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firstofficerwiggles · 4 years

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Chapter 6: Where No Mando Has Gone Before

Link to Chpt. 5 -- For other chapters please visit my Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT, Flirty!Din, Jealous!Reader, swearing, kissing, use of blindfold, groping (in public), oral sex (female receiving), explicit description of unprotected sex (be safe in the real world please), still pretty fluffy though

Word count: ~12.5K (I know, but it’s worth it I promise)

Author’s Note: This takes place on Angel One a matriarchal planet from Star Trek, the Next Generation. While that episode of TNG is honestly not good, I have been intrigued by the idea of that planet and always thought they could have done so much more with it. (Btw, I do suggest you look at the costumes from that episode because they are hilarious.) So anyway, I’m pretending that Angel One is in the Star Wars galaxy. Also, in this I describe the women of this planet as being taller, broader, and generally much larger than the reader. I always try to keep the reader as physically non-descript as possible, so just know that no matter how tall and broad you yourself may be, to these women, you are petite. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

For the third morning in a row, you awake to strong arms wrapped around you and the solid, warm body of Mando, or rather, Din, by your side. You’ve fully recovered from being shot, but Din has still been on high alert for any pain or discomfort that you could be feeling. He pretends to protest each evening that he should let you rest, before you easily convince him to climb into bed with you and cuddle all night long. Honestly, at first you thought he was just putting up with the cuddling to make you happy, but turns out, he seems to truly love it, as he is the one who continues to pull you closer any time you roll away in your sleep.

You’re lazily tracing circles with your fingers over his chest now as you think about him. He’s sleeping in a shirt and boxers, and even though you can’t touch the skin of his chest directly, you can feel his warmth easily through the thin fabric. He’s been so incredibly caring these past few days and he’s hardly let you lift a finger. Even when you’ve worried about him sleeping in his helmet and offered to sleep blindfolded so he could take it off, he’s dismissed the idea in favor of your comfort. Although part of you wonders if he’s still too nervous to consider taking off the helmet in front of you despite the presence of a blindfold or darkness.

You really are feeling so much better this morning, and you figure you’ll take over breakfast today. It would be nice to start getting back to your normal routine. You move to loosen yourself from Din’s hold and slide out of the bed, when you feel him stir and yank you back to his side.

“Where’re you goin’?” he asks you sleepily.

“I was going to make breakfast, and let you sleep a bit more,” you reply softly.

“Mmm, no, stay with me,” he says.

You shift a little so you can look at him more directly and tell him, “I’m so tempted, really, but you know someone else will be awake and hungry very soon.”

“Stay,” he repeats, “Wanna cuddle more.” You give in to him, and snuggle closer; it’s too hard when he’s insistent.

Din’s hands are starting to wander now, slipping just under the hem of your pajama top to caress your lower back. You let out a contented sigh at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“You must be feeling much better, if you want to make breakfast,” he says, sounding more awake, as he continues to trail his hands up your back under your top.

“I am, I feel completely better,” you reply confidently.

“Better enough to do other things?” Din asks with a husky tone to his voice as he brings one of his hands around to caress the upper part of your stomach, just below your breasts.

“I could do other things,” you say in a breathy voice; breakfast is now the last thing on your mind.

Din lets the hand on your stomach explore upward and over your breast, lightly palming you and teasing the sensitive tip. It’s been so long since a man touched you like this that it’s enough to make you moan softly. Din lets out a low rumbly sound in his chest and his hand becomes bolder, kneading you and rolling your hardening nipple between his fingertips. With his other hand, he pulls you in closer to him so that your hips brush up against his, letting you feel his arousal. Experimentally, you rock your hips against his, slightly grinding against him, drawing out another deep growling sound from Din’s throat.

“Been wanting to touch you like this ever since I got in bed with you,” he says.

“Me too,” you tell him as you let your own hands finally run up underneath his shirt and over the hard planes of his stomach and chest.

“You’re so soft- oof!” Din’s compliment is cut off by a sound of surprise and you realize why as soon as you see a little green head pop up over his shoulder. The sneaky kiddo has managed to climb up on the bed and his little claws must have grabbed Din’s arm to hoist himself up. Din immediately yanks his hand out of your top as the child meanwhile is crawling over Din’s chest to get to you. You scooch away from Din to make room for the little guy and also to discreetly put some distance between you two so that you can both calm down.

“Good morning, buddy!” You say a little overly cheerful, trying to come back to your senses. You look up at Din and mouth ‘sorry’. He just shakes his head lightly as he pats the child on the back.

“I think someone is a little jealous that I keep taking all the cuddles,” Din says with a chuckle, “Tell you what, I’ll make breakfast and you two have some snuggle time.”

“Aww, come here, buddy, and give me a hug,” you pull the child into your chest and kiss his wrinkled little brow. He lets out a series of happy coos making you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After breakfast, you get dressed and join Din in the cockpit where he’s putting in coordinates to a new destination. The child is sitting in one of the passenger seats playing with his silver ball. You come over to stand next to Din and look at the star chart he’s using.

“I’ve got an idea for our next move,” Din tells you, “But it will require us to carry out some deception for it to work.”

“Deception, huh? Well, I’m intrigued already,” you reply with a smile.

“I’ve heard from several of my guild contacts that the bounty on the child has increased,” he says concerned, “There’s also a bounty out on me too.”

“Oh, that explains the hunters.” Your voice is more serious now.

“It’s fortunate that no one in the guild will support the job, but although it’s an off-the-books bounty, the price is high enough that there’ll still be hunters after us.” Din explains.

“So what’s your plan and how can I help?” you ask.

“You’re an integral part of it, particularly since no one knows you’re with me,” he tells you, “Have you ever heard of a planet called Angel One?”

“No, never.”

“It’s a place that few people have visited,” he explains, “They have a matriarchal society and you’re only allowed to visit the planet if you’re accompanied by a woman.”

“Ah, I see, so no one will expect you to be there.” It’s a good idea.

“Yes, but there’s more,” Din says, “They’re very particular about whom they let stay on the planet for a visit, and from what I’ve heard they usually only let powerful or influential women visit for more than a day. Any potential visitors need to be fully vetted by one of their Mistresses to be allowed to stay.”

“Hence the deception; I need to pretend to be someone powerful or influential,” you respond.

“Yes, I thought you could pretend to be a princess and I’ll be your bodyguard,” Din proposes.

“A princess?” You reply, a touch startled by the idea.

“You’re as beautiful as a princess,” Din says, his voice flirtatious, “I’d definitely believe it.”

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes a little at him, “But, seriously, do you think I can pull that off?”

“Why not? You’re intelligent, well educated, and you seem to have a knack for socializing with people, you put them at ease and get them to trust you right away, I’ve seen you do it a lot.” Din compliments you in such a matter-of-fact voice that you find yourself thinking that just maybe you could do it.

“Well, and in your beskar you definitely look like a royal bodyguard,” you say thoughtfully, and then flirt back with him, “My knight in shining armor.”

He chuckles at that, “See, you’re already in character.”

“What if they notice that we’re…” you trail off and just gesture between you two with your hands. You’re uncertain how to define what you are, together? involved? You haven’t really discussed it.

“A couple?” he asks. Ok, so he’s defined it.

“Yes.”

Din thinks for a moment and then chuckles again deeply, “You’ll say I’m your consort.”

“My consort?” You snicker at his choice of words.

“Yeah, your consort,” he repeats, and you can swear by the tone of his voice that he must have the biggest grin on under that helmet right now. “I kinda like the idea, my job being to protect you and service your every, ahem, need.”

“Din, the kiddo is right there,” you whisper a little flustered at his suggestiveness.

“Come here, my princess,” he says playfully as he pats his lap.

“You’re having too much fun with this,” you tell him, but you move towards him anyway because you can’t help yourself.

He tugs you down to sit in his lap, “Oh, we’ve only just started having fun.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The landing crew that meets you on Angel One is most decidedly not about fun. When you descend the Crest’s ramp, you are met with five of the largest warrior-like women you’ve ever seen in your entire life. They are all broad, muscular, and statuesque, decked out in black and gold armor on their arms, chests, and legs, and wearing capes decorated with animal fur. Their makeup is like war paint and they seem to share Din’s love of weapons. You can’t deny that they are all fiercely beautiful and you suddenly feel insecure. Geeze, no wonder Din wanted to come here, these women look like a Mandalorian’s wet dream. You take a deep breath and tell yourself that you are a beautiful and influential princess. You repeat this to yourself a few times and steady your shoulders as you do.

You hold your head up as high as you can and address the women, “Good morning and thank you for welcoming us to your home. We hope that your Mistress will find us worthy of a visit.”

One of the women nods to you as she says, “Right this way Your Highness, Mistress Lagertha is expecting you.”

You follow the woman as she leads you into a large governmental building. Both Din and the child follow behind you allowing you to be the more prominent figure in your little party. The building is a very grand stone structure with sweeping columns and polished stone floors. The furnishings are mostly dark, grey and black with a few metallic accents. You pass several people, all women, who stop to stare at you as you walk down the long corridor. When you reach the end of the passageway, you are ushered into a large office where you see a majestic blonde woman. While this woman is not wearing armor, she exudes power and once again, you are dwarfed by her size. She rises from her desk when you enter and offers you a small half bow.

“Welcome, Your Highness, please have a seat and we will begin the interview.” She pointedly addresses her welcome only to you as if Din isn’t even present. You approach her desk and the proffered chair, while he remains quietly by the door with the child’s pram.

“Thank you for being willing to speak with me, it’s an honor to meet you, Mistress Lagertha,” Now that you’re both seated you feel a little more confident as it’s easier to look her in the eye.

“It’s very interesting to meet you,” she says with a smile, “I’ve never seen an off-worlder before.” She looks over your appearance carefully. In helping to perpetrate your ruse, you’re wearing a summer dress in a pink floral fabric. The dress has a long swirly skirt and it seemed like the most princess-y thing you owned. You’ve also taken extra care to do your hair and make-up in a slightly fancier style. You even took the time to dress up the child as your little ward, wrapping a brightly colored scarf around his tunic like a sash and pinning a costume jewelry broach to it. He seemed to like it, once he stopped trying to bite it. Of course, Din is handsome as always in his well-polished armor and you think all together you should be able to fool these people who haven’t seen many real royals.

You’re surprised when she starts to laugh lightly after looking you over. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I wasn’t expecting you to look so manly.”

“Excuse me?” Your confusion could not be more evident as you look down at yourself. This is quite possibly the least manly you’ve ever looked.

“Well, I knew you would be small, those who’ve seen off-world women have always described them as small, but the pastels, the flowers, even your make-up, you look like one of our men.” She chuckles again lightly.

“Ah, I see,” you reply trying to keep your face neutral, “Where I come from, this would be considered very feminine.” She smiles widely at this and laughs again. Well, if anything you’ve certainly broken the ice.

“That’s hysterical!” She says, delighted, “Plus your man is wearing armor! I’ve never seen such a thing.”

Oh Maker! You really wish she wouldn’t laugh at Din. To his credit, Din makes no reaction whatsoever; he’s doing his silent suit of armor thing again.

She asks you a long series of biographical questions most of which are very easy to answer and require little to no lying at all. Thankfully, you and Din practiced speaking about your invented past and so when you do need to be untruthful it comes out naturally. The only time you feel you really slip up is when she asks you about your views on the New Republic.

“Well, clearly there is much we can learn about your culture and so much that we can share with you about ours,” you say diplomatically.

“I support the New Republic, but I wish they would be more persistent in going after former Imperials. There are still too many evil men out there wreaking havoc in the galaxy.” You can’t keep the bitterness out of your voice and you know you’ve dropped your polite expression in favor of a frown. Uh oh, probably should have given a more politically neutral answer.

Fortunately, Mistress Lagertha says, “A very good point. Men seems to be particularly bent towards doing evil.”

While you can’t agree with that blanket statement, it seems better to simply nod and continue with the interview. For the rest of the time, you try to be your most charming self and it seems to work, because you’re starting to feel like she’s almost a friend the more you converse. When she gets to the part about the reason for your visit, you have a more elaborate answer about cultural exchange prepared, but she says,

“Of course the reason for your visit must be the Jubilee of Astrid which begins this evening. It’s our most sacred and special time, and the most common time for off-worlders to request a visit.”

“Yes, I would be truly honored to be able to experience your sacred celebration,” you say in an awed tone. You have no idea what she is talking about, but this is clearly the answer she expects to hear.

“I understand as a princess there must be certain pressures on you, especially from familial demands,” Lagertha says.

“Yes, there are,” you agree with her demurely, but still clueless as to what she’s getting at.

“Well, you can be certain to have your prayers answered while you are here, and enjoy yourself immensely! May Astrid bless you!” She gives you a cheeky grin as she says this and her eyes flick back to Din for the first time in quite a while. “Incidentally, if your man isn’t up to the task, I’m sure we can find you a man who will find your uniqueness appealing.”

“I assure you that won’t be necessary, my guard is always prepared for any task,” you tell her. You’re still not sure of her meaning, but there’s something in the gleam in her eye that tells you that you only want to be with Din for whatever ‘tasks’ are involved in this holiday of theirs.

“Well, that’s good then.” She’s smiling at you again and then extends her hand, “Welcome to Angel One, we would be honored to grant you permission to stay on our planet for as long as you like.”

You grasp her large hand in your smaller one and give her a beaming (and relieved) smile as you thank her. You’ve successfully secured your visit.

A communication device on her desks beeps and she presses a small button, which allows a voice to state, “Mistress Sigrid wishes to meet the off-world princess.”

