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navybrat817 · 1 month

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Just Like That

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier. Word Count: Almost 5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.

If only that were the case.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.

“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.

You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?

Right.

You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”

“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.

He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.

Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?

Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”

“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.

“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”

“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.

The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.

Again, he had to play the part right.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.

Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.

And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.

Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.

Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”

You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.

“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”

You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”

“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”

“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.

“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”

“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.

“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.

In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.

Just an agent being kind to another agent.

Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”

Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.

Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.

Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”

“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.

Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.

He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”

“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”

He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.

His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.

“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”

“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”

You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.

You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”

Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”

Oh, fuck.

The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”

“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”

Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.

He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.

You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.

You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.

Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.

“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.

Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-

The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.

And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”

He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”

“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”

You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.

He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”

“Why not?”

“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”

“Of course,” he whispered.

You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”

A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”

You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”

Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.

“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”

“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”

He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.

You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.

You never stood a chance.

“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.

And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.

“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth.

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”

Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.

His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.

“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”

It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”

He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.

You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.

“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.

Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.

Crave him.

“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”

Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.

You’d take whatever he gave you.

The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.

“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.

“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.

One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.

“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”

“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”

He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.

You didn't want him to let you go.

“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”

He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.

The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.

You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.

“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.

“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.

Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.

“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”

“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”

“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”

“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.

Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”

I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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sp0o0kylights · 6 months

Text

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it.

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it.

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned.

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design.

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy.

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job.

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family.

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead.

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents.

How his money went into a bank account they had access to.

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line.

And boy, had he been acting out of line.

Getting into fights.

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills.

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.)

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track.

His own plans be damned.

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

“We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot.

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen.

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas.

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!”

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him.

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go.

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong.

xXx

Mike hadn’t cared.

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months.

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.)

Max was the surprising emotional standout.

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them.

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him.

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage.

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh.

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again.

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.)

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.”

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy.

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?”

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval.

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max.

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed.

xXx

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom.

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble.

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter.

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago.

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck.

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles.

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!”

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.”

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large.

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road.

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone.

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it.

Now he just stared tiredly at her back.

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case.

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second.

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it.

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort.

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.”

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone.

It was just---Nancy did know.

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life.

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year.

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that.

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down.

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.)

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.”

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to.

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin.

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now.

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm.

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough.

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…”

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them.

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt.

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car.

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit.

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things.

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?”

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice.

A third time for good measure.

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.”

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really.

Not anymore.

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused.

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in.

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy.

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’

He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly.

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.”

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet.

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise.

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut.

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point.

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand.

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe.

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?”

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left.

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin.

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed.

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking.

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him.

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal.

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door.

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open.

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to.

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward.

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents?

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes.

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing .

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there.

xXx

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead.

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that.

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it.

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough.

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone.

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him.

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in.

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away.

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.)

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt.

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan.

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can.

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times.

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out.

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.”

Then; “It gets worse.”

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans.

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl.

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid,

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.”

Steve stayed silent.

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones.

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.”

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut.

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now.

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--”

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer.

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.”

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry.

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him.

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.”

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done.

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie.

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.”

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news.

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.”

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…”

He’d put his wife first. His family, first.

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one.

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess.

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored.

They’d warned him.

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic.

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was.

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.”

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle.

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary.

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind.

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come.

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie.

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger?

Steve would bow to their whims.

Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it.

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand.

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work.

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish.

Steve would try anyway.

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck.

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.”

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine.

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?”

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one.

Not when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it.

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was.

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him.

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins.

No matter how long the engagement.

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him.

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think.

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel.

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others.

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin.

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.)

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other.

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?”

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there.

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question.

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway.

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart.

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce.

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest.

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse.

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead.

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly.

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve.

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too.

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!”

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so.

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!”

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either.

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.”

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying.

Speaking of;

“When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been.

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home.

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice.

Part Two

#lol remember when I said I wasnt posting parts to stuff until they were finished #THAT SURE LASTED LONG #pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #0o0 fanfics #This is very Steve focused #TW his horrible parents #VERY hurt #comforts later #with eddie!#I really wanted to explore Steves Parents #in proper Rich Asshole Controling fashion #TW forced marriage #or mentions of #I also wanted to explore a lot of how the kids #and Nancy and Robin (who are also STILL kids #would react because sure they came up against monsters and the government #but neither of those things want you to like them #theyll let you know theyll eat you #Steves parents #like many rich dicks #want to isolate #want you to think theyre amazing #and its often the inner circle who knows whats up but are also caught in their own chokechain #hence the title of this fic #whiiiich is chokechain #stranger things #tw drinking

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 7 months

Text

Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post

Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.

AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"

Apologies if this is a bit too short but;

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.

This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.

Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3

He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life

So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.

Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.

The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.

The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.

Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.

You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.

He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.

He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.

Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.

Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.

Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.

You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...

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hard--headed--woman · 2 months

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Something happened in my English class that I think perfectly sums up how so many people don't understand feminism.

At the beginning of each class, we have to talk about something in english for two minutes. This woman decided to talk about radical feminism in South Korea. She explained how feminists there decide not to date men, have sex with men, marry men and have kids with men anymore. It was very interesting and well explained, and I was happy to see another woman from my uni talking about feminism. From what I understood, she's not Korean but goes to Korea often and has a lot of radical feminists friends there.

Then another woman raises her hand and asks "don't you think these rules are a little bit tough?". I roll my eyes, but the other woman is confused. She frowns. "What rules? What are you talking about?". "I mean, the not dating men rule. Isn’t it a bit too tough?". "Well of course it's tough for the men but that's the goal isn’t? Feminism has to be a bit tough to men in order to work". She really didn't seem to understand what that other woman meant, and the other was apparently confused about it. "I mean for the women... for the Korean women. Aren't these rules too tough for Korean feminists? Isn’t there a way to help women without giving them such hard rules to follow?".

I was very annoyed (so was the woman who talked about this movement in the first place) because how can you miss the point so badly? How does she think feminism works? Does she believe some sort of higher power gives Korean women rules to follow and that they get thrown in jail if they date a man? How can you describe this movement as "rules"? They aren't rules. They would be rules if Korean women were forced to obey them, if they were punished for dating men. That's not the case. What's happening is that some women decide of their own free will to stop dating men (among other things). They don't follow any rules, they freely chose to do what they do. It's about women's freedom, about women deciding what they do with their life and body. But I guess people nowadays use this concept only to defend prostitution and makeup, without understanding it in reality, when it comes to women doing things that go against what the patriarchy wants them to do.

Anyway, I find it interesting that this woman's first conclusion was that these were rules rather than free choices. This is why many people see radical feminism as a cult; they can't understand the idea of women making their own choices if those choices defy patriarchy. They think we must be some kind of cult that brainwashes them and forces them to obey and follow complicated rules, because how else can a woman decide to stop fucking men? A free woman would never do that.

#radblr #radical feminism #radfem safe #radfem #radical feminist safe #radical feminists please touch #radical feminists do touch #rad fem #radical feminist #radical feminists do interact #4b movement #korean feminism #korean radfems #feminism #women's rights #feminist #korea #south korea

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thagomizersshow · 8 months

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I love when sci-fi/fantasy writers throw in a random fact about a fictional species that actually has big repercussions for that species' biology.

Like, there is a species in Star Trek called Saurians who are adorable dinosauroid looking dudes. They've had very little revealed about them despite having been mentioned as early as the original series by way of "Saurian brandy" — a drink that is so strong it can put a Klingon on their ass in one swig.

Other than that, most of what we know about them comes from snippets involving a reoccuring character on Discovery named Linus, who is mostly a comic relief character. Now the reason I bring them up is that in one episode there's a scene where Linus is eating bamboo of all things, and I'm not sure the writers realized how telling this is about Saurian biology.

Bamboo is a damn hard food to eat, and us humans can only eat the shoots of a few species. Even then, raw consumption of shoots can lead to cyanide poisoning if you aren't careful. We still don't know how exactly a lot of animals that eat a lot of bamboo (bamboo lemurs, red pandas, bamboo rats, elephants, gorillas) are able to digest so much of it without getting cyanide poisoning. There is some sort of neutralization process in giant pandas involving the rhodanese enzyme that turns cyanide into the non-toxic thiocyanate that they just pee out, but the process is still poorly understood in other species.

Bamboo is also hard to digest for the same reason all grasses are; their plant wall cellulose is hard as hell to break down. Like, your choices are:

a) you do a poor job of digesting it and just spend all day eating (giant panda, red panda, bamboo lemur)

b) you grow really big and have a big gut (elephants, gorillas)

c) you only eat the parts of the plant that are easier to digest (bamboo rats)

On top of that, bamboo is loaded with silica phytoliths that are like microscopic bits of glass. These evolved to make their tissues even harder to chew and metabolize.

It's hard to make out in the scene, but it looks like Linus is eating raw bamboo leaves. Just picking them up with his fingers and munching on them like it's nothing. That means his teeth and/or jaws would need to be very powerful (maybe hypsodont? or maybe tooth batteries?) AND, because he's eating it raw, he'd have to be immune to the cyanide in some way.

One explanation could be in the Star Trek Adventures TTRPG, where Saurians are said to have an ability called "Enhanced Metabolism" where they recover from toxins faster than other species (my guess is this was meant to reference their brandy being so strong). BUT, that's not the same thing as the immunity real bamboo eating animals seem to have. My head canon is that Saurians have a diet similar to red pandas, where bamboo-like plants are their main diet on their homeworld, but they'll eat other stuff too when it's available, AND they've evolved some way to convert cyanide into a harmless chemical they excrete, like a giant panda.

All of these whacky biology shenanigans stem (hehe) from the casual writing decision to make a supporting alien character seem weird by eating a weird thing.

#star trek #star trek: discovery #sci-fi

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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Humanity’s Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Description: It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

Warnings: Look, I'm writing and it's not for a request. Angst. It's always angst. I just love Alastor's inhumanity, what can I say? This bitch is in denial. Also, bodies, blood, death, no gore but like, eh. Also Adam is in this one and he's his own warning. Loose Mistki quoting at one part. Also a loose Sappho quote “pale as grass” and self harm.

Word Count: 2,420

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A/N My classics major side came out a little bit in this one lol. Also I have a big classics major side fic in the wings so if you guys like this, just wait. Also Sir Pentious is from the 1800s so he for sure had a classical education. Also the title came from an article I was reading about the history of witchcraft for one of my classes.

The most complex and yet the most simple of the human emotions. Feared by some, wielded by others, out of reach for many, perennial for more still, and taken as easily as a breath of air by a solemn few. What a strange thing, love.

It was this last category that bewitched Alastor. Even when he had been alive, he had never understood the people like that, the ones who took heartbreak in stride, the ones who shared any love they had the minute they felt it with everyone and everything. The ones who weren't paralyzed by potential loss or violent embarrassment.

The people who feared love made sense. It had a vast capacity for harm, it was able to destroy without a second thought. Even when it was good, love could be devastating. Those who wielded it as their weapon of choice nearly fell into a subcategory of this group. They used other people's fear of the matter against them or they lured people in to get what they wanted and threw them to the curb without a second glance.

Everyone on earth, living or dead, had felt at least once that love was out of their reach, Alastor reasoned. Hopelessness is one of the most vital parts of the human condition, after all.

Perennial was the category in which most people fell. Love came and went. It lived and died, but always returned like the plants he had named this grouping for.

Then there were people like Y/n. Not a day went by where she wasn't explaining how much she adored something random or telling people she loved them, throwing the word around as if it had no weight, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to love, to share love. When Angel had made some snide remark about everything being her alleged 'favorite thing,' Y/n had quickly replied, saying:

"Aren't I lucky for that? Isn't that just wonderful?"

Alastor couldn't tell in which category he fell or what his opinion was about that answer of hers. One thing he did know was that Y/n was to be avoided at all costs.

She was the typical sinner. Never too bad of a person when alive, but never too good either. She wore her hedonism like a badge of honor, living her afterlife in much the same way Alastor assumed she had lived her living life: in a constant state of indulgence.

It wasn't the typical form of being that takes a person's mind when they think of the word. No, Y/n didn't indulge in a reckless, Dionysian way. Instead, she devoured everything. Books, good food, music, friends, you name it. Y/n had a million stories about each and a million examples of the best they all had to offer on hand. She relished in all that every word had to offer.

Alastor had overheard her talking to Charlie one night about that. He hadn't meant to, he had just been wandering the hotel, unable to sleep and in need of some air, when he'd heard a slight commotion in the lobby. Hidden by his shadows, he had entered the familiar space to find an exhausted Charlie standing tensely before a bulletin board.

"God is in the details." Y/n was saying as she adjusted the plans pinned on the structure so they were easier to read, more cohesive, "Anything can be a work of art, don't forget that. It's what makes everything so undeniably worth it."

She was so utterly out of his reach. Not that Alastor wanted Y/n in his reach, no. How ridiculous would that be: the Radio Demon, the most feared overlord in all of Hell, getting butterflies because he heard a girl tell someone else she loved them and imagined it was him. No, that would be utterly foolish which was why it wasn't the case, couldn't be the case. He must be getting sick, that was why his stomach had felt weird.

"What are you reading?" he heard Sir Pentious ask as the snake demon took a seat on the couch beside Y/n.

Alastor was at the bar, sharing a drink with Husk. His ear twitched in their direction.

"It's a book discussing the changes in interpretations of Sappho's poetry over time." Y/n replied, her tone soft and even.

It felt like a salve against Alastor's ears. Husk raised an eyebrow towards his master but made no remark.

"Really? I didn't know you were interested in that sort of thing."

"I was actually a professor in the human world... living world? Whatever. I didn't work on Sappho, I worked on ancient medicine, but I always found her intriguing and lovely. I mean, phainetai moi is creating a diagnosed love, using all the language of medicine. How could it not capture my attention?"

"You know, if you look at Homer, the same language Sappho uses is also used to describe love. She is actually working off a preexisting cannon of love as something painful and destroying."

"Really?"

"Yes, and curse tablets tend to draw off medical writings quite a bit as well, especially those involved in love magic."

"Huh, that’s a neat little intersection I have yet to explore: medicine, magic, and love. I never knew you knew so much about this. You died in the 1890s, right?"

"Sometime around then."

"I should have guessed then, my mistake. Tell me, what was it like growing up with all this wonder at your finger tips? It was hard for me to even find a university with a classics department, let alone a good one. You’re lucky to have had it all right there."

Now that was an interesting idea to Alastor. A diagnosable love, a painful and deadly thing. Love as a curse, love as being shot through by an enemy spear, love as a god. It made more sense to him than anything else about the matter had. Unavoidable, not something self imposed. A cursed love, a medical love, something that controlled a person rather than vice versa.

