his quiet reply. There’s an easy silence watching the child burp and gulp and making a mess of himself in the process.

“What brings you in this time? You need me to open up the hut? I’ve still got fuel.”

“I’ll refuel before I leave.” You were used to his pauses, but something felt different, you could feel the consideration for his words churning in the silence. “I came to speak to you about something.”

“I can’t tell if this is good or bad.”

“I’m not sure myself.”

Your brow furrows and you lean across the table to engage him. “In trouble again?”

He is still and quiet for another beat. “I found other Mandalorians.”

Your eyes grow wide, “Oh.” you process the information, your surprise clear on your face, you had never been good at keeping control of your expressions. “Is that... not good?”

“We found a common ground and helped each other. But I feel as if I have more questions than I did before. I was so certain before of my standing within the Mandalore creed. I was raised by it, swore to it. And now...”

“What happened Manny?” you reach across and put your hand over his, the child coos at the action. The child could feel emotions, pick up on non-verbal things others couldn’t, and he knew when you were around, his protector was much happier.

“I come from a segment of Mandalorians that broke away from society. They have very different views of The Way. They told me I belonged to a cult of religious zealots.”

“Wow. They didn’t sugar coat that at all did they?” you pat his hand and try to not come off as condescending about it.

“I was not aware of this. This… difference.” you give him a sympathetic smile even though you aren’t sure if he’s looking at your face.

“What do you mean differences?”

“As soon as I met them they removed their helmets.”

“Oh well, yeah that would…” you nod, “That’s a big difference.”

“Have you read about the Children of the Watch? I know you were fond of reading of Mandalore as a child.” he asks with a touch of warmth to his words, as if it made him proud to say it about you.

‘A bit yes. There’s not much about them out there. They’re very strict and secretive. They didn’t want the progressive Mandalorians corrupting what they saw as the true Way. You all believe in being warriors and protecting what’s yours. The helmet thing seems to be the biggest deal.”

“It’s given me… concerning thoughts.”

“Do you mind if I give my opinion on it?”

“That’s what I came for.” his words made you feel special, like you mattered. They didn’t have the tainted burn of someone that wanted to use you or what you for their gain. He came to you to talk. You were flattered.

You turn your body to face his direction, both hands on top of his large, still armored one that he stared at for a moment while you spoke. Watching your hand's flowery movements to accompany your points broke his concentration on them. “I believe this equates to my discovery that I’m not human.”

His attention is grabbed, head swinging up and the child taking notice.

“I am mostly, but I have Cathar in my bloodline....”

It made sense, he thought, he pieced things together, your angled golden eyes, the large swell of hair you styled in various ways, sometimes wild and free and sometimes braided for more function when fighting. Your nails were long and sharp, your teeth a bit pointed as well, he’d never noticed if you could retract them, he thought you’d styled them in that way. Most importantly he could see the strength your ancestors had instilled in you. Even now. You were fierce, proud, loyal, and passionate. It explained your quick temper for those who harmed others for their selfish benefit. If someone had only glanced at you, human would be the general assumption. But if someone took the time to know you as he had, it was easy to believe there was something else in your blood.

“I grew up with what I assumed were humans, but I’ll never know that now. I could’ve been a foundling for all I know. So I had this loyalty to them, what I thought was a bond, a call to be a part of that. But once I came of age and... things started to appear a bit more complicated I went to someone to see what was wrong with me. Turns out nothing, I’m just not human.” you chuckle and shrug, recalling your awkward memories. “I was then left with the questioning of where my loyalty lies. Who was I? Was I Cathar enough to call myself that? Was I human enough to remain within that species, to live and love and fight with them? I was missing such a large portion of who I was, in my blood, I was someone I’d never known. I had so many things I might’ve missed out on you know? Hunting, hierarchies, mating, having family, a pride. We were known for litters, did I have siblings?” you sigh and you feel the sadness well up as it always did when you ponder the unknowns of your existence. “I digress… what I have concluded, and you may take into consideration is that you are in fact, both. Neither is more or less important. They are born of the same thing, they were once one single unit and all future and past components of Manda. You have your war gods, so do they. You have your morals, your duties, your... Way. Even if you were not a Child of the Watch, if you broke those creeds they specified, you are still a Mandalorian. You are not what you speak after all, you are your actions. Both sects believe neither to be a part of the other, but yet they helped you? You help your fellow Mandalorian. It is only a title, The Way is beyond titles, Manny, you know this.”

“I did not know that about you.” was his response.

“There’s far more we don’t know about our fellow man than we do know.” you smile at him and pat his hand. “You are usually quiet and prefer not to discuss frivolous matters. So I don’t bother you with trivia about myself.”

“I don’t believe that you or your beliefs are frivolous.” He pauses a moment, looking at your hand before placing his on top of yours. Both of his now tentatively trying to comfort yours. He didn’t show physical affection, it wasn’t natural to him. You took notice but kept your eyes on the way his hand gently stroked your own as he tried to elaborate the best he could. “You are... very well-read. An… admirable warrior of high morals. Your ideas have helped me with this. I still have concerns...questions. But for the first time since I learned this I feel… better understood.” You could almost feel the pain of him pulling those words out himself to give to another. This wasn’t his strong suit and you knew it. Was it some of the most endearing conversation you’d ever shared? Yes. Did it make your chest ache just slightly with the sweetness he was presenting even though his eyes were hidden? Also yes. He must be hurting, truly upset, and overwhelmed to try to share the burden of it with someone else.

You look back up to him and hold his hands tightly. “You’re very welcome.” you share a connected moment, eyes to the dark void of his visor as your hands move softly and slowly within the others’. “Would you prefer to continue talking about it? Or would you rather us take one of our walks? I think a break might help clear your head.”

“I think you're right .”

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

You took the opportunity to carry about the child, stopping to let him feel leaves and touch branches, pinching tiny bites of native fruit for him to experience. It was lovely, the scenery and the company. You kept the conversation light, talking about the books you'd read, the things you’d made, how the local Nexu’s were doing, and what the former guests had been up to. He’d met many of the foundlings that had eventually found their way to you. They had been in the same orphanage as you had. He’d scared most of them, and you couldn’t blame them, but he had always asked how they were when you spoke regardless. The child to him was the first foundling he’d taken in, lived with, cared for, and protected. You had helped with the younger children at the orphanage as you grew up and had taken in a handful over the years. And as children did, they would leave once they felt they were ready or the itch to be free came. You were concerned about how your Mando would take losing his little guy. You could tell they had a strong connection. You walked back both holding one of the outstretched arms of the very slow child, you could see how it was easy to be swept up by the little creature.

You had him care for the child, readying him for bed and getting what was needed out of his ship before locking it down and coming into the small clay and brick temporary home next to yours. It was modest, like yours, built from the clay in the hills you’d gathered yourself and decorated with various stones and tile. It was more than enough compared to what he was used to. A small room for the child to sleep, tucked away safe and cozy and you once again held the father figure and wished him a goodnight up against the cool metal of his helmet. He thanks you for your help, as he always does.

You tell him not to mention it, he’d do the same for you, as you always did. The parting goodbyes were always rather special and tender to you. He would tell you he hoped you found yourself in the favor of the maker, to be safe, vigilant, and that he would see you again. He’d always kept his promise.

---------

Going without sleep wasn’t something new for him. So sitting in the light of one of the four moons in the sky wasn’t exactly unexpected when you saw it from the dark interior of your home. He knew you were there. He had detected the movement in the building with his helmet without even looking in your direction. He sat on the stone stoop outside, helmet slowly shifting between looking down to the dirt path in front of him and up into the bright sky. It was the only glint off him from the moonlight, he was without his usual covering of Beskar armor on the rest of his body. He was in his black fabric shirt and pants, odd to see him without the visual breaks the shapes of his armor made. He still had his boots and his helmet on. You had yet to see him without them. You put on a robe to cover yourself in your summer-light sleeping shift and decided to see if you can be of any help.

He couldn’t decide if he was relieved or more anxious at the sight of you. He felt naked suddenly, despite all of his body being covered except his hands. He became hyper-aware of the small patch of skin around his neck that was uncovered, the wind tickling and reminding him he was in his most exposed state around someone in decades. You looked soft as you take slow steps towards him across the grassy garden between the buildings. It wasn’t just your loose hair, the free, flowing fabric showing skin he didn’t recall seeing before. The glow of the moon lent him to think he could see the energy around you as you approached and it bounced off your skin. But unlike The Way he was taught, he didn’t think less of you for appearing delicate. He knew better, but it seemed to help make him feel more at ease in his state of what he would call undress.

“Hey Manny.” your voice was considerate like a mother's and full of affection he didn’t feel he deserved. “Would you like some company?” you ask, tilting your head and holding out a small cup of cold liquid down to him. “Brought tea.” you mumble before moving to stand near him, the edges of your robes reaching out to caress the shaft of his boot on occasion.

With his head low, shielding his chin from your view he takes a sip. At this point in his inner monologue, he didn’t have it in him to ask you to turn away while he drank, hiding in the shadows was good enough.

“Put the kid to bed but you forgot to put yourself down too?” you give him a sleepy smile. You hear a long exhale from the filter in his helmet. “Still too much going on in your head to sleep, huh?” you say with a nod, already knowing. You sit your cup on the corner of the small stone landing in front of the door. You kneel before him, settling in and studying him dutifully. You’d never seen him look so vulnerable before, and you were mixed on your decision about how to approach him.

“Yeah. Still too much.”

“I’m all ears if you want to spill.” you offer with upward palms.

“I don’t want to keep you up. You should go back to bed. You were resting before you saw me.”

“And now I won’t be able to go back to sleep until I know you’re okay.”

A small grunt of acceptance comes from the helmet. “I feel angry and it confuses me. I shouldn’t be angry. I’ve made my decisions. Most a long time ago. But I am. I’m trying to practice humility, acceptance. But there’s only anger and this feeling of being betrayed.”

“That sounds normal to me.” you nod in support, thankful he was finally sharing with you what was going on in his mind. You’d had glances inside before, stories he’d told, where his morals lie, but this felt different. “They did help you. Maybe it’s good to focus on that?”

“I’m not angry at them.”

Your brow shows your confusion.

“I’m angry at the Children of the Watch.”

That was different. You understood him being angry at those that called him a zealot and dismissed his beliefs. Despite them being so similar.

“No matter how small of a part of my creed may have been a lie. It was still a lie. Now I wonder what else was a lie. None of it? All of it? I’ve given my life to this.”

“It’s not... simple.” you offer gently, eyes to the ground, not wanting to antagonize him.

“No. It’s not.” you let him think, studying his bare hands. It gave you plenty to do in the downtime. You’d seen bits of him before when healing him, but you couldn’t recall if you’d seen his hands. The warm brown skin was marked with light and dark scars alike from the years of abuse his body had taken. They were bigger than yours, more square and sturdy in comparison. “The things I’ve sacrificed for a lie.” it was almost a hiss, and you feel the burn of it in your chest for him.

“I know it’s not my apology to give,” you say quietly, rising on your knees to touch his forearms, suddenly aware of the softness and warmth underneath your hands as you touched him. There were no bracers to block you or worry about activating, there was just a man under there after all. “But I am sorry about how much this is upsetting you.”

“You are never a source of upset, Jaira.” Your name came off his lips like a whisper. He had so seldom used it. He wanted to reach out and touch your hands, but the thought of skin against his made him more agitated in multiple ways, both good and bad. Your expressive face told him you had known this but thanked him for the kind words all the same.

“Nor you to me, Manny.” you said his name in the same tender way, making it feel almost vulgar as you rest so close together.

He looks away, you can see the gears shifting from his subtle body language. “I believe it’s long overdue… in the interest of exploring the things I’ve sacrificed... you’ve earned my real name.” Your eyes go large, a quick jerk upward as he moves, bravely so, to place his hand over yours. His skin felt as hot as the sun. “My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

“Din.” you say with an unintentionally sickeningly sweet sigh of revelation. You give a smile that grows larger slowly, feeling it reach up into your eyes. “Din. That’s such a… gentle name. I like it.” you insist with a nudge forward of your chin.