“Thank you, Brenna, please let her know that we’re ready for her at any time,” Lagertha replies. She then turns her attention back to you as she explains, “Mistress Sigrid is our leader, the Elected One, and I must confess she has been monitoring this meeting.” You nod and smile, it doesn’t surprise you really, considering how cautious they are about visitors.

“I am delighted to have the opportunity to meet her.” You hope this is a sign that you’ve made a good impression if their leader wants to say hello.

A door in a side wall opens and a stately woman enters. You rise to your feet out of respect as she approaches. She’s older than Lagertha but still moves with the athletic grace of a younger woman. Like the other women you’ve seen here, she is striking with shrewd eyes and a small scar on her cheek that adds to her mystique rather than marring her beauty.

“Your Highness, how lovely it is to meet you,” Mistress Sigrid greets you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“It is a pleasure, Elected One,” you reply, craning your neck to meet her gaze, as once again she is incredibly tall.

“I must say I have never seen or heard an off-world woman quite like you before,” she tells you with respect, “The others I’ve met have been rather anxious and shy, and so easily intimidated.” She dismisses them with a wave of her hand.

“It is a shame you haven’t met more off-world women then, many are quite strong and accomplished. Perhaps while I am here, I can demonstrate how capable we can be,” you reply. The way she says that irritates you immensely but you know you need to stay overly respectful towards her and so you swallow any other comments you’d like to make.

She laughs warmly at your response, “See, I knew I liked you already! You have a spark about you.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“And this is your little ward, hmm?” She walks over to the child who is starting at her with big eyes and a slightly wary expression.

“Yes, my guard rescued him and he is in my care.” You follow her over, reach down into his pram to pick him up, and hold him so she can see him better.

“Hello, tiny child,” she says to him, “Aren’t you a cute little thing?”

He looks mesmerized by her for a moment, and then is suddenly shy, turning his head into your chest. She merely chuckles and you gently place him back in his pram and hand him one of his stuffed toys to hold.

“Shame he’s a male though,” she comments. You don’t know how to respond to that terrible statement and so you elect to simply stay quiet.

“And this is your bodyguard, a Mandalorian.” Mistress Sigrid approaches Din now looking him up and down with curiosity. “I’ve never had the fortune to see a real Mandalorian, I’ve only heard stories,” she says with interest. It’s the most attention anyone has paid to Din this entire time.

“What do you call him?” Mistress Lagertha pipes up.

“Mando,” you tell her, knowing that you can’t share Din’s real name with anyone.

“Mando, will you turn around, I’d like to look at you,” Mistress Sigrid says, speaking to him directly. Something about her tone of voice rubs you the wrong way and you’re fortunate that she’s looking so intently at Din because you fail to hide your displeasure on your face.

Din complies with her request, rotating so she can look at him. He had heard that the women openly objectify the men on this planet and so he knows this is the type of treatment he can expect. It doesn’t really bother him too much as he’s used to people staring at him no matter where he is. He knows Mandalorians are unique and the beskar will always draw attention. He has to bite his lip though to keep from laughing at your expression as Mistress Sigrid ogles him. You look positively jealous.

“That is sufficient, Mando.” The Elected One seems to have gotten her fill.

“Mistress,” he replies softly.

“So unusual to see a man so large and wearing armor,” Mistress Sigrid is turning back towards you with a smile and a little shrug.

Din sees that you’ve managed to paste a bland smile back on your face as you tell her, “I’m so accustomed to it that it would be odd to see him in anything else.” He catches your eye and gives you a nod. It’s the only thing he can do to reassure you that everything is going well. Honestly, he’s so thankful that you were able to do all of the talking for this meeting. You handled all the questions so well and he knows you were able to be charismatic in a way he doesn’t think he ever could. It’s a real credit to your communication skills, especially as Mistress Sigrid is now inviting you to stay at the Elected One’s state residence.

“That is very kind of you, Mistress Sigrid,” you say, “But we wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble on our behalf.”

“Nonsense, it will be delightful to have you there,” she replies, “You will be my special guests for the Jubilee. I do hope you have something red to wear, it is the official color of the celebration.”

“As a matter of fact, I have just the dress,” you tell her.

Mistress Sigrid arranges for two of her staff to accompany you back to the Razor Crest so you can collect your things before they will take you to get settled at the state residence.

“I’ll see you tonight at the opening gala for the Jubilee, and may Astrid bless you!” Mistress Sigrid says before bidding you farewell for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The state residence is an elegant mansion and you have to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be a princess and so you shouldn’t be overly impressed by any of this. Still you can’t help letting your eyes wander over the beautiful furnishings and art. The mansion reflects much of what seems to be the core beliefs for this society, that women are strong fighters who have accomplished great things, while men are beautiful decorations. You haven’t seen any men in person yet, but in the artwork, they are portrayed as soft and fragile looking creatures with dainty features dressed primarily in flowery pastels, just like you at the moment.

Every woman you pass still stops to openly gawk at you and now you are even hearing laughter accompanied by hushed voices no doubt discussing your odd appearance. You try to ignore it, but you’re not used to being assessed like this so much. You look over to Din and wonder if this is what it’s like for him on a daily basis, not that people laugh at him, of course.

When you reach your room at the residence, you are astonished by the grandeur of the accommodations you’ve been given. Your ‘room’ is actually a large suite with a sitting room, bedroom, and elegant bathroom. After briefly showing you around, Mistress Sigrid’s staff finally leave you alone to rest and relax before the grand gala tonight.

“Thank the Maker!” you say flopping onto the giant four-poster bed. “I feel like I’ve been under a microscope this whole day.”

“Yeah, they really seem quite fascinated by you,” Din says chuckling. He hands the child a piece of fruit from the generous buffet of treats the Mistress’ staff has provided for you. The little guy chomps down on it quickly and you smile at his cuteness.

“I’d say they’re fascinated by us, or at least Mistress Sigrid sure was,” you say still a little miffed at the way she practically undressed Din with her eyes.

Din laughs again, “Your face when she was making me turn for her nearly had me in stitches,” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask sitting up to look at him better.

He walks over to you and cups your cheek in his hand gently, “You looked rather jealous.” His voice is still full of mirth as he says this and you get the impression that he liked it, at least a little.

“I didn’t like the way she was treating you like an object,” you say reproachfully, but then you look up more directly at him, “Ok, but fine, maybe I was jealous too,” you admit.

“Cyar’ika, you don’t have to be jealous,” he says, “But it is kinda cute.” He’s still chuckling as he steps in between your legs and his hands move to your shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

“It’s hard not be when they’re all insanely giant, stunning, war goddess women,” you reply. Looking up at him thoughtfully, you say, “Seems like that would be just the kind of woman a Mandalorian would find incredibly attractive.” You can’t help the note of insecurity in your voice as you say that.

He shrugs his shoulders, “Not this Mandalorian, besides, I’m already with the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.” He taps your nose playfully as he says this and you smile back at him.

“You really do say the sweetest things, Din.”

“Only to you, cyar’ika.” He replies and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The sound of inquisitive coos interrupts your conversation, and you look over to the child. “Maybe they’ll let us visit the gardens for a while. I think the kiddo could use some fresh air.”

“That’s a good idea, especially because it sounds like our entire evening is already planned with their gala.” Din nods his head as he says this.

“I’m just going to change first, maybe if I put on something black they won’t stare as much,” you tell him.

“Ok, the kid and I’ll wait in the other room.”

You take a moment to hang up your gown for tonight as well as your black dress that you thought to bring too. You put a few of your other things away in the dresser in the room to help keep them organized, when you find a few things that have been provided for your stay, some soft robes, slippers, and a couple black satin sleep masks. Your mind instantly goes to a naughty place as you feel the soft material between your fingers. You slip it on over your eyes, blindfolding yourself completely.

“Hey, Din, come here and look what I found,” you say playfully. You hear him come back into the room.

“What? Oh.” Din’s voice seems to drop several octaves with just that one small sound. “Can you see anything with that on?”

“Not a thing,” you reply.

“Stay there and keep it on,” he tells you and you hear his footsteps approaching you until you can feel that he’s right in front of you.

“You really can’t see anything?” Din asks again.

“No, I promise.”

You hear a soft hiss followed by a metallic thunk on the dresser behind you. Then you feel Din pull you in close to him and he lowers his face towards yours, letting his bare forehead touch yours for the first time. He nuzzles into you more, letting his nose caress yours and then you feel his warm breath against your lips.

“May I kiss you, really kiss you?” Din asks his lips practically brushing against your mouth with his question.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

His lips melt into yours in a sweet kiss as his hands come up to rest on either side of your neck. He seems just a little hesitant, so you slowly start to move beneath him, guiding. He follows your lead, letting his lips explore more. You part your lips slightly so you can tease his plump bottom lip in between yours. He parts his lips when you do this and daringly, you let your tongue lick into his mouth just slightly. His reaction is immediate, as he opens his mouth more to give you greater access. You deepen the kiss and brush your tongue against his. He groans deep in his chest when your tongues meet and he pulls you in tight to his body. You let your hands roam around the back of his neck and into his soft hair. You’re kissing him passionately now, showing him what you like. Din’s response is enthusiastic, as he chases your lips and tongue wherever they wish to lead him. Just before you pull away to catch your breath, you give his bottom lip a suck making him groan again.

“Is kissing always this great?” Din pants out.

“No,” you tell him honestly, “I think it must you.”

“It’s us,” he says before capturing your lips again. This time he teases you with his tongue and tries sucking your lip the way you did to his. It draws out a moan from you; he’s clearly a very quick learner.

A sudden crashing sound from the other room reminds you both that you’re not alone and that you promised the child some outdoor fun. Din groans softly before giving you one more quick kiss and then pulls away from you. You feel him reach for his helmet as you try to take a deep breath and collect yourself.

“Ok, you can take off the mask now,” he says, “But, put it somewhere safe for later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a nice afternoon spent exploring the mansion’s lush gardens, followed by a hot cup of tea and several delicious snacks that were thoughtfully provided, it’s time to get ready for the gala. You already know you’ll wear your new red gown, but you decide to go more avant garde with your hair and make-up to hopefully create a better impression on the women tonight. It’s a good look, but something is missing that will give you a certain edge that you want to achieve. You look through your meager jewelry collection but nothing gives off the right vibe. You look over to where the child is playing with Din and you have an idea.

“Buddy, can I borrow your mythosaur for tonight?” You ask the little one. He smiles up at you and gives you his happy coo. You gently take the necklace off him and drape it over your head. The silver pendant comes to rest just above your cleavage, and it’s perfect, much better for the darker image you’re trying to achieve.

You turn with a flourish towards Din, “Well, what do you think? Still a princess but maybe more to the standards of this place?”

Din cannot respond to you because his mouth has gone completely dry. He thinks you look outstanding in that sexy dress that he bought you and then, it’s made even better because you’re wearing his mythosaur around your neck. Fuck! He looks at it sparkling against your bosom, it’s like you’ve put on a giant sign that says you belong to him. It creates a primal reaction in him and it’s taking all his self-control not to grab you and claim you as his right now.

“Din? Is it too much?”

“No, I like it,” Din practically growls at you, “I like it so much, I’m thinking I’d like to pull you back into that bedroom and show you how much I like it.”

“Di-in,” you stretch out his name as you can feel your cheeks blazing with his praise and it makes you giggle a little. He’s never been so outrageously direct like that before.

“I’m serious,” he says, “That’s how good you look. In fact you better pick up the baby to keep me in check.” He’s teasing you now, but his voice still sounds predatory. Your heart is racing and he’s making you feel lightheaded.

“Stop, you’re being naughty,” you flirt back at him, but you do pick up the child in any case. As much as you’d much rather stay in the bedroom with him, you know you have an obligation to go to this gala tonight. And as if on cue, there is a knock at your door.

Mistress Sigrid is there and for the first time, there are men with her. The men are much smaller in stature, dressed in soft pastel colors and wearing make-up that resembles what you had on earlier today. You notice that one of the men is more conservatively dressed, while the other is wearing a rather revealing outfit with a dramatic deep vee neckline that practically screams ‘boy toy’. You’ve never seen anything quite like it. Both men clock you with big eyes and smiles, like the women, they appear to be amused by you too, only at least they don’t laugh out loud. When they glance at Din, however, their smiles falter and they seem taken aback at his presence. You wonder if Din looks somehow feminine to them going by their standards. Your thoughts are interrupted by Sigrid before you have more time to consider the men.

“Good evening, Your Highness, you look festive,” she says, but from her tone it doesn’t exactly sound like a compliment. She is also wearing red, but instead of a gown, she has on a sharply tailored suit, almost like a red tuxedo.

“Thank you.” You just smile at her diplomatically.

“Gregor is here to collect your little ward for the evening to take him off to the nursery to play with the other children and provide him with a nice place to sleep for the night.” She motions to the more conservatively dressed man who is smiling and waving at the child.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting that, he usually just accompanies me everywhere,” you respond. Although Gregor seems nice enough, you feel reluctant at leaving the little guy with someone else.

“Nonsense, you don’t want to bring a child to the gala tonight. It isn’t done.” Sigrid declares.

“Well, I need to see the nursery first, before I decide if I’m going to let him stay there.” You want to be certain you and Din know exactly where the child will be and how to get to him quickly in case of an emergency.

“I suppose,” Sigrid sighs, but then she smiles at you again, “There’s that feisty spark I saw in you earlier.”

Gregor motions for you to follow him, “This way Your Highness,” he says in a shy voice.

“Gregor, do you take care of many children?” You would like to know more about his background.