He lay awake at night, unable to speak, pale as grass, thinking unwillingly of the way her lips curved to form words, of the way one could see the gears of her mind turning behind her eyes. He lay awake, unable to do anything else. He stared at the ceiling.

"Ah! Angel! Thank you!" Y/n exclaimed as he handed her the sweater he'd spotted her eyeing a few days before when they'd been for a walk around town, "This was so kind of you!"

Alastor watched as Y/n pulled the lanky demon into a hug which he reluctantly returned, looking down at her with a platonic version of the sort of fondness that was so forbidden to him.

"Great work Angel!" Charlie clapped excitedly, "That's a step in the right direction."

No, it wasn't love. Alastor Hartifelt didn't love, he had lost that ability the day he had died and he'd barely had it before that. It didn't matter that his heart skipped a beat, there was no truth to his upset stomach when he had to speak to her except something bad he must have eaten. The sleeplessness wasn't new, sleep had never been his friend so to speak, the two had never really gotten along. The reason it got so stuck in his head, the way she threw her affection around, was the carelessness of it all, the foolishness. Only, what he had overheard her saying to Charlie that night, that anything can be a work of art, were the words of someone who acted purely on intention, who did nothing without considered thought.

Y/n couldn't be a wielder of love. Alastor never once saw her manipulate someone or even really ask anyone for anything at all. There was no way she was scared and the way she freely gave took her out of the other two categories as well. It didn't make sense. The intention, the earnestness, the true meaning behind her actions and words that always seemed to shine through no matter what she did, was what had him stuck. She barley even fit into her own category because of it. Most people that threw love around the way she did had the words and actions lose their meaning over time but, somehow, that seemed never to be the case for her.

He pictured a life on earth. He pictured walking with her beneath the stars, the way the light of the moon would play gently across her skin. He pictured her in the recording studio, the one he'd worked at while alive, waiting by the door for him to finish his work and taking him by the hand, dragging him off into the unknown. He pictured waking up beside her in the morning, all messy hair and smiles. He pictured, he dreamed, he dissolved. The doctors diagnosed him and he went to see other people because he didn't like the answer they gave him.

Y/n pulled Vaggie from her seat at the bar, spinning the demon into an ungraceful waltz to the music Alastor was playing on the piano for the group. He nearly fumbled, nearly missed a note. She missed so many steps and it didn't matter because she was laughing, and so was Vaggie. She didn't have to be perfect, but he did.

They each smiled ear to ear while Charlie clapped along to the beat. He imagined himself in Vaggie's place, he could practically feel his hands on the gentle curve of her hips. The world was half real.

It wasn't love because he didn't know her, he never spoke to her. It wasn't love because that was impossible, he couldn't love. It wasn't love because that was an ability he'd left in the world of the living. It wasn't love because she was too kind, too good, and he was nothing if not brutal and bloodstained to his core. It wasn't love because it couldn't be. It wasn't love because if it was...

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

He repeated the mantra to himself. Alone walking the halls, in meetings with the other overlords, making tea in the kitchen. He whispered the words to himself like a prayer.

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

Y/n was out of reach, untouchable, destined to join the ranks of Heaven while he remained rotting in Hell. It couldn't be anything else, no other future was possible which was why it wasn't love. She was made of all the things a human is and he was made of those a monster is. She was bright, she shined, and Alastor fed off the light of others, burning it out into darkness. He refused to do such a thing to her, he couldn't. Not when she was practically the sun. Not when he wasn't even a star but the black hole of the earth revolving around her.

He saw her holding Husk's hands over the bar top as he told her something, a look of deep concern etched into her features. He watched her pick Nifty up by the waist so the little demon could dust the tops of the bookshelves. He watched her, he waited, he would always be waiting because nothing could ever happen. Nothing would ever happen, he wouldn't allow it and goddamnit it wasn’t love.

It was also impossible, Alastor reminded himself. He had left that part of himself when he had died, it hadn't made the journey with him. The most favored fantasy of his own humanity, or what was left of it. The little spark of the person he had been that glowed softly from the center of his chest. Alastor had tried to douse it, tried to kill it, tried to rip it from himself but all he'd ever ended up with was bloody hands and torn flesh and the light pulsed on in its eternal hunger, its eternal hope, its eternal harm.

And then it was too late. Then, she really was gone, double dead or however anyone wanted to call it. Adam dropped her lifeless corpse to the ground and Alastor's world crashed in around him because no matter how many times he had said it wasn't, no matter how he had avoided her, no matter what he had done it had been love, or the beginnings of it at least. The closest thing to it he'd ever really felt. His hand tightened around the staff of his microphone. Alastor bared his teeth, he saw red.

"What have you done?"

Adam turned to him, grinning. Y/n deserved a viking funeral, to be surrounded by flowers and sent off in a burning boat. She deserved a Greek burial, reduced to ashes and buried with all the proper rites that made sure she would make it to the afterlife. She deserved, she was owed, he was angry.

"What." Adam laughed, "Was she your little bitch?"

Alastor didn't think he had any room left inside him for the fury, but found his rage redoubled at Adam's words.

"What did you just call her?"

"Your little bitch." Adam smirked, "She was a cute one, shame you all are gonna have to burn. Woulda kept her for myself."

Adam looked down, nudging Y/n's lifeless corpse with the toe of his shoe. Alastor attacked. There was no thought, no order, no grace, there was only the anger. Only now that it was too late, was he at last able to let loose, be less than perfect, exist in an unintentional manner. Or was it that this was the true meaning of intention -- reckless abandon? Y/n probably would have thought that. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what she would have thought, what any of them did think. It was too late. There was no more time and Alastor had come to terms with his own frailty a second past the buzzer. He would never forgive himself.

"You will pay for what you have done. You will die for what you have done."

Because it had been love, all along and Alastor, who had thought himself above it all, had been in that first group. He had been scared, not of what love could do but of what Y/n would, of what she had already done to him. Now it was too late and he would never get another chance.

"You will fucking die!"

----

Part Two --> → Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

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I really love you "Get off my screen" series! And I just and couldn't stop thinking about Reader just texting out of nowhere saying "Bruh I'm fucking dying"

And Vox is just going haywire(See what I did there?) Worried about you and ask what they mean and Reader be like "I'm dying because of BOARdom(Get it?)

You're Just Being Mean!

A/N: Omg I am absolutely writing this AHAHAHAHA- Vox is always the one screwing with dear Reader so I think it's about time to return the favor. Thank you @crazylzp143 for the inbox idea! I love how much this story is expanding and the ideas y'all have for it. As always, I hope you all enjoy this filler interlude and please keep the ideas coming! Happy reading!

You cheered, flopping backwards on your bed in a cheerful mood.

On your computer monitor was an empty assignment box.

You'd successfully accomplished all your required tasks before the semester's end which left you with a whole lot of free time to burn.

And did you absolutely just unwind and relax.

Playing games, watching movies, bingeing shows-

You practically spedran the chill pill treatment.

To the point where you managed to bore yourself before the day was even over.

You stared up at the ceiling with an annoyed look-

Wasn't there really anything else you could do?

And why did time pass by so slowly?

God you were bored.

In the middle of your TV show binge, your phone buzzed to life.

Considering you'd quickly found the plot line to be quite a drag, you just let the drama play while you no longer paid attention to it.

The white noise the show provided helped make it feel like you were actually doing something.

Even when you knew you weren't doing anything productive at all-

Looking over at your phone, you smiled upon opening the familiar chatbox that you saw almost daily.

"Heya Voxxy, what's up?"

"Well aren't you in a good mood today! Anything special?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, Vox really thought he was being cheeky this time wasn't he?

"Managed to complete all my work for the semester, so now I can just chillax until exams come around!"

"Wait what? Holy shit! You've got a whole two weeks of nothing then!"

"IKR! I can just laze around and do what I want after class hours!"

It wasn't surprising that Vox quickly got used to your schedule, you'd also grown slightly accustomed to his.

He knew the basic rundown of your schedule, like when your classes started and ended-

Just as much as you knew when he had to leave for his daily broadcast and when he would come back.

You could only guess him knowing when exam season happens was from looking at the calendars and schedules you had meticulously prepared in your computer.

There were times he would even remind you of things due on a day, like quizzes or projects to which you would grow embarrassed that it slipped your mind.

You were the one who made the calendar, how could you forget it???

Though it was probably helpful on his end that he quite literally had a digital reference to look back on.

You still wondered sometimes how he managed to end up with a TV for a head but didn't look into it much.

"Guess that means you'll be spending more time with me?"

"Dude, I already spend so much time with you! Any more and I'd have to call you my boyfriend!"

That message really shouldn't have caused Vox to bluescreen but it did.

He was just so flustered that his system crashed in it's entirety because of what you said.

Not that you noticed when all you got in reply was some keysmash and middle finger emojis.

Vox could only imagine you were laughing at his expense, and even then he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed with you.

It was only recently that he'd become hyper aware with how much you meant to him so jokes and comments like that easily sent his mental careening.

Not that he quite understood why he felt this way yet, a part of him still blamed some unknown untraceable malware that your devices shoved into his system.

Though he highly doubted that a stupid virus would make his stomach do flips whenever he saw your silly smile.

Oh whatever, he'll just have to run another malware check later or something.

You just continued to tease Vox for a good while before he had to excuse himself and leave for a meeting.

He was slightly glad that he had just a little respite from your teasing onslaught.

Any more of it and there was a high risk he would've accidentally caused another citywide blackout.

You tossed your phone onto an adjacent cushion and just laughed.

No wonder Vox liked to embarrass you so much.

It was downright hilarious and entertaining.

You couldn't help but feel slightly flattered with his reactions though, was your friendship that important to him?

So he really did care after all, what a dork.

The funny high you were running on, much to Vox's chagrin, didn't last long.

So you decided to go back to fucking with your TV headed companion since he usually did the same to you.

"Dudeeeee I'm fucking dyingggg-"

Vox made the mistake of checking his phone in the middle of the meeting and nearly gave himself a stroke upon reading your message.

What in Lucifer's name even happened?!

Last he checked you were completely fine???

He hadn't even left you for-

Taking a look at his internal clock, Vox glitched from sheer panic.

It hadn't even been an hour!

Was this supposed to be a joke??

Were you just fibbing with him?

Or god forbid you were actually hurt and needed help-

He was about to just bolt out of that meeting before another messaged snapped him out of it.

"I'm dying- dying of BOARDom! HAHA see what I did there?"

Vox felt the last of his patience leave him as rings appeared on his other eye.

The absolute nerve of you-!

"Oh fuck off (Y/N)."

With that, he angrily pocketed his phone and once again paid attention to the meeting.

The poor presenter in the front nearly shat himself from how irritated Vox looked, they didn't know that frustration was because of you though.

You just couldn't stop laughing at his reply, not realizing how badly your overlord friend took the joke until some noticeable time passed and there wasn't a single message or notification from him.

Now that started to concern you.

You'd be lucky to get through an hour with less than a hundred notifications at a time-

It's been two and there was still absolutely nothing.

Did something happen?

Was he upset or dealing with something?

Perchance... did you do something to upset him?

"Vox...? Hey, you good dude?"

You grew more concerned as the minutes ticked on.

Whatever it was- Vox was probably genuinely upset.

And you had a gut feeling it had something to do with you.

"I'm not talking to you."

You almost wanted to roll your eyes at his message, was he being childish?

So your hunch was right, you did manage to upset him- somehow.

"Ehhhh??? Why? What did I do?"

"You know what you fucking did (Y/N)."

Not really- that's why you asked.

Your hands dropped onto your lap tiredly as you looked up towards the ceiling.

What... what did you do wrong?

Scrolling up to read your chats, it didn't take long before you realized where it went wayside.

Oh.

"Right, you don't really like it when I joke about dying huh."

"No."

"You never really told me why, and you never cared this much before. You would just laugh it off when I delivered the punchline."

"You're still young (Y/N). You have your whole life ahead of you. Dying puts you at risk of ending up here in hell with me."

"You know that doesn't sound as horrible as you paint it right?"

"Pardon?"

"I'll end up where you are, that can't seriously be that bad."

Vox genuinely wondered if you had a screw loose or something this time.

He continued to try hammering it into you that it was hell he was talking about.

Eternal damnation, the never-ending inferno, etc.

Ya know, where all the sinners went to suffer??

But again and again you would just keep repeating-

"But I'll be where you are, it won't be that bad- it can't be that bad."

Until he finally understood what you were insinuating.

It wouldn't be so bad, because he was there.

He would be there with you.

At that point the state of hell or where you were wasn't important.

Vox could only chuckle at his own foolishness.

Not to mention just how oblivious you were to your own words.

"I guess. Just don't do that again."

"I'll try not to. Besides, if I croak and end up at the heaven gates- I'll put in a good word for you."

"You? In heaven? Nice joke dollface."

"Oh fuck you too Vox, I was being optimistic."

The tech overlord just rolled his eyes, there was a real risk that he could lose you soley because heaven would take you away but he didn't dwell on it.

You were still here texting him, cracking jokes and being your obnoxiously cute self.

You were still on the other side of the screen furiously typing up a comeback of why you would be able to get into the pearly gates.

Vox just chuckled, as long as you were with him in the here and now-

He found he wouldn't care even if hell froze over.

A/N: Our Voxxy is starting to catch feels, well- slightly- he's just in the stages of caring a bit too much but not realizing it's romance yet. Writing this stuff is hilariously entertaining, plus the slow burn is just yummy hahahahah I'll be putting out some more interludes tomorrow but the direct continuation is finished! I just need to post these things chronologically XD

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #Get Off My Screen Series

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d34dlysinner · 6 months

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MINORS DNI

Satan halted when you said that you never did this before. He was amused how you, who smelled so obscene, never did it before.

You're asking a lot if you expected him to be holding you as if you're made out of glass, but he did understand that it was going to hurt if he was rough.

He started out slow. Slowly pushing in and checking if you were going to fight back. Of course he loves a struggle, but only when it's actually intentional and because of some kink, not out of pain.

"Say stop if it's too much. Hit me if it's really needed.", he said. He can take a punch so he's not worried about being hurt himself. He just hopes you aren't hurt at all.

He was considerate of your fears and would try his best to make you feel comfortable.

Mammon was grinning at you as if he just earned a medal or something.

"So not only am I giving myself away to you... but you'll be giving yourself to me too?"

He understood that it meant that he needed to be very soft and careful with you. You may be his first, but he's not stupid when it came to how big he actually is.

"Seems like we need to prepare you a lot then...", he says as he starts with softly groping you.

He was happy to hear that you both will be giving yourselves away to each other. It gave him some sense of pride. He took his time making sure that you were ready.