“Yours reminds me of a phrase we have in Mandoa.” he looks down, now preoccupied with his decision to touch your hand. It was so giving, warm, and feeling distinctly feminine when paired with his.

“What’s that?”

“I think it would translate best to luck… destiny. Bright stars that light the good course to take.”

Your eyes went wide like a forest animal. You couldn’t help it, it was one of the sweetest sentiments anyone had ever given you. “Say it for me, Din.”

He felt his chest jerk at the word. He wasn’t used to being affected by them. Certainly not his name. “Jate’kara.”

“I’ve not been able to find much about your language. Would you be willing to teach me someday?”

“Of course.” he sounded borderline offended at your statement.

“Did I say something wrong?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

“No, no.” he shakes his head. “You don’t have to ask things of me like they’re favors.” he clarifies. “Whatever you need of me...I’ll do it.”

It sent a flip to your insides. This felt like a lot of responsibility. You could just... request things from this myth-worthy Mandalorian? It was an odd power rush you weren’t truly capable of dealing with in this rather intimate setting. You were close, almost between his knees, hands clasped together and speaking quietly into the warm night air. The condensation ran cool on your skin, the wind leaving bumps over your skin in its wake. The buzz of animals and insects was loud but faded when you were so close and so deep in conversation. If he said you could ask anything of him. Then perhaps you would. Why sit on the intensity of the moment? Strike.

“What is it that is bothering you? You feel... different. Not angry. I’ve seen you angry this is more subtle more...deep. I feel like you’re holding back. What is it that's making you so angry? You are so logical and reasonable in your approach to things. What is it that's so distressing you can't sleep?”

He takes a deep breath. He hasn’t wanted to say and be thought of as simple or even crude. But you'd asked and he was left with no excuse. “There are things that men want...even need that arent considered with The Way. I am a Mandalorian. But I am also a man. I've given so much of myself to being Mandalorian that I've had to deny myself things that are a part of that human side of me.”

“And with learning of the lies, you’re angry because you feel like you've been suffering for no reason.”

“Yes.” a stern answer and a strong nod to accompany it.

You almost lost your nerve, but with the way his thumb kept sweeping across your skin and the voltage it felt like it created with every touch you would’ve cursed yourself if you didn’t ask. “What have you sacrificed unwillingly, Din?”

Your eyes gave you away if your tone hadn’t. His helmet doesn’t move, he is as still as stone, gray, and shining like a polished river rock as he bores into you. “That is a bold question.”

“You have given me bold answers. I return the earnestness with the things I want to know.”

“You want to know these things?”

“I want to know you.” a direct answer and a slight leaning forward to keep him close as if he might run away in fear. Which was the most ridiculous imagery you could imagine. “I always have. I’ve been witness to your good and the bad actions. I’d like to be a bearer of your thoughts tool. I can’t help but want to understand what makes you, you. Of all the creatures and people I’ve met, you are the only one to hold my attention so completely both with and without his presence.”

Your words made for the most interesting combination of occurrences in his chest and stomach. It was fire and ice, a pull to the man in him, and a calling of praise for the life he led. His cheeks burned, a rare occurrence. It had all been a fantasy before now. But you with your fond words and their heated meanings were making them feel more real by the second.

“You do know how to appeal to both sides of me that I’m talking about.” he pauses and observes your face a moment, and no sign of retreat is within your eyes. “There's been no place for the… physical intimacy that men can crave. I am not one to pay, and I don't have the time to put into such efforts that I believe are needed for such… intimate things. They’re as sacred as an oath. I might've not acted that way when I was young. But clarity is gained with experience.”

“I share the sentiment.” a touch of sadness he understood well was in your eyes and it made his chest ache. A being like you shouldn’t know these feelings. A flash of anger lit within him for the injustice in a universe where a woman like you would ever feel lonely in such a way.

“You’ve taken no oath to hold you back from such things.”

“But I have not had the time, place, or person to swear such sacred oaths.” you give a subdued laugh, throwing his words back at him. “Or… at least I didn’t think I did… because I wasn’t sure if they could.” you look away and he sees it. You meant him.

“They can,” he answers, a deep fearless voice emanates from the helmet that holds your entire body at attention. “There are… obstacles to overcome. But they can.”

With a rush of confidence, you move closer, your chest against his legs and your hands on his knees. “Do you know of any obstacle I have yet to overcome?” a smirk that catches him off guard appears, a playfulness to your eyes bright and doting on him makes him catch the fever you were trying to spread.

“No.” a breathy answer through Beskar.

“Then let me help.” you offer. “I have grown so fond of you over these years. I wasn’t convinced you felt the same.”

“I do.”

“We can approach this issue together and… overcome it the same. As we have before.”

“As we will again.” He recites part of the toast you liked to give before leaving on missions. He remembered it. He did care.

“What obstacles are there? You know you have my silence with such things.”

Where did he even begin? He didn’t feel prepared and ironically he was unprepared for such actions to take place and feelings to be felt. “I know. I trust you.” There was nothing but the truth in his words and you reach to put your hand to the side of his helmet as if it were his cheek. You had always accepted this part of him, treating the helmet as if it WAS him and not an external thing. Which is how he thought of it most of the time. There was never a wish for him to remove it or invasive questions. You were knowledgeable about the Mandalorians and knew their armor was sacred to them, and you assumed as such about this man and his helmet. He places his hand over yours, the warmth between them registering on his helmet display and building condensation on its surface. “Let’s go inside.” he instructs, taking your hands, a flush of warmth through his bones at the touch of another.

“Is the child-?”

“Fast asleep.” he quickly answers, leading you to the small bedroom in the earthen home.

He stands at the long side of the bed for a moment, hand in yours and trying to get his bearings, it had been so long since he’d done anything like this. You saw his head moving and taking in the room and then you and back again, you could sense the uncertainty. “Din, relax.” a warm smile comes across your face, taking the lead, and that was fine with you. You almost coo his name, your hands moving to his upper arms to rub them reassuringly.

“Hard when it’s been so long.” he regrets it as he says it, thinking it might sound a bit pathetic.

“Believe me it’s been a very long time for me too.” you console him, standing chest to chest to start. You follow the hills and valleys of his arms, strong and lean under the pliant fabric to his bare hands, lacing your fingers together, feeling him hide the twitches and jerks from the sensation of touch. “Sit down on the bed. Let me get close to you.” he sits down, sat up far too straight. “Put the bend of your knees against the bed... there we go.” he feels your hands on his thighs and an audible gulp hits your ears that you ignore. “You know I’m not going to judge you. I want this… I want you too.” He feels you close the space between you, your legs sliding between his naturally wide splayed ones. “Now tell me what obstacles did you mean before? Talk to me and let me know what you need.” your hands trace the dark lines on his helmet and a shiver runs down his back.

You were being far better about this than he warranted. It made him want you more, a hunger in his lower stomach slowly growing past his anxiety. “Helmet stays on.” was his first thought, spoken almost too quickly.

“Of course.” you keep your voice quiet and soothing, hands making their trek up and down his arms, waiting to feel them lose their tension. “Do you have to leave everything else on?” you coax him with a squeeze to his biceps, putting one leg up, now visible from beneath your robe over his.

You can’t see it but you get an actual grin out of him. “No.” a more confident response, feeling more relaxed with your unintentional playful humor. You see him look down to see the bare skin, the touchless friction between your bodies growing hotter by the second.“But let’s not get carried away.”

You hear the laugh this time, he sees your expression shift, a triumphant smile for getting him out of his own head. “I know I can be sensitive when I’ve not... been touched in a long time.”

“Yeah?” he liked the sounds of you talking about it a little too much. He wanted to hear anything you’d tell him about your body.

“Yeah.” your breath catches, “Are you?”

He nods, he didn’t have the confidence in this area yet to own what he saw as shortcomings.

“I want to sit in your lap. Can I?” You wanted to take it slow. The last thing you wanted was to scare him off. There is a fine line between indulgence and going too far when it came to dealing with a man like him.

“Yes.” another quick nod, and you are happy to give in, your hips settle well on his strong thighs, feeling secure. To him, it felt it took forever and didn’t last long enough. The drag of your bare skin against his thin clothes was a lot. The weight of what felt like a lifetime of neglect to himself and his needs weighs as heavy on him as you do. He had known touch only through violence for decades now, the tenderness you were offering him willingly was almost overwhelming. He was taught the ways of war and violence since he was young. The ways of more fragile things; of love and intimacy he’d had to learn on his own.

“I’ll go slow.” Slow was the opposite of how your hearts were beating. Your fingers wanted to touch that strip of skin unveiled around his shirt collar, but you only stared at it for the moment. His head pauses just above your chest, your arms resting on his shoulders, fingers light on the edge of his helmet and hungry to move farther down.

“Thank you.” a simple but honest answer.

You’d been close before, seen large spaces of bare skin and carried one another, slept shoved into a single space too small for you both but it had never felt like this. Everywhere your bodies met was warm and giving, both now very aware of the gap between both your hips in this position. You took the time to study him up close, the metal of his helmet was unbelievably smooth as your fingers traced invisible lines and doted on the hard surface separating you from him. Did you want his helmet off? Yes. You wanted to know, to be the only one to know, to touch and feel and savor every inch of him. The more you thought about it, the closer you got to him, the harder it was to recall a time you didn’t think of him this way. Repressing your wants and needs was something you were both personally familiar with.

“It doesn’t bother you when I touch your helmet like this does it?”

“N-no. I like it.” his face a melted mess under the guard. He watched you so close, your bright eyes glowing with the light the moon beaming down. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew everywhere you touched, spots lighting up red with heat, pulsing where more pressure was applied. It was a good introduction to being touched again. You push forward, a single kiss to where you believed his cheek to be. When you pulled away, he answered before you could ask. “Go on.” a heated hiss through the filter deep and dark and heavy as it hit your ears. You place another to the other side, tilting his head you give him another to his forehead. His eyes would close when you were near, a happy sigh, a weighted exhale is let out, feeling his shoulders slumping with each dot of affection. You hold his metal cheeks, a faint kiss to the tinted part of his visor. You press your forehead against his, barely a measurement worth noting separating you as he gives in to your touch, wanting to fall into you, to give you back what you were giving him.

You move your hands slowly, giving him time to register and adapt before moving on, your arms wrap around his helmet, holding him close before leaving a trail of smaller kisses behind, bringing his head only slightly down into your chest. Underneath he was a slack-jawed puddle. Your arms made their way down his shoulders to his back, you could even feel the raised skin of scars you’d helped suture, fingertips light along them, exploring new ones. After your flat palms explored his back, finding his breathing steady and deep you tried something new. A drag of your nails against the fabric drew a deep groan from him. “Good?”

“Ung-” a deep enthusiastic grunt escapes the helmet pushed to your collarbone. “Yes.” You continue, you scratch his back and he swears he could cry at the sensation. You didn’t move away or avoid his scars, the patchwork he felt his body looked like. You embraced it, all of him, and it was hitting him harder than he expected it to.

You take a deep breath, another kiss to soothe to the cold metal. “Do you want to...see me? Or- touch me back?”

He hadn’t even thought about it, his brain hadn’t moved past the feel-good moments you were covering him in.

“Yes.” a simple but hungry answer. As you see his helmet tilt downward towards your chest.

“I want you to too.” Your sincere tone struck him, he watched your agile fingers reach for the belt that held your robe in place. It fell silent, blood in your ears as it was your turn to feel the taste of nervousness on your tongue. Your body was something that did things for you, it wasn’t something you often stopped to consider the aesthetic of. The quiet noises that he let escape as you took off the robe left any hesitation behind with it as it laid on the floor abandoned. His hands didn’t move, his chest did noticeably, as yours mirrored, picking up speed as you moved forward. You take one of his hands, thumbs rubbing circles, leaving small kisses on his fingertips as the sounds beneath the Beskar grew louder. The rhythm of his breathing was now audible, helpless sounds you never expected to hear from anything but pain brushed against your ears and touched you in places no one had in ages. You kiss him palm, nose nuzzled into the only slightly trembling fingers. After you felt the skin-to-skin contact was enough to calibrate him, you meet what you felt to be his eyes, taking his hand and placing it over your breast. You were still covered with the thin sleep shift but it was made for breathability in the heat of summer and didn’t leave much to the imagination. You take him by the wrist of the awkwardly avoidant hand and put it on the curve of your hip. “Is this-?”