“Oh, yes, I am the nanny for all of the mistresses on the High Council for any of their children under age 5.” He smiles warmly at you, “They will all be there tonight too, so your little one will have plenty of other children to play with; there’s about a dozen all together.”

“Is it just you taking care of all of the children?” That seems like too many for just one person.

“No, no, I have three assistants too,” Gregor says, “You’ll be able to meet them at the nursery.”

You continue to pepper Gregor with questions about childcare and the nursery and he seems positively delighted with all the attention you’re paying towards him. You sometimes hear Sigrid let out a sigh as if she finds the entire conversation boring, but you don’t care, after all the child is your primary priority. When you arrive at the nursery, you can see that everything is quite nice and it does seem like a safe place for the little guy to spend the evening. You kiss him goodbye and Din pats him on the head and gives him a soft reminder that he should be on his best behavior.

“Oh isn’t that cute!” The boy-toy guy coos as he watches you and Din say goodnight to the child. It’s the first you’ve heard him speak.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you your name earlier,” you say to him as you’re leaving the nursery, “I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just very focused on the child, you understand.”

“Well aren’t you sweet, Your Highness,” he says beaming at you, “I’m Trent, I’m Mistress Sigrid’s lover.” He seems very proud of that fact.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Trent,” you reply with a nod. You slip your hand around Din’s elbow deciding that they already seem to know you two are a couple, so you might as well feel free to show a little affection. You tilt your head towards Din as you say, “This is Mando.”

“I know,” Trent says giggling a little, “The man in armor, it’s so shocking.” Trent sounds both amused and a little scandalized. “It’s super nice to meet you, Mando. I can’t wait to hear more about you and your princess at dinner. You’re all anyone is talking about.” He winks and flashes his dazzling white teeth.

“Nice to meet you,” Din says. His voice and body language don’t give anything away but you wonder if he’s a little taken aback by Trent’s enthusiasm.

“Yes, the men will have plenty of time to get to know one another during the feast since they’ll be sitting together at their table,” Sigrid explains, and then addresses you directly, “You’ll be with me at the head table with all the other mistresses of the High Council.”

“Oh, you don’t sit together as couples?” With the insinuations that Mistress Lagertha made earlier about the Jubilee, it seemed like this was going to be an event for couples or at least dates.

“Not during the dinner,” Sigrid tells you, “It gives us women time to have serious discussions while the men can chatter about lighter things. Trust me, your Mando will have a much better time conversing with the other men. He won’t miss you at all.” You doubt that, but say nothing and simply grip Din’s arm a bit tighter as a way of silently communicating with him.

“Besides,” she continues, “You’ll have plenty of time to sit together during the entertainment.”

“Ooh, it’s going to be so good this year too,” Trent says, “My best friend is one of the performers and he’s been filling me in on all the juicy details. I’ll tell you all about it, Mando.” Oh my, seems Din’s made a new friend already.

“Just be sure you don’t spoil it for him though, Trent,” Sigrid says patting his shoulder.

“Oh, I won’t,” Trent beams up at her. He reminds you a bit of an eager puppy just so happy to please her in any way.

At last, you come to a large room festooned with red, black, and gold decorations and several round dining tables. The table in the middle of the room is the biggest and it is raised up on a dais so that it is more visible across the entire room. There are several people milling about with glasses of wine and a few servers passing appetizers throughout the space. You’re thankful to see that several of the women are also wearing red gowns, so at least you’re not the only one in a dress. But once again, your attire is much more feminine by your standards. Where your gown is more revealing and designed to show off the curves of your figure, theirs have long sleeves and high necklines designed to showcase their muscular frames. The men are almost all dressed like Trent in soft pastels of varying colors with revealing tops that show off their chests and very tight pants that show off other assets. As you enter the room with Mistress Sigrid, a gong sounds to announce your arrival and every eye that wasn’t already staring at you is suddenly on you as a hush comes over the room.

“Good Evening, all!” Mistress Sigrid’s voice booms out, “I am pleased to welcome you to this year’s opening gala of the Jubilee of Astrid, may she bless you all!” Cheers and applause follow this statement. Sigrid holds up her hand and waits for everyone to quiet again.

“Tonight we welcome our special guests, a princess and her Mandalorian!” Polite applause follows this along with several whispers and small bouts of laughter. You smile placidly at the room and nod your head in greeting.

“Take your seats and let’s begin the feast!” Sigrid announces and the cheering and applause build back up.

“C’mon, Mando I’ll show you where our table is,” Trent motions.

“Just a moment,” Din replies, before turning to you and dropping his helmet to your forehead, his voice is low so that only you can hear it as he says, “Have a good dinner, cyar’ika.”

“I’ll see you later,” you whisper back to him and give his hands a squeeze before being led away by Sigrid.

“You two are very affectionate with one another, I think you’re going to enjoy tonight’s festivities quite a lot,” Sigrid says smirking at you.

At the table, she introduces you to all of the mistresses seated there, most of whom look you over with amusement and curiosity. There are a few though who seem displeased by your presence and they openly frown at you. You suppose it is due to your off-worlder status more than anything else, but you sincerely hope you haven’t made some type of social gaff that may have offended them. You look over to the men’s table and notice that Din has positioned himself so that he is seated in your direct line of sight. It puts you at ease knowing that you can look up at any time and see that familiar helmet and visor.

One of the younger mistresses, Eira, seems the most interested in you and she seems to be one of the friendliest so you strike up a conversation with her. She tells you about her background as a professional fighter, and how that fame brought her into the arena of politics. You’re telling her a little bit about your travels with Din, when one of the other mistresses, Runa, pipes up,

“Yes, tell us all about the Mandalorian.”

“Well, he’s an incredibly skilled fighter, very brave, and I trust him with my life,” you say, thinking that’s what will most likely impress them.

“No, no,” Runa says, “Tell us about your relationship with him. And not just the lovey-dovey stuff, the good stuff.”

“The good stuff?” you repeat, rather surprised.

“Yeah, like what’s it like sleeping with a man who’s so large?” Eira asks, apparently also curious to hear about Din.

“Well, it’s great,” you tell them, “He’s very big and strong and I like the way it makes me feel when I’m in his arms.” You know you’re being liberal with the definition of ‘sleeping with’ here but they don’t need to know that.

“Huh?” Eira responds, “It just seems so weird. I like my men the smaller the better, like I can just wrap myself around their whole body.” The other women nod along with her and several look at you like you must be crazy.

“I suppose that’s just one of the differences between our cultures, but I would say that where I come from, people are very accepting of all different types of bodies and partners. I’m sure there are women from my society who prefer smaller men like you do.” Eira smiles at you when you say this.

“Yes, but when you say big, is he big everywhere?” Runa asks you pointedly and motions with her hands holding them side by side and then expending them outward little by little.

You laugh at loud at that, especially because of the alarmed look on her face as her hands get wider apart. You notice too that now the entire table is waiting for your answer, so much for Sigrid’s ‘serious discussions’. You smile, amused by their interest, and you can’t help but glance over at Din for a moment before you tell them,

“He is very well endowed.” You might not have direct knowledge of that, but from the time you saw him after swimming and the times you’ve felt him against you lately, you know your answer is correct.

“But doesn’t that, you know, hurt you?” Runa wants to know. Her face is very concerned and you do all you can to keep from laughing again so that she won’t think you rude.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you tell her, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Tell us more about him as a lover,” Lagertha says, her voice loud as it carries across the table. You cringe a bit internally at that because you know that the men’s table has to have heard her. You look right at Din and he tips his helmet in a way that you know means ‘really?’ and you give him a slight shrug in response.

Maker, what can you say to these horny women? Your experience with him is so limited as it is. You decide to just go off of what you do know and then let your imagination fill in the gaps. You figure as long as you keep them entertained with this, they’ll be less likely to ask you any other questions about your invented background that could potentially poke holes in your story. So you tell them all about how generous Din is as a lover, that he’s tender and caring, but then able to be harder and rough when you want him to be. You make him out to be a complete sex god for these women and they are entranced.

“Well, then, it seems like you have the perfect partner for the Jubilee,” Sigrid says chuckling, “I’m sure he’ll get you pregnant.”

You choke on your wine as she says this. What the hell?

“Of course he will, you don’t have to worry,” Eira says and she pats your arm supportively, “After all, that is the point of a fertility festival and Astrid is sure to bless you even if you’re an off-worlder.”

Sweet Maker above! You can only imagine what the rest of this Jubilee will entail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Din are finally able to be back together after the dinner. It feels like a relief to have him place his hand on the small of your back as you both follow everyone to a large ballroom where the entertainment is scheduled to begin soon.

“So, what am I like as a lover?” Din leans down to ask you discreetly, his voice is teasing though.

“I knew you had to have heard that,” you say embarrassed, “But these crazy horny women just wouldn’t stop asking me about you.”

“It was the same for me,” he tells you, “All the men wanted to hear about how we fell in love.”

You laugh as you tell him, “Oh no, the women only wanted to hear about sex. But I am curious to know what you told the men.”

“And I’m curious to hear what you told the women,” Din replies.

“Well, obviously I had to do some speculating, but in essence I told them you were a very generous and highly-skilled lover, oh, and that you’re very large.” You wink at him as you say this and give him your most flirtatious smile.

Din pulls you in closer to him and tilts his head down to tell you, “I think that’s a fairly accurate description but I’d much rather you’d experience it first-hand instead of just taking my word for it.” You shiver in anticipation at that.

“Ok, now, what did you tell the men?” You’re very interested to hear this.

“I told them the truth, that you’re the most beautiful, kind, and caring woman I’ve ever known, that you make my life so much better, and that I couldn’t stop myself from falling for you, I also told them that you’re a wonderful kisser.” He says this so sincerely that your heart swells with happiness.

You drop your voice to a whisper so that there’s no way anyone will overhear you use his name, “Din, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” you have to pause for a moment to collect yourself before you tell him, “I hope you know that you make my life so much better too.” You want to tell him more but it’s too public here.

“Thank you for telling me, cyar’ika,” he replies, his voice sounding warm even in a whisper.

Speaking of romantic, the ballroom is set up like a large cabaret with small tables for couples all around, only instead of chairs, each table has a rounded booth with a high back, positioned to face the large open area in the front of the room. As couples start to be seated, you can see that there’s quite a bit of privacy for each table despite the large number of attendees.

“Trent said we can sit wherever we like, but I get the impression we should pick something near the performance area so they’ll think we’re really interested in the show,” Din tells you. You find a table in the second row with a good view of the stage area. The booth is very comfortable and you lean into Din as he places his arm around your shoulders.

“Did Trent give you details about the show?”

He groans slightly, “Yes, probably too many, the best I can tell you is that we’re going to see an erotic celebration designed to honor their goddess, Astrid.”

“Ah yes, I found out something else about this celebration,” you tell him, “This whole Jubilee is a fertility festival; everyone thinks we’re here so that you’ll get me pregnant, that’s what they mean when they say ‘may Astrid bless you’.” Your face feels hot as you inform him of this.

“Well, I’ll certainly give it my all, cyar’ika,” Din tell you, his voice sounding deeper.

“Very funny,” you reply, “I have an implant in any case.”

“Still, practice does make perfect,” he says, laughing, “And the thought does intrigue me.” You giggle in response to that and then start to quiet down as the lights dim.

Truthfully, Din is more than intrigued by the idea. The men also filled him in on the purpose of this holiday during the dinner and he has been thinking about it ever since. Honestly, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of taking you to bed all day, and his arousal has only been growing. While impractical, the idea of seeing you pregnant with his child is appealing to him in ways he never knew were possible. The reality of how much he wants that someday with you is so strong it’s almost overwhelming to him. In the past, the idea of becoming attached to someone never interested him; the women that he met were good for a sexual release but they were never anyone he wanted to spend time with outside of the bedroom. But with you, everything looks different, feels different, and he wants things he’s never wanted before.

Din’s thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of several dancers, male and female, who have started their performance. He watches a bit at first but then becomes bored and turns his attention back to you. He likes the way you’re cuddled up to him, he’s glad you’re not shy about showing him affection in public. Din is also enjoying watching your face and your reactions as you watch the performance unfold. You seem enthralled until you notice his visor is turned toward you instead of the dancers.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, blinking up at him. He simply gives your shoulder a squeeze and nods.

He keeps looking at you instead of the performance though until he sees your eyes widen and you gasp. Din turns his attention back to the dancers to see that they are removing most of their clothing to reveal their bodies. The dancers then start to pair off and dance together in what can only be described as the most sexual dancing Din has ever seen. There is grinding, thrusting, and a lot of groping. Turns out Trent was right about it being an erotic spectacle. He chuckles a bit to himself at the description and really, it’s nothing worse than some of the pornographic holovids he’s seen before. He looks down at you however and notices that you have become a little restless next to him. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the dancers and he sees your tongue come out to wet your lips as you watch. This is turning you on, he realizes. As he glances around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to you, he notes that several of the couples in the booths have started to put on their own performances, so to speak, and no one is interested in the two of you anymore. Never a man to let an opportunity pass by, Din decides to take full advantage of the situation and he reaches over and pulls you into his lap.

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasp, surprised by his actions.

“Shh, cyar’ika, look around,” he tells you. You look over at the other booths to see that most everyone else is making out all around you.