Leviathan just blinked as he registered what you said.

"You never did it?", he asked as if he needed to confirm what he heard. Unlike many other times it made him happy to hear that he'll be the first to take you.

"That's great to hear.", he says as he prepares you. "I'll be soft this time, but once you get used to it you'll notice that I will include some other things.

He wasn't as jealous as he usually was. He even enjoyed having you all to himself as he took his time to prepare you.

Beelzebub smiled as he starts kneeling down and sniffing the air. "You've never done it before, but I can smell that your body is very excited for what's about to come.", he says as he pulls your trousers down.

He looks up at you and sees how you become all blushy before he kissed your thighs. He soon after started preparing you to take him. It didn't matter for him if he had to use tongue or fingers to stretch you. As long as you were ready to take him "easily".

He was very skilled and fast in preparing you.

Sitri was very excited to hear that news. "Don't worry Solomon. I'll take good care of you.", he says as he places soft kisses all over your body. He fully focused on every part of you as if he was trying to study all of you.

He closed his eyes as he started preparing you to take him, because at that moment your heart sped up more and more. He could hear it and he was loving it.

His soft touches and kisses would linger on you as you notice him focusing on your heartbeat and sounds to make sure that you were alright.

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb asks #whb satan #whb beel #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb sitri

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sebscore · 1 year

Text

PRIZE OUT

pairing: charles leclerc x sister!reader

warnings: rbr. mention of horner and marko. this doesn't really have a plot, tbh- just felt like writing it.

author's note: idk how this came to me, but it did in the middle of the night and i hope you enjoy it as well. also, the way i keep writing things that no one requested- i know yall hate me.

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Yeah, I'll let you know. Goodbye, bye.'' Charles hung up the phone, sighing loudly as he put it back in his pocket. His mother watched him, frowning at her son's obvious frustration. ''What is it, Charles?'' She asked him, slight concern in her voice.

''I have to let them know who my plus-one is for the FIA Prize Giving this week, but I have no date.'' He explained, his hand going through his hair.

Pascale chuckled, relieved it wasn't some bigger issue her son was dealing with. ''I thought you were about to reveal a big crisis to me, but it's just about finding you a date.'' She laughed, much to Charles' dismay.

''It's serious, Maman!'' He exclaimed. ''Normally I would take Charlotte, but you know…'' the couple hadn't split for too long, the topic still a bit sensitive for him, ''maybe you can go with me? You love Italy!''

The offer was tempting, but Pascale had a better idea. ''How about you take your sister with you? She likes dressing up and the two of you will get to spent some time together.'' She suggested.

Charles thought for a moment, thinking about the idea. His little sister would indeed enjoy going to a formal event like this and with her by his side, it would be way less boring than usual.

''Yeah, I'll ask her.'' He smiled.

His mother walked over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, putting her arms around him. ''Oh, that's so great! My two babies!'' Pascale beamed. ''And she's been so stressed with her exams coming up, it will take her mind off of that.''

''I'll go ask her then.'' Charles got up from his seat, wanting to move to his sister's room. However, his mother's voice stopped him in his tracks. ''Oh, don't forget that we have dinner with Ollie's parents Monday night.'' She told him.

''I didn't know about that.'' He furrowed his eyebrows, confused on why this is the first he has heard of it.

''That's why I'm telling you about it now.'' Pascale retorted, matter-of-factly.

Charles had the urge to roll his eyes, but managed to hold himself in. ''So who's coming? The five of us, and then him and his family?''

''Y/N, me, you, Lorenzo and Arthur is also bringing Carla, and then Ollie is coming with his parents.'' She replied, getting up from the couch.

''Aren't they from England?''

''Yeah, but they're in Monaco for the Formula 3 Prize Ceremony on Sunday.'' Pascale clarified for him, amused by his attempt to appear uninterested. ''Charles, I know you're not too happy about your sister dating, but he's a good kid and I want you on your best behaviour Monday.''

''I just don't want her to get hurt. This is her first relationship and it's long distance so I'm just looking out for her.'' Charles didn't have anything against the young Brit, he really didn't. Ollie is a polite guy and from what he has seen, he has a bright future ahead of him as a driver.

But he's her big brother and even the mere thought of his baby sister getting hurt by anyone breaks his heart. Charles knows she'll have a hard time with Ollie being away so much, because he knows the experience himself. Yes, there are many drivers who are able to make long distance relationships work, but most of them are adults. She's 17 years-old and still in school, she shouldn't be stressing about what her boyfriend is up to on the other side of the world.

''Trust me, Chérie- I don't want her to get hurt either, but we can't stop her from experiencing life. Whatever is meant to be will happen, whether it works out with the kid or not. Until then, I want everyone to be as supportive as they can be.'' Pascale understood his worries, she shared them with him. Y/N is her youngest and only daughter, she wants to protect her girl from all the evil in the world. However, shielding her away from everything will do more bad than good.

Charles nodded at her words, knowing she's right. ''I know, I am supportive of them, but if that little guy makes her cry, I'll give him something to cry about.'' He tried sounding scary, clenching his jaw.

His mother simply laughed. ''I think that 'little guy' is a bit taller than you, Charlie.''

''Oh, whatever.''

''That's the Red Bull car?'' Y/N observed the winning machinery that was displayed for everyone to see at the FIA event.

Charles looked from his sister, to his rivals' car, to her again. ''Yup, that's the one.''

''It's kinda ugly.'' The blunt comment made the Ferrari driver snort, garnering some weird looks from bypassers and other drivers.

''Be careful, Y/N!'' He hushed her, putting his hand over her mouth. ''Don't get us in trouble.''

''It's the truth, though.''

''I know, but just keep it in your head.''

The siblings walked further into the building, Charles greeting some people he recognised here and there. Y/N held onto her brother's hand for dear life, her anxiety going through the roof. It wasn't just the large space with all the strangers that was freaking her out, it was also the new pair of heels she was rocking.

Charles glanced at the shoes. ''Why didn't you wear flats? I don't want you to break your ankles.''

''I wanted to look a little taller next to you and they go well with my dress.'' She answered him, a bit agitated by his questioning. ''Let's link our arms, if I fall- you fall.'' Y/N did as she said and put her arm around Charles'.

Her brother laughed, momentarily patting her hand. ''How about no falling at all?''

They arrived at the big hall where someone led them to their seats at one of the many tables present in the room. Seated on the table next to them was the RBR family: Max, Checo, Christian Horner, Helmet Marko and their significant others who subtly greeted the Leclercs upon seeing them.

''You look really pretty, Y/N.'' Kelly complimented the young girl as they walked past them.

Y/N shyly smiled at the older woman, surprised at the sudden praise since the two of them haven't had many interactions throughout the years. ''Thank you, you too.'' She politely replied.

''Hey, how are you?'' Max focused on her when his small talk with Charles was done, sticking out his fist for a bump.

Both Leclerc siblings chuckled at the greeting. ''I'm good and you?'' She didn't leave him hanging and gently bumped her fist with his.

''I'm great.'' The dutchman smiled.

The youngest Leclerc remembered how she would taunt Charles by running after him while shouting Max's name, knowing it would annoy her older brother- especially if he had just lost to him in karting. She found it funny how they're still rivals after all these years.

''Congratulations on your championship.'' Y/N quickly told him before following Charles to their seats, not wanting to lose her brother in the crowd.

Max thanked her, but she was already gone and didn't hear it. The Red Bull driver was very fond of the young girl, because he had known her since she was a toddler. He would always remember how Charles would take her on the podium with him if the Monégasque had won, and that one time a 7 year-old Y/N gave him a high-five despite having won against her brother.

''This shit is really boring.'' Y/N whispered as the two hosts started announcing a new category, a yawn almost escaping her mouth.

Charles chuckled, feeling the exact same way about the event. ''I have to get up to give the 'Rookie of the Year' award in a few minutes so I'm just trying to look alive.''

''Who won it this year?'' She asked him, not aware of the winner.

''Zane Maloney, he was second in the F3 championship,'' he answered before smirking, ''oh, he finished in front of Ollie.''

Y/N gave him a side-eye, unimpressed by her brother's teasing. ''Yeah, by like 2 points.''

''Maybe you should have dated Zane instead.'' Charles continued, still grinning like an idiot and raising his eyebrow.

''How many points were there between you and Max again?''

''I gotta go now, I think.'' Charles got up from his seat, looking mildly annoyed by his sister's comeback. Meanwhile, Y/N had a satisfied expression on her face knowing she pissed her brother off. ''He's so stupid.''

''You had fun tonight?'' Charles asked her on their drive back to his home in Maranello, his tailored Ferrari jacket draped over her as the coldness of the night settled in.

Y/N nodded her head, a tired smile on her face. ''Yeah, it was funny seeing you on the stage.''

''You kept laughing at me! You know how hard I was trying to keep my laughter in?'' He exclaimed, recalling his sister distracting him while he accepted his award. ''And you were filming it as well!''

''Of course I was,'' Y/N cackled, ''it's for mum.''

''Well, I'm happy you had a good time at least.'' Charles grinned, his tone changing from offended to loving.

The youngest hummed, a comfortable silence falling upon them.

''Are you, uh, gonna be home Monday?'' Y/N interrupted the quietness, a hint of nerves in her voice.

Charles confusingly glanced at his sister. ''Yeah, we're having dinner, haven't we?''

The unexcited sound of his voice made her roll her eyes. ''You sound very excited about, thank you so much, Charles.'' Y/N told him, sarcastically.

''I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like that- I am looking forward to it, it's gonna be great.'' He apologised, his arm going over her shoulder.

Y/N nodded to his words. ''I hope so, Ollie's very nervous about it.''

''Why?''

''Cause he says Arthur has been acting weird with him, and he thinks you and Lorenzo absolutely despise him.'' Ollie's concerns over her brothers had greatly upset her, the sad look on his face when he told her breaking her heart.

Charles felt guilty upon hearing his sister's answer. ''I don't despise him and neither does Enzo, and Arthur is always weird,'' he denied her words, ''I'm sorry that we made him worry about that, that's not our intention- he's a good guy.''

''I don't need everyone to be like best friends, but he shouldn't be shitting his pants any time you guys come near him.'' Y/N joked, although there was a truth to her words.

Her brother squeezed her hand. ''We like him, alright?

''That makes me happy.'' She said, a genuine smile on her face.

''But if he makes you cry-''

''Yeah, you're gonna give him something to cry about- mum already told me.''

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#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x sister!reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x oc #f1 imagines #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic

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rhey-007 · 6 months

Text

Love is a flame that thrives in the darkest corners of our hearts.

Fernando Alonso x goth mommy!reader || 18+

Summary: A Halloween party led Fernando to meet his one and only Morticia.

A/N: So it's the first time I write for Fernando so I might have not caught the essence of him, but I tried my best. Also, I love all the young readers (especially young mommy readers) but I'm kind of bored of them :// And I've never yet encountered an older reader so I decided to make this fic's reader around Nando's age with two sons - a 17 year old and 3 year old (which aren't really relevant here). She's also taller than him (181 cm, something like Lance). I'm also not that deep into the f1 universe yet and I don't know who's friends with who from the drivers so I just picked Carlos and Lando for Fernando's closest paddock friends (correct me pls).

+ The situation is completely made up. And I apologise if the Spanish and German parts are bad 😔🤚

Warnings/Tags: smut, 18+, older female reader, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, older reader, kids

Art to the fic

Wordcount: 4219 (around)

Masterlist

✧༺♥༻✧

Halloween was approaching with huge steps, just as a particular big costume party in Berlin did, to which all the F1 drivers were invited. Everyone was excited, besides the oldest one, driving for the turquoise team – Fernando Alonso.

His indifference was caused by the feeling he was too old for such parties and the fact that he had no one to go with. But after on going persuasion from Lando and Carlos, the poor man gave in and agreed to attend the event.

Although there was another problem – lack of creativity. Fernando had no idea what he should wear and if only he could, he would just throw on the first two things he'd find in his wardrobe. But he couldn’t. No, he had to have some costume. That’s when Norris and Sainz stepped in once again.

„What about Ghostface? "

The youngest asked enthusiasticaly. The three of them sitting in a cafe, drinking their coffees and teas and discussing their costumes. Both of them already knew what they were going to wear but refused to tell for a surprise effect at the party.

„Cliché! "

Carlos responded before he put forward his proposition.

„How about Beetlejuice?”

He asked sipping his chocolate macchiato but earned a displeased look from Lando, who didn’t agree.

„Really? Beetlejuice? Come on! I know his 40 but no one has to know! "

Noriss huffed crossing his arms.

„But Beetlejuice is iconic! "

The two started to argue, making everyone around them pay attention to them. Fernando sighed shaking his head, a little embarrassed by his friends’ behavior.

„If you won't stop arguing I'm not gonna go... "

He hissed trying to calm down the boys, who acted like children.

„Isn’t there a character that doesn’t need a lot of preparation from me? Someone... I don't know... Looking like me? "

Alonso asked after the boys finally stopped their childish quarrel. They both looked at Fernando, then at themselves with mischievous smiles and back at Nando.

„You know... "

Lando started, circling his finger on the wooden table.

„There is that one easy... spooky... Spanish character... "

Carlos continued smiling sweetly at his friend. Alonso quickly understood who they meant, his eyes widening and shook his head disapprovingly.

„No, no, no. I ain't going with Gomez. He makes no sense without Morticia. And you know well I DO NOT have one... "

„It doesn’t matter! I'm sure there's going to be a lot of Morticia's trying to find their Gomez! "

Lando smiled excitedly, he already could see Fernando as the head of Addams family dancing on the dance floor with some beautiful, georgous woman. It was also a great opportunity for the spaniard to find a new lover.

„But it's the easiest character for you! All you need is a striped suit, which I already know where to buy, and some gel for your hair. That's it! "

Lando tried to argument their point as well as he could with a slight help from Carlos.

„He's right. And maybe you’ll be lucky enough to find yourself a chick, finally. We have enough of you grumbling you have enough being alone... „"

The man whispered the last sentence hoping Nando won't hear it, but he did and softly smacked the back of Sainz's head. He did in fact had enough of being alone, as well as seeing all the guys glued to their girlfriends on the paddock, kissing, giggling and being happy. He wanted to puke at the only thought. After an hour of Carlos and Lando stating their pluses for the idea, and Fernando sinking in them, the older man finally but reluctantly agreed.

✧༺♥༻✧

When the time came, Nando put on his Gomez suit – it had not only white stripes but also turquoise ones as well as white – turquoise rose in the chest pocket - that Lando found for him and brushed his hair back with gel, leaving some loose strands for the hairstyle to look better. Carlos and Charles picked him up dressed as Mario and Luigi. Fernando could swear they argued which one would be Mario, and it amused him a little when he saw them.