“Yes.” he rushes out and sees you smile, causing another kiss to be given to his helmet where you were aiming for what would be his mouth. He groaned, feeling your nipple harden against his palm, the other feeling the silky slip of fabric as he let himself give a firm grip to your fleshiest parts.

“Go on, Din,” you whisper into his visor. “Touch me,” you ask of him. A strangled noise breaking through bitten lips is your answer. You place your hand gently on top of his, showing him it was okay, reminding him how to, helping him give in. Your hand forces his to cup the weight of your chest, the exhale of pleasure fogged up his visor as you had your head rested against his. “Like that, yeah.” you wet your lips and his hand begins to move on its own. Soon his hands are kneading at you, a simple brush of thumb over your nipple forces an inhale he drinks up the sound of.

He fondly recalled this now, that static in the air, the shared breaths and the power he felt with a woman in his grip. He relaxes his head against the bend of your neck, mouth open and watering, hidden from view but the sound of his breathing was enough to tell you he was giving over to it now. The tentativeness leaves, his hand pulls your hips closer to him, both inhaling at the feeling of touch against the places your arousal was spreading from. You let out a small whine at the feeling of the seam of his pants, pressed against by his growing erection.

“Fuck.” you hear exhaled into your shoulder and you shudder. “You feel...so good.” his hand grips you firmly, “Like velvet in my hands…” his lips brush against his helmet and he wishes it was your skin. He was famished for touch, for this connection and lust he’d repressed for so long. But here it was, in his hands, in his lap asking him for more. His hands ran up your bare chest, feeling the pulse under your skin and the slick your sweat had created. “You’re as hot as a star under my hands.” he groans.

You audibly swoon at the comment, feeling that distinct masculine roughness of well-worked hands as his palms moved into your hairline. “And you’re as hard as Beskar under me.” You move your hips, a grind against his, and a fully formed moan escapes, neck going limp and the heaviness of the helmet resting on your shoulder now. You whine, the friction feeling even more delicious against your glossy wet center. He encourages you wordlessly, a hand on your ass to keep a slow rhythm, a painful drag of your engorged clit against the perfectly fit shaft of his cock. Such a thin piece of material between you, you thought. You reach between your legs, a wet mess on both of you and it’s no surprise. “I’m as wet as Kamino, Din.” you hum and smile, the front of his helmet against your neck again. You feel the vibration of his groan against your skin. “Look what you’re doing to me,” you whisper, mouth pressed against his helmet where his ear would be. He sees the light hit your fingers as you raise them. “See that?”

“Fuck...yes little star I do.” he groaned heavily, his chest heaving a bit. You get bolder, your hand moving from your lips to the painfully hard throb in his pants. Another long groan, a jerk of his hips as you palm him, a back and forth against the pressure, feeling him jump against the confines. “Unf - I - I won’t- “ his hips jerk and his hand moved faster than you can register to your wrist. A firm hold that makes you moan and stop. There was that strength you had wanted to be obedient to. “That might be a bit… much for me.” He stopped you out of fear of not being able to stop. He didn’t want to scare you, unleash something he wasn’t ready for or couldn’t control. It was a concern he’d cum too soon and embarrass himself, this wasn’t something he could just jump back into and impress anyone.

He was thankful you weren’t disappointed, “Do you want me to make you cum, Din?” Every time you said his name with such lust in your voice it made him moan. But he didn’t feel the least bit weak for it.

“I wanted us both to...enjoy this.”

“If you think I’m not enjoying myself you’re welcome to put that hand between my legs and find the contrary.” Another moan that makes him slump comes heavily from him. “If you do want to...enjoy this…” you let out a small breathy laugh he raises his head to. “I can arrange that.” you offer, your nose gliding affectionately against the center indent of his helmet. “Relax and enjoy this with me, Din.” you give him a reassuring smile, lining your hips up again. You grind back and forth, his hands finding their place on your body quickly. You straighten your back to give him a view of you, and you finally let your fingers dive under the neck of his shirt, feeling the slightest glimpse of hair at the base of his neck, your fingers go as far into his helmet as they can. You start that back and forth against him, over and over, lazy growing more urgent as each time he gives a harsh drag across your clit, the stimulation you needed. “I’ve thought about you like this, you know.”

A small “Ungff.” was the only response he could manage.

“Wanted my hands to feel your skin, just for pleasure. Wanted to know how you’d feel... thick and throbbing beneath me like this.”

With a deep grunt, his hand holds your hip sternly, the other moving to the back of your head, pressing your forehead to his. “Yes-keep talking like that, fuck.” The demand was thick in his voice, his hands no longer gentle, giving away the need they were trying to find an outlet for.

“You’ve turned me into something I’m not for anyone else. Some needy young girl, hungry for a taste of flash and flesh with a man.”

“You’re so, fuck you’re so soft.” he moans, helmet pushing back against you like a bull, and you were happy to ride. "Your so good at that."

You let it build, focusing on the feeling between your legs, you let your breathing take over, every grind a release of sound, and a step climbed together towards your peak. “I knew you would be impressive. You had to be. Look at you.” You pant and you feel his fingers sink into your hair, a fistful slowly tightening as you held onto his back and head, leveraging and letting your hips do all the work. “No man’s ever made me such a greedy woman with only his hands before Din. No one. Only you.” The filter slips and your mouth falls open, breath fast from exertion, both sets of hands now with a white-knuckled grip against each other's bodies.

It was hot and fast and what you needed to satiate your needs. His hands and sounds told you everything you need to know for now. He wanted you, needed you, craved you. He was giving you the power to make him weak, a rush to your head that wasn’t just your impending orgasm.

“Fuck Din I’m close.” you admit, your mouth open and panting, tongue shamelessly lapping at his helmet, your lips kissing him as if he could kiss back. Once again, he returned the kisses with his hands, switching grip one went to your back, the other back to your breasts bouncing out of their thin confines.

“Fucking do it.” he bites out through gritted teeth, fingers tugging your top down to expose you and give your nipple a pinch.

“Mmmph!” a slight whine but a plea for more. “Yes fuck I love that Din, harder.” your words rush out and he eagerly follows.

“Cum for me. Cum on me. Please.” he growls, and it ignites something in you. Something primal. “C’mon little star, fuckin burn for me.” he commands, a barked order, caught up in it all, the heat, the friction, and the haze of lust around you both he cums. Unexpectedly but it didn’t matter at this point. With that solid thrust against you, a hand gripped into the flesh between your shoulder blades, the masculine energy you’d craved washes over you in the grunts and expletives that leak from the helmet.

“Yes, fucking cum Din. Give it to me.” you moan shamelessly, head falling back. A yip of “Yes.” building from whines to full roars overcomes you as you do as he asks and explode into a white bright hot light that consumes you. You try to keep the pace, the contact but your body stutters and begins to shake. The now warm metal of his helmet presses between your bouncing tits as your head tilts back and he holds you up with both hands, you never felt fear of falling when his hands were on you. At least not falling into the floor.

It was as if his mind cleared, and he was left soaking in this gleaming woman cumming hard in his arms. He held you up, seeing your chest heave, the pink flushing your skin, how much desire he felt in his growled name as you gnashed your teeth and came on him.

Fuck he felt good.

He got to scoop you up, a trembling and panting shadow of the primal goddess you’d just been, arms wrapping around your waist, one hand moving to see your face as it fought to regain its bearings.

"You glow like a star when you're like this." He isn't sure if he's overstepped, he doesn't know if the shine in your eyes is from the recent orgasm or his words. “Fuck you are… beautiful. You know that?” your mass of hair falls forward as you look down at him, chest still finding its normal pace.

Your eyes blink, a flutter of disbelief and, if he read you correctly, a slice of fear for only a second. “Beautiful?” you ask, feeling a bit bewildered.

His hand stops its gentle stroking against your hair and face. “You act like you’ve never been called that before.” You can feel the subtle laugh in his chest when he says it.

When your face remains still for a moment, eyes bright and full of memories he wishes he could access you reply almost sheepishly, “I've not.”

With the simple, quiet answer he was given more information about you than you knew you'd given up. You'd never let anyone in like this before. No one had ever held you and told you the things you longed to hear from another you cared for. You were like him after all.

With a light hand, you rest against his helmet again, stroking it as if it were his hair. "It means more coming from you than it would anyone else."

Now you've taken his words from him. You managed to make him feel special. Something he had denied his entire life. Something he wasn't sure he even believed anyone could be. In the same sentiment as your confession, he was glad it was you that was changing his changing his mind about such things. Learning the truth about the Children of the Watch, and the questions it brought up about his life was the first in a wave of realizations he'd face. Perhaps it was time to reevaluate how he lived his life if it meant missing out on things like you.

I tagged those who wanted in my Javi fic and interacted with my posts about making this fic. If you want to be added or removed just let me know.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83 @ookamikuro @anglovesthis @swol-bear @louist91syndrome @guiltylitpleasures @nfnoofiii @hellothefriend @beatha-dubhach @l-e-i-n-t-h @firehart9

#the mandalorian reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin reader #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fic

53 notes · View notes

hetalia-has-a-secretary · 3 years

Note

allies + eje human au headcanons

I had to look up what eje meant, which was Axis in Spanish 🌮 (there's no sombrero emoji, and I'm mad about it). This is mostly a college Human AU, but there's still some future stuff in there. Enjoy the longest list of Headcannons in one post lol

Human AU Hetalia!

Allies:

America:

Has rich parents, but doesn't tell anyone, and somehow his big house that everyone parties at doesn't give it away.

The only person who knows is Japan, and that's specifically because Japan's dad works for America's dad.

Is a college student, hoping to go for some kind of music degree.

A first year.

Black T-shirt and jeans. Has a plaid button up for everyday of the month, usually has it tied around his hips.

Has like, one basic tux and refuses to wear anything but converse or airwalkers.

Space nerd #1, except he's more into what's beyond our boundaries, and loves the constellations.

One of the most popular kids, and no matter how hard you try he's not easy to hate.

Gives off dumb college kid energy even though he's one of the A+ students.

His glasses are for show. It was meant to be a rebellious thing since Canada use to get bullied about his own glasses, now it's just an esthetic.

Skate boards and plays the acoustic guitar in his free time.

Jeans are usually missing the knee section.

Once set off firecrackers in a metal trash can as a school prank.

England:

Last year of college, majoring in history after failing his cooking classes.

Graphic tee central. We are unsure how many he has but he's up to 43 different shirts worn on campus.

Usually has his earbuds in, listening to punk rock.

Has an ungodly amount of bracelets. His favorite one is a black snap bracelet with little pirate skulls.

Was practically raised by his older brothers.

Lives alone, but is secretly an amazing writer.

Has a Tumblr blog he writes spooky stuff on.

Top of his class, but can be a dummy if he's put on the spot.

France:

No one is sure how he's been allowed to take nothing but art classes. No English, or science, just art.

Is also a transfer student, he's probably the second richest thanks to daddy.

Is the school stud, despite not sleeping with a single soul, and is actually extremely nervous about dating, and is just more comfortable with playful flirting.

He wants to be a fashion designer, or Model. Mostly a Designer.

Loose shirts and tight pants.

Has a weird obsession with belt sashes.

Plays violin like a god, and is a senior.

China:

Another senior in college.

Had the unfortunate event of being in the same cooking class as England before Arthur decided to switch degrees.

Still hangs out with him and Japan.

One of the few who is taking advanced classes, and is literally everyone's tutor.

Going for a Degree in Cooking. Wants to be a head chef.

His parents are over seas, but he promised to get them to America as soon as he can.

He wears a lot of colorful shirts that is always tucked into his pants.

Most of which look like bowling shirts, but he likes to add little Chinese patches to them. Has a signature jean jacket that is overwhelmed with patches.

Has a panda beenie baby keychain, so everyone knows exactly who it belongs to when he losses his keys.