“Oh”

“It’s ok, keep watching the dancers, I can tell you like it,” Din says as his arms wrap around you. He holds you like that for a moment as you continue to watch the performers simulate various sexual acts. But before long his hands begin to wander, starting by running his fingers lightly over your collarbone. He traces the line of your necklace down to the mythosaur and then brushes against the tops of your breasts just along the edge of your bodice. Din hears you let out a small whine as he touches you and it emboldens him to palm one of your breasts fully. Between the layers of fabric of your dress and his gloves, it’s only a tease, but as he continues to grope you, he can hear the pace of your breathing increase. Din wants more and his hand finds the long slit in your dress allowing him to run his fingers up your thigh. He can feel your warmth as he gently kneads your flesh. Each movement he makes seems to elicit a small sound from you and he’s eager to hear more. Din slowly makes his way higher up your skirt thinking he’ll just tease the edges of your panties or maybe touch you over them, when he realizes he’s not finding any.

“Oh, my naughty girl, are you not wearing anything under this dress?” Din asks.

“Didn’t seem necessary,” you whisper to him.

He lets his fingers lightly explore between your legs, and when he can feel how wet you are already he can’t keep himself from letting his hand become more bold. He runs two of his fingers through your damp folds and up to the small bundle of nerves that he knows will bring you the most pleasure. Din feels you shudder against him as he circles your clit before bringing his fingers back down. The movement makes you shift your hips over his making you grind against his cock and he lets out a deep groan. It’s more than he can take and he says,

“We’re going back to room, now.”

“But, the show is still going on,” you say a little worried about being rude to your hostess.

“No one will miss us,” Din insists, “Let’s go.”

You quickly slide out of the booth following Din and he grabs your hand to hustle you to the exit. He’s right that no one seems to notice you at all, except for one other couple that is also sneaking out early. Din and you practically run back to your room, but once you get inside all you can do is stand there for a moment looking at each other.

“I want to make love to you,” Din says, his voice deep, “Please tell me you want that too.”

“I do, so much,” you reply.

He sweeps you into his arms and brings his helmet down to your forehead, as he asks, “Can we use the sleep mask? I really want to kiss you again and be able to use my mouth on your body.”

“Yes, but can we get undressed first?” you ask, “Because I’d like to see your body for a bit before.”

“Absolutely,” Din replies and he starts to pull off his armor. You have a lot less to remove, so with a simple whoosh of fabric, you’re standing before him in only your bra and his mythosaur necklace. You unhook the bra and toss it aside.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Din says, as he yanks at his own clothing in an attempt to be faster. You reach to lift the necklace off, when Din stops you, “No, don’t, I’d like it if you’d leave that on.”

“Oh?”

“I like seeing it on you, especially when it’s the only thing you have on,” he rasps out.

He’s finally almost totally naked except for his boxers and his helmet. Din can see you are transfixed with the way you are practically hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. It makes him smile how enthusiastic you are to see him. He slows his movements to draw out the moment and watches your face intently as he leisurely lowers the boxers from his hips. He sees your eyes widen and he chuckles as your mouth makes the most adorable little ‘o’.

“Wow, Din, you are the gorgeous one,” you reply practically in awe, “And I was right, you are large.”

Din chuckles at that comment, “I’m glad you like the view.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of it,” you say as you walk closer to him and as soon as you are in arms reach, Din pulls you to him so he can finally feel you. The sensation overwhelms him and all he can do is hold you there reveling in the feeling of your naked body against his. He lets out a loud groan from deep in his chest.

“I never thought this could feel so good,” Din breathes out. You shift against him and he groans again, “Please can we get the blindfold now? I need to kiss you.”

You pull away from him to reach into the nightstand drawer where you stashed the sleep mask. You take one last long look at his nude form before giving him an appreciative smile and slipping the mask on over your eyes. Not a second later, you hear a clunk as the helmet hits the floor and then Din is on you. He kisses you like he’ll never get another chance again, so full of passion and desire that it makes your head spin. His kiss is so all consuming that you don’t even realize that he’s picked you up and carried you to the bed, until he’s lying you back onto the soft cover. Din breaks the kiss just for a moment so that he can climb on top of you and come to rest comfortably between your spread legs.

Din could kiss you forever if you would let him. He loves the way your lips mold to his and the feeling of your tongue tasting his. He only pulls away to let you both catch your breath slightly before he’s back, trying to kiss you with even more fervor each time. Finally, you break the kiss so that you can explore more and the soft feel of your lips on his neck is magical. You find a sensitive spot just under his ear that makes him moan with pleasure. That moan quickly turns into a growl though as you use your teeth to nip at the spot.

“Ah, cyar’ika, let me try that on you,” he says, moving so that he has better access to your neck. Like you, he starts with soft kisses before biting into your neck to mark you as his. You’re more vocal than he is, letting out little mewls and whines of pleasure the more he kisses and sucks on your skin. He works his way down your neck to your chest, kissing and nipping at you the entire way. Finally, he’s at your breasts and Din does something he’s been dreaming of forever. He takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, pleasuring the sensitive peak with his tongue.

“Din!” you cry out his name and arch your back beneath him from how wonderful it feels. You can’t keep still as he suckles you. You run your fingers through his thick, wavy hair and then down his strong shoulders. When he tries out his teeth on your breast, you scratch your fingernails down his back. You feel his responding groan vibrate against your chest before he lifts his head from you,

“Do that again, cyar’ika, I liked it,” he tells you before switching to your other nipple to lavish it with the same mind-blowing pleasure. You rake your fingernails down his back again and again, as you writhe beneath him. It feels so good but yet, it isn’t enough.

“Please, Din, please,” you beg him.

He pulls off your breast with a soft pop of his lips, “Please what?” he asks you, his voice sounding amused.

“Touch me,” you pant out, “Please.”

“I am touching you,” Din teases and he drops his head back down so he can lick in between your breasts and down your stomach. “Or do you want me touch you somewhere else? Maybe here?” He licks and nibbles just above your belly button.

“Yes, but lower,” you say.

“How about here?” Din kisses lower, near your hipbone.

“Din!” Your voice comes out as a whine and he chuckles, Maker, he’s such a tease.

You feel him shift his body down and even though you can’t see him, you know he’s looking right at your pussy. You wait in anticipation of his touch and then start to wonder, as he doesn’t move.

“Din?”

“Just enjoying the beautiful sight,” he says, his voice full of desire. He waits just a beat more and then you feel his tongue moving through your wet folds.

You shudder and let out a loud moan as he licks you. He’s moving so slow, like he’s trying to savor you, and it feels wonderful but it’s also so maddening.

“Please, please more,” you beg him, your voice shaky in your need.

Din is happy to oblige you and he lets his tongue begin to explore you in earnest. His hands are splayed on each of your thighs as his mouth moves over you. As he licks you higher, he holds your lips open with his thumbs so he can have better access to your clit. Each time he lets his tongue brush over the little pearl, you cry out. He keeps this up for a bit, tormenting you, until he finally latches his lips around it and sucks your clit into his mouth. You cry out his name so loudly when he does that and you thrust your hands into his hair gripping it tightly.

The sensation makes him groan and he’s pleased when you do it again. The more he suckles and tongues your clit, the harder you tremble against him and he has to push down on your hips to keep you still. He pulls away from you for just a moment and lets his thumb draw circles on your clit in place of his tongue.

“You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, cyar’ika,” he tells you, “Wanted to do this for so long, so much better than I could have imagined.”

All you can do is moan in response because the mounting pleasure has robbed you of all logical thought. Din dives back into you, licking his tongue around your entrance before he pushes the muscle inside you. You cry out again and you grip his hair even tighter as your orgasm begins to close in on you. You feel yourself surging higher and higher, your thighs pushing tight around his head, until suddenly you are at the peak, feeling the most sublime pleasure as you gush on his tongue.

Din slows his movements as he lets you come down from your high, but he wants more. He’s waited so long to be here, he’s going to take his time until you’re begging him to stop. He lifts his mouth from you so that he can suck two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly.

“Is that really the first time you’ve done that?” You’ve regained enough composure to ask him.

“Yes,” he says, chuckling.

“If you get any better, you might kill me,” you tell him still sounding rather breathless.

“Well my darling, I’m not stopping yet,” Din replies as he pushes one long finger into you and drops his head back down to tongue your clit again. The high-pitched cry you let out makes him smile against you and he sees what he can do to hear it a second time. He can feel you flutter around his finger and he can’t believe how tight you are. He knows it’ll be easier for you to take his cock if he can make you come a couple more times on his fingers first. He slowly adds his second finger to you before he starts pumping them into you at a steady pace while licking and sucking your clit the entire time. He just barely crooks his fingers upward to brush the top of your walls when you’re coming apart again, shuddering so hard you almost buck him off you.

“Ahhh! Din, how’re you doing th-at, fe-feels so go-od,” you try your best to praise him but you can barely get the words out.

“Does it, cyar’ika? Does it feel good what I’m doing to you?” Din asks as he keeps his fingers working within your body. You clench around him hard.

“Talk to me,” you pant out, “like it so much.”

“You want me to talk to you, tell you how wonderful you feel around my fingers, how hot and wet you are?” Din replies and all you can do is moan in response.

“Mmm, you came so nice and hard for me before, gripped me so well, I can’t wait to feel you around my cock, going to feel fucking amazing.” The more Din talks dirty to you the more you cry out and thrust your hips against him.

“You really like this, don’t you, my fingers stretching you out, getting you nice and ready for me,” Din’s voice is so deep that the tone is doing just as much to pleasure you as his words do. “Tell you what, I’m going to keep this up and I’m going to suck on that beautiful little clit of yours until you come again for me.” And with that, his mouth returns to his favorite spot.

All you can do is cry out his name as the pleasure burns through your body. It’s so strong that you feel tears welling up in your eyes and you’re shaking all over from the sheer delight of his actions. It feels as if you are being tossed on a sea of pleasure, rising and falling with each wave, until finally you reach the largest wave of them all and it crashes over you. You lay there boneless and panting until Din finally stops and kisses his way back up your body before finally lying down next to you.

When you finally feel your breathing calm, you reach for him and bring him into a passionate kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. He moans his approval and rolls over on top of you.

“Wait,” you say breaking the kiss, “Don’t you want me to touch you? I’d love to taste you too.”

“I’d like that, cyar’ika, but some other time,” Din says, “Right now, I need to be inside you.”

In response, you widen your legs for him and draw them up to frame his hips, “I want that too, Din.”

“Tell me again, please,” he says as you feel his cock glide over your folds spreading your wetness all over him.

“I want you, Din, I need to feel you inside me, I need you to make love to me,” you tell him, your voice full of emotion.

“Oh, ner cyar’ika,” Din says before he kisses you and begins to push into your narrow passage. Even with as wet and ready as you are for him, he wants to go slowly both so he can be sure not to hurt you and so that he can enjoy every moment of this first time.

You gasp into his mouth as he gradually stretches you open; you saw how big he is, but feeling him now, he seems enormous, but the sensation is amazing. He’s unhurried as he lets your body adjust to him and you feel nothing but pleasure as he continues to push forward. You know he’s been delaying his own pleasure this entire time that he’s been devoted to you and you marvel at his control now. Finally, he is completely sheathed within you and he breaks the kiss so he can let out a moan. He drops his forehead to yours and just stays there without moving. You let your inner muscles flutter around him as you enjoy the feel of him deep within you. He moans again.

“You little minx, do it again,” he says before kissing you anew. So you do, you tighten and release him almost like you’re trying to pull him deeper inside of you. You do it again and again until finally he starts to withdraw from you to begin thrusting. Din continues to move at a languid pace, allowing you to feel every delicious inch of him as he brushes your walls. Every time he reaches the deepest point inside you, you clench around him as tight as you can, in a vain effort to keep him there.

“Din, you’re so good, I love the way you feel,” you tell him.

“You’re perfect, cyar’ika, you’re so tight and hot and perfect,” he says and he starts to roll his hips into yours so that he strokes firmly on the most pleasurable part inside you as he pulls out. It makes you cry out his name.

“I love the way you say my name, my wonderful girl,” Din praises you and you wish you could compliment him back but he’s making you forget how to speak it’s so good, and all you can do is repeat his name.

Din reaches down to shift your legs higher on his hips and it changes your position so that he can thrust even deeper into you. He feels you lock your legs around his narrow waist and he adores it. He feels so close to you; it’s the most intimate sex has ever been for him. He wants to tell you how great it is but all he can get out are a string of random words of praise. He knows he’s getting close, but he wants you to come one more time before he does. He slides his hand between the two of you so he can reach your clit and he circles it roughly as he begins to piston into you at a fast pace.

“Yes, Din, yes, right there, don’t stop!” you call out to him. His hips are rocketing against yours now and you know you’re almost to another climax. You feel your thighs start to quake with your release and you know it will be a strong one.

“Please, please cyar’ika, come for me,” Din begs you and his voice urging you on is what you needed. You feel yourself explode and everything feels white hot as you clench hard around him. Din thrusts twice more before his own orgasm overtakes him and he spills himself deep within you, his cock pulsing. He shudders above you and his arms give out, making him sink his full weight into you. It feels wonderful and you wrap your arms around him to hold him tight.

When you can breathe again, you tell him, “Din, that was so amazing, I don’t even have the words, just incredible.”

“For me too,” he pants out as he is still catching his breath. You let him relax as you run your hands over his back gently. Eventually though, he picks up his head and kisses you so sweetly.

“I had no idea that anything could ever feel this wonderful,” Din tells you, and he kisses you again before rolling to the side and snuggling next to you with his head nestled in the crook of your neck and his hand resting on your stomach.

“So did I live up to the reputation you gave me as a lover?” Din asks, his voice flirty and teasing.

“Oh, you surpassed it,” you reply, “You are even better than the sex god, I described.”

“Ah, sex god, I like it,” he laughs, “Feel free to call me that any time.”