„Hey man! Where's your Morticia? "

Leclerc teased with a smirk. Fernando just rolled his eyes and kicked Sainz’ sit to make him drive away already.

Soon they arrived to the party, stepping out of the car Norris and Piastri quickly greeted them dressed as Scooby and Shaggy with Lily dressed as Velma. The six of them walked in, loud music filling their ears. They filled one of the booths and immediately ordered drinks. Halloween sangrias, raven coktails and other drinks as quickly appeared on the table, as quickly disappeared from it.

While the guys danced Lando tried his best to find a Morticia for Fernando. He was right, there were a lot of them. All of them looked the same with small alterations to the dress, well they were all the same character after all.

Neither of them grasped Alonso's interest and the man was about to give up when he run into one of them after leaving the bathroom. She was different. Taller, older, mature, more dedicated to the role, more passionate. She caught his eye immediately.

„Oh god, I'm sorry”

He said after bumping into her, before she turned around and took his breath away.

„It's okay liebling~” (darling)

The woman smiled down at Nando, her voice like honey to his ears. The man took a good look at her.

Her slender fingers were wrapped around a glass - he wished they could be wrapped around his neck - pale skin shined in the lights as if she was one of the Cullens - he wondered if it burned in the sun - her eyes so dark he wasn’t sure if they were real, sharp canine teeth he wanted sanked deep in his neck so bad. She seemed like a real life vampire.

„Let me guess... You're a Gomez looking for his Morticia? "

She spoke up, getting him out of trance. A soft blush spread across the man's face, barely visible under the red light he was standing in, and he nodded sheepishly. The woman chuckled warmly, her tone changing from a playful to flirtatious one.

„Well, then I guess you're lucky. You've got yourself an einzigartig one~” (unique)

Stretching her hand towards Fernando, expecting him to kiss it she didn’t have to wait long as he obliged immediately. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of her palm before asking in a gentleman manner.

„Would you like to dance? "

The woman agreed and after finishing her drink they were off to the dance floor.

They had a pretty good time, the woman taught Fernando a few moves, they were chatting throughout and giggling at the ridiculous costumes.

„I have to admit, you're an amazing dancer. You could make it to Dancing with the Stars”

She teased with a gorgeous smile, making Fernando practically melt in her embrace. He held onto her waist tightly as if she was going to run away the moment he'd let go.

But she wouldn’t. She was too mesmerized by the man to do so. Fernando shook his head at her words.

„No, no, cariño. You're the one who can really dance here”

Nando praised her then pressed another kiss to her hand and squeezed it gently. He was such a sweet gentleman it made butterflies fly in her stomach. Soon Alonso took her back to his booth where he realized he didn’t even knew her name.

✧༺♥༻✧

„I'm Y/N”

You said with a smile while shaking the guys’ hands. You’ve managed to catch that they all were F1 drivers and the girl was a girlfriend of one of them.

They were really nice people, aside the fact they were joking about your height difference, but still the only one you were really interested in was Fernando.

He was amazing - charming, handsome, soft, flirty. He had strong arms you wanted wrapped around yourself all the time, gentle hands that made you shiver, his wrinkles made him even more handsome and the shining hazel eyes made you loose yourself in them.

After some time you were left alone with the girl as the boys went to order more drinks.

„Are you as much invested in racing as them?"

You asked Lily and the girl shook her head.

„Not really. I support Oscar as much as I can but I still don’t get some of the things, like penalties, nor the whole hype. But y'know, I try my best”

Nodding your head you reciprocated the smile. You wondered how it was to be an F1 driver's girlfriend. For sure it wasn’t easy, especially because of the media and rumors, but you believed they could overcome it.

„So are you all here because of a race? Or did you just get the invitations to boost the event? "

„Well, there is a race here in a few days, but I wouldn't be surprised if the boostin up was true too! "

You both chuckled amuzed, you had to admit you wouldn’t be surprised either.

You quickly started to like the girl, she was really mature and smart for her age, not like her boyfriend.

Lily liked you too, she enjoyed the youthful vibe you radiated and the fact that Fernando seemed to finally find a woman perfect for himself. She just hoped you wouldn’t be just a one night stand.

„Well, well, well. I see our girls already get along. It's a good sign buddy~”

Piastri teased, nudging Fernando’s side as they came back. The older man rolled his eyes a bit annoyed before sitting down beside you and handing you your black magic margarita.

You took it after a quick ‘thanks' escaped your lips and took a sip, meanwhile your free hand made it's way to his lap to sooth it and signal everything's okay and there was no need to be annoyed. Nando relaxed under your touch and took your hand in his, interwining fingers together.

You continued your chat with Lily, from time to time joining the men's conversation. You really enjoyed their company.

✧༺♥༻✧

When the night passed you were finally left alone with Nando. Your legs layed on top of his, his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you close while your hand toyed with the hem of his jacket.

You both were a little tipsy, but sober enough to notice the sexual tension.

„My chauffeur will be here soon, thought we could get out of here and have some more fun~”

You purred into his ear. Feeling his hand squeeze your hip afterwards was enough for you to know that he was more than keen on it.

When your chauffeur arrived you left the bar and quickly hopped into your 50s Cadillac Hearse. The man completely forgot that someone might have seen you and take photos, he was too occupied by you.

Fernando’s lips immediately attacked yours the moment he closed the door. You were devoured into the passionate kiss and didn’t even notice the man’s hands starting to roam your body.

They were warm, burning in contrast to your freezing ones. When you burried them under Nando's shirt you could feel him shiver but soon he relaxed.

The drive to your small ghotic castle in Zehlendorf took around 30 minutes, but felt like 5 as you were drowned in your dirty ministrations.

Good thing the window to the front of the car was closed, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to do that. It was nothing much sexual, just kiss by kiss while your hands explored each others’ body respectfully.

You belived Fernando saved his – what Lando and Sainz called – freaky side for while you were in the bedroom and you didn’t want to rush anything, it was perfect as it was.

The man pulled you out of the car when it stopped, he didn’t bother to look at the facility as he carried you bridal style to the door. Your butler opened it and instructed Alonso to your bedroom where he quickly took you and gently settled on the bed.

You pulled him into another searing kiss while fiddling with the buttons of his jacket. The man took it off after you slowly and playfully unbuttoned it, while not breaking eye contact, and tossed it to the floor.

Next was your black fur. His shirt. Your gorset. Bit by bit you undressed each other. You appreciated how gentle he was with your garments, he figured they were expensive and he also liked them too much to ruin them.

Once you finally layed naked underneeth him he examined you in a lustful but also admiring way.

Your breasts were rather small - but he didn’t mind, stretch marks graced your lower belly, hips and thighs - he already knew he was going to follow the patterns with his fingers afterwards while softly tickling you, he could aslo see your ribs – barely but still – and he knew he would have to be careful with you. You were even more thin than he thought, almost slander like, but he liked that.

You were a change from all the younger, tanned, almost everywhere full woman he usually hooked up with, and it was a nice change.

You also were able to survey him better. He was even better built than you imagined, his tanned skin looked like caramel compared to your almost ghostish one, and the beautfiul samurai tattoo made you gasp when you noticed it in a mirror behind.

Also his ass cheeks... They were bigger than yours and you felt kind of jelous, in a funny way.

„Hermosa... perfecta... asombrosa... “ (beautiful, perfect, breathtaking)

He praised, his lips slowly making their way down your cold body.

“Y apuesto inteligente” (And I bet intelligent)

Fernando stopped just before your womanhood and said with a smirk painted on his face, his eyes piercing yours. His words were like spells, making your body shrink under his and warmth spread across it.

“Fernie...”

You breathed out, begging him to go lower which he obliged right away. It felt like bliss when he finally reached your rose, slowly licking it from the very bottom up to your sensitive bud, before starting to slowly devour it.

Saying he was skilled was an understatement, he was an expert. He was nothing like your ex-husband, who just used you for his own pleasure.

No. For Fernando your pleasure was a priority, making you enjoy your time with him was numero uno on his to do list for the rest of the night, and you didn’t complain.

When you were wet enough the man brought one of his fingers up to your entrance, touching it slightly while his eyes averted to yours, an asking expression on his face.

He didn’t have to say anything for you to nodd your head eagerly. After that he pushed his digit inside slowly, his eyes not leaving your face searching for any sign of discomfort. But there was none, so after a few thrusts that made you moan his name in such a beautiful way, he pushed another one and went a little bit faster.

The pace was neither painfully fast nor boringly slow, it was just perfect – his fingers hitting all the juicy spots and making lewd noises each time they pulled out and reentered you - enough for you to come undone in a short period of time.

Your hand gripped his brown locks while you came on his face. Nando tried his best to ride you through your high - his lips joining his fingers - then clean you the best he could.

Your heavy breaths were interrupted by his face suddenly appearing in front of yours. A huge grin graced it - you could tell he was proud with himself and his actions – and your juices were spread across his lips and beard.

You giggled a little at his puppy like behaviour, you could swear if he had a tail it would’ve been wagging like craz in that moment. You’ve managed to grab a tissue from your nightstand then clean his face.

“Es war wundervoll” (it was amazing)

You praised him with a smile while ruffling his hair.

“It wasn’t the end”

The man said before pressing his lips against yours. This time the kiss was more hungry and lustful than soft as the ones before, but you didn’t mind.

His palms toyed with your breasts, they fit in them perfectly making Nando groan satisfyingly. He kept teasing you until you couldn’t take it anymore and moaned out.

„Nando please... I need you... I need you inside of me liebling...” (darling)

You didn’t have to repeat yourself. The man grabbed your hand and run it gently through your sore core to gather your juices, then wrapped it around his member, giving it a few pumps before aligning with your hole.

He interwined your fingers together and slowly pushed inside, the stretch he gave you burned a little but soon was a delight.

After pushing almost all the way in Nando let you adjust, his free hand soothing your cheek as he observed your face shine in pleasure.

“Maravilloso” (wonderfull)

A whisper escaped his lips and just then did he start to move. His movement was slow but deep, his member burrying deep inside of you with every thrust.

“Tan bueno...” (So good)

Fernando moaned into your ear then hid his face in the crook of your neck, where he nibbled at your skin and left a few hickeys along with wet kisses.

His movements became more and more erratic with every push and pull as he lost himself in the feeling of you. He loved the way you clenched around him every time he hit the A spot, as much as he loved the challange to find your G spot to grant you ultimate pleasure.

You wrapped your free hand around the man, long, red nails scratching his skin gently and leaving soft red marks.

You couldn’t remember when was the last time you had such an amzing sex. Maybe because after your husband you opted for younger men, neither able to satisfy you.

But Fernando? He was your age and knew well how to satisfy a woman. You felt like a queen while in his embrace, his priority to make you feel good amazed you and sent a thrill down your spine.

Both your legs were wrapped around him too, trying to pull him even closer to yourself. A smirk appeared on his face at your actions and he pulled it away from your neck to look at you.

“Necesitada~”(needy)

The man teased, one of his hands finding it’s way to your breast to fiddle with your hard nipple. It earned a loud moan out of you, so loud he feared someone could hear you two, but soon the thought left his head when you started to breathe rapidly.

You were close to your orgasm, which meant he could finally let himself go and make his movements faster and sloppier.

Grunts, pants and moans filled the room as both of you reached your highs, the man pulled out before cumming which you really appreciated.

Fernando collapsed on top of you as you both breathed heavily, yours hampered by his weight.

“Fernie liebling... I can’t breath...”

You mumbled kissing the top of his head, a chuckle escaping your lips when he shot up, a worried expression on his face.

„I-I’m so sorry cariño. Are you okay?”

He asked and cleaned you from his seed. His hands soothing your rib cage gently, from time to time brushing against your breasts as he looked down at you, eyes full of worry and brows furrowed.

„Nein... I’m great” (No)

You smiled brightly and the man sighed in relief. He flopped down beside you and pulled you close then covered your bodies with your cashmere blanket.

Just as he predicted his hands immediately wandered to your hips, drawing your stretch mark patters, while you layed your head on top of his chest and listened to his heart beat.

If only you could you would have gone another round, this time you on top and in control as you usually would, but you were too tired to even think about this.

„Next time I'm in charge”

You murmured into his chest, earning a quiet, surprised gasp. He didn’t question your words though, he just enjoyed the fact you wanted there to be a next time.

The rest of the night you’ve spent in each others’ embraces, whispering sweet nothings and drawing patterns on each other’s bodies until you fell asleep.

✧༺♥༻✧

Sun peaked from between the black, floor length curtains into the dark room, reaching his skin and burning his eyes.

The man grumbled a little before finally waking up from the deep sleep. Fernando sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes then looked around the room.

„Where the hell am I?...”

He questioned confused. He didn’t bother to check his surroundings the night before and now he wondered if he didn’t get abducted.

The walls of your bedroom were burgundy red with black stripes, a black chandelier hanged from the ceiling as well as black canopy above the bed.

The bed was huge, in the same colors as the walls and everything else in the room. It felt like straight out of vampire novels.

Quickly putting on his clothes, he almost tripped and fell down the stairs, his bum actually hitting the last step at the very bottom - as his head was still heavy - made the people gathered in the kitchen check what was going on.

„Mama! Dieser Wichser ist endlich aufgewacht!“ (Mom! That motherfucker has finally woke up!)

„Klaus! Pass auf was du sagst!” (Klaus! Watch your mouth!)

Soon Nando felt the familiar cold hands grip his arm and help get up.

„Are you okay?

The woman asked, her hands soothing his cheeks worriedly. He leaned into her touch and noddded with lidded eyes.

„Oh mi amor, you scared me”

She continued while leading him to the kitchen and sat him down by the table.

„Here, this will wake you up”

A cup of dark liquid and a pill appeared in front of him, he figured it was coffe and hangover pills. A single sip helped him regain his mind.

The first face he met after fully opening his eyes was of a small kid’s, brightly smiling at him. The boy waved his hand enthusiastically when he noticed Fernando’s soft smile.

The man had to quickly take the pill before the boy could reach it then ruffled his hair gently, earning a giggle and a warm look from his mother.

„Good morning~”

You purred running your hand through the spaniard’s hair while his arm wrapped round your waist pulling you close.

„Buenos dias, cariño” (Good morning)

He kissed your hand then his head snapped to your older son who let out a sound of disgust.

The boy looked nothing like you aside the fact that he was a giant as well. He had blonde locks covering his forehead, green hooded eyes and tanned skin. He could not believe he was your son.

The younger one, on the other hand, was more similar to you – with dark hair and eyes, only with a tanned skin like Klaus.