Very quick to panic, and hates to admit he's wrong.

Russia:

Third and final transfer student, along with Japan, and France.

Poor confused child is trying so hard.

He's kind of shy, and is fully aware his social akwardness creeps everyone out.

Almost cried the day America and Prussia adopted him into the cool kid circle.

His broken english is probably the biggest turn off for the people at school. It's why no one really talks to him, mostly because they can't figure out what he's saying most of the time.

Biggest sweetheart though, and is painfully smart, but do to the english thing he's stuck in the average classes, but China comes swooping in and his english gets almost fluent by his third year.

He doesn't own a single thing tech, minus a flip phone, but somehow knows all the hot keys on the computer to every program, and it's only because he's lazy about it and it's the funniest thing.

Space nerd #2 but knows more about the planets and can name every single moon, and knows the history of space discoveries by heart.

Secretly a hopeless romantic, and doesn't realize he reads England's blog.

Is pretty much a closet goth, but likes bright colors too much to be seen in all black.

Knows way to much about torture devices and learned very quickly that gets you out casted in a school setting.

Isn't upset that he doesn't have many friends, but somehow attracts all the little kids from the grade school.

He likes his northface sweater, and loose pants. But his shirts are pretty colorful, and he likes collecting shoelaces.

He spends a lot of time in the woodwork shop, creating amazing figures and such.

Canada:

I can feel the dissapointed stares of Matt not being a photographer. Welp, guess he also gets a degree in art then.

Second year, Because he skipped one year in college.

Clothing style is long sleeves and vests.

He likes feeling fancy, and owns an endless amount of beanies.

One of the few people who talks to Russia.

His locker has a snot ton of polar bear stickers that everyone stuck to it, and he loves it.

Is baby but can kick butt in the wrestling club after school.

Has a tiny white Pomeranian that he rescued from it's mother who wouldn't take care of it, probably because the puppy was the runt of the litter.

Has a Harley Davidson and it's been painted black with the aurora on it, making everyone think it was his non-existent girlfriend's or something. Now it's a running joke.

Axis:

Germany:

He's not a jock, but he's friends with them.

Military Dad.

Is usually found hanging out in the gymnasium on breaks. It's quiet and no one is going to bother him. Usually.

Senior, and so ready to get the heck out of college.

Ladies love him, but he really hates the attention, like please help him.

Style wise he's pretty basic, but really loves his camo print.

Has owned countless doggos, and only attracted so many girls the day he walked to school with a fluffy poodle that France Hijacked for the day.

Doesn't ever go to dances after the first one and everyone tried to get him drunk, to no avail.

Had out drank some of the dumber students to shut them up.

Can be mean if you persistently pester him for dumb stuff, especially if he's already said no.

He's into construction and is working on a degree in Construction Management.

Japan:

Exchange student number 3

Degree in technology is what he desires.

Style = Geek, but like a stylish geek.

Him and Canada are in photography class together.

Japan is also part of the cool kids, but only when they're about to do some dumb stunt, and need a camera man.

Doesn't mind, loves watching them make fools of themselves.

Has a rebellious streak, and tends to be a complete sass.

As soon as something seems to go bad, he gone. He's heading towards the door. Been in detention once, and that was it.

Why does everyone go to him for advice when china is literally down the hall?

Rich kid #3 and his parents are traditional and are having a crisis over their son's rebellious attitude.

Italy:

Is a first year, and is oddly enough, going for a degree in history.

Really likes antiques and old artsy stuff.

Has a few shared classes with France, and they pretty much own those classes.

Rivals America's charisma, but isn't as popular due to:

Being seen around France, and not doing dumb and entertaining crap like america.

Gets picked on a lot Because he doesn't understand you can't be nice to the Jock's girlfriend without everyone thinking your flirting, even though you just needed directions on your first day of school.

Germany is now his bodyguard and he was kind of like "???" But they get closer the longer they hangout.

Fancy shirt man, like hand me downs from his Italian father. So they're really nice, and a lot of eye melting patterns.

Gets attached to people easily, and is sensitive when he gets taken advantage of during assignments, but toughs through it because he has too.

Has two cats literally named Mona, and Lisa.

Has cried at least once at school because he's a soft guy, but he gets a thicker shell the older he gets and learns to just laugh off other people's stupidity.

Romano:

Protective older brother gooooo

Second year in school, and his first year made him want to eat brinks.

Doesn't know what degree he wants, but settled for a degree in cooking.

Shares his brother's shirts practically and it confuses everyone Because, didn't Feliciano wear that shirt last week?

Immediately thinks people don't know washing machines exist Because of this, so his sass factor is high up there.

Doesn't really have friends, and also does not care. He's a bit of a lone wolf and needed something to do.

The amount of not caring attitude contrasts his high grades and his teachers are painfully confused by it.

Will jokingly tell people to fight him at McDonald's, and almost fought someone but literally laughed, and suggested they got something to eat instead.

He's somehow, in a bizarre and unwanted sense, everyone's brother which is just...

No one understands him, but they like him, and he doesn't know why and it kind of bugs him.

He's usually in the front of the school daydreaming about, god only knows what...

Is the epitomy of the "she doesn't even go here" joke from mean girls, except he does go to that school.

Why did he need a degree? Oh yeah, Because work places don't care what kind of paper, you just need a paper.

Prussia:

Rival friendship with america, and Russia has had to step in to break up petty fights.

He's not sure why he's part of the popular kids since he's so fricken chaotic and obnoxious. Or so he thinks.

Genuinely a sweet guy in his last year, desperately wanting a degree in mathematics. Like, no one understands why mathematics until he starts pulling card tricks from his pocket that deals with it, and blows everyone's mind.

He is also head of the newspaper club.

Has the style of a teenage band member and will not apologize for it.

Has hijacked the schools speaker system to blast evanescence, which gave a huge boost to his friendship with Russia, since the big fellow shares Prussia's taste in music.

Can eat a whole ghost pepper without batting an eyelash, and this is only Headcannon and a worthy note because he became sick the day after and the whole school had "in loving memory of Gilbert's stomach" posters all over the place.

Teacher's are very much done with his harmless antics. They're noticably stupid pranks, but only to the point it's annoying.

Like he managed to make all the teacher's computer backgrounds as Brad Pitt wearing a sombrero. There's no joke, and no punchline. It's just a poorly Photoshopped sombrero?

Races his brother to school every morning, and afternoon. Cops have stopped them at least twice due to other bystanders getting freaked out.

Him and Romano don't mix well, but try to leave each other alone.

#hetalia american #hetalia england #hetalia france #hetalia china #hetalia russia #hetalia canada #hetalia germany #hetalia italy #hetalia japan #hetalia romano #hetalia prussia #hetalia #hws #hetalia world stars #aph #human au

24 notes · View notes

rpbetter · 3 years

Note

Wha-? Now people are labeling muns who just play devil's advocate and don't have strong feelings either way about what other people write? I didn't sign up to be a 'proshipper' just for not caring what other people ship. I don't care about a lot of things. Why the label for this particular thing? It sounds so dumb, like a way to yank in more muns who just want to mind their own business into drama and 'sides'. I agree with your post, I'm just angry at the rpc for being babies. And the labels...

I'm always angry at the RPC for being babies and the labels, it's alright, Anon.

I believe (and I could be wrong, because for the most part, I tried to stay out of any and all fandom-related things for years and years - I just want to enjoy the movie/shows/books, I don't need or want to discourse about that shit, you know?) that all of those terms originated in fandom, outside/predating transfer to the RPC.

I know when I encountered them initially, it was in fandom, not the RPC part of fandom...and at that time, it was just the label of people being "antis." A label they gave themselves by, literally, asserting themselves as "anti-character here-."

It's been my supposition that the RPC's transition to being more canon character and fandom-based than OC-preferred led to an organic transfer of more fandom-specific terminology (and behaviors). As places like twitter and tumblr became hubs of fandom and RPCs, they brought tags to the table. While that is an absolutely wonderful thing, it also means that we all started out tagging things with good intentions, only meant to be tags. You could tag something, pulling from a random fandom here, "anti-Daryl Dixon" from TWD and the plethora of fans who love that character could block it. It was a peacekeeping measure at that state, not a flag for discourse and drama.

Tag-language influencing and becoming an organic part of language, in general, is a whole other, though fascinating, topic, so I'm going to just leave that there. The point is, it happened.

And unfortunately, you quickly got people popping "anti-whatever" in their bios and blog descriptions. Not as a means of allowing others to avoid it, but as a means of making it really clear that they despised the character, fandom, ship, whatever. With purity culture 3.5 hitting in earnest, the reasons for despising those things became raised stakes. It wasn't a basis of simply disliking them anymore - you needed a dissertation how this thing was morally objectionable and destroying the world. Anyone disagreeing with you, by that logic, is morally reprehensible themselves and must be stopped. Raised stakes.

Actions cause reactions, too. People started making it clear that they were "pro" whatever, too. These became opposing designations, and honestly, I'm not sure who started up "proshipper" first. I only know I saw it being used negatively first, that doesn't mean it happened that way! What I've seen has been the entire ship/write/like what you want crowd being given that label negatively and taking it up themselves in the same way people are given to take up a lot of things they've been negatively called.

By "what I've seen," I don't just mean witnessing it happening in the wild lol it happened to me, as well. I reblogged a post about how shipping wasn't activism, and got an anon informing me that I was a disgusting proshipper (every time I reblog that, I get at least one person popping off in my RP inboxes, actually, it hasn't slowed down any). At which point, I, too, was very much like, I'm a what now? Yes, I am okay with shipping? What the hell is this person even on about?

So, it's my theory that in response to the anti movement, some people stated that they were "pro-ship and let ship" and thus...we got to be "disgusting proshippers."

Regardless, it absolutely is just another way of labeling people in order to single them out and/or keep feeding drama, yes.

And again, I feel you. I know labels, good, bad, reclaimed, whatever, seem to give a lot of people a grounded sense of identity, but I've always been uncomfortable with them. I don't understand the need for them, even if I get that they make others feel a certain way. I just want to feel the way I do, be the person I am, and have that person engaged with based singularly on my actions.

It's alright if someone else wants to freely label themselves in a way they feel is positive (though, I do wish that younger people, especially in the queer community didn't have this batshit pressure to do so, and correctly, the first time), but they've always felt threatening and restrictive to me.

As such, having people create and bestow a label on me for the purpose of designating me a problem is kind of an uncomfortable realization of why I feel negative about them. I don't like it, and it's part of why I don't like the bullshit of making this distinction in DNIs. By doing so, they're literally as hell singling people out...with a negative label they gave them for the criminal act of feeling like it's absurd to police fiction, instead, expecting adults to behave like adults when engaging with fiction and each other.

It's honestly forcing hostility and drama, when the point of being ship/write/like and let ship/write/like is not having that hostility and drama. It's merely a live and let live mentality, that's what y'all are attacking! The labeling is a rotting cherry on top that is so indicative of this same, legitimately problematic, behavior that goes on in the extremism I talked about in the post you referenced. It's...gross, let's just say that.

And I'm really sorry that it makes you upset, too! You don't have to label yourself, you can reject that and refuse to engage with those using it in this negative way. That makes me feel considerably less annoyed and disturbed! I'll totally joke about it, as I do fall into the designated parameters of being both "proship" and "anti-anti," but I don't actually label myself thus. I only consider myself a reasonable adult who has better and more serious shit going on than to worry about what fiction someone else is writing or enjoying.

Just...do be aware that, like myself and others, you're likely to be labeled if one of these hostile parties sees you reblog the "wrong" thing or make the "wrong" statement. You are being labeled in those DNIs for your viewpoint of wishing to avoid absurd drama. So, I'd advise, for your peace of mind, to try to avoid blogs stating that they're "anti" anything but drama/bullying etc., or who feel it necessary to put up those DNIs. You are who they're talking about, they just don't know it because you're not labeling yourself or being otherwise obvious about it :/

Try your best to avoid that changing, you deserve to peacefully enjoy RP! As disturbing as it is, as rightfully upset about it as you are, maybe it's a good thing you found out? In this way, I mean. Without someone bringing it to your inbox hatefully. Now you know what it means, that they mean you, and you can stay away from it! Try to look at it that way - there will always be people weirdly desperate to make their drama hobby everyone else's problem, you can only make an effort to stay out of it if you know what to look for, right?