“Should I tell, Sigrid, to announce you as such tomorrow?” you laugh with him.

“Absolutely, may I present to you her Royal Highness and her Sex God.” He’s still chuckling and shaking the bed with his laughter. He calms down for a moment and he lets his hand trace lazy circles on your stomach before it comes to rest just below your belly button.

“So?” Din drawls, “Do you think you were blessed by Astrid?”

“I think modern science may have thwarted her in that,” you respond with a giggle.

“Hmm, maybe I should try again?” Din replies as he turns you to face him and pulls your leg over his hip. You’re surprised to feel that he’s already hard again as he grinds himself against you.

“I suppose you should,” you tell him encouragingly and you find his lips again in an adoring kiss.

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

Thank you again so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Go to Chapter 7: The Mando Games

Tag list: @grogusmum @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @imthemandalornow @overtly-cuteashell

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic

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trashytummiez · 4 years

Text

Bubbly Bottle Caps

I got this idea from @squidbiscuit‘s latest drawing of James after drinking way too much soda. I love bois who get really bloated and burpy from soda like that and the jiggly belly on James was just too much to ignore. >///<;

"EEEEEEEEI!!! What marvelous luck!!” James squealed in his posh accent. The Team Rocket scoundrel and his partner in crime, Jessie, made out like the bandits they were with this latest snag. While Jessie and Meowth were busy gawking at the cargo they may have some luck selling off to some of their other Team Rocket associates, James had his eyes on the real prize.

About a dozen rare, imported glass soda bottles. No. Seriously.

His eyes practically turned to hearts when he leaned down and observed the sparkling bottle caps atop each one. They were all rare, unique from one another, and sparkled almost as much as James’ excited, glassy eyes.

“Marvelous! Simply maaaaarvelous!!” James exclaimed in his flamboyant tone of voice. “My Bottle Cap collection’s about to get sooooo much sparklier!!” James cheered in a voice much more higher pitched than usual. He got very excited when it came to his bottle cap collection. It was sometimes hard to tell if it was sad or kind of adorable.

He immediately unscrewed the cap to one soda. Then, he brought the cap mere inches from his eyeballs. He observed its every inch, admiring its perfect form with the same attention and adoration one would convey admiring a diamond.

To James, there was no difference between the two.

He eagerly set the bottle cap into his pocket then grabbed the next bottle. But before he could twist the prized cap off, he stopped and looked down at the first drink he disregarded for the cap. The young, blue-haired villain picked up the bottle and looked it over. He carefully sniffed at the fizzing top.

It was a crisp vanilla cream soda, which happened to be James’ favorite brand of soda. Not only that, but even though they were on the clock and wanted to get the goods in and out as soon as possible, James wasn’t one to waste anything. Least of all delicious, creamy-tasting and crisp soda.

Against his better judgement, James brought the soda bottle to his lips and began to drink the bottle. It quickly dawned on him that if he was going to get his caps and deal with the soda in a non-wasteful manner, he’d need to hurry it up. So, the young villain went from drinking his soda to downright chugging it. His throat bobbed while he slugged his bottle down. It was a genuine shame to have to rush through the drink, but it was easy to chug, simply because it tasted so unbelievably good.

He finished it in impressive time, huffing but then smacking his lips at the flavor. “Mmmm, sweet as pie!” James said happily. Then, he grabbed another bottle and popped off the cap. Once again, he was gawking like a giant nerd at the beautiful cap and how great it would look with some of the others. Then, he pocketed the cap and, like the first bottle, decided to guzzle it down.

Two bottles down, James burped into his fist then grabbed his third bottle. But when he popped the cap off, his stomach gurgled loudly, making him feel a little uncomfortable. He paused and rubbed his black-clad stomach gently from under his white Team Rocket Uniform. Burping again under his breath, James huffed. He had an appetite and had been known for overindulging a bit too often, both he and Jessie alike were known for that, but he wasn’t used to chugging so much soda at once. His gurgling stomach told him that this wasn’t a good idea. But that stubborn side of him that both loved the taste of this particular soda and hated wasting food or drink alike won out.

So, he pocketed his third bottle cap and guzzled the drink down. He would’ve paced himself, but he didn’t want to leave Jessie or Meowth waiting or for them to stick around longer than they needed. Lord knows they’ve had egg on their face far too many times to wanna deal with another blunder when things were actually going well with this latest scheme.

Especially with these glorious bottle caps on the line.

After downing his third bottle, James couldn’t help but let out a large burp, definitely a lot bigger than he was expecting. He covered his mouth and blushed after. He took a moment to place a hand on his stomach when it grumbled again. It was starting to feel bloated, and definitely heavier than usual.

James whined nervously down at his burgeoning middle. He felt up his stomach, and the way it sort of jostled around on account of that added soda bloat. He hiccuped from the jostle and blushingly covered his mouth. “Curse my innocuous and totally awesome hobbies,” James complained. But then again, he was already a fourth of the way done. Getting through the rest couldn’t have been that bad, right?

Wrong.

The more those bottles began to add up, the worse that poor, oddly dashing crook began to feel. His usually thin stomach turned into a pretty sizable potbelly that stretched out his black undershirt and gurgled intensely. James was looking miserable when he downed his sixth bottle. His eyes were clenched shut and each gulp caused him to strain slightly.

Almost immediately after setting his empty bottle down besides the others, a huge burp exited James mouth and actually lasted a few seconds. James groggily patted his belly, causing it to slosh and gurgle some more. “Ungh, too much soda,” James whimpered, weakly rubbing his bloated belly while it gurgled intensely.

He looked down at his stomach and blushed in an embarrassed manner. His stomach was getting so big from all that soda swilling around inside of him.

BWWWOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRPPP!!!!!

And James was burping so much that he lost any right to call himself the one with good manners within their little gang. James yet again covered his mouth and blushed embarrassingly. All that soda in his gut was making him incredibly gassy.

No hobby in the universe was worth this much torture.

Except bottle cap collecting unfortunately.

So, James popped the bottle cap off and pocketed it without even taking a second to admire the new addition to his collection. And he tortuously drank that seventh bottle. His stomach groaned unpleasantly from the extra soda, but he was committed to enjoying both the new caps and all that soda, even if it killed him.

He really hoped it wouldn’t though.

BBBUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRROOOOOORRRRPPPP!!!!!!!!

Another giant, gassy burp signified another bottle drained. James was so full that he had to sit himself down onto the ground and lean back just to ease some of the pressure off of his stomach. James lazily grabbed another bottle, not even bothering to try and hold in yet another massive burp that forced its way out of his mouth. He blushed a little because they were so loud, but he was too full and too groggy to even excuse himself anymore.

Instead, he just carelessly tossed that damn bottle cap into his pocket and drank. The gulps got louder, as did all of the noises bubbling from James’ heavy and round stomach. It hurt, but it didn’t deter James at this point.

It should have. Like several bottles ago. But somehow, he powered on through. The empty glass bottles just kept on littering the floor beside James, who punctuated the completion of each soda bottle with a massive, sometimes even painful-sounding burp.

BBBBEEEEEEEEEELLLLLUUUUUURRRRRCH!!!!!!

James was gassier than he’d ever been in his whole life. And that wasn’t a compliment.

But the pain and embarrassment would be worth it in the end. Or at least it would after a long nap and a lot of pepto bismol.

Finally, the bloated young man finished all twelve bottles and had a pocket full of beautiful, brand new and rare bottle caps to add to his collection.

BBBBBRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!

It wasn’t worth it.

James lazily slumped back on the floor. His pants had long been undone because his belly had grown so massively bloated from twelve bottles of soda chugged in rapid succession it James almost looked pregnant. His beer belly stuck out so much that his undershirt rode up and revealed his bare round belly for all to see. The dazed and exhausted James gently pat his stomach. He was so full of soda that it actually jiggled and sloshed from the pat. All James could do was groan and whimper while rubbing his round, sloshing belly weakly.

“...Unnngh...too...much...soda...” James whined, burping wetly and whimpering some more. He looked and sounded like he wanted to cry.

“...What in da hell?” Meowth’s low, street-level voice called out to James.

James yelped nervously when Meowth and Jessie approached their soda-filled companion with bags of loot in Jessie’s arms and a single bag in Meowth’s.

“James, what on earth happened here?” Jessie asked, lightly kicking James’ massive belly with her foot.

It sloshed and jostled with an immense gurgle that followed. James’ eyes widened and his cheeks puffed out. And before he could even entertain the idea of holding back what was coming...

BBBWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

James let out the loudest, queasiest burp he’d ever uttered in his life. It was so intense that the bottles besides him actually rattled, as did his soda-filled stomach. Both Jessie and Meowth flinched, but immediately looked at each other and had the same thought.

“Bottle caps.”

James let out a tiny burp and flopped onto his back whimpering. His huge gut swayed like a fleshy wave from all that soda sloshing around inside of him.

“...Nrgh...I...don’t ever...ever...ever...want to see another soda for as long as I live...” James whined and even went a little green at the mere thought of drinking any more soda.

“Well, that’s too bad, becauuuuse...” Jessie grinned eagerly and held up one of the bags of loot which rattled in a dreadfully familiar fashion. “Imported sodas! The cream-flavored kind!”

“They ain’t worth squat but boy d’they taste great!” Meowth exclaimed.

...James proceeded to cry right there on the spot.

#pokemon #james #jessie and james #team rocket #meowth #burping #bloating #soda chug #belly kink #beer belly #bottle caps #indigestion #nausea #carbonation #gassy #drinking

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years

Text

Saeran’s Passport Package

I’ve been waiting since the 19th to get my hands on this baby and I’m glad that it got here today. It took me a little bit to sit down and go through everything cause I wanted to cry about it the entire time.

Spoilers Ahead, everyone. So, if you’re not interested in seeing what’s in the Passport set AFTER the events of Saeran’s After Ending, then do not click Read More, got it? I’ve made it clear to you. I will say that it’s worth the money if you’re debating buying it.

So, we can go over the contents in the box, first as an overview. You receive a letter stamped with a cute sticker as well as the passport itself which holds the notes that Saeran’s been taking and drawing since this all started. I just think that’s cute. My brain said don’t open that passport until we review the letter first so, why don’t we go over the letter first? The little details are really cute. There’s just so many stamps on this baby.

The little touches are what sell it. You’ve got this man putting his love all over it and there’s a CUTE NOTE of CATS. Sir, was that a touch to Saeyoung? I know you know that your brother is a dork. Homage to brother who is an idiot but too glaringly obvious. It got a chuckle out of me. I know this man, and it’s just getting to me.

The passport itself is also really cute. It has the art from the promo banner but instead of everyone hustling around together, there’s new poses and all of that jazz. Jaehee isn’t rushing around. Zen’s got a selfie stick, no surprise on that front. Jumin just chilling. Seven and Yoosung... doing what they do best and you know it. RUN, YOOSUNG, RUN.

Saeran and MC... being cute on the inside made me go, “Aw!” Ice cream. They can really just put ice cream and it’s going to make me cry, huh? Really? Is that how easy this is? Am I a joke to you, Cheritz? Is that what this is?

Now, if you want to talk about the contents in the letter, you get this sheet that is listed in three languages, surprised me, Korean, Spanish, and English, and it lets you tick off little things that you like to do. An itinerary sheet. I feel like this is purely Jumin crafting these. It asks about Cats. Literally. Cats. Wine? Yeah, this is on Jumin. You always come in flex, Jumin, but oh boy, I’m chuckling over here at these little touches.

You get 2 boarding passes. One with Saeran’s name and one with a blank to fill in your name. I thought that was cute. Tying in that with the CG of the passes in the game with this just makes it more real to me. I’m holding this in my hands and it just makes my immersion feel much more real than it did when I was holding my phone in my hand and playing this out.

I think merch like this just makes you feel more apart of the story then you do when you’re able to talk and chat, you know? If you really like feeling like you are involved with the game, this is how you do it. You wanna know how I know that Jumin is the one setting this up with Saeran? Flip over the fucking passport and you realize that Elizabeth is on the back.

I’m still laughing.

I’m trying to imagine this and now, like, I’m starting to see why Jaehee is so damn tired because Elizabeth really is on everything that he can get his hands on and she’s good too many files to sort through when it comes to whatever the photographers take of her. Jumin can’t take photos. He’s either got Jihyun to do this for him at some point, or he’s straight up hiring photographers for her cause he can’t do it.

I mean, we all know that Jumin will put Elizabeth everywhere but I just— It’s on the BOARDING PASSES? JUMIN!

There’s also a postcard within the letter that is once more, written in all three aforementioned languages. Saeran says that it feels like a dream when he is with you, like this is where he’s always meant to be. His promise of happiness is made truest when he’s with you. I teared up a little. I know that he means well when he does that but damn, does it take an arrow to the heart every single time he does it.

Saeran put a lot of thought into this in a very short amount of time. I know that he did this plan likely with the idea that he may not be able to go with us but he wanted us to be able to see the world for him. You know, how he implied that he wanted Saeyoung to see things for him? To live for him? Even if he was dead, he wanted Saeyoung and the player to be happy and free.

The blurred state on those... doesn’t have names. It doesn’t name Saeran in this photo.

The implication of his sacrifice with the boarding passes kind of hurts because this is a side note of the fact that Saeran Did Not Know If He Would Live To See This Through. He made it thinking maybe.. if things worked out, it would be an okay future, but this was... God. I just. I’m thinking about the weight of the AE and what that felt like. I almost glossed over the Boarding Pass because I was just so upset with him.