„Those are my sons – Klaus and little Benny”

You explained while giving Fernando a plate full of food.

„They just came back from my brother”

You quickly added, to dispel his thoughts they could hear you two the previosu night. The man sighed relieved and started to eat, from time to time looking at your sons and earning death stares from Klaus.

He didn’t mind you had kids, but started to worry he was just a one night stand before your husband comes back.

Although if that was the case you wouldn’t let him sleep as long as he wanted, feed him and let him meet your children. Nando had no idea what to think anymore, he didn’t want your ‘realtionship’ to end after one night.

Soon a doorbell disturbed his thoughts. A doorbell that was about to start chaos. You left the boys alone to open it and you didn’t manage to say anything before Lando and Carlos burst in.

“Fernando! Where the hell are ya?!”

He could hear their scared voices from the kitchen and chuckled a little. They run into the kitchen after you instrcuted them and sighed.

“God you’re alright! Knew we shouldn’t have left you alone. No offense Y/N. Your manager is going to kill ALL THREE OF US if you won’t be at the track in an hour! He’s been calling you all day but you left your phone in the club!”

Lando blurted out on one breath while Carlos picked the spaniard up and proceeded to push him out of the building. You’ve managed to catch them before they got inside their car and gave Fernando your business card along with a chaste kiss.

“Call me!”

You waved your hand goodbye as you watched them drive away, standing in front of your black castle in nothing more than your long, pitch black robe with feathers and full of hope that he would call.

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lhuxlux · 7 months

Text

Meeting the right people in the wrong time, unfortunately. It happens a lot, that's just how life is. They were happy together as a couple, but they had flaws and they couldn't learn from them and grow as people. Things could have been better, according to Betty. But there are no regrets.

I think it was a beautiful moment because it's true things can always be better once you realize your mistakes and have a happier outcome for the two of them, but that doesn't mean they were miserable. That's just how we learn things. And they learned they had different points of view and their own flaws, which made the relationship not as equal as they thought.

In Adventure Time, we see Betty finally realizing her own mistake, all the things she has done for Simon, she had to neglect her own needs. No one forced her to do that, it was her own decision. Simon was repeating Betty's mistakes in Fionna and Cake, he became obsessed with the idea of having her back. And I think Betty making Simon realize his flaw was cute.

She didn't hate him, she never blamed him, because she understood it was just an honest mistake and he didn't realize until he had to choose between two options in the book he was reading with Beth.

The book itself is a nice metaphor about life choices, there are no do-overs, choices aren't inherently good or bad, but you have to face the consequences later on, maybe you dislike the lack of options to choose from if you aren't careful. Beth said it clear, maybe if Simon paid attention to Nova (Betty's representation) and not only Casper (Simon's representation), things would have been different and he could have had more choices.

But now he cannot hold onto the past. He needs to live, and not for Betty's sake. She didn't want that when she finally managed to undo the crown's wish. Betty wanted to do that because she felt like it wasn't ok leaving Simon cursed.

The bus scene is so powerful, because it shows you the better outcome for the two of them (but maybe not for characters Simon finds later on like Marceline), but he knows it didn't happen like that and there are no do-overs. That's when Betty says her last words, showing no regret and gratitude to Simon for being in her life. Simon doesn't get on the bus, they don't share the same objectives anymore, and they have to take different paths. It was a beautiful goodbye. Some people make us happy when they appear in our lives, but they aren't meant to be in our lives forever.

#simon petrikov #betty grof #adventure time #fionna and cake #golbetty #betty golb #petrigrof

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talaok · 7 months

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ok hear me out!!!!! pedro and y/n are super good friends (but they secretly love each other) and y/n has a cute 3 year old daughter that’s obsessed with pedro and for halloween she asks him to dress up as mando and she will be grogu and they act like father and daughter all the time and y/n almost burst seeing them looking so cute together and pedro never thought about having kids but he loves y/n daughter so much and is so over protective with both of them and idk pedro and y/n end up getting together and they are a beautiful family, i just love picturing dad!pedro wearing cute halloween costumes with his kids 😭 i love being delusional

pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

a/n: this is the cutest effing thing that anyone has ever thought of ohmygod

"Sure"

What? That was it? He didn't need any convincing?

"I-I'm sorry what?"

He smiled, watching your face frown in puzzlement

"Of course I'll dress up for Halloween if that'll make Maya happy"

"As the Mandalorian?" you asked, just to make sure he understood what he was agreeing to

"as the Mandalorian" he nodded

"And she'll dress as baby Yoda"

"Grogu,"

"What?"

"It's Grogu, not baby Yoda"

You didn't know if you wanted to roll your eyes or laugh.

"you're incredible you know that?" you chuckled, throwing your arms around his neck to hug him "She's gonna be so happy"

"Incredible, huh? I like the sound of that" he chuckled as he hugged you back

"shut up" you laughed, soaking in his scent and warmth for a moment "Thank you"

__ __ __

Your feet were kind of hurting, and Maya had gathered enough candies to feed an army, but she was so happy and excited that you didn't have it in you to tell her it was time to go home.

The neighborhood was filled with kids dressed up as every type of monster laughing and running around, and Maya, Maya was over the moon.

She looked so incredibly cute in her costume, and the way she insisted on holding Pedro's hand every living moment just made it all the more heartwarming.

And Pedro... Pedro was more than happy to comply.

He'd been making her laugh and smile the whole night, going with it every time she wanted him to say his character's lines or reenact a scene in the middle of the road.

You had spent the whole night watching them, and with every gesture, your heart warmed and your eyes threatened to spill.

Now maybe you were being dramatic, but there just was something about the image that was making you feel all sorts of things, half of which you couldn't even name.

And you weren't the only one, because Pedro was having a realization of his own. He always knew he loved you and your daughter incredibly, but now... now a deeper feeling was igniting in his stomach, one that didn't want this night to end, that maybe, just maybe wanted this to be the rest of his life.

"Aren't you just the cutest little monster?" the old lady at the door cried as soon as Maya stepped closer.

"'m not a monster!" She protested, clearly not happy about it "I'm Grogu, and this is my dad, Mando" she explained, pointing at Pedro.

And he knew she just meant in the show, just like you did, but hearing that word come out of her mouth so easily made time stand still for a moment.

"Oh I'm sorry" the lady laughed sweetly "Here, let me apologize with some candy"

"yes please!" Maya smiled, forgetting all about the lady's mistake as her bucket filled once again

"thank you ma'am, have a good night," she recited as you'd taught her.

"have a good night sweetie" the lady smiled, watching her and Pedro walk away.

"I'm sorry about... that" an awkward chuckle left your lips "She just gets very defensive about her costume"

"Oh don't worry" The lady's eyes crinkled as she drew a reassuring smile "She's a nice kid" she said, finding your eyes after a moment of silence "You're a really beautiful family"

"oh-" you stopped, because as you were about to correct her, you realized... you didn't really want to,

"t-thank you" you nodded "Have a good night"

Your head was spinning, and your heart was racing and-

"Are you ok?" Pedro's hazel eyes looked concerned, and it took you a moment to understand he was talking to you.

"Y-yeah, it's nothing" you tried your best to smile

"Are you sure?" he asked "Maybe we should sit down a minute"

"I'm fine Pedro" you let out a breathy chuckle "I promise"

"I can hold your bag if you want" he offered, not ready to give up just yet.

"Pedro..." you only raised an eyebrow

"alright, fine" he held his hands up in surrender "I give up"

But before you had time to say anything else, Maya was already dragging him to another house.

It was only ten minutes later that he noticed something change in her, she wasn't talking as much, and her eyes were getting all droopy, and as a big yawn left her mouth, he smiled to himself.

She was finally tired.

"You sleepy sweetheart?" he asked, stopping to look down at her.

"a little" she murmured.

"oh baby" you pouted, "you wanna head back home?"

"mh-mh" she nodded

"c'mon let's go then" you gestured,

But for some reason, she stayed exactly where she was.

"you don't feel like walking anymore?" Pedro asked, to which Maya slowly shook her head.

"I can carry you if you want"

It was like a match had lighted inside her eyes from how much they sparked.

"if that's ok" he said, turning to you

"of course" you nodded, watching as your daughter wrapped her tiny body around Pedro's the moment he picked her up.

It was a ten-minute walk back to your house, and in those ten minutes, two things happened:

Maya fell asleep, softly snoring into Pedro's ear and making both of you laugh

Every doubt Pedro had in his mind, dissipated into thin air.

He wanted this.

He wanted you, he wanted to be there for Maya, he wanted to wake up in the morning and make both of you breakfast, he wanted to come home to a full house, and even if he'd never really thought about having children, now it seemed like the easiest decision ever.

He'd always loved you, and he'd always loved helping you out with Maya ever since she was born, but for some reason, maybe fear, maybe cowardice, he'd never told you, but now... now for some reason it felt like all the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, like he had finally gotten it, and as terrifying as it was, he needed to tell you.

Which is why, after you had put Maya to sleep and joined him on the couch, he said:

"I had a lot of fun tonight"

You laughed at that for some reason "You don't have to lie, Pedro, I know Maya can be a handful sometimes"

"No, No I'm serious" he insisted "I love spending time with her... and with you of course"

"oh" you breathed, surprised "Well I'm glad" you smiled "and for the record, I like spending time with you too, and so does Maya"

His lips twitched into a big smile then, as some of his anxiety melted away.

"So I- uhm" he cleared his throat, and you couldn't help but frown at his sudden change in demeanor.

Why did he look so... scared?

"I wanted to tell you something" he finally spoke

"you're scaring me Pedro" you attempted a half-laugh

"N-no it's nothing bad" he reassured you "or at least I hope"

"Ok..." your frown only deepened "What is it?"

You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed thickly.

"Well the thing is that..." he murmured, his trembling eyes looking into yours as he took the longest pause known to mankind "that I love you y/n"

there, it was out. No turning back now.

"I felt this way for a really long time," he said "Well since before Maya was born, but... you know, you were with-" he stopped himself, not able to say that piece of shit's name "and then when she was born your life was already hard and I didn't want to give you one more thing to think about, or maybe the truth is just that I was terrified of losing you" he laughed softly "and I still am, to be honest" he confessed "but I just wanted you to know now, because y/n I really do" he promised, gingerly taking your hand in his as your eyes watered "I love you, and I love Maya, and-and I- I understand that it's difficult and it's fine if you don't feel the same way... but I'd really love for us to be a family,"

It was your turn to speak, but it took you a while to remember how.

"I-" you sniffled as tears fell from your eyes "of course I love you too Pedro" A laugh bubbled inside your chest "B-but- Are you sure you want to do this?" you had to make sure "Taking care of Maya it's not always easy, or pleasant, and it's not a part-time thing, it's all day, every day" you spoke "So before you make any decisions I just think you should consider that"

He looked at you like you'd just explained to him the hardest physics theory to ever exist.

"Y/n" he couldn't help but smile "I know all that, and I know that I don't fully understand what it means yet, but I promise you that I'll do everything I can, that I'll try as hard as I can, that when I say I want this, I mean it"

A wide smile pulled at your lips as you leaned closer

"you sure?"

"one thousand percent" he promised "I love you y/n"

And that's all you needed before you finally let your lips meet with his, tasting all of him for the first time, and melting in his arms like ice on a summer day.

"I love you too Ped-"

But just as you were speaking, a softer, smaller voice caught your attention.

"Mommy?"

You let out a small chuckle before turning towards Maya, who was standing in the hallway to the living room in her pjs, hugging Berry, her teddy bear.

"what is it pumpkin?"

"I had a bad dream" she murmured, looking exhausted.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry" you cooed, "you want to come here on the couch with us for a little while?"

She complied immediately, stumbling towards you, until she was close enough for you to hoist her up and next to you.

"there" you murmured, as she settled right against your side "feel better?"

"mh-mh" she nodded, her eyes already closing

"it was just a dream baby, it's not real" you murmured, petting her hair as she clung to your arm "I'm here now"

And all Pedro could do, was watch mesmerized, as he dreamed of when he too, was gonna be able to do that.

"see" you whispered after Maya's soft snores started filling the room "This is what I was talking about. You still sure you want this?"

His lips pulled into a soft smile as he answered.

"Y/n" he murmured, "I think it's all I ever wanted"

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kiwisbell · 8 months

Text

Told Before and Told Again [din djarin]

One time you saved Din, and one time he saved you.

series masterlist

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: established relationship, dubious consent due to sex pollen, unprotected piv (no following the leader), the helmet stays on, actually everything stays on, but reader gets nakey, animal handler!reader, grogu being a good kid, protective din, dirty talk, fuck or die, creampie, fingering, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, thighplate riding, masturbation, top din, soft din, din fucking the babysitter, extreme amounts of fluff, allusions to animal abuse, din djarin being actually the biggest mess to ever inhabit the galaxy, happy family, din is in love, mando'a pet names

word count: ~ 7k

this is installment one of my din djarin series entitled told before and told again. please enjoy din being very bad at his job, a mysterious pouch of pink powder, and din coming to your rescue. emphasis on coming.

Told Before and Told Again

You’re getting sick of staring apprehensively into pitch-black tunnels, waiting for your warrior to emerge from the darkness.

Next to you, a worried gurgle emanates from the floating pod. You press your lips together. “Yeah. I know, sweet one. He’s going to be okay.”

He grumbles his disagreement, reaching out a three-fingered hand toward you. You shuffle closer to him and let him clutch your index finger. “How long has it been?” you ask him. “It can’t have been that long. Right?”

Lothal is about as Outer Rim as you can get. It's a pretty planet, when you aren't trudging through a wind-blown desert to find the mountains. Not that the mountains were hard to find: they erupt from the earth in the west, snow-capped and bridged by rocky plains. The air is temperate, but you shiver, waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

Never get brave for me. Understood?

Something clatters to the slick, rocky ground and lands on your foot. “Ow,” you gasp, picking up the blaster and pinning Grogu with a stare. He stares back, owlish and yet somehow stern. “You know I can’t shoot this for the life of me.”

“You're holding that thing like you want to choke it out.”

You huffed, trying to loosen your grip around the blaster. “Like this?”

“You're not supposed to be scared of the weapon you're holding.”

“Unbelievable.” You closed one eye to home in on the target: the severed head of his latest bounty, a raper and pirate. “My last boss never micromanaged this much.”

The air behind you shifted. A rough, gloved hand slipped around your waist and pressed on your belly. It was an adjustment of your posture, straightening your spine, but you knew, and he knew, that he had pulled you just a little bit closer to him. His voice, modulated and raspy in your ear, knocked your knees together. “I'm not your boss. Open your eye.”

“What if it kicks back?”

“It won’t. It’s a blaster.”