I hope any of this made you feel better about the fresh hell that is the RPC lol keep doing you, Anon! You're not the problem, infantile drama mongers are <3

#answered #anonymous #post and ask replies #rpc terms #fandom history #potentially #tumblr rpc #dni lists

9 notes · View notes

imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Tom Holland - This two-seat couch

I don’t know how I did it but I managed to post twice in a week and stop being dead to Tumblr. Don’t misundertand this with me being a funtional human being, I’m a still a piece of GaRBaGe💕

Plot: college!Tom has some feelings for you, and you have some feelings for you. Maybe, ‘some’ isn’t the way to describe it, more like ‘madly in love with my best friend’. Thank God though for those two-seat couch where knees brush.

Tom was no stranger to see the hours pass by in the clock at night. Whether it was because he had an important test he couldn’t understand or a party that ended when the sun came up, he was used to staying up to ungodly times at night. He already knew what every channel emitted when the moon appeared, and what were the few things that were worthy to see. What surprised him, though, was that you were still fighting to keep your eyes open for a little longer. He knew you too well, and you usually knocked out when the clock stroke twelve at the latest.

Always good on tests and getting up early rather than staying late, you were the good example he didn’t follow. Tom went to parties while you watched your favourite show before falling asleep, and you memorized things with just reading them once while he spent hours with no results. Still, years of college and friendship, of weird conversations between two polar opposites had brought you to that place together.

You were crammed onto Tom’s tiny two-seat couch, limbs tangled in positions that shouldn’t have been comfortable. Tom was side awake, hyper aware of every point where your bodies touch, but he was slack against the back of the couch, arm resting on the leg you had thrown over his pal. You’re leaning on the arm of the couch, other foot planted on the floor between his. Both of you watching TV, thinking about different things.

Still, you were paying far more attention to the show than Tom was, even if he proposed it. It was a terrible movie, but he knew you liked to laugh with them. As if you could read him, you cracked up laughing, and the sound brought a smile to the football player’s face.

“It’s the worst film I’ve ever seen for sure” your eyes shone with the TV lights. “You’re outstanding yourself lately”

“I’m trying my best to satisfy your horrific love for this movies, considering you’ve seen most of them already” Tom bit back, comfortable and, at the same time, on cloud nine. “Besides, it seems I finally found the perfect way of keeping you from falling asleep in the middle of our movie night”

“I don’t always fall asleep”

“Tell that to the permanent drool stain on my couch”

It didn’t matter if you laughed and punched his shoulder friendly, he knew you would be dropping soon. The movie night was a tradition already he didn’t even want to miss; every Sunday, when your parents dropped you off in the dorms, Tom would pick you up and you would spend the night with him, watching a crappy film. Then, next morning he would take you to your class. As he had his own apartment, you had more space there than in your small room.

Since you had met two years ago – first day of collage by getting paired up in a weird meeting game – you had formed a weird relationship that no one could really understand. To most, you weren’t the prettiest girl in the campus. To Tom, you were the best.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Tom was so immersed in his own head that he hardly registered your yawning. Another leg was thrown on his lap, and you moved so that you could rest your head on his shoulder. Tom gave the clock another glance, knowing you were minutes away from falling asleep. And damn if it wasn’t his favourite part of the day, watching you sleep against his shoulder.

“So that you don’t complain about the drool stain on your couch” you said, trying to keep your eyes open. Your hot breath hit Tom’s neck like a thousand needles, making him shiver. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m fine, but you can go to sleep” he assured you, lowering the TV volume. He brought you closer to him with his left arm, until you were nested against him. “Your bedtime was like five hours ago, darling”

“I don’t fall asleep that early” you scoffed, making yourself comfortable against him. “It’s you who fall asleep too late. That’s gonna bite you in the ass when you’re older”

From any other person, he would have taken it as an insult. While most of the people thought he spent the nights awake playing games or drinking, the majority of nights were spend trying to understand what the books he was studying were saying. Tom wasn’t ashamed of his dyslexia, but accepting it didn’t make it any easier. His roommates and friends tried not to talk about how Tom spent nights awake studying, or how most of his breakdowns involved not understanding what he had to study.

He was used to people ignoring he had dyslexia, so he had tried to ignore it too; until you found him one night in the library with misty eyes and head in hands, and you had helped him. Together, you discovered that he just needed someone to explain or read the things to him, and Tom had a boost on his grades.

So he just tickled your side at the comment, enjoying the soft whine that left your lips.

“You should go to bed” Tom smiled, ignoring completely the screams of the movie. “Tomorrow you’re gonna be complaining about neck ache”

“That’s just an excuse to have you massaging my shoulders”

“That’s what I am now? A massager prostitute?”

“You’re not that good, don’t get your hopes up” you said with your eyes closed. “But I have to agree with the second part”

“What – you think I’m a prostitute?”

“Well, kind of?” you opened one eye to look at him. “Come on, Tommy. You have slept with half of the girls in my dorm. Probably I’m the only one who hasn’t slept with you, actually”

That was the worst part about Tom’s college life. He was the football team’s captain, he lived with his best mate Harrison and could get the privilege to hold you while you two sat on the couch and you fell asleep on him. Then, as you walked out of your own paradise of Tom’s two pieces couch, you went to the mattress Tom had taken out for you and you slept besides him, on the floor. To him, it was the moment his little moment of happiness broke.

He could pretend all he wanted when you two sat together, watched a bad film and teased each other like friends did. But he wanted so desperately for it to be true; and it had a simple solution, telling you what he felt like and embracing his feelings like the man he was.

“I haven’t slept with everyone” he answered instead. “Your roommate – what was her name? Clare? Betty?”

“Lydia”

“Yeah, I haven’t slept with her” he swallowed down his annoyance. “And I can’t believe you think like that, you of all people! After inviting you to my own house to have a sleepover and let you eat pineapple pizza on my couch”

“God, don’t call it a sleepover like we’re teenage girls painting our nails with purpurin” you said laughing.

Tom really wanted to let it go, because he knew you hadn’t said it with bad intentions. The same way he teased you for going to bed early and reading too much, you could tease him for his way of living. It wasn’t as if it was a lie; he had slept with a few girls, he didn’t count, and he knew he was well liked among the dorms. If it had been any of his friends telling him that, he would have shoved them out of his way playfully and the problem had been solved.

But that you said it made him mad, because he didn’t want that image of himself for you. He wanted something better, something that, on his worst insecure nights, he thought he couldn’t achieve.

“And what’s wrong if I want to paint my nails? Will you stereotype me too for it, like you’re doing for sleeping with some girls?”

“Do you want to paint your nails?” you moved away from Tom, sleep slowly disappearing. “It was just a joke, if you want to paint your nails that’s fine. I can teach you”

“This is not about the nails!”

“Then what’s it about? Actually, what’s this?” you moved back to the other place in the couch, frowning at him.

“You telling me that I’m a prostitute?”

Since the moment you met Tom in that get to know each other activity, there hadn’t been any argument or disagreement. You were both total opposites, but you liked to think that way you compenetrated each other. Tom helped you to be more open and friendly, and was always there for you when your little dorm became too tiny. And when he had an test, he didn’t have to panic anymore because he wasn’t alone.

You weren’t even sure if it was an argument. You just knew that Tom was getting mad for something you had said and you didn’t know how to fix it. And if you were annoyed because you had had to move from your favourite place because of it, you didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t mean it, it was a joke”

“Yeah, it wasn’t” he scoffed. “It’s like – I can’t joke about you not going out or being a nerd, but you can joke about me being a prostitute?”

“I didn’t mean it, Tom!” you argued, louder than him. “Besides, it’s a lie? You’ve been with almost every girl I know”

“Could you stop repeating it?”

“Why, does the truth bother you?” the thought of him not denying it anymore led to you thinking about him with girls, and pretty girls with him, and you just being his friend. “Then stop doing it”

“Oh, of course!” he chuckled sarcastically. “I’ll stop just because you say so, because Y/N asked me to stay fucking virgin like her!”

Tom’s face was hit with the cushion so hard that his nose throbbed, at the same time someone in the movie died. A little ‘off’ left him as he threw the cushion away, rubbing the sore spot. That you were a virgin wasn’t something you shared with everyone, only with a few – and with Tom, after explaining that you weren’t comfortable hearing about what he did with some girls when he went out. It was low, and probably Tom shouldn’t have said it, but there was no turning back and now you were fully on your first argument as friends.

Friends, that should be more than that. Everyone saw how Tom was trailing behind you like a lost puppy when you walked through the corridors, and how you made time out of nothing to help him with his assignments. You were always the first one in the rows for his games, even if you hated loud places and crowds, and he always tried to keep up with the things you liked so he could make you happy. You were too blind to see it, the same way you were too blind to see you were arguing over a different feeling.

The two seat couch felt much longer now that Tom and you were angry, and your legs didn’t brush anymore.

“You’re an asshole”

“And a prostitute, it seems” Tom mumbled. “Something else you want to tell me?”

“It was a joke, Tom! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to hurt you – but yeah, you sleep with a lot of girls, I was stating that. Why do you have to be like this?”

“Be like what?”

“Ugh, a prick! You’re acting like the rest of college-players-boys”

“Oh my – yeah, of course Y/N! The queen of stereotypes! Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Fuck you, Tom. But – that’s probably offensive too, right?”

Tom didn’t answer, just went back to looking at the TV. Neither of you meant what you were saying, and truth was, it didn’t have any sense. He was mad because it had been months since he had been with a girl, because he preferred to spend his nights with you, texting or watching a bad film. He was angry because he hated the reminder of you just being friends, since it only made him think about how you could never be with a boy like him. You got outstanding in your tests, he barely passed if you didn’t help him. You were soft, nice and caring, and he was just an idiot.

You were mad because Tom had slept with girls that were you, and even if you got to hug in him the two seats couch on Sunday’s night, you didn’t wake up by his side in the morning. You were angry because he just couldn’t see how much you loved him and how much it hurt you to be just his friend for two years. He celebrated games, parties and small gatherings, and you barely celebrated your birthday anymore. He was popular, gorgeous and had a million dollars smile, and you were what the football team would call just an average girl.

It was silent for a while, all track of sleep having gone away. You pretended to look at the movie from different ends of the couch, pretended not wanting to go back to each other. Another ten minutes ran by and the clock hit one thirty in the morning. The next day, you would have to wake up soon to go to class, physically fighting Tom into going with you and not missing the first period. Part of your anger flew away when you thought about him waking up early just to take you to class even if he didn’t have to.

Eventually, you relaxed in your part of the two seats couch and you gave Tom a side glance; who was already looking at you. When you faced him, he talked.

“I’m sorry” he croaked out. “I didn’t mean any of that – I just… I’m sorry”

“I don’t think you’re a prostitute” you admitted, and Tom cracked into a smile. “Sorry, too. I don’t have any right to –“

“I really like you” he blurted out, before he could chicken out; already happening. “Like, really, really like you. More than a friend. And I’m sorry that I slept with so many girls, but I’m not longer that person. Because now I-I like you a lot, and I just want to be with you. So, yeah. I really like you”

When your mother told you that you had to go to bed early because nothing good could happen after midnight, you didn’t think she was talking about hallucinations. It took you a while to realize that Tom had really said that he really liked you. You had imagined something like ‘yeah, you didn’t have the right to call me that so go back to your room and we’ll talk in the morning’. If only you had known, you would have stayed past midnight the first time you met him.