I’m the type to try to sacrifice myself for others, too. I have that in common with Saeyoung and Saeran.

I think that we’d argue over who should die for the others and while that’s macabre, it’s just the kind of people that we are. We love these people so much that we’re willing to die if they’re safe and sound. Knowing that, I understand what Saeran tried, and even what Saeyoung tries, but it’s hard cause I want to make sure they’re happy in comparison to myself.

This is where being selfless is a bad thing.

Does anyone know what a big deal it is for Saeran to have a passport? He’s never had an ID or paperwork in his entire life. If he did, he would’ve been killed, so would his brother. They’re both never had IDs. Unless you count the ones from the Agency and Mint Eye. They’ve got them in the Believer box with their names and faces, but that’s not official. That’s not paperwork that everyone else has. That’s just...

You know?

Seeing this tangible thing in my hands is a testament to Saeran Choi being alive and thriving. He’s not afraid of showing his face. He’s living. He’s a free man and nobody can kill him for existing. Does that not weigh on anyone here? It hit me and I wanted to cry. I might break down thinking about this later because I just take this too seriously. Look at him. Look at HIM. Okay? Did you look? Now, LOOK AGAIN.

Okay, I’m not going to share every single page inside of the passport but I will give you little snippets of the journey ahead and show you what he writes and draws. Yes, he’s drawing. I knew that he was talented because he is great at doodling and drawing, but he knows how to have such a cute style that I want to gush about and he probably has no clue about how cute it is because nobody’s ever told him!

Okay, so the trip is broken up over a few months and into segments. You know how I was surprised by the 3 languages? Yes, this passport is written in three languages and it stays that way. It implies that Saeran knows English and Spanish, or at the very least, he’s been studying them, I get that it’s kind of a neat tie in to make sure that all languages are included but I only English and I can only read Spanish, I suck at conversational Spanish, so I could only read the English and Spanish sections.

So, if anyone wants to throw in what the Korean segments say, please do. I have a rough idea, but it’d be nice to know. The first segment of the trip is spent traveling over Korea. You see the things that he packed in the bag!

I almost had a heart attack because I thought the vitamins were Caffeine Pills. I was about to beat my Husband and make him go to bed. Thin ice, Saeran. Thin ice, the Special Believer package implied you take more then ten and I want you to go the fuck to sleep at night.

He packed his hanbok! Look! You remember? From the title screen event? The blue shirt is the one that he matches with MC in. There’s so much I’m screaming about it.

It shows you things that you do. Like, biking, karaoke, gardens... is there a locket bridge in Korea? You know? If you put them together on a bridge, it’s said that your love lasts forever. I forget where that came from but I guess there must be one in South Korea, too. Oh, and food. Can you believe that he can eat whatever he wants now? I’m sobbing.

Please.

HE’S IN HANBOK. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Okay, here’s the thing. I only have one gripe with the Passport Package and I’m going to say this again at the end, but I really wish that they had included big photos for this because the Passport itself it rather small and I wish that I could have bigger photos of this. It’s my only complaint. Literally, it’s the only thing I have to say about the box that will affect my rating. Look, we’re doing cheesy couple stuff!

HE’S DOING THE HEART THING WITH HIS HANDS.

A KISS.

KISS.

GUSHING.

DYING. HELP. ME.

God, I wish I wasn’t broke. I would commission someone to do this for my MC.

The second and third portion of the trip are spent in the U.S.A. and Mexico, I was so surprised by that! New York and Hawaii specifically are what they name and I was. Well, those are really far apart, huh. I mean, those are very popular spots. I’m not surprised. I’m chuckling because he’s got matching outfits.

Saeran Choi, you really want the embarrassing couple look, don’t you? Well, if it’s for you, I’d do it. Did... Saeyoung or Jumin set us up, are we fucking loaded? There’s mad bank here.

Saeran and MC basically are living per Jumin and Saeyoung, to be honest, because Saeran’s never had a job and MC is... your MC literally agrees to go and test a game in the woods, how good can our lives be? I’m broke, boy. I ain’t got nothing. So, I like to think that those two are offering to let Saeran be as happy and free as he wants. No expense. Like, kindness. The RFA is too damn much, I’m gonna cry. I’m starting to understand why the RFA didn’t hear from us for months.

The final Check-In with the RFA is set 6 Months after the events that take place when we save Saeran. The events of this Passport cover 3 months. So, we go back to Korea after this adventure and met up with Saeyoung, because we know that we’re hanging out with him in the conclusion. So, if they haven’t really heard from us, that means that we’ve been traveling more with him.

I kind of like that.

We’re spending time with Saeran alone and time with the brothers together, and that’s sweet! I love that. I need to write more about it.

I’m trying not to laugh about this Mexico portion but it looks like he passed out from an ice tea... lemonade...? It’s surely not alcohol. Maybe too much sugar, I know that crash can hurt. I’ve been there. I just know that you’re not implying the man with alcohol trauma is gonna drink. Nope. Neither he nor Saeyoung ever will do that. I stand by that statement and I’ll die by that statement. Bite me my tongue if I’m wrong, but I stand by that.

Saeran is at least mindful of the sun. He’s also made notes that the perfect time for sunset is 18:34. Cute. He notes that it’s time for the Day of the Dead as well, so that’s fun!

IS THAT A FUCKING V CACTUS—

TWO V CACTUS—

There’s actually a portion in here where he asks you certain questions and you have the space to fill in it. I like that it’s interactive.

Do you have favorites sweets? Are there things about yourself that you hide? Did you make sure to ask Santa what you wanted? I’m wheezing. The food doodles are one thing, and the Christmas photo is one thing, but he really drew himself as a butterfly and the MC as a bug catcher.

“CATCH ME, MC.”

Help me.

I’m laughing so hard.

Saeran, you fucking goofball.

And, the last page of the passport is us assumedly returning home with all kinds of trinkets and gifts. Flower crown, snow globe, cactus, hats, listen, there’s a lot of details in this photos that I really wish I could have it blown up.

That’s really my only complaint about the Passport Package. I really want to have bigger photos that are shared. I wouldn’t have minded if it was the photo of the final CG in the game, or the Christmas photo, I really would have enjoyed getting that to have for myself.

You know? The passport itself is roughly like 5 x 7 or so, so while it’s not big, it’s still like. I would love to see the details blown up. It’s smaller then the diary, that I know for sure. I think it’s the only thing stopping from giving Cheritz a 10/10 on this item.

I’m going to have to give them a 9.8/10 simply because it feels like we are lacking one big photo.

I guess I’ll print my favorite CGs and decorate my room like that. But, all and all, I really enjoyed reading this and it made it feel like I was there and I was able to reflect on Saeran’s vacation with the player. Like, he was doing this as we were going using his little doodles... I’m in love with this fucking sap. I’d say that this is worth the money.

For sure.

My only gripe aside. That’s a personal problem, not really a content problem. I love this bastard.

Look at him, he’s GOT A PLUSHIE. I have so many things that I want to write about now thanks to this. Saeran, darling, sweetie, my love, I am dying. Either way, I’m glad this arrived when it did. I needed this. I justified getting this for myself because I don’t expect to get anything for my birthday in early February but I’m happy I have him.

It’s been five years since I found this game in August 2016. I’m happy that it’s been here with me.

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thenightgazer · 4 years

Text

A Long Way Home

While still trapped in the Underworld, Dante and Vergil have to resolve their family issue. One that can't be solved only by swords and guns.

It's been two years since Red Grave incident, one week after Christmas, and still no news about Dante and Vergil. That leaves Nero terribly upset, but little did he know that miracle will come to him very soon.

Merry Christmas @nibbbs! Surprise surprise, I’m your secret santa from @dmcsecretsanta! Hopefully you enjoy the gift I wrote for you! Happy reading and happy holiday!