“What if they take it from me?”

He covered your hand with his, shifting your fingers to tighten around the grip. “Hold onto it,” he said plainly.

You rolled your eyes and levelled the weapon at the raper’s head. The shot missed by a foot. “Better,” he said after a beat.

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“My job is to keep you safe,” he said, “not play nice. Now try again.” He placed his hand on your lower back, tightening your posture, his armour cold on the back of your thigh through the thin material of your dress. You held your breath to keep from visibly trembling against him, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. “You’re allowed to breathe.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Good. You should never be relaxed in a fight.” He lifted your elbow slightly. “Shoot.”

“You just said I was allowed to breathe. Now I can't relax.”

“They're not the same thing, and you're stalling. Don't be difficult.”

You fired a shot at the severed head, and it blew past the target by a wider margin than the last one. You huffed, “Some people aren't meant to fight, you know.”

You sensed that he was amused. “And what were you meant to do?”

“Look pretty. Give moral support.”

The noise that rumbled out of his modulator definitely seemed amused. “Then I’ll be the fighter. You just need to know the right time to shoot.”

You turned in his grasp, forgetting wholly that you were holding a blaster. “And what if you aren’t there?”

A glimmer of sunlight blinded you as his visor shifted, tilting downward. “I’ll be there.”

You relented, firing another shot, then two, three, at the pirate’s head. Only the second one managed to graze the greasy, wily strips of hair that sprouted from its ugly head. When it was over, you slumped, pouting, against your firm warrior.

“This is hopeless,” you told him.

For a moment, he said nothing, and you wondered if he'd finally snapped with impatience.

“You are, you know,” he said.

“What?”

“Pretty.” He nudged your finger back onto the trigger. “Now go on, dangerous girl. You're not done until I say you are.”

You try to peer into the tunnel but it’s so shrouded in darkness you would have to peel it aside like a curtain. When you take a step forward, the cave wails. Or, more accurately, someone inside the cave wails, howling with pain. It’s not your Mandalorian’s voice, which makes your body deflate. “See?” you say to Grogu. “He’s fine.”

But a roar erupts from the depths of the cave, followed by the telltale echo of your warrior’s pained groan, and you decide that it’s best to intervene. You’ll chew him out later. “Stay behind me, cyare,” you tell Grogu. He gurgles worriedly, but you grip the blaster firmly in your hand and press your back to the wall of the cave.

“This is stupid,” you tell yourself. “This is very… very stupid.” You skirt along the wall, its jagged rocks catching the fabric of your shirt as you keep your blaster up near your shoulder, pointed away from your body.

Never point the bad end toward you.

Don’t patronise me. I’m holding a deadly weapon.

Well, I’m holding a dozen. And I’d prefer if you kept your face.

My pretty face?

Shoot properly and I’ll tell you.

“Mando?” you call out, cursing the way your voice trembles. You cannot call him by his real name while he pursues a bounty. You cannot give them a weapon to wield against him.

No one answers your call. You don’t particularly expect him to, but it still makes your stomach plummet as you navigate the darkness until the light is barely a pinprick in the direction you came. Grogu coos to signal that he is still floating behind you, but you lift your forearm and press a button to close the roof over his pod. You hear a faint clank as he pounds a fist against the door, but you will risk the consequences of his tantrum when this is over. You will not risk his life.

You come to a fork in the cave, but another deafening roar makes the decision for you. You leap to the other side of the cave and keep your back flush to the damp, cool walls as you shuffle past the narrow opening. Grogu’s pod scrapes along both sides as it floats along, making you grimace. Another cry from the creature in the depths of the cave, something mammalian, high-pitched, screeching. It grates your ears and makes you wince as it gets undeniably closer.

This is so stupid. For some reason, the acknowledgement of it makes you feel better.

The cave yawns into a wide opening—one that drops precariously into blackness after two steps. You gasp, jumping backward to avoid toppling over the edge. It seems deliberate, this pit: you can see a platform skirting around the gaping width of it, and your stomach churns as you peer into its depths. You fumble for a match and strike it against the wall. When it falls, it bounces off another wall and illuminates that it's really not all that deep…

But there's something curled up inside, and it's covering the body of your Mandalorian.

Behind you, Grogu’s pod wedges itself into the narrow passageway. You keep your body square in front of him. All you glimpse, before the match bounces against the thing’s coiled horns and fizzles out, is a pair of black, glowing eyes. Covered in coarse black fur, breathing like a charging rancor through its large nostrils. It's got four legs and it's purposefully pinning the Mandalorian down on the floor of the pit with one wolf-like paw. You wonder how it even managed to squeeze inside this cave and squeeze back out to hunt its food. When you strike another match and catch a pair of legs out of the corner of your eye, you understand.

The legs connect to the immobile body of the Lothalian bounty you'd come all the way to this planet for. You aren't sure if he's dead, but it doesn't matter. He keeps this creature as a pet, and it's got your warrior in its clutches.

“Mando,” you hiss. It's a complete wager: one that doesn't pay off. He’s clearly unconscious, and the terror of it throbs in your chest. The creature’s head tilts in your direction.

Shit.

You think back to your days as an animal handler. The first day a Mandalorian warrior appeared on the doorstep of your facility. Your first day of adventure.

“I need a babysitter.”

You looked up from your embroidery—you wanted to hang it up inside your newest ward’s cage; he was a runt-of-the-litter loth cat who didn’t know any better, but you wanted to make it special for him—and peered around your boss, who was speaking with a man dressed in silver armour.

You don’t remember thinking much of him. You do remember looking down at his feet and gushing over the tiny, green, big-eared thing at his feet. You fell over yourself to introduce yourself to the little guy before you even looked up at the warrior. Your boss had been humiliated (“That is a Mandalorian ,” he later scolded you with a firm grip on your ear), but you think it’s exactly why the Mandalorian hired you.

“I can pay you well. Just… protect him with your life.”

The little green thing was nestled in the crook of your arm, cooing happily and twisting your hair around his three fingers. You looked up at the masked warrior and said, “I don’t care how much you can pay. I’ll keep him safe all the same.”

To your credit, you did. Over and over again.

You don’t remember how or when your job description began to include keeping his father safe, too.

You spent your days handling small creatures left out on the street. You don’t know how to handle this gargantuan, snarling beast. Skirting around the pit in the ground, you point your blaster at the monster’s head. It growls, lashing out with one giant paw, and you yelp, jumping backward and pressing yourself up against the wall. It backs away when you turn the blaster away from its face.

You take in your surroundings. The Mandalorian’s blaster, smashed to pieces in the pit with him. The Lothalian bounty does not carry a blaster, but you spot a plasma rod strapped to his belt. It’s the sort of tool an animal handler recognises: the length of a forearm, white as the heat of a flame, the hilt cold steel, built for a strong grip. It’s similar to an Imperial baton, but you could pick this weapon out anywhere. You were used to confiscating them from clients.

The realisation sparks to life in your head. You lean down and set the blaster on the ground. Confirming your suspicions, the creature’s gaze follows it.

There’s a large rock nearby, so you pick it up and begin to smash the pieces to shrapnel. The beast watches you all the while until the job is complete, and your hands lifts into the air to show it that you’re unarmed.

It shifts off the Mandalorian as it rises to all four feet and approaches you. But you aren’t afraid when it sniffs your hands. “Hello,” you say softly.

It snorts, the smell of its breath like death in your nostrils. “That’s my friend you’ve got there.” You indicate with your head the Mandalorian, stirring slightly out of unconsciousness. You doub the creature understands you, but you keep talking. “If we take your master away and let you free, will that make you happy?”

The beast snorts again, and there’s some spittle on your clothes, but you smile. “That would make me happy, too.”

In the pit, the Mandalorian awakens with a star, rolling over onto his back and pointing the flamethrower on his vambrace at the beast. “Stop!” you cry, your hands flinging out. “Don’t hurt it!”

“Don’t hurt—” The helmet turns to look your way. “What?”

“We are going to take our bounty, and we’re going to free this creature.” You pin your warrior with a glare. “Got it?”

For a moment, he says nothing. The beast sits back on its haunches and waits patiently. Finally, the Mandalorian scrambles to his feet and lifts himself out of the pit. The first thing he does is point his finger in your direction. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Just because he’s in a grumpy mood, you let him drag the unconscious Lothalian out of the cave. He takes a different route than you did, though: it’s much larger, big enough to fit the beast if it were to squeeze through. If you had only taken a left, you would have had a much more pleasant journey into the cave.

“Come on,” grunts the Mandalorian, pulling the Lothalian by the ankles.

You shake your head. “I won’t leave it. It might think I’m abandoning it.”

His helmet levels you with what you guess is an incisive glare. “You—”

He stops himself and seems to decide it isn’t worth it. Next to you, Grogu opens his pod and gurgles curiously at the creature. The beast lumbers out of the pit once his master disappears and sniffs your fingers some more. “Look at that,” you coo at your green companion. “Our new friend.”

Grogu lifts his head toward the entrance of the cave and you can feel the Mandalorian’s presence behind you before you hear his voice.

“C’mon. Time to go.”

The beast follows dutifully as you depart, though it struggles to fit its great width through the cavern passageway. Once you see light again, you're so blinded by the shift that you trip over a rock while shielding your eyes. A firm gloves hand steadies you at your lower back.

Once your eyes adjust, you find yourself staring up into those giant black gems in the beast’s head. For good measure, it stomps over to its Lothalian master and gives him a firm kick in the ribs with its paw. While the Mandalorian manhandles the bounty onto the Crest over his shoulder, you turn to the beast. It bends its head low to your face and nuzzles as gently as it can against your cheek. Grogu coos next to you, and the beast turns to lumber back down the cliffs.

You follow the Mandalorian into the ship and find him already in the cockpit, polishing some blood off his pauldron.

“Are you hurt?” you ask him.

“No,” he says.

With that settled, you stalk toward your warrior. “You’re a complete and total mess.”

He cocks his head to the side. A challenge. Oh, you’re willing to challenge him right back. Your ears are burning and your chest is heaving.

“You're clumsy.” To punctuate your point, you poke him in the chest. “You're a great warrior in an ancient line of great warriors, and you're clumsy. Why do you have to be so… so… ugh!”

You can only throw yourself against him and wrap your arms around his neck. It's metal and cloth, cold and smooth, and the faint grunt of surprise you can hear from the helmet. His arms steady you, gloved fingers on your back, cradling your head, a warm assurance. He’s alive. He’s a moron, but he’s alive.

“Look at me.”

He gently guides you away from him. You feel rough, cracked leather swipe away a frustrated tear from your cheek. “Dangerous girl,” he says, whisper-quiet. “I’ve told you to never get brave for me.”

“It wasn’t brave,” you say firmly. “That Lothalian was just a coward. He enslaved that poor creature. You were too big and dumb and impulsive to stop and think that it might not be fond of plasma.” Your fingertip comes to rest on the barrel of his blaster. “It’s a damn good thing you have me, Din Djarin.”

His thumb and forefinger hold your chin in place, looking up at him. “I know that. Next time—” He slips a hand around your waist and digs each finger against a rib. He knows every breakable part of a body; you wonder if he finds those parts of you on instinct. “I’ll send you in first.”

When you both strap yourselves into your seats and he begins to flick switches, you find you aren’t quite finished.

“Five minutes.”

He pauses with his finger on a switch, his helmet turning to the side. “What?”

“Five minutes, Din. I left you alone for five minutes. How can you manage to get your life so fantastically endangered in five minutes?”

He swivels in his chair and folds his arms over his broad chest. “Are you hurt?”

You purse your lips. “No.”

“Then everything’s fine.” And he swivels back around. Neither of you speak again until the ship lands.

“No.”

“I haven’t even—”

“But you’re about to, and the answer is no.”

“How do you know—”

“Because I know you. You stay.”

“I’m not your dog, Din.”

“No. A dog listens.”

“Oh, my sweet, charming warrior. Remind me again why I like you?”

“I’ll let you know when I find out.”

The bounty was already dead when Din finally managed to track him down on some backwater skug hole in the Otomok system. It took a day of tracking the fob through a waterlogged forest. The bounty is propped up against a tree. Something seemed to have struck him like a sickness: he's human, but a shadow of one, sallow and ashen and stiff as bone. Din curses, checking the bounty’s pockets for anything of use. All he can find is a small pouch, one Din doesn't open. He pockets it himself and leaves the body behind.

You're dozing in the cockpit when he returns, Grogu tucked away in his compartment. Din watches you for a moment. You're peaceful when you sleep, so unlike the whirlwind he's come to know. Your smiles and your zeal and your beauty: it all knocks him off-kilter. It's distracting. It's always been.

Your heart is something he sometimes has trouble contending with. It's so big. It spills through his fingers. He cannot comprehend how a soul like you can settle for blood and space and silence. Selfishness defies the Creed, but it is this one thing that he indulges in: you.

You stir, mumbling, your eyes peeling open. His footsteps are quiet, but you sense him nonetheless. Your sweet voice makes his name sound like something to be loved.

“Din?” You rub the heel of your palm into your eye. “‘Dyougetthebounty?”

He shakes his head and produces the pouch from his pocket. “Just this. Bounty was dead.”

You frown, taking the pouch and squishing the contents around over the canvas. “Feels like powder. Was he a spice runner?”

“Gambler,” corrects Din. Your fingers begin to untie the twine that keeps the pouch closed, and his gut rolls with instinct. “Don’t—”

But there’s a small opening at the top once the knot is loose, and a cloud of pale pink powder bursts in your face.

In your shock, it drops to the floor, but Din lurches forward to catch it, hastily tying the knot that will keep it closed. You begin to cough, standing up and backing into the wall as you try to hack out the powder in your lungs.

“Shit,” you rasp. “Shit, Din. What the hell was that?”

He shakes his head, crowding you with his body. You know he's assessing you, but the heat of his closeness lights a fire that licks at the ceiling of your brain. “Din,” you croak, blinking hard, “I’m… fine.”

His hand closes around your wrist, and the fire spreads. It's napalm where he touches you, the flame coursing throughout the rest of your body until it singes your nerves. “‘Fresher,” he commands. “Get it off you. Could be dangerous.”

You know it’s the right thing to do, but your body disagrees. A whine slips out of your mouth when he releases you. You’re hot. Your bones are candle wax, your blood lava flowing from molten rock. You need…

You don’t know what you need.

You break away abruptly from Din and hurry out of the cockpit, scrambling out of your clothes before you can even lock yourself in the ‘fresher.

You scrub and clean and stick your face in the stream of hot water, but when your hand glides idly down toward your cunt and swipes the washcloth over your clit, your knees buckle.

Oh.