“It’s okay if you don’t… like me back” Tom turned around and looked at the film, although you could see the glassy reflection of the lights on his eyes. “Just, thought you should know”

“No, I – just, I didn’t think you could like me” you too went back to looking at the TV, to make your own contribution to make the night even weirder. “I just, you know. You’re you, and I’m… me”

“I have the feeling that you’re not talking about you being a wonderful and brilliant person and me being kind of dumb, as I was thinking about” Tom muttered. “But that’s the only true that I know”

“You’re not dumb” you said. As if your body could move on it’s own, you were no longer on your end of the couch, but your ass was in the middle of the two seats. “You’re – you. And I really like you”

“We’re sounding like teenagers in a sleepover right now”

Tom had moved too, and you were again in your original positions; ignoring the free space in the small couch in favour of sitting together in the middle of it. Someone else died on the movie. It was, indeed, the worst one you had ever seen; about a group of friend who go into a trip to the mountains and find some killer sheep, that when kill someone they turn into another sheep. It was so, so ridiculous that you didn’t mind missing the ending for Tom.

His hand, that was big enough to cover your face, pulled you closer. He moved his face and your noses didn’t touch. You didn’t want to close your eyes, didn’t want to let the anxiety of giving your first kiss and doing it wrong. But it was Tom – who had a lucky pair of underwear, wore sock over his sweaters and had a blue teddy from his family that always slept with him.

You let him pull you closer as the last scream tow through the screen, making the moment even better. It was nothing like what you had imagined, and at the same time, it was. Tom was careful, not pushing you, just pressing his lips against yours and letting them dance on their own. His lips trapped your bottom one without any force, and he moved away after the shortest seconds of your life.

When you opened your eyes, the world wasn’t brighter and you didn’t feel any prettier than before; the only thing you felt was happy, and liked. And they were the best feelings you had ever felt.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want” Tom tried to assure you, his hand still on your cheeks and his breath on your lips. “We don’t – if you want your time, we can still be friends. I’ll wait, and –“

You moved once more to kiss him, that time crossing the line of the two seat couch of Tom’s apartment. His chuckle was swallowed as the credits rolled down the screen, and he finally grabbed and dragged you to his lap, where you were finally comfortable. Instead of going to your own mattress or sleeping in Tom’s bed, you fell asleep right there, in his two seat couch and wrapped around him.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

@delicately-important-trash

@lexxxistrips

@smilexcaptainx

@aikaterrina

@zalladane

@gypsystuf (since you didn’t answer me, I just put you on the general taglist. Let me know if you want to change!)

@nikkixostan

@galaxystern08

@justifymyfeelings

141 notes · View notes

alch3mic · 4 years

Text

in between. (drabble series)

chapter one (happiness.)

huntsman!sans x gender neutral reader. 3k+ word count.

please be advised for themes of stalking, obsessive behavior, depression and apathic feelings.

* thank you all so much for 400 followers! this is the first of my four chapter series about my fairy tale au boys, taking place ‘in between’ their stories. our first chapter focuses on huntsman, my version of classic sans, and if you’d like to read more about him feel free to check out his full fic here on ao3 (just be sure to mind the tagging) or his tag here on my tumblr! thank you all so much again and i hope you enjoy!

What did it mean to be...

...happy..?

....

...He really wasn't quite sure.

Happiness was.. an emotion.

Something that you were suppose to feel in a positive moment in life.

Something that made you smile.

Or filled you with a warmth.

Or joy.

Or... something..

It certainly filled you with.. something...

And in the end, it always left just as quickly as it came.

Happiness was never meant to stay long, after all.

It was fleeting, like the soft caress of a breeze against your face. Just gentle enough to make itself known before vanishing, leaving you chasing after that breeze wishing it would grace your cheek once more. And then when your legs finally gave out, the happiness would just sail far, far away out of your reach.

Then you'd be alone..

And... aware...

Of just how empty you were without it.

...

Perhaps that's why so many people chased after it?

To fend off that overwhemingly empty feeling.

It just seemed foolish to him to try to pursue something so temporary.

It's not like you can hold happiness in your hands or ask it to stay.

You'd work your ass off just for those few brief moments of bliss before it'd slip right through your fingers, and then all you'd be left with is the reminder...

And the pain...

...

He just didn't see the point in putting in that kind of effort anymore for something so momentary.

..But maybe that was just him being lazy...

It was pointless to think about, so he tried to push the thought of happiness far from his mind.

And yet no matter how much he tried.. it was hard to not think about happiness.

He was surrounded by it.

Constantly, everywhere he went, he could see the signs of happiness in others.

He could hear it in passing conversations as people talked about the future. He could hear it when they talked about their families, or their lives, or their loves ones. He could see it in the smiles of other monsters. He could see it in their joy as they lived their lives each and every day surrounded by friends, or when they received exciting news, or when they finally succeeded at something new.

He saw it when they laughed.

And when they celebrated.

And sometimes, even when they cried.

And especially now that they were here on the surface...?

Well, it's not like it had been easy being up here. Humans were absolutely terrible, giving them scraps to live off of and calling themselves 'generous' for even tolerating their presence in their city. They gave them deteriorating buildings and minimum wage jobs and then turned around and called it 'charitable'. Look at them, opening up their kind hearts to these monsters and then turning around and treating them like garbage.

But.. monsters were happier than ever, getting to see the stars at night and the sun rise in the morning. They were trying to make lives for themselves up here, and for awhile it seemed like that happiness would never end..

Now that the shine had faded from living topside for few years and the reality that this city was nothing but a hellhole finally set in.. everyone was left chasing around that feeling of happiness like their lives depended on it.

...Maybe it did for some people...

It did once.... for him.

There were moments in his life where Sans thought he had been happy.

When a positive emotion sprung forth from his chest making him feel.. something.

..Whether or not it was actually happiness he... really couldn't say.

Still, those moments were fleeting and far between, and all of the space between those supposed moments of 'happiness' were...

Long and painful.

They were empty.

Hollow.

Devoid of anything but... apathy.

For himself.

For his home.

For those around him.

Others would smile at him, and he'd do the same. It was just a poor imitation at first of what was really suppose to be there, but soon he perfected it. Just the right amount of easy going and relaxed, with just a dash of humor.

..That smile became a mask, just as empty and hollow as the skeleton who wore it.

He too had spent a lot of time chasing around that emotion of happiness, all for those few seconds of bliss where he felt something, rather than this aching hollowness that consumes every part of his soul. But.. those moments were so short-lived that it was only natural that it left him wanting more, desperate for the split seconds where he felt normal.

Where.. he finally felt like everyone else around him.

He'd be.. 'happy'.. and then..

It'd leave.

And then.. the pain would come.

The hateful, soul-aching pain of feeling nothing after finally having the chance to feel something.

Well... it was no wonder he began to take comfort in feeling nothing.

Feeling the constant pain without any relief just eventually made him feel numb to it all. It couldn't hurt him anymore if it was always present. He could no longer be tempted into feeling something, because he knew before long it'd all disappear.... leaving him alone.. with nothing but his own thoughts.. and the pain..

.....

It's.. only natural to give up at some point, right?

After all, someone like him wasn't meant to feel happiness.

Someone like him wasn't meant to feel joy.

Someone like him wasn't meant to feel anything at all.

Why else would would he have been born like this if it wasn't the case?

He was meant to be alone, filled with with absolutely nothing but emptiness in this cold and gray world.

....

Happiness.

That really was life's biggest joke, wasn't it?

Which meant someone like him who couldn't feel happiness at all..

...Must've been the punchline.

...

So why..

..Why.. was he..?

....

It had just been a few moments in a grocery store on the other side of town.

Just a few measly seconds... and yet it had felt like a whole lifetime.

He completely lost his sense of self, staring at the human who was just a short walk away in the produce isle. You were looking down at some apples, examining their exteriors for any blemishes before placing them in a bag and adding them into your cart.

You.. didn't even say anything.

Stars, you didn't even look at him!

He was too far away, crouched beside some lettuce and holding a box of spaghetti noodles to his chest to bring back home for dinner.. and yet...

Yet..

...

Something..

...

He felt...

Something...

....

For the first time in years, he actually felt something.

....

"WHY IN THE WORLD DID YOU BUY SO MANY APPLES?"

A great question.

He hadn't even realized he grabbed them until check out, having nabbed all the apples you put back... and then grabbing the ones that those apples touched too...

..For.. some reason..

"heh. couldn't help myself i guess. they just looked so apple-ling."

That was enough to let the subject matter drop, leaving Sans alone with a storm of thoughts brewing in his head about why exactly he was compelled to buy so many apples.

It's not like he particularly liked apples.

...Then again it's not like he hated them either.

....

...Did you.. like apples?

You had inspected them rather closely, and looking at them now in the kitchen in the dead of night with nothing but the hum and bright florescent light of the fridge beside him, there were a few noticeable brown spots.

Small and subtle, but definitely there.

It was only slightly damaged, but still a perfectly good apple.

..Maybe you were just really enthusiastic about your apples?

Maybe you needed them to be pristine for something.

Like a pie?

Or maybe just to eat.

..Maybe you were a perfectionist.

...

....Or maybe you didn't like damaged goods.

....

He.. didn't quite understand why that last thought had bothered him so much at the time, quickly biting into the apple to quell the unpleasantness that brewed in his chest.

...

It tasted sour..

...

He also... didn't quite understand why he was doing..

This..

...

Maybe it's because he had spent so many sleepless nights thinking about that feeling.

It was like.. nothing he had ever experienced before.

Strong.

Compelling.

It's like he's been asleep for so long and now his soul finally snapped awake, a careful buzz in his chest he never realized until now.

It was like his body was moving on it's own.

There weren't any thoughts clouding his head, no conscious telling him what to do or where to go.

He was just.. trying...

For.. some.. strange reason.

....

It was quiet, the sun having already set and the streetlights buzzing to life, casting a harsh yellow glow onto the buildings and sidewalks below. He had spent several weeks.. trying.. to catch a glimpse of you again at the same grocery store, desperately chasing that feeling that had sprung forth when he laid his eyelights on you. He tried his best to ignore the pull of his soul, telling him to go back, because the pain that had followed after that night while he sat alone on the kitchen floor surrounded by damaged, sour apples was..

Excruciating..

Yet he went anyways, despite knowing what would come after seeing you again. For awhile he went in at the same time every day after porting over to this side of town, looking up and down the isles for the human who had made the world stand still.

For the one who...

Made him feel.. something.

....

Days turned into weeks, and a part of him began losing hope of ever seeing you again. He even tried to change up his strategy, coming in at different times each day no matter what, even on weekends, and each and every time he'd leave empty handed.

...Except for a few more apples...

...

It was.. the only thing he knew about you.

Every part of him hoped that maybe the apples he would grab.. were ones that you had touched to inspect.

...

And... that's exactly when Sans knew he had a problem.

Here he was, trying to chase that something again.

If it was happiness he felt that day.. well he couldn't really tell for sure.

It had been so brief and so.. overwhelming that it made his head spin just thinking about it, but he longed so desperately to feel it again. He wanted those few brief seconds where he felt something else than just emptiness!

He just wanted a chance..

A chance to.. say something to yo-!

"Excuse me!"

...

..His soul nearly stopped.

He was far away at the end of the isle with his hood up and his hands neatly stuffed into his pockets, trying to make himself look invested in the cereal boxes in front of him.

A voice rang out... one that.. made his soul tremble.

And when he turned..

...

There.. you were...

..And, for the second time in his life, Sans' whole world stopped as he watched you politely talk to an elderly woman at the other end of the isle.

He.. didn't know what to do with himself.

He was completely frozen on the spot as he watched you wave to the woman and approach, closer and closer, your eyes perusing the same colorful boxes of cereal he has been trying to busy himself with.

...

Something..

...C'mon you numbskull, say something!

He had been camping this spot for weeks after he had first caught a glimpse of you, and now here you were!

Finally you were...! Here...!

And you were...

So..

...Captivating..

...

You stopped, just a few steps away from him, turning and carefully glancing over some of the cereal boxes on the shelf before you.

He could see you clearer than ever before.

You looked soft.. and kind.

The air around you smelled of fruit and flowers, and you lightly tapped your cheek as you contemplated the choices on the shelf before you.

Your voice had been so gentle too.. he..

He wanted to talk to you.

He wanted to say something.

He wanted for you to.. talk to him too..

In that same gentle tone..

...

He turned a bit, a whole flood of words prepared to leave his mouth to catch your attention..

...

But nothing came.

...