You can also read it on my AO3!

~~~

The Underworld has never been this quiet before.

That forsaken place is the real no man’s land; always boisterous with fights between demons to take over the throne of the Underworld. Be it a slaughter between lower demons or higher demons, they couldn’t care less. Their primal instinct is just craving more power and of course, human flesh. But since the portal to cross into the human world isn’t always unfolded, cannibalism is ineluctable. It’s either eat or be eaten. It’s bound to happen and demons don’t have any choices but to yield to the Underworld’s natural law. Surviving and escaping the Underworld seems like an absurd fantasy for humans, even for demons as well.

Which is why voluntarily jumping into the depth of the Underworld to save the world is considered to be a valiant and honorable act, yet also frivolously lunatic.

Well, for Dante, lunatic sounds like his middle name, if he ever had one.

He chuckles by the thought of that.

“What are you laughing at?” Dante’s problematic twin brother Vergil snarls.

“Nothing,” Dante closes his eyes. “Just having a weird thought.”

Vergil replies nothing. He shows no interest in Dante's daydream, but that’s just probably because he’s too tired to even think of a reply. The twins couldn’t count how many days have passed since they cut the Qliphoth tree down. They spared and killed any demons nearby, exploring other regions of the Underworld simply because they are bored and need some time to rebound their lost time as brothers. Now, exhaustion forces them to take some rest. They lean side by side on the scorched desert, staring at the perpetual black sky while restoring their energy.

Dante can sense a demon’s presence not too far from where he is right now, but that presence fades eventually. “You feel that too, Verge?”

“I do,” Vergil murmurs. “The words have been spoken, I presume. That they better not to disturb us if they still want to live.”

“Well, once we recover, they’re going to die anyway.”

Vergil’s short hum speaks of his concurrence.

Dante shifts his hands under his head as he glances to his brother. Vergil stiffly lies on the ground with Yamato on his chest while his hands gripping on it. He might close his eyes but Dante knows his brother can still attack his opponent while closing his eyes. As hard as a steel, this old bastard, Dante amuses at his idea. “Rest means relaxing, bro. You don’t have to be on guard all the time.”

“I’m preparing for any attack.”

“It’s not like there is a demon near us at this moment.”

“Have some self-consciousness, Dante. You could attack me at any time, given a chance.”

Dante wakes up straight away. “Why would I wanna attack you?!”

“There’s always a possibility.”

“Says the guy who always has the intention to kill me, huh,” Dante lies back again. “Seriously, Verge. Just for five minutes, stop thinking and go to sleep. Bet it’s been a while since you have a proper sleep, right?”

Neither show any agreement or disagreement, Vergil turns his head to Dante. “Why are you still awake then?”

“Huh? To keep an eye on you, of course. Who knows you’d do some weird shit outta there again.”

Vergil curves a smirk, then turns his eyes to the dark sky again. “I see. You are also scared of me attacking you while you’re asleep, aren’t you? We’re twins, after all.”

“I don’t-” Dante almost bite his mouth.. “Man, you’re as sharp and annoying as you always have been.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah right.”

And there’s silence again. It’s been days, or weeks, since the last time Dante hears any demonic voices around him. To be honest, he kind of expects their appearance. He likes talking to Vergil, but the older brother has an issue in healthy communication. Hell, Vergil is a difficult person and Dante wonders if the eldest children around the world are always like this. But Dante realizes he is also no expert in social interaction, and fighting is also the only thing they both are good at. Vergil would talk a little bit much when fighting, even if it’s mostly taunting and mocking Dante, yet it’s better than having Vergil succumb to the dark side again.

“By the way,” Dante breaks the ice. “Are you ready now to tell me who’s the lucky girl a.k.a Nero’s mom?”

Vergil draws the Yamato above Dante’s throat. “One more word, and I’ll cut you into pieces.”

“C’moooon! I’m curious!”

The Yamato is now touching Dante’s skin. “Final warning, Dante.”

Dante flicks the Yamato’s blade. “Fine. Whenever you’re ready, bro. You might not want to tell me, but you owe that to Nero. He’s your son. He deserves to know.”

Vergil sheathes Yamato, scoffing at Dante’s warning. “It’s not like I’m going back to the human world.”

“Well, we HAVE to!”

“Pray tell why I should agree with you.”

“I have a shop to run and there’s a new menu at my favorite pizza parlor. You should try it, by the way. And you got a lot to explain to Nero. You don’t wanna be a deadbeat like Father, right? Though you kinda already are all this time.”

“You know it better than anyone else that I didn’t know Nero’s existence until you told me so.”

“Which is more reason why you have to come back to the human world soon. You can say you don’t need to catch up with Nero but I know you want it. You left him your frigging book; the same one you didn’t allow me to borrow. Dear ol’ Vergil got some soft spots for his son, huh?”

Vergil turns his back from Dante like a sulking child, ignoring his younger twin’s laughter. As expected from a cold man like him, he won’t ever admit that every single of Dante’s words is true. Again, a long and neglected fear consumes him. What’s fatherhood for a man who ran out of place and time like him anyway? Is there any chance for him to fix his family? Getting back in terms with Dante is one thing, but with Nero, the son he had never met before his escapement from the Underworld? Does he even have a right to call him his son after all he had done to him?

After quite long of silence and battle with himself, Vergil murmurs a question to Dante. “How old is he?”

Dante almost squealed if only he didn’t remember not to ruin Vergil’s mood or else they won’t have any friendly conversation anymore. “Nero? Twenty-something, I guess. Haven’t asked him myself.”

“How did you meet each other?”

“Long short story, some weird-ass cult that worshipped our father as a god turned out evil and wanted to use our father’s power to rule the world-”

“The Order of the Sword?”

“Right! You did your research! Nero was one of them but rebelled after they kidnapped his girlfriend and killed her brother. I came to Fortuna to retrieve the Sparda sword and apparently your kid was able to summon the Yamato and I got the picture already. He got white hair, he summoned Yamato, tried to kill me repeatedly, stab me with Rebellion and Yamato, craving for more power to save his beloved. I wondered where he got that from, by the way~”

A hint of smirk curves in Vergil’s mouth.

“Then we worked together to save Fortuna from a pope who was obsessed with our Father and destroyed the island. We succeeded and brought peace. Nero got his girlfriend back, and we established the branch of Devil May Cry in Fortuna. The end.”

“A heartwarming, and very unoriginal story.”

“You think I made up that story?”

“Didn’t say that. I am merely implying that I heard stories similar to your experience.”

“Hell knows you are the coldest person alive, but you are a terrible liar. You are a man of pride, after all. Lying doesn’t suit you.”

“I can tell thousands of lies as I please, if only that’s necessary,” Vergil takes a brief look at Dante’s mischievous face. “But I won’t, if it’s concerning my son.”

Is this really the Vergil I used to know? Dante can’t hold his grin while elbowing his brother. “Starting to feel like a real dad, huh?”

“Silence.”

“Admitting that you love your son won’t do any harm, Verge.”

“I-” Vergil stumbles upon his own words. He growls impatiently, hurrying himself to get up and sit down as he wipes his face frustratedly. “We’re not having this conversation anymore.”

“Why? Just because you can’t admit that you grew care for your son?”

“Because I’m a terrible person!”

That was the most honest words that came from Vergil, if anything, ever. When was the last time he showed his vulnerable side like this? Even as V, crumbling and dying slowly, he didn’t even spare Dante any sign of defeat and regret. Dante gets up, clapping Vergil’s shoulder. “Only if you still want to destroy the world and kill your own family, then maybe I’d call you the worst shit in the world too.”

Vergil shakes his head. “If only…”

“Huh?”

“Had I known I have a son back then…” Vergil says bitterly. “I would never leave him. I would never go pursuing power or raising that foolish tower and this ridiculous tree…” he points to the remains of Qliphoth tree with his sword. “I would have a better chance to be… a good father for him…”

Regret always comes late, isn’t it? The ‘if onlys’ never come at the front of the mind, merely whispering behind the head but never appearing into the surface before regret comes. Vergil knows that, but never really understands it until Dante tells him that Nero- the very man whose arm was ripped by him and still willing to help him in every way- is his own flesh and blood. His priority was to seal the gate of the Underworld and cut the Qliphoth tree, so that Nero and the rest of the human world are safe and sound. He will stay in the Underworld to redeem himself, for he thinks he has no place in the human world for all he has done. He planned to create a portal to the human world after he fixed things up with Dante to kick him out from the Hell with force, because he knows Dante won’t leave him alone again and will do anything to drag Vergil out from the Underworld. The plan is simple. It should have been easy to execute.

Yet ever since Vergil landed at this hellhole, his steps are getting heavier as time goes on. A haunting voice inside his head kept telling him to come back to Nero as soon as he finished his job cutting Qliphoth roots. Another sound tells him he should stay longer here with Dante to catch up with their sibling bound. The third sound, more demanding and urging, tells him to stay in the Underworld forever as a redemption.

“Y’know, bro,” Dante folds his legs as he seizes the Yamato from Vergil’s hand and puts it on the ground, which dismays Vergil. “Gotta admit that I wanted to kill you because I wanted to free you from evil, and get rid of Nero’s burden of having you as his father. Though he proved to us that we are just a bunch of nonsensical idiots who got unsolved sibling problems between us-”

“I am not an idiot!”

“You might have scored higher on the Math test than me but you’re still an idiot!” Dante barks. “Anyway that’s not my point! What I mean to say is, as much as I hate your dumb-as-rock head, you’re still my brother. And it’s never too late to fix things up.”

Vergil scoffs and takes his sword back to his embrace again. “How can you be so sure?”

“I blamed you, y’know, for that day” Dante admits, his eyes getting darker and the carefree vibe in his voice is gradually gone. “For not rescuing me and Mother.”

Vergil streaked at that confession. “What do you mean?”

“You thought Mother only saved me and left you behind while she died searching for you,” Dante woefully chuckles. “But for me, on that day, I thought you would come to rescue us.”

“I was planning to-”

“She could have hid with me in the closet until you come to save us. That’s what I thought back then when she died, and you never came back. I thought you left us, before I heard one of them say they had you killed. There I was; frightened and thinking that I was alone. My mother and brother died. No one could save me but myself. I was blaming you for running away that day. If you didn’t, we could have defeated them all and protected our home.”

“Or, we could have died. All of us.”

“Exactly. Instead of blaming you, I blamed myself for picking a fight with you. Should’ve left you and your book alone,” Dante stands up, spinning the Ivory before shooting a flying demon that approaches them. “I lived by loathing myself, until I met you again in that cursed church, remember? I was genuinely happy to see you.”

“I remember,” Vergil nods slowly, recalling a blurry picture of their younger selves. “You said you are a devil hunter and will be filthy rich someday.”

“Still waiting for that day, actually. Yet you fucker started being a dick, saying shits about power and stuff,” Dante’s harsh voice trembles slightly. “I thought we could start over as a family, but you decided to fucking stay in the Underworld. I couldn’t save you at the gate of the Underworld. I couldn’t save you at Mallet Island. I could save everyone else, but not my own family.”

Vergil raises up. His arm is reaching Dante’s shoulder, but it never touches him. His hesitation is rational, for he knows words can’t describe how Dante must have felt towards Vergil. Hatred might be the wrong word; it sounds too soft. Too lenient, too merciful.

One could tell it’s disappointment, Vergil gets his answer as Dante turns over to face him. The mischievous little brother side of Dante has gone as he aims his gun at Vergil. It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend. Let alone a family.

Dante wails horridly. “Always the quiet one, ain’t cha? Remember how our parents always told me to be quiet like you? ‘Why can’t you just behave like Vergil?’ Guess what? At least I’m not the one who fucked the world up and ripped off my son’s arm-”

“Dante-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Dante’s grip on Ivory is slightly trembling as he snaps. “I’ve been through shits too, Vergil. I missed Father and Mother. I missed you, for fuck sake! After all this time I believed I killed you in Mallet Island, then you came out of nowhere to destroy the world. I came out with the conclusion that you didn’t even change a bit, just an egomaniacal who thinks the world only revolves around him. I needed to kill you again because I don’t want my nephew to kill his own father. Don’t you fucking realize how maddening was that?!”

A bullet passes through Vergil’s head. The older hybrid stands still without any intention to return the attack, only wiping the blood from his forehead. I don’t have the right to be irritated, he reminds himself while his mouth forms a bitter grimace as Dante puts the gun on Vergil’s forehead, ready to pull the trigger anytime soon. For a second Vergil can sense Dante is going to lose his temper as he catches a glimpse of red flash in Dante’s eyes. Ever since they were kids, Vergil was always aware that Dante in his total wrath is dangerous. A ticking bomb , Vergil recalls what their father said about Dante’s anger as he watches the raging fire in Dante’s eyes ignite until it’s slowly fading.

“But I changed my mind again,” Dante continues. “Instead of blaming you and carrying on the bad blood, I choose to start over. And that’s how I can be sure,” he pokes Vergil’s head with the gun before putting it back into his coat. “That everyone deserves a second chance and it’s never too late to fix what you have done.”

The red devil yawns as he slams himself on the ground again, stretching his hands before he closes his eyes. “Sorry for raising my voice. It’s just impossible to use soft words whenever I’m talking to a stubborn jackass like you.”

He opens one of his eyes to see what Vergil would react. His older brother sighs heavily, sitting beside Dante’s lying body and puts his katana on the ground. For a man with a soul of a true warrior like Vergil, putting weapons down on the ground is a sign of defeat. Which is the reason why he was slightly aggravated when Dante seized the Yamato and put it on the ground as if he told Vergil to surrender. It should be a humiliating act, but for once Vergil throws his pride away.

Because you are right, Dante.

“Dante,” he calls his brother. This time there’s no hostility in his voice, only sincerity and repentance. “I am ever so sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Dante smirks playfully. “Why do you think I’m here if I still hold a grudge against you?”

“I mean it,” Vergil emphasizes. “Truthfully. For everything I have done… and my sincere gratitude for taking good care of my son while I wasn’t there for him.”

“Honestly, Verge. Forget it. I only do what I have to do.”

Watching his little brother finally howls in laughter, a surge of warmth fills Vergil’s veins as he joins the laughter. It’s comforting, since they can’t remember the last time they laugh together without any fight and bad blood. I barely remember how it feels like to have a family, Vergil chuckles while Dante kicks Vergil’s knee mischievously. Was it always this… warm?

“Dante.”

“Yup?”

“I think we should go back to the human world now.”

Dante whistles in joy. “Ready to meet your grandkids?”

“Do tell me the truth,” Vergil growls, impetuously tugs Dante’s collar. “Are you serious about grandchildren or you just make it up?”

“For fuck sake, Verge! Didn’t you know that already when you ripped your son’s arm?”

“I didn’t pay much attention... I can only recall a voice of woman called Nero for dinner- not the voice of that mouthful friend of Nero-”

“Yeah that was Kyrie. Your soon-to-be daughter in law. Anyway they adopted kids called Carlo, Kyle, and Julio,” Dante pats Vergil’s shoulder with pride and teasing manner. “Congratulations, you’re officially a grandpa! What a fine day for revelation!”

As if my life could get any worse, Vergil grinds his teeth in frustration as he releases Dante from his grip. “How unfortunate.”

“C’mon, swing that flimsy sword of yours and make a portal to the human world. We got plenty of things to do! I gotta pay those bills, refurbish my shop, return Kalina Ann to Lady, and buy a birthday present for Patty.”

“Rather a cumbersome list you got there, Dante.”

“What can I say? I’m a busy man! Now get your ass up, old man! Nero’s waiting!”

---

It’s already two fucking years.

Nero was never a believer. There’s no such thing as a miracle, he told himself. Protecting Kyrie and the kids is an endless responsibility that bestowed upon him. There’s nothing he won’t do for their happiness and safety, even if it means to cost his own well-being. He relies on nobody but himself. He doesn’t pray. He never tries to exceed any expectation, because hope is a dangerous and fragile thing. Hope bothers him, and he hates to be bothered.