You cover your mouth with your free hand when you abandon the washcloth and press your fingers to your clit, rubbing in slow circles that ease the slow drag of flames over your skin—

“Din.”

The fire only roars when you buck your hips in a desperate attempt to deepen the friction. It isn't what you need. It isn’t good enough.

You need—

“Din.” It's a pathetic, wrecked whisper. One that rattles your brain long after it's left your lips. The ‘fresher dries you off, but your forehead is cool with sweat and your core turns and tightens with the cloying, sickening need you have.

The powder. It’s the powder. It will not leave your skin. It's infected your bloodstream. You stumble out of the ‘fresher and rush to find Din. Your gut churns with the trembling of alarm bells. You're sick.

Something is wrong. He knows it the instant his eyes take their fill of your face. You're paler, swaying on your feet, your pupils engulfing your irises. You hold onto the doorway to steady yourself, as if Din isn't already there, catching you around the waist. As if he isn't the only one who can truly right you.

“Hey.” It's soft, a little panicked, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“Don't…” You swallow, trying to look at—or maybe look through —his visor. Your eyes are glassy, unfocused. “Don’t know. I feel…”

He sees the minute shift of your body toward him, your chest pushing out and your hips seeking contact with his, weapons and all still strapped to his belt. He grasps your hip, kneading the bone gently with his thumb, and the soft whine that slips from your mouth makes him squeeze his eyes shut behind the helmet.

“Din…”

“Cyar’ika.”

Between you—neither of you are sure when—a game starts. Your voice is thick, raspy, desperate when you say his name. “Din. I… I think—”

Your eyes flutter shut and he winds an arm around your waist, picking you up and depositing you in his pilot’s seat. You’re hot to the touch even through his gloves. It strikes terror inside him: your lively eyes dark and shrouded, your body quivering, your sweet smile twisted into a grimace of pain as sweat springs to life above your brow.

He thinks back to the bounty he found dead. Powder in pouches, passed discretely from planet to planet. A drug, most likely. They can dull the senses or heighten them. This one seems to have the latter effect on you, and if your heart continues to beat at the pace it does now to keep time with the rest of your body, it could give out.

He kneels in front of you, and your eyes meet, your lashes spidery on your flushed cheeks. “Am I sick?” you ask him.

He nods, honest as ever. “The powder,” he says, surprised by how weak his voice sounds. He needs to be strong for you. He needs to help. His fingers brush your hair out of the way. It’s matted with sweat. “Tell me what you feel.”

Your hands grapple for his shoulders. “I feel hot ,” you whimper, squeezing your thighs together. “I’m—fuck, I’m so hot, Din. Need to…”

When you pull your hands away and tearfully grab at the ties on your pants, he goes blind. “Wait,” he tries, barely above a whisper, but you're pulling off your shirt, shucking off your pants, and your lashes stick together with tears as you pull your panties down your legs.

He rears back, his cock stiffening in his pants at the sight of your wet cunt, unabashedly bared to him. You're lost in the haze of desire, your entire body trembling and perspiring with the lust that rapidly floods your senses. And yet, it feels senseless and desperate as your fingers dip to your clit and press down. Your hips buck, and he hasn't once torn his eyes away from your core since you presented it to him.

“‘M sorry, Din,” you cry, one hand squeezing your bare tit as your fingers frantically rub your clit. You're so drenched that you spill onto his seat. His seat. “I can't… I feel like I’m dying.”

You've said things like that before in times of mild inconvenience, but he's always called you dramatic. Now, he's certain you don't have enough of a mind to hyperbolise. You may very well be dying, and his cock is so hard in his pants that he has to refrain from reaching down and squeezing his length to relieve the tension.

Why can't he move?

A moan, pathetic and mewling, slips past your lips. He's never been more frustrated that he can't kiss you. He needs to grab you everywhere, melt your body into molten steel and shape it the way he wants, burn his lips on your scalding softness. He needs to possess your body. He needs it to take all of him, a shadow swallowing flame.

And you're reaching for him, the way he now reaches for you. You do not understand what is happening to you. But Din will be good to you. That isn't his job—his job is to keep you alive. But he can do both. He will.

He thinks he’ll die if he doesn't touch you, too, and he hasn't been assaulted by a faceful of pale pink powder.

Your body is bare, confronted with all of his armour, and then it’s the cold press of beskar steel to your chest, your stomach, your thighs as he drags you out of the chair and turns you around, replacing you in his seat. You're on his lap, pushing your tits against his chest plate and breathing hard. His visor fogs up when you rest your forehead to his. He keeps you there with his hand cradling the back of your head, cooling you down with his body.

“Feel me,” he tells you, and it feels like a command, even as his voice comes through the modulator like a prayer. It's soft as your name on his mouth. “You’ll die if you don’t move, cyar’ika.”

Your arms wind around his shoulders as you begin to grind down on his thigh guard. “Din,” you whisper, your brow furrowing in the pleasure of your clit sliding up against that cold steel. “Always… always feel like I’ll die if I don't touch you.”

“Now you're being dramatic,” he huffs, his helmet tipping back to get a better view of you. You're a vision, the movement of your hips mesmerising as you take pleasure in his warrior’s steel. Your lips are parted, a perpetual picture of desire, your body heat spiking in his thermal reader.

He cannot grasp enough of you in his hands, so he holds you in place around your ribs while his other hand brushes over your hard nipples. You gasp at the touch, back arching and chest pushing toward him. Your cunt soaks his thigh guard, your body heat blurring the clear reflection in his armour as you burn and writhe on top of your Mandalorian. He’s so hard it aches, but watching you take pleasure from him is worth delaying his own gratification. The Creed propounds patience.

And yet, his fingers dig into the spaces between your ribs, watching your lungs expand beneath your skin. He watches you as if he wants to dissect you, spread you open, display your delicate bones for him to see. He needs to know that they are unbroken. He needs to ensure that you never know pain again.

“Oh, Din,” you moan, grinding hard and fast on his thigh, your voice syrupy and breathless. He pinches your nipple and you gasp, the air pushing out against his visor and expanding your ribs beneath his hand. It's fascinating: knowing he can make you feel like this without shedding a scrap of his armour.

You want all of him, all the time. You don't need skin to find it. He is this . The warrior beneath you, connected through generations to the steel he wears, unwavering in his beliefs and his strength. He is the armour as much as he is the man beneath it, the face you've never seen. You're just fine with that.

“Take what you need,” he says, his voice pitching up a little through the modulator. Your mouth drops open and your head falls back, your chest pushing out even more. His cock twitches in his pants. “That's— nnh, that’s my girl.”

Ice water douses you as you come. Your body is electric; every touch, every wisp of air caresses your body like cold fire, sensitive and overstimulated even as the pain returns. Your scent envelops him. It's sweet and tangy. Your cunt has soaked his thigh guard, dripping over your own thighs, making a mess of yourself. Your lips find a spot just above his visor and rest there in a half-kiss, panting his name.

“It hurts,” comes your soft cry.

His heart cleaves in two. “I know. I know.” He’s grabbing at you desperately now, gritting his teeth when he kneads your ass but can't feel your soft skin behind his damned gloves.

“You have to…” A shudder racks you, and you begin to clamber off him. “I’ll go. I’m… I’m sorry. Never should have—”

“Stop.”

And you do. His command washes over you like glass, sharp. It cuts incisions into the doubt that creeps in until all that's left is the debilitating need for something to satiate the fire.

“You’ll die,” he tells you, his hands firm at your back, keeping you close. You’re straddling him, your thighs bracketing his. “If you don't take…”

His forehead finds yours again. “Take. I want you… to take.” At his last words, his fingers slide leisurely down your body and two of them drag through your slit.

“Oh.” You can only moan, clutching his pauldrons as he stokes the flame with his fingers pressed firmly to your clit. The scrape of the leather is delicious when he begins to rub them in circles. “Can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he urges. “Just look at me.”

Your eyes slide up toward his visor, peering through your lashes into that black nothing, picturing eyes staring right back at you. He is watching you. He's breathing just as heavily from the aphrodisiac that is touching you. Just touching you.

“Pretty,” he grunts, his helmet sliding along your cheek. “You're so— pretty.”

You mewl, warm water he can cup in his palm. His fingers work your clit until you seize, your body shattering. He does not relent when he feels the gush of warmth from your cunt, because he knows it isn't over. His gloved fingers, soaked with your wetness, make a squelching noise when they disappear inside your needy hole. You suck them in eagerly, your moan long and low as his palm drags against your too-sensitive clit.

If it were any other person on the planet grasping at his cowl the way you do now, he would shoot off their fingers. But it is you, and you're just trying to hold on, to keep him close as he helps you through your sickness. He's stunned by the affection in your eyes, the reverence in your gaze despite the poison dancing atop your pretty skin. You want this as much as you always have. The circumstances are different, but it's you: the same woman he gets to indulge in. You're sweeter than the first breath of air when he finds solitude and takes off his helmet. You're the last gulp of freshness before he puts it back on.

“Please,” you gasp, not sure what you're begging for. More of him, probably.

He understands. His thumb rubs your clit until you come again. Your cry is delicious and clicking with saliva. “Easy,” he says softly as your hips buck against him, your body listing in pleasure before he steadies you. Always steadying you. “Take it easy.”

“Need more,” you gasp, your eyes falling to where his fingers pull out of you with an obscene sucking sound. “Din. Please.”

“Take me out,” he grunts. “Go on.”

You’re hasty and trembling in your rush to unbutton his pants, and it would be endearing if not for the constant reminder of the sweat on your brow, your skin that’s scalding to the touch. He's a firm and guiding hand. Always. He's there to catch you.

You reach into his pants and pull out his cock, stiff and leaking. Spurts of precum stain the polished steel of his breastplate. Your mouth waters with the need to taste him but it's his hand squeezing your thigh that reminds you, through the haze of desire, that you need to take him.

Clutching his cowl, you lift your hips and sink down on his cock.

Din’s whole body jerks with the swiftness of your movement, how easily your hot, wet cunt sucks in his whole length in your desperation. He groans, cracked and high-pitched, bruising your hips with his thumbs. Your head falls forward at the first roll of your body, pressing yourself so tightly to him that your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself up. “Relax,” he whispers into your ear. The cold steel nudges your cheek to rest on him, and you do.

Having his hard, twitching cock buried inside you is a balm to the fire licking your skin, but it isn't enough. You need to move, you need his fingers, you need him everywhere, all at once. It won't stop until—

You don't know.

Maybe you will die here, knowing nothing but the need for him. But he's lifting his hand to your face and cupping your cheek, and you know he will not let it happen.

“Hold onto me,” he says.

What else can you do but obey?

He moves with your cunt still swallowing his cock, depositing you on your back on the floor, hard and cool and uncomfortable. The show of strength makes you whine his name. Din manhandles your thighs around his hips and shoves his cock so deep that the tip pummels your cervix.

Your cry is sharp and tears are filling your eyes with the relief of having him buried inside you. Your fingers wrap around the bars of the grate on the floor as he establishes a rhythm, fucking you into the metal without a shred of mercy. It's exactly what you need.

“Yes, yes, yes,” is vaguely what he hears from your mouth over the roar of blood in his ears. His eyes dip to where you connect. Your cunt seals around his thick cock, your slick leaking out around him and forcing filthy noises from your joined bodies with every smack of his hips into your thighs.

“Din, oh, yes.” It’s bright and blinding when you say his name, your core tightening as your head tips back and your cunt clenches down around him.

He doesn't once stop fucking you into the floor even when your orgasm wreaks havoc on your entire body. “Din!” you sob, grasping for his shoulders and failing, your hands falling back to the grate underneath you.

Your chest is beautifully flushed, the colour returning to your skin, but you aren't finished. Neither is he.

He pulls out only to turn you around, forcing you onto your hands and knees and swiftly sliding back inside your hot, tight cunt. “Nnnhh,” is the sound you hear through his modulator, rough and coarse as he fucks you from behind. You aren't much more articulate, but he's perfectly content to hear you moan in the shape of his name.

His grip on your body is relentless, the pounding of his hips against like small shockwaves as he sucks the fever from your marrow. At some point, your hands slip, crashing onto your elbows. Your knees scrape against the grate and your body is shoved into the floor. You smell the tang of metal and your own arousal smearing against him. He tears another orgasm from your body without even touching your clit and continues to fuck you hard, your cum making it easier for him to slide inside you.

Your throat clicks and your mouth will not close, a pleasure-touched frown perpetually creasing the space between your brows. Your eyes try to find his visor, but they slip to the back of your head when he grinds deep, the leaking head of his cock prodding your spongy front wall.

“Din,” you croak, ruined even as your body still seeks him in your feverish need. “Wish… wish I could—”

“Me too.” His hand finds your shoulder blades, pushing down, pressing and insisting until your upper half lowers to the ground. Your cheek slides against the floor panels and it's humiliating and filthy, but it’s cool. Relieving.

“Need…” You swallow around your groan, your hips wriggling in your need to be impossibly closer. “Need to come.”

You're so pliant and keen on this position, your cunt soaking him over and over as he bends you to satisfy the merciless demands your body gives you. It's working. So well, in fact, that he's so close to coming he can barely see through the blur of tears in his eyes. You look so beautiful, the shape of your body something made to be worshipped as your ass arches up toward him. Your hair is a mess and your body is rubbed raw from the wandering of his gloves. He gets to have you. It’s him, and no one else, who sees you like this… who makes you like this.

“I know, cyar’ika. I know. You feel—ngh, you feel so good. My pretty girl.” He’s the only thing holding you up now, one strong arm snaking around your waist to rub your clit. “Give it to me. C’mon, save your life.”

You begin to shake from the overstimulation, your thighs squeezing together. Din shoves them apart with his own and bears down harder on your body, covering you with it as his fingers work you faster. You can't think, speak, see, hear. You can't do anything but reach blindly backward to hold onto something as you come harder than you knew was possible.

Your fingers find his utility belt and hook into one of the loops, burying your face into your other arm. Din groans behind you, you think. You're clamping down on his cock with the force of your orgasm, gushing around him and sucking him in so deep he wouldn't dream of exiting your body.

And he doesn't. His helmet is slick and cool between your shoulder blades as he makes a cacophony of raspy groans in your ear, his cock twitching and pulsing as he drowns your cunt in thick cum. It's that rush of liquid heat which finally douses the flames. Your body melts, your thighs so weak that even he cannot hope to hold them up.

You both slip to the floor together, his arm shooting out to stop himself from crushing you. He rolls you into your side, his cock slipping out of you. He lands on his back, panting loud enough for the modulator to pick it up, and hastily tucks his spent cock into his pants. You hear the intermittent splatter of his cum onto the floor. Neither of you move, but he watches the gleam of sweat on your chest as it heaves. The haze in your eyes finally clears.