He said nothing, his soul buzzing so loudly in his chest it was drowning everything else out as he stared at you. That something was brewing in his chest again and he was paralyzed on the spot from the overwhelming feeling..

...

And you grabbed a box..

...

And placed it into your cart.

....

And turned and walked away.

......

"......p-please.."

The rest of the words didn't come.

You never could've heard them anyways, they barely came out to more than a whisper, his hand finally reaching out to grasp nothing but empty air because you were already long gone.

And so too, was that feeling.

It slipped, right through his fingers, like a gentle breeze that had lightly brushed his cheek and made itself known..

Before leaving him alone.. with nothing but the pain of feeling empty once more.

.....

No...

..He just..

...couldn't take it anymore.

...

So he ran.

Down the isle, through the produce section and past the registers, not even stopping as a human shouted at him on his way out.

Where...

Where did you..?!

The soft scent of flowers and fruit barely graced his nose, and he quickly took off in the same direction it came from.

You.. couldn't have gotten far..

..Please..

Please...!

"please don't go!"

He couldn't do this again.

The pain would be too much!

He'd..!

He'd break.

He'd shatter.

He'd.. turn to dust!

He didn't want to be alone again!

Not like this..!

...It...!

It was all enough to nearly make him scream, and he wanted to at the top of his non-existent lungs as he thought he finally lost you, heavy breaths passing his teeth as he tried to ventilate his magic. His bones trembled and shook as he clutched his chest, the tears threatening to leave his sockets as he stood alone on those darkened streets, the yellow glow of streetlights his only companion.

"please... don't... leave me..!"

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

He didn't want to feel empty.

He didn't want to be damaged and sour.

He just...

..wanted to feel...

...Happiness again...

...

His legs gave out, leaving him crouched alone on the sidewalk as he tried to quell the sob that threatened to break loose. His soul twisted and churned in a fit of agony that threatened to have him falling apart, desperately calling out..

To you.

To the human who he didn't even know the name of.

...Just once more..

Please.. just once more he wanted to see you!

He had so much he wanted to say.

He had so many questions for you!

Who were you?

What was your name?

Why...

Why did you.. make him feel this way?

Please.. just.. one more chance!

Just one more..!

"Wait!"

....

No that..

That can't-

"I said wait, please!"

....

He looked up, much farther down the street as something white darted around the corner, and soon after you were stumbling behind it.

A white dog paused and quickly turning around, their tail wagging as you caught up out of breath.

"You little-!" you huffed, puffing your cheeks in a bit of irritation before letting out a small sigh. "Please give me back my key you cute little troublemaker. Pleeeeaaaasseee."

The dog yipped once, tail still wagging but they remained unmoving as you let out another huff.

"Alright, fine," you said, reaching into the brown paper bag of groceries you were carrying. You pulled out a small container of cookies and squatted to the ground, pulling one out and offering it towards the dog. "Fair trade?"

It was, as a distinctive clink rang out after something hit the ground, and the dog quickly rushed over to you to take the cookie from your grasp. You giggled, and even took a moment to gently pet the dog's head before standing up and grabbing your key.

Your eyes wandered up to glance around the empty street, nothing but a few passing cars to catch your attention before you turned back to the dog.

"Try to keep yourself out of more trouble, okay?"

...Every word you spoke rang into his soul.

Soft and gentle... a warmth that washed over his cold bones like a ray of sunshine.

You didn't even sound angry at the dog even after it took your key...

He.. couldn't see what you were doing anymore after he ported into an alleyway, clutching tightly on to his sweater as a few more ragged breaths passed through his teeth while his soul spiraled out of control.

This was... his chance.. wasn't it?

To do.. something.

As to what exactly, he wasn't sure.

But you were here.. and he..

...

Followed.. quietly behind you.

That storm of thoughts brewing in his head all but silenced, his body just moving forward of it's own will as he watched a fair distance behind you.

Out of the alleyway.

Past the dog.

And.. all the way home.

You never looked back the whole way, and it wasn't long before you turned and headed up the walkway to a quaint looking apartment building. Despite how much he wanted to keep following.. he instead slipped into another alleyway as he watched you head inside, vanishing away from sight inside.

....

And... he was alone again.

....

Except for...

....

"...were you captivated by them too?"

His words were quiet as he glanced down to the white dog who happily wagged their tail by his feet. They yipped as Sans crouched down and lightly stroked it's head, and the dog seemed more than happy as it leaned into his touch for a moment.

The pain was back since you vanished from his sight.. but somehow it felt duller than before.

Much more manageable.

He still hadn't said anything to you, and you probably still didn't even knew he existed but..

Here was an opportunity.

A chance.

"thank you," he said quietly to the dog, standing up. "you should probably head home now though, hm? it seems like.."

The small smile on his face had faded, eyesockets narrowing carefully as hugged the brick wall beside him a bit closer and peeked out, his gaze drifting from the apartment complex..

..to the shadow in another alleyway across the street that had been creeping behind you most of your way home.

He clenched his fists tightly, the bones in his hand creaking as another strange feeling overcame his soul, watching as the human mugger hesitated for a moment before stepping out alleyway into the open.

"....there are wolves out this late at night."

....

...

"Wow. You know for someone who says they can't bake this pie looks amazing!"

"..thanks," he said, lightly flushing as you smiled at him.

He had carefully handed the bowl over to you as you sat on the couch, the apple pie still warm with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side lightly melting. Your eyes practically sparkled and Sans’s soul sang in response, loving the way they shined.

"Thank yo-" you began, before giggling at the white furball in your lap who was roused from their nap by the scent of cinnamon and vanilla. "Hey! This isn't for you!"

That didn't stop the dog from letting out a yip, making the both of you laugh as Sans lifted up the blanket and sat beside you. He scooted just a bit closer, enjoying the warm you provided as the two of you snuggled on the couch while the tv played. The dog moved, wiggling to sit on both of your laps while shooting Sans a big pair of puppy dog eyes at his bowl of pie.

"ya heard them, chance. none for you."

Chance whined, sliding back over into your lap as Sans snickered.

"oh i see. no longer the favorite, am i?"

"Aww, it's okay," you said, leaning over to gently kiss his cheek. "You'll always be my favorite."

....

This was.. enough for him.

Being here, with you, warm under some blankets as the two of you happily ate some apple pie together.

...It was sweet... and.. it was enough.

Enough for that funny, fluttering feeling to find it's way right back into his soul.

Your smile.

Your words.

Your love.

That was happiness, for him.

And...

He would gladly do anything to protect it.

93 notes · View notes

rhosyn-du · 3 years

Text

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Nine

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Nine

Wednesday nights at The Hunter’s Moon weren’t exactly hopping, but the small crowd would do for Jace’s purposes. The atmosphere was familiar, at least, and he wasn’t likely to find better at any of the other bars in town. He’d been on uncertain footing for months, not knowing how to be whatever he and Simon had been. But now, alone, unwanted, and with a soul-deep ache in his chest, he was finally back on familiar ground. This feeling, Jace knew exactly what to do with, and step one was getting very drunk.

He almost hesitated when he saw Maia behind the bar. She must have switched shifts with someone, because she didn’t usually work Wednesdays, and Jace wasn’t prepared for her too-knowing eyes or her pity.

But Maia greeted him with her usual easy smile, so either she didn’t know Simon had moved out, or she didn’t know him half as well as she pretended to.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight,” she said. “Isn’t tomorrow your god-awful early Latin class?”

Jace shook his head. “That’s Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Can I get a double shot of Stoli?”

Maia’s smile slipped, just a bit, but she nodded and poured his drink. “Starting off strong right out the gate,” she observed. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nope.” Jace tossed back the shot. The heat that followed it down felt less like the usual ripping off an emotional Band-Aid and more like rubbing salt into an open wound. “What I want is another one of those and to find some company for the night.”

Maia paused, bottle in hand. “Okay, no.” She wasn’t even pretending to smile anymore. “I can’t actually stop you from riding whatever self-destructive train you’ve decided to hop on, but I don’t have to enable it, either.”

“You’re a bartender,” Jace said flatly. “It’s your job to pour drinks.”

“I’m your friend, and I’m not pouring you anything else until you tell me why you’re in my bar looking for a drunken hookup instead of at home with your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Don’t be obtuse,” Maia told him. “Where’s Simon?”

Jace met her eyes. “Simon left. Can I have my vodka now?”

“What do you mean, ‘he left’? Oh god, did you guys break up?” And there, finally, was the pity he’d been expecting. At least it came with another shot of vodka.

“Can’t break up if you’re not actually dating.” Jace downed his shot. This one didn’t soothe any better, but at least it didn’t make things worse.

Maia gave him a flat look. “You’ve been sleeping together, exclusively, for the past five months.”

“That was just—” He shook his head, trying not to choke on words that he knew were true but still felt like a lie. “Just a couple hookups between friends.”

“Yeah, that’s complete bullshit.” Maia’s tone was so certain. Jace wanted to believe her.

“Don’t know why you’re so surprised. Simon and I hook up with our friends all the time.”

“No,” Maia said slowly. “You hook up with your friends. So does Lily. So do I, sometimes. But Simon?” She gave him a significant look. “Simon doesn’t do casual. He’s just a great guy who stays friends with most of his exes.”

Jace didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in his smile. “Guess I’m an exception to many rules.”

Maia’s voice was soft when she spoke again. “I don’t actually believe you do casual with someone you’ve been pining over for the better part of a year, either.”

Jace looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Neither of us was actually drunk enough to have forgotten that conversation.” When Jace didn’t respond, she asked, “Why’d he leave?”

“Because he wants something real,” Jace told her. “And he doesn’t want it with me.”

When Jace met her eyes again, he expected to see pity. What he got was pure skepticism. “He said that?”

“Yep.” He lifted his glass. “Pour me another?”

She pursed her lips, then shook her head. “I’ll bring you beer.”

Jace sighed, but he didn’t argue. Maia was a much better friend than she was a bartender.

“You know,” Maia said when she returned with his beer, “I’ve known Simon a long time, and that really doesn’t sound like something he’d say.”

Jace lifted his glass in a toasting gesture. “Guess I just bring out the best in people.”

She sighed heavily, leaning on the bar. “Look, I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what you guys said, and he’s never actually talked to me about it, so I don’t know for sure whether he feels the same way about you that you do about him, but anyone who’s not a complete idiot can see he cares about you. That’s not something he makes any effort to hide. And Simon would never say something that cruel to someone he cares about. So, whatever he said? I’m pretty sure it’s not what you heard.”

“Did you just call me a complete idiot?” He needed to make a joke out of it because he couldn’t let himself believe what Maia was saying. He didn’t have it in him to hope again.

“Yes.” She nudged his hand with her elbow. “But you really should talk to Simon.”

“Don’t think just because you’re finally dating the woman you’ve been crushing on for ages that makes you some kind of relationship expert.”

“Oh, I don’t,” she assured him. “I just think I’m more of a relationship expert than you.”

Jace silently flipped her off, then pulled out his phone. He stared at it for a long time before finally texting Simon.

Can we talk? Please.

As soon as he hit send, he put his phone face-down on the bar and turned his full attention to drinking his beer. Maia gave him an approving nod before going to help the trio of customers that had just walked up to the bar.

It took Simon almost ten minutes to respond, and Jace wasn’t sure how to take it when he did.

Bat says it’s fine if you come over.

It wasn’t exactly a gilded invitation, and Jace was pretty sure he didn’t want to have whatever conversation he and Simon were going to have with Bat there, but it also wasn’t a no. Jace could live with not a no. He’d have to.

He caught Maia’s eye. “Close me out?”

“Sure.” She took his card and scanned it. “Where you headed?”

“Bat’s place. Simon’s staying there.”

He expected at least a little bit of gloating, but all he got was a smile and his card back. “Cool.”

Jace shoved his wallet back in his pocket and stood to put his jacket on. Maia stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey. If this doesn’t go the way you want it to, promise you’ll come back here to say I told you so instead of finding a different bar to drown your sorrows in?”

Jace scoffed. “Like I’d ever pass up a chance to rub it in your face that you were wrong.”