Yet, lately, he almost surrendered by the temptation to hold some hope.

What hope? Nero rejects his own thought. For those douchebags to return safely? Gimme a break.

Sitting in his garage and polishing the Red Queen, Nero takes a brief look at the snowy ground outside of the house where the children are building a snowman. He grins at Kyle who waves at him; the youngest from the three children he adopted, who’s now taller and braver than he used to be when he found the little boy searching for some scraps at Fortuna’s slum. Nero chuckles when a glimpse of a picture of Vergil meeting Kyrie and the boys pops out from his head. Would they be pleased to meet him? Would Vergil be pleased to meet them? Would he himself be pleased to meet Vergil again? There’s no fucking way for them to coming back, Nero slaps himself. They either die or shit themselves in the Underworld. Probably fucking fighting again like toddlers.

Still, the thought of his father and uncle somehow return and meeting his little family is overwhelming. Nero can’t even hide his smile anymore. He throws away the rug he uses to wipe the blade and hangs the Red Queen on the wall.

Come to think of it, that fucker ripped off my arm in this garage too.

He lays a hard punch on the wall.

“Keep punchin’ the wall, and ya would destroy the house.”

Nero glances at his friend and partner in crime, Nico, who rests her back on the van and lights her cigarette. He still finds it strange to witness Nico in her winter outfit, a contrast to her usual tanktop and shorts she used to wear before winter comes. "How many times have I told you to smoke outside the house?”

“Ya blind or what? It’s cold outside!”

“Darn it, Nico! Then don’t smoke!”

“Too late~” Nico barks a laugh while blowing a smoke. “Anyway, why did you punch the wall like a madman?”

Nero shrugs nonchalantly. “Nothing. Just feeling like punching something.”

“Cut the bullshit. Ya missed yer old man, ain’t cha?”

“Buzz off, Nico.”

“Aaaaw, don’t be so meanie~”

“Seriously, Nico. Go bugger off someone else. I’m not in the mood for having a chit-chat.”

“Everyone’s worried, ya know,” Nico exhales exaggeratedly, pointing at the children outside. “Those lil’ brats asked me if somethin’ pissed ya off because ya look like ya wanted to punch someone in the face since the Christmas party last week.”

“I indeed want to punch a certain person,” Nero lets out a cackle. “But he’s not available at the moment.”

“Y’know, I’m not an expert of daddy and son shits, and yer dad is obviously not an ideal father, but it’s totally okay for ya to miss him. The jackass did save the world, at least.”

“Thanks, Nico. That’s so motivational. I’m deeply touched- ouch !” Nero swears when a sturdy plug lands on his head. “What the fuck Nico?!”

“Talk to Kyrie,” Nico lowers her voice. Her brash mouth always sounds kinder and empathetic when she talks about Kyrie. “Ya locked yerself in this garage the whole day! You’re making her worried, ya know?”

“I think you should double your eyeglasses. I didn’t lock myself. See that door? It’s unhinged, because I need to make sure the kids are alright.”

“Yeaaah whatever. Go talk to her, pretty boy. I’ll watch over the brats.”

“Fine…” Nero scratches his nape as he walks away from the garage. “Don’t let the kids go anywhere near my weapons!”

“Gotcha~!”

Nero never meant to worry anyone, of course. He lives a happy life; he married the love of his life, adopted a bunch of orphans whom he loved and took care of equally, and ran a business with his best friend whom he considered a big sister. The world is currently safe from danger. So what's to worry about?

His confusion disappears when he sees Kyrie’s figure covered in a thick blanket at the terrace. She smiles happily as the snow continues to fall and catches a drop on her palm. Nero feels like he could melt anytime he sees Kyrie’s soothing smile. He takes his time to watch her catching snow as he leans against the door, ignoring the cold breeze that sneaks inside his body. It doesn’t take a long time for Kyrie to be aware of Nero’s presence as she asks him to join her at the terrace.

“You should put your coat on, Nero. It’s cold here.” Kyrie speaks her concern while she wraps him with her blanket.

“Chill out. I’m fine,” Nero gives her a light peck on the forehead. His right hand envelopes Kyrie’s waist to give her a sense of comfort. “The kids are building snowmans back there. Been hours and who knows when they will stop.”

Kyrie giggles. “The more they grow up the more energetic they become! At least we don’t need to worry about how to get them to sleep on time. I believe they’ll get exhausted after play and filling their stomachs with delicious dinner would quicken their way to sleep!”

“You’re right.”

Kyrie looks up at her lover’s tensed face. She brushes the tip of Nero’s nose slightly to make him smile. That little maneuver always succeeded to cheer him up. Kyrie rests her head on Nero’s chest. “Are you not happy with the Christmas party last week? I know you hated surprises but-”

“No- I liked it! Really! You know we rarely celebrate things lately and last week was one of the best days in my life! How could I hate that?” Nero tightens his grip on Kyrie’s waist, gazing at Kyrie’s eyes deeply. “I’m happy, Kyrie. I’m happy here with our little family.”

“Then it must have something to do with your father and uncle, is it?”

“That obvious, huh?” Nero smirks bitterly. “I just… I don’t know. You know how Dante is. To think that he’s actually my uncle is… weird. Then I found out the man who screwed up Red Grave was his brother. My father. Vergil, he left me when I was a child… as V, he manipulated me to do his agenda. He reemerged and left me again. And Dante didn't even bother to tell me the fact before Vergil was back. That made me feel… kinda betrayed. It still doesn’t make any sense to me. I got a pair of dysfunctional family members and I don’t know what I should do if they come back. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

The only parental figure Nero ever had was just Kyrie and Credo’s parents, and they didn’t even live that long to give little Nero more love and parental advice. Kyrie truly understands Nero’s struggle to accept his heritage and keep holding on his humanity. “Nero… do you forgive your father?”

“What?”

“I don’t mean to bring it up again, but after all the ill he caused to you, do you forgive him?”

The memory of him and Vergil on the top of the Qliphoth tree rises again. He succeeded in bringing some sense back to his father and the old man entrusted him his precious book- the one which Nero kept safely on the shelf- before jumping to Hell and finishing what he started. Vergil didn’t say much, but his promise… his damn promise!

“I won’t lose next time. Hold onto that until then.”

“I forgive him,” Nero admits. “I think… I just miss him. And Dante. I really want us to be a proper family. That's all.”

“Just as I thought,” Kyrie cups Nero’s jaw with her hands. “I’m glad that you’re honest with yourself. There’s nothing wrong with missing them. They might be flawed, but they are your family."

Nero carefully caresses his beloved hands as if he's afraid of hurting her. "I'm sorry I keep putting you to my demon lineage problem…"

"Hey, we talked about this. Demon or human, it's you I want to be with…" she kisses him on the lips. "I love you, Nero."

"I love you too." He returns the kiss deeper.

Nero wraps her around his arms, seeking comfort and warmth from her presence. Kyrie's words succeed in getting his head together. He can feel a degree of burden has left his shoulders as he finds himself finally letting go his worries. Kyrie is right. There's nothing wrong with missing those douchebags. They're my family-

"NERO!"

Nico appears out of nowhere at the terrace, panting and panicking like she ran for her life. Every single nerve inside Nero's body tells him that something wrong is happening, but the sassy smirk on Nico's face while she tries to breathe normally tells another thing. "You're not gonna believe me if I told you this-"

"Are the kids safe?" Kyrie asks anxiously.

"Yeah they're fine. They have company."

What the fuck? "Company? What are you talking about?!"

Nico rolls her eyes as she grabs both of Nero and Kyrie's hands. "Just follow me quickly!"

Nico seems excited… if it wasn't a danger, then what?

The children are giggling and shouting happily at something Nero can't see yet. But as soon as Nico delivers them in the backyard, he spots two familiar figures among the kids. The red-coated man joins them to decorate the snowman as he helps them crafting the pile of snow with stones and branches. He summons a cowboy hat and a shiny red scarf from thin air- which excites the kids- before he puts the hat on the snowman's head and wraps its neck with the scarf as the last touch. The children are applauding and hugging him, saying their gratitude and bombing him with questions on how he could summon stuff only from thin air. The cocky red man barks in laughter and tells them that he learns some magic tricks.

In a contrast to the red man, the blue-coated man stands a bit far from the crowd, facepalming and reluctant to do anything despite the children's curiosity as they glance at him and whisper their surprise on how similar his face is with the red man. Carlo states that the blue man is scary, and quickly hides behind the red man when the blue man hears his mutter and glares at the poor kid.

"C'mon, Verge, stop glaring at the kids! You're scaring them!" The red man chuckles.

Dante?

Vergil?

How-? Since when…?

"You…" Nero breathes heavily, barely trusts his vision. "You guys are alive…"

Dante grins and waves a salute at Nero. "Heya, kid! Miss me? I know we're late, but Merry Christmas!"

Kyrie holds her giggle when she catches Nero's dumbstruck face. She grips his hand and whispers him a word of advice. "Time to let your doubts go, Nero. They are here, at last."

Nero gives a nod, but his mouth isn't capable of forming any words. He reluctantly approaches Vergil, who seems nonchalant about his surroundings, if only Nero failed to catch his father's warm gaze as he stands before Vergil. A minute has passed and none of them say anything. Words cannot describe how they feel towards each other.

But Nero decides to solve the problem in Sparda's family old-fashioned style: punching his father hard right in the face.

There echoes Dante and Nico's laughter as Vergil's body lands violently on the ground, covered with snow.

The older son of Sparda can taste a metallic scent liquid dripping from his lips.

"That hurts," he murmurs and proceeds to get up as he wipes the blood from his mouth. "Two years and still have no manners, I see."

"Fuck you, old man!" Nero spats angrily.

Dante, still laughing at the picture of his brother getting sucker-punched by Nero, sloppily walks to approach them. He pats Nero's shoulder in pride. "You're doing the right thing, Nero. You gave him the right Christmas present-"

The legendary devil hunter gets a very lethal slap from his nephew before he finishes his sentence.

"And that's a present for you, deadweight!" The young devil hunter shouts.

The view of Dante and Vergil getting slammed by Nero only increases Nico's laughter.

"Why did Nero punch Mr. Dante and Mr. Vergil?" Carlo asks Kyrie. "Nero always punches bad people. Are they bad people?"

"Well… no, they are good people! Mr. Vergil is Nero's father and Mr. Dante is Nero's uncle," Kyrie chuckles to hide her worry and struggles to find the correct way to explain the situation. "They haven't met for a very long time. Nero misses them so much that he… doesn't know what to do anymore. But punching people doesn't solve problems, so don't ever do that, okay?"

The kids nod obediently despite not completely understanding the circumstances.

"Can we stop Nero from punching them, Kyrie?" asks Julio, the oldest one from the three. "Family doesn't hurt each other, right?"

"Nah, don't worry. They will stop soon," Nico says as he points at the three hybrids. "Let 'em get the reunion they deserve."

They become calm and smiling at the sight of Nero bringing his father and uncle in a tight embrace together as the young man lets out a cry.

"You both are full of shits and stinky… like a scavenger…" Nero sobs, his teeth grinding hard. "At least take a shower before you show up, dumbass…!"

Dante sneers as he taps Nero’s back. “Yeah, I miss you too.”

The red devil glares at his twin. Say something to your son!

Vergil, unmoved and stiff, doesn’t know how to react from this awkward embrace. He feels uncomfortable, yet finds himself melting between this fuzzy feeling. “Nero…”

“Shut up,” Nero interrupts while breaking his embrace and burying his teary eyes on his palm. “Just fucking shut up.”

“Forgive me,” the blue devil insists to continue. “For leaving you again.”

“Yeah yeah, just shut up...”

Nero jolts by the unexpected weight on his head; Vergil’s hand ruffles his hair as he curves a very subtle smile.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Oh how Nero wanted to punch him again, if only he could bring himself to.

“Uhm…” Kyrie comes to Nero’s rescue as she smiles politely to the twins. “I’m sorry to interrupt this reunion. It’s dinner time and… we would be very happy if the two of you join us for supper.”

“We’d be glad!” Dante accepts cheerfully. “Nero once told me you cook the best meal in Fortuna!”

“Shut up, Dante!” Nero grunts. He remembers he hasn’t told the twins that Kyrie and him are married. He pulls Kyrie closer and holds her hand firmly. “Anyway, Father. This is my wife, Kyrie. Kyrie, this is Vergil. My father.”

Kyrie smiles warmly at Vergil. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Vergil.”

Vergil appreciates Kyrie’s bravery and gives his sincerest nod of approval. There is not a single hint of fright from Kyrie as he recalls how people tend to tremble and stutter in fear whenever they talk to him. He can see why Nero loves her and is very protective towards her. “Thank you for taking good care for my son all this time.”

“Sorry for missing your wedding party, babe. We’ve been busy cleaning up Hell,” Dante grins at Kyrie. “Congratulations. My nephew is lucky to have you as his wife.”

“Can you shut up already?” spats Nero, feeling terribly embarrassed.

“I’m hungry~!” Nico shouts mischievously. “Let’s continue inside! It’s damn freezin’ out here!”

Kyrie gives the twins a final nod as she invites them to come inside the house. She runs to the kitchen with Nico while Nero gathers the kids to enter the house. Dante chuckles like a cocky cool uncle when Julio asks him to do another magic trick, and the little chuckle turns into a bigger laughter when he sees Vergil’s hand tucked in Kyle’s hand as the youngest child calls him Grandpa Vergil.

“Grandpa’s hand is cold!” Kyle says, unaware of Vergil’s death glare. “Once you eat Kyrie’s food, you’ll be warm in no time!”

“Let go of my hand, little rascal.” Vergil scoffs, uncomfortable by the strange kindness from the little child.

Kyle laughs and keeps guiding him to the kitchen. The food is prepared and everyone is about to get their seats. Carlo drags a chair beside Dante’s seat and shyly asks Vergil to sit there, which Vergil accepts.

“Starting to feel like coming back home?” Dante asks his brother.

“This is not bad.”

“I’ve contacted Lady and Trish. They will be here soon,” Nico says as she puts the cigarette on the ashtray. “Lady said something about returning her Kalina Ann. Trish gave her regards, and said that ya need to pay the rent as soon as possible.”

“Damn… those devilish ladies…” Dante buries his face on the table.

“Your office looks like shit without you.” Nero sneers at Dante.

Further family resolvement can wait. Now let them enjoy their first family dinner for the first time. Christmas might have passed a week ago, but Nero thinks his most valuable present had just arrived today. He still wants to beat the shit out of his father and uncle for some unknown reasons, but it can wait for later. His eyes meet Vergil’s, and his father forms a warm smile to him. He never says much, Nero knows that, but he can give him time to adjust in the human world.

Amidst the chants and chatter in the house, unbeknownst to each other, the three descendants of Sparda secretly hope that this rare moment can last forever.

#dmcsecretsanta #dmc #devil may cry #dante #vergil #nero #kyrie #nico #nero x kyrie #night writes #nibbbs

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oh-boy-me · 3 years

Text

Obey Me Devilgram Posts and Comments: Egg Hunt/Paws and Claws 2

Two events until we’ve caught up!

Hhhh we’ve finally reached the events where I’m like “oh yeah that JUST happened”

I’m very excited to go back to doing this once every two weeks (or maybe once a week, since I still have initial cards to get to eventually)

This is an event that I think started great and kind of got bad at the end? Maybe I shouldn’t give away all of my thoughts before the tier list though lol

日本語は私の第三言語ので、時々間違えます。日本語話者、間違いを見たら教えてください。 (Japanese is my third language, so I make mistakes sometimes. Japanese speakers, if you see a mistake, please tell me!)

And as always, we have the #devilgram rush tag and there’s a full transcript below the cut.

Enticed by a Magnificent Deer

Lucifer: Even the adlibs were filled with passion

Angeluke: I don’t want to see Simeon’s angry face

Mammoney: Look!!

AsmoBaby: Maybe I’ll put on some antler decorations too(1)

#Mystical #Acting

The Bat Can’t Lie!

stn: It’s a surprisingly weak field for you

LordDiavolo: I can’t wait to see what’ll happen

DDSimeon: As expected of Asmodeus!

Belphie: Don’t do it in my room?

#Unskilled #Acting

Little Puppy’s Big Decision

DDSimeon: If it’s Luke he’ll be able to do it

Mammoney: It’s because he’s a chihuahua

monSOLO: I think it’s nice and fitting for Luke

ButlerBarb: You’re a strong enough angel even now

#Cute #ImNotAPuppy!

The Strong and the Strong

L3V1: I don’t wanna fight with these two

AsmoBaby: It’s rare for Solomon to be this serious

stn: I was able to see something good!

Beelzeburger: It’s worth seeing

#AreYouSerious? #Strong

The Golden Egg Will Be in Whose Hand!?

Beelzeburger: They look tasty

stn: Are you looking for a goose or something??(2)

Belphie: Bring them back for Beel

ButlerBarb: Eggs are wonderful ingredients with high nutritional