“Cyar’ika.”

“Mmmmdin,” you mumble, your eyes closing.

He holds your chin and turns your head to the side to look at him. “Give me your name.”

You tell him.

“Now mine.”

Your blink is slow and sleepy. “Din Djarin.”

“Good.” He rests his forehead on yours, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You're okay.”

You nod faintly. “I’m okay.”

You try to cling to consciousness by staring into his visor, picturing the eyes he's told you are brown. You picture his brown hair, you picture his mouth, and you picture it producing the sound of your name. Your body cools, the pressure uncoiling, the sweat dissolving. There's colour in your face and he can see the map in your irises again. He loves to trace the shapes inside them with his eyes.

“I never thanked you.”

In your heavy-lidded, half-asleep daze, you draw shapes over his breastplate, where his heart is. “Hmm?”

His hand covers yours. “For saving my life.”

You manage to prop yourself up on your elbow and capture his visor in your gaze. “You should try things my way sometime,” you tell him with the wicked grin that he thinks about when he closes his eyes. “You always say to know when to shoot. I know when not to.” Your brows lift expectantly. “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“How grateful you are.”

Din chuckles, his helmet making a faint clank against the floor. “You're my hero.”

You roll your eyes and tuck yourself back into his side. “We’ll work on the attitude.”

#pedro pascal #kiwisbell's fics #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #grogu #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin smut

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moljh · 2 months

Text

Boy Next Door

Steve Harrington X Reader

Summary: Steve lives next door and each night he sneaks into your room but you aren't ready to admit how you feel.

General fluff, mentions of sex, no trigger warnings

Your house was situated next door to the Harrington's and you'd lived there forever. Despite living in a very nice part of Hawkins your house was definitely the worst on the block, compared to those on either side, yours looked slightly out of place. Whilst most had pools, formal dining rooms and enough garage spaces for at least four cars, yours didn't even have space in the garden for a pool, let alone a garage. But that didn't bother you, home was a comforting place for you, although your parents weren't exactly home a whole lot, when they were there were family dinners around the table and constant talk.

When you had been younger you had resented that your parents had to work so much, but now you understood why and since your two older siblings had left for college already, you basically had a house to yourself. Although most teenagers would've used this to have some parties, it meant you could watch whatever television program you wanted and go to bed when you pleased. More importantly though it meant that any late night guests wouldn't be questioned.

Living next door to the Harrington's definitely had meant many things for your family, but one you hadn't anticipated was the lonely Steve Harrington coming over every night to see you. He'd been doing it since you two were in middle school. His parents were also usually working, but for them it was in the city or another state and they generally left without much notice or care for their child. You hadn't really thought about how in a house that big with everything a kid could want that Steve would be lonely and desperately so.

Your bedroom window coincidently looked directly into Steve's room and one night when you should've been sleeping you had gotten up for a glass of water and when making it back to the warmth of your comforter, you made eye contact with him. You had both stood there for a moment, seemingly unsure as what to do next when realisation that you were staring at the most popular boy in school came over you and you dashed away from the window.

The next day at school you were grateful not to see Steve and have to give an awkward explanation regarding their night time encounter because you weren't even sure what you would have said. Though to your surprise later that night as you went to bed once again you met eyes with the lonely Harrington in his window as he looked over at you. This strange nightly tradition continued until the end of the week when instead of seeing his eyes from a distance, you were shocked to come face to face with Steve right outside.

He mouthed something at you and gestured for you to open your window as he clung to the window sill, that you presumed he had scaled.

"What are you doing?" you exclaimed, quickly lowering your voice as he clambered in

Tumbling to the carpeted floor he sat up in a huff "Thought I'd come by" he said nonchalantly as if this was something he did all the time

You stood frozen in place for a moment, confused if this was really happening. Not only was a boy in your room but someone who you'd only every spoken to in polite passing and rarely even made eye-contact with at school.

"Why are you in my room?" you questioned him again

"You let me in" was all he said

"Steve" you firmed said to try and get a legitimate response from him

This became a nightly tradition for the two of you. After a shower and getting ready for bed, Steve would show up at your window and you'd let him in. In the beginning he'd simply sit at your desk and doodle with your stuff, but as time went on the two of you starting actually talking and you realised you actually really enjoyed his company. You'd gone over to his house a few times when people had been home at yours, but he preferred your house.

Despite efforts though he never really offered an actual reason as to why he'd snuck into your room that first night. Though it wasn't hard for you to deduct that he didn't like being home by himself and was lonely, potentially even scared of the vacant home apart from his own presence.

You weren't sure if your siblings knew what was happening while they had still been at home, though they never brought it up and your parents were either in a coma-like sleep or working a night shift.

One thing you never questioned however was that despite the intimate friendship the two of you had, why Steve never spoke to you when at school. You weren't popular so you assumed he just probably didn't want to try and explain to his friends why he'd be taking to someone like you. But you also enjoyed when you two were together and didn't want to ruin it by asking.

"I'm assuming you haven't studied for Mrs Connors history test that's on Friday" you asked over your shoulder

"Oh you know me so well y/n" Steve chuckled as he lay on your bed flipping through one of your magazines

"I'll give you a copy of my notes" you said as you continued to take notes

"You're too good to me"

"I know"

You continued to work through the syllabus some more, when you looked at your watch and noted it was nearly midnight.

"I need to go to sleep soon" you declared, turning around to properly look at Steve

"Ok" was all he said, continuing to read whatever article he was up to in the magazine "do women really wear these?" turning the page to you it was an article on how best to wear a thong

"Why are you reading that?" you rolled your eyes

"Just trying to stay educated"

"Oh yeah cause you wear thongs all the time" you laughed

"One of us has to" he quipped back

"How do you know I don't?" you said before processing your words, which made Steve very quickly put down the magazine

"Girls wear thongs y/n" was all he said

"Well last time I checked I'm a girl"

"You know what I mean… like a girl girl" he said trying to make his words make sense

"Yeah ok" you bluntly replied walking to the window "time for you to go"

"Aw fine" he whined and gave you a hug before leaping off the edge

Although he was now practiced in jumping out of your window, it still worried you every time he did it. You waved to him as jumped your fence and dashed across his perfectly manicured lawn and around the to the unlocked back door of his own house.

Later that week you were surprised to hear the familiar tapping on your window as it was a Friday night. Usually Steve would've been out at a party, he was never usually home.

"Why aren't you at Tommy's?" you asked as you pulled open your window

He climbed through "I need to ask you a serious question" he said ignoring your words

"What?"

"How do you get a girl to like you?" he seemed genuine in his question which was odd

The two of you proceeded to have a conversation about how he was desperate to get Nancy Wheeler to fall in love with him. You were confused because he'd never shown any interest in her until now, but you pushed that aside and gave him your best advice.

"Just show interest in the things she likes" you started, "ask her questions about herself and make sure you're looking at her…" adjusting slightly you moved away from Steve as you two were sitting side by side on your bed "girls like it when you show interest"

You two regularly talked about the girls Steve had hooked up with, but this time felt different and you didn't like that. You had never thought of Steve in any other way than just a friend but as you kept giving him advice on how to get Nancy you couldn't help but feel the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy brewing… and you didn't like it.

"You're incredible y/n!" Steve exclaimed cupping your face with his soft hands "I love you!" he said pressing a brief kiss to your forehead and leaping up

The moment was brief but you felt butterflies in your stomach from his unexpected touch. Before realising it, you had lifted your hand and gingerly touched your head where his lips had just been. You were glad that Steve had been too caught up in his thoughts to noticed your actions, as you quickly put your hand back down to your side.

"I've got to go then," he told you, moving back over to the window "I invited Nancy to Tommy's party and hadn't thought of what to do next"

And with that he was gone just as fast as he had come.

You were used to not being anyone's first choice, or their second or even their third or tenth. It hadn't really ever bothered you, but for some reason it now did. Steve was your only real friend, while you had friends as school they were just people you sat with during lunch and next to in class, you never had deep conversations. But with Steve you did.

You knew about how his father treated him, how he cried when he accidentally hit a bird when driving or how he preferred the company of strangers to his own thoughts. And vice versa. He knew of your fears, how you were scared to let your family down by being a burden or when your siblings left you knew they wouldn't be coming back.

This new feeling wasn't welcomed. You didn't like thinking of Steve other than a friend or how his clear interest in Nancy bothered you somehow. So you pushed it down and did your best to ignore it.

Over the next few weeks Steve came over less and less. You'd wait for him until late but then he eventually just stopped showing up at all. It hurt.

In class you found your thoughts drifting and tuning out from what the teachers were saying, you just didn't care. That was why you guessed that when a blue car with California plates showed up one morning you took interest.

Billy Hargrove wasn't like Steve. If anything he was the opposite and that's what you liked. You had always been the girl that people hadn't seen and guys hadn't considered and now the guy that all the girls wanted was looking your way.

You knew it was dumb and that you probably shouldn't have done it but you played along with Billy's interest. He was strong, controlling and knew what he wanted, which was something you weren't used to. It was different and exciting and new.

You and Billy weren't dating but it was obvious to people at school that you two were sleeping together. He'd be seen hanging near your locker and would drop you to and from school each day, usually with you wearing the same clothes as the day before.

It was a strange feeling that you were just floating through life and no one seemed to notice or care. You guessed that was why you enjoyed the company of Billy, you'd replaced the emotional connection you'd had with Steve with that of a physical one with Billy. It was solely just sex between you two, but in that moment it was intimate and you were happily close with someone.

It was fourth period and you had a study break, so you were walking out the front of the main building, with the intention of just sitting on the bleachers in the sun or the time. Concentrating on balancing the books in your arms, you gasped as someone grabbed your arm and pulled you down the side of the building.

It took you a second to process what was happening and then once your eyes focused you were shocked to see Steve in front of you.

"Steve? What the hell?" you exclaimed, going to turn to leave

"Y/n stop" he firmly said, grabbing a hold of your arm once again, "we need to talk"

"What the fuck about?" you raised your eyebrow

"About you!" he shouted waving at your body "about all this"

"What about it?!" you replied, annoyed now at what he was implying

"Y/n what are you doing with Hargrove?" he calmly asked, lowering his voice "He's an asshole"

You scoffed as his words, rolling your eyes at the idea he cared.

"I don't think it's any of your business Steve," you replied "why do you care who I fuck?"

He seemed taken aback by your words "Because you're my friend y/n"

"Since when Steve?!" you said "I think this is the first time you've even spoken to me in like three months and the first time at school I might add!"

He didn't say anything as you kept shouting at him.

"You're embarrassed by me and I'm sick of being your dirty little secret! Billy mightn't be the best person but at least he's not ashamed to be seen with me"

"I never said I was embarrassed by you y/n" he said

"You didn't have to SAY anything" you challenged him "I'm not an idiot Steve"

"I'm sorry…" he muttered

You felt your anger slowly subsiding and the feeling of sadness wash over you. Grabbing your things again, you turned your back to Steve and walked away.

"I would've thought you of all people would've known what's it's like for someone to just not show up" you didn't give him a chance to reply, didn't want to give him the right to have the last word.

You felt a tear slowly roll down your cheek and your cursed that your arms were too full that you couldn't brush it away.

As you lay beside Billy, only a thin sheet between your skin you couldn't help but think that his sheets felt rougher than Steve's. It was dumb. You'd never done anything romantic with Steve and as you were there naked, post sex, you could only think of his sheets.

"Do you miss California?" you rolled onto your side, and asked Billy

"Yeah" was all he said, still staring at the ceiling, hands on his bare chest

"What do you miss about it?" you kept asking, trying to get a feeling for him

"Why do you care y/n?" he suddenly shot back , seemingly uncomfortable by the question

His response made you sit up "Jesus Billy, just trying to get to know you a bit"

He rolled his eyes as he looked at you "We're just sex y/n, this is all it is, don't try and make it something else"

"Yeah, I know" you nodded and slipped out of his bed

He didn't seem to care as you silently pulled up your jeans and grabbed your bra off of his dresser. Once clothed you grabbed your bag and left. Leaving in that moment you were glad you'd never ran into or even seen his parents before.

The sun hit you as you walked back out into the afternoon Hawkins air, the sun was lower in the sky, so you'd been there for a few hours at least.

Getting into your car you felt your chest heave and without warning you began to cry. You didn't like the feeling of not being in control and up until that moment you had felt that you and Billy's situation was on your terms. But you felt stupid for thinking such a thing.

It was just sex. You knew that, that's all you wanted. Or at least that was what you were telling yourself to make it ok.

Driving back home, the sun slowing began to descend and darkness started to replace the light. Taking the usual turns, you pulled into your street and parked outside of your house. It wasn't until you were walking along the front path that you noticed the figure standing in front of your door.

He was waiting there, clearly wanting to have a serious conversation based off of the express burdening his face.

"Steve go home" you bluntly said trying to find you house key

"I'm not going y/n" he said, "we need to have a proper conversation"

"No we don't" was all you said

"Y/n I don't care what you said but you're my friend and I care about you," he replied "I need to know you're ok, I just want my friend back. I miss you"

"Steve I can't go back to what we had before, I deserve more than that" you told him

"I know you do and I'm sorry for treating you like that, it wasn't fair of me" he said

He took a step towards you and you stumbled as your foot slipped off the step behind you, to which Steve impulsively reached out to steady you.

You could feel your heart pounding against your chest and he kept moving closer and closer to you, as he pulled you into him. He wrapped his arms around you, his frame surrounding you whole. He'd held you before but this was different, this was warmth and desire all in one.

"I'm sorry Steve, I just can't do this" you said, pushing yourself away from him chest "your with Nancy and I know you just see me as a friend but…" you couldn't find the right words, you felt stupid trying to find the right thing to say

He cut you off "Nancy and I broke up" he said slowly

You lifted your eyes and looked up at him, studying his face, "Nancy and I just didn't work, it just wasn't right" You heart stopped at his words "She wasn't you"

You went silent as you looked into his brown eyes and slowly moved your hand up his chest. As your hand moved, you felt his own move from your lower back and up towards you face. As you stood there pressed against one another, he lowered his face and soon you felt your lips pressing against his own.

His lips were soft as you had thought they would be. Moving with the motions of his lips, his teeth grazed against your lower lip causing your mouth to open. Soon his tongue met yours and you couldn't help but sigh as he clutched the back of your neck.

His mouth was so gentle against your own and you could feel the slight stubble that was growing on his chin and cheek. You were lost in his touch and you loved it. You felt safe. You felt like your were home.

Standing out there in there on your dimly lit front step, held in Steve's embrace, his lips on yours, it felt right between you two. You could've never have known that all those years ago the boy next door would end up being so much more to you.

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