Maia gave his arm an encouraging squeeze before letting go. Jace downed the last of his beer and hoped he wasn’t about to fuck things up even worse.

~~~

“How did my place become the designated space for heartbroken sulking?” Bat asked when he opened his door to find Jace standing there.

“It’s because you have the best couch to crash on and the nicest gaming setup,” Jace told him. “Also because you’re too nice to kick your friends out even when we probably deserve it. Can I come in?”

Bat watched him for a long moment, then stepped back and let the door swing all the way open to allow Jace inside.

“I’m gonna run to the store to pick up some more chips,” Bat announced loudly. “I will be back in half an hour, and if any bodily fluids end up on my couch while I’m gone, you are both permanently banned from my apartment.”

“Dude,” came Simon’s voice from the direction of Bat’s living room.

“Just saying,” Bat said, and then he was closing the door behind him, leaving Jace standing in the entryway.

Jace took a deep breath to steady himself, then a second one before finally forcing himself to walk into the living room.

He found Simon on the couch, feet tucked underneath him like he always sat when he was upset. Simon didn’t look up, instead staring intently at the hole in the knee of his worn Boba Fett pajamas as he poked at the threads.

“Hey,” Jace said.

“Hey.” Simon’s eyes stayed trained on his knee.

Okay. This was fine. Jace could work with this. Probably.

He sat down on the far end of the couch and tried again. “Look, I know I’m shit at apologies, but I can’t even try if I don’t know why you’re pissed at me.”

Simon’s shoulders slumped, and he finally looked at Jace with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m not pissed at you.”

“Really? Because you’re acting kind of pissed at me.”

“I’m not—” Simon made a frustrated sound. “Okay, I’m kind of pissed at you, but I know it’s super unfair, and I’m, you know,” he shrugged, “working through it.”

“And when you’re done working through it, then you’ll come home?” Jace’s question sounded desperate, even to his own ears.

“I think—” Simon went back to studying the hole in his pajamas. “I think I’m going to spend the summer back in New York with my mom. Bat said I can crash on his couch for a couple weeks until finals are over.”

“Simon.” Jace was shaking his head, but Simon just kept right on going.

“I can—I can keep paying my half of rent until you find another roommate.”

“I don’t want another roommate.” I want you. Jace shook the thought away. That could wait. All that right now mattered was keeping Simon from walking out of his life.

“Look,” Jace continued, “I know things are kind of weird between us right now, but you don’t have to leave. We can fix this. We can just—just go back to how things were before, like nothing ever happened, and it’ll be—” It would be agonizing. Jace wasn’t sure he could do it. “It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t just go back to how things were before, Jace.” Simon’s glare was withering. “It’s not that easy.”

Jace ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know I fucked up. I shouldn’t have kissed you at Alec’s wedding, but I swear it won’t happen again.”

“You didn’t—Jace, we kissed each other at the wedding.”

Jace glared back, letting anger mask his hurt. “Then what exactly is the problem?” If he didn’t know what he’d done, he couldn’t fix it, and if he couldn’t fix it… “If it’s not about the kiss, then why the hell won’t you just come home?”

“Because I love you, you asshole!”

Simon looked almost as surprised by his own outburst as Jace felt. Jace stared. He couldn’t have heard that right. Because if Simon loved him, then he wouldn’t be glaring at him like he just kicked his favorite puppy. If Simon loved him, he wouldn’t have left.

“I love you,” Simon repeated, calmer now, “and I can’t keep pretending that I don’t.”

“Simon,” Jace croaked. His voice didn’t seem to want to work.

“That’s why I can’t live with you anymore, because I’m never going to be able to get over you if I do.”

“Simon,” Jace tried again, voice stronger now.

“And that wouldn’t be fair to either of us. But I think if I just take some time, and some space, then maybe I can—”

Jace let out a frustrated growl. “Will you please stop talking for five seconds so I can tell you that I love you, too?”

It was Simon’s turn to stare. “You—I don’t understand.”

Jace let out a bark of laughter that was half hysterical, half wonder. “Yeah, this is. It’s a lot.”

“But,” Simon’s voice was soft, vulnerable, “if you love me, then why don’t you want to be with me?”

“Simon,” he reached out to cup Simon’s cheek with his hand, “what could possibly have given you the idea that I don’t want to be with you?”

“You!” Simon’s voice was indignant, but he didn’t pull away, instead leaning into Jace’s touch. “You’ve said it like a million times! That you don’t date. That you’re not a relationship kind of guy.”

“Yeah, because I suck at it.” It wasn’t an easy admission to make, and Jace had to force himself not to cringe away from showing this much vulnerability. But for Simon, he would. “You were right when you said I don’t know how to be bad at things, and I make a terrible boyfriend. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be yours.”

Simon let out a choked laugh, winding his arms around Jace’s neck. “You were actually a pretty great boyfriend, even when you were just pretending.”

“Simon. I was never pretending.”

Simon made a wounded noise and dragged him the remaining inches between them into a kiss. It was messy and the angle was awkward as hell, but Jace wouldn’t have traded it for anything. He kissed back, putting everything he felt into it. And then Simon was throwing a leg over him to straddle his lap, and the angle—along with everyone else—was so much better.

“Dude, what did I say?”

They broke apart at Bat’s very annoyed question. Jace had been too distracted to even hear the door.

“Technically, we didn’t break your rule.” Simon’s grin was wide and bright and a little dazed as he disentangled himself from Jace. Jace suspected he was wearing a similar expression. “No bodily fluids on your couch.”

“I expect more than a technicality when your fluids are involved,” Bat said flatly. “And I’m happy you guys got your shit together or whatever, but please get the fuck out of my apartment now.”

“I think we were just leaving, anyway,” Jace said.

“Oh yeah,” Simon agreed. “We’ve got some, uh, stuff to take care of back home.”

Jace barely even heard the pained noise Bat made over the sudden burst of joy in his chest at hearing Simon call their apartment “home” again. Grinning like an absolute idiot, he let Simon pull him out the door and down the street toward their apartment. Toward home.

~~~

It took them far longer to get back to the apartment than the distance warranted. Probably because they couldn’t seem to go a full block without kissing, which inevitably led to making out against the nearest wall until one of them remembered that they actually had an apartment with nice features like beds and privacy.

“This is ridiculous,” Jace said half a block down from their building, ignoring the fact that he was the one who had Simon pinned to the neighboring complex’s laundry room wall. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Either kiss me again or get moving,” Simon said, grinding against the thigh Jace had between his legs. “I’d really like to get you naked before I have to leave for morning classes.”

With a put-upon sigh, Jace stepped back. “It’s really annoying when you’re right about things, you know that?”

“I know that you say ‘annoying’ when you mean ‘hot,’” Simon said with a smug grin.

“That is not at all a thing that I do,” Jace lied.

They managed to make it back to the apartment with no more detours and practically fell through the door with how eager they were to get their hands and mouths back on each other.

“Missed this,” Simon said between kisses. “Missed you.”

“It’s been like half a week,” Jace said, like he hadn’t missed Simon like he’d lost a limb, blood loss included. “And you’re the idiot who decided we should break up, so whose fault is that?”

“We weren’t even dating, you dick. I didn’t think you wanted to.” Simon pulled away then, suddenly serious. “You do want to, though, right? You meant it when you said you want to be my boyfriend?”

“I can’t believe I fell in love with someone so dense,” Jace said with an affectionate smile. “Yes, I meant it.”

“Okay,” Simon said, smiling back. “Cool.”

“Now that we’ve got that sorted out,” Jace leaned forward, lips hovering a hairsbreadth away from Simon’s, “can I please take you to bed already?”

Simon kissed him, quick and hard, before grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket and walking backward down the hallway, dragging Jace with him.

“I like it when you say please,” Simon said. “It’s definitely something you should do more often.”

“Yeah?” Jace used the fact that his own hands were free to unbuckle Simon’s belt while they walked. “You gonna make me?”

“I thought that was implied.” Simon pushed the door to Jace’s bedroom open and shoved Jace through it.

Jace took another step back, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it vaguely in the direction of his desk chair. “You really think you can?”

“I’ve done it before.” Simon followed and slid his hands up beneath Jace’s shirt. “I can remind you how it went if you forgot.”

“Could have been a fluke.” Jace’s words probably would have been more convincing if his entire body hadn’t jolted when Simon’s thumbs very deliberately brushed over his nipples before moving to tug his shirt over his head.

“You’re right,” Simon said as he pulled his own shirt over his head. “We’ll need a bigger data set if we’re going to do a proper statistical analysis.”

“Less math.” Jace pulled open Simon’s fly and reached a hand inside his boxers. “More sex.”

Simon rocked into the touch. “I didn’t hear a ‘please’ in there.”

Jace snorted. “Bite me.”

“I mean, I was going to suck you, but if you’d rather I bite—”

Jace cut him off with a kiss. By the way Simon smiled against his mouth, he thought that might have been exactly the reaction he was going for. Jace couldn’t be annoyed by it, though. Not when Simon was making those soft, eager noises into their kisses while they divested each other of their remaining clothes. Not when every touch, every kiss felt like coming home. Not when they finally tumbled into bed and Simon kissed perfect and so hot and love you into his mouth and skin.

It wasn’t until Simon had him practically writhing with want, lazily fingering him while he traced patterns across Jace’s hipbone with his tongue, that Jace realized he’d meant it about making him say ‘please.’ The realization must have shown on his face because Simon, the utter bastard, winked at him before stroking his finger against Jace’s prostate, just once. It was almost as infuriating as it was hot.

Jace’s resolve not to beg lasted right up until Simon shifted so he could reach Jace’s other hip with his mouth, causing his own cock, hard and leaking, to brush against Jace’s calf. Knowing that Simon was just as turned on as he was, it was too much.

He rocked his hips down as Simon added a second finger, trying desperately to get some pressure where he needed it. The stretch felt good, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough. “Are you waiting for a gilded invitation?”

“You know what I’m waiting for,” Simon said mildly, cheek just barely grazing Jace’s cock as he lowered his head to place an open-mouthed kiss on the seam of Jace’s thigh.

“Fuck, fuck, fine,” Jace panted. “Please.”

Simon didn’t waste any time to gloat, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth motion at the same time that he crooked his fingers to press against Jace’s prostate. Jace let out a strangled sob, fighting to keep his hips still and failing miserably. If Simon’s answering moan was any indication, he didn’t mind in the slightest, so Jace stopped trying, losing himself in the heat of Simon’s mouth, the perfect pressure of his fingers.

He glanced down, needing to see, and was very nearly undone by the sight of Simon’s lips stretched around his cock, the obvious enthusiasm for what he was doing. Simon caught his gaze and swallowed—very deliberately—around the head of his cock. Jace let out a keening noise as his body shook and he spilled his release down Simon’s throat.

Simon kept working him with mouth and fingers until it was just pushing the edges of too much, and then he was crawling up Jace’s body to kiss him, needy and desperate, as he jerked himself off. Jace had just enough presence of mind left to kiss back, to slide one hand between them to join Simon’s on his cock until Simon was shaking apart above him, painting their hands and stomachs with his come.

“See?” Simon said a few minutes later, still half-breathless. “I knew I could get you to say ‘please.’”

“Fuck you,” Jace mumbled without any real heat, too fucked-out to muster a proper comeback.

Simon gave him a crooked grin. “Next time, I should make you ask nicely, though.”

Jace thought he probably shouldn’t be as into that idea as he was, especially since he’d just come, but he absolutely was, his mind spinning out an elaborate vision of what that would be like. Not that he was going to admit it.

“Shut up and cuddle me,” he said instead.

Simon’s answering smirk said he knew exactly what Jace wasn’t saying, but he didn’t argue, curling his body into Jace’s with a contented sigh.

“Hey,” Jace said quietly. “I love you.”

He felt Simon’s smile against his shoulder. “I love you, too.”

Eventually, Jace knew, they would have to move. They were both in desperate need of a shower, and he should probably put something in his body that wasn’t alcoholic if he didn’t want to feel like death in the morning. But for now, he was content to stay like this, wrapped in the arms of the man he loved. And when they did finally make their way out of bed, he’d be fine with that, too, and whatever came after. As long as Simon was beside him.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

6 notes · View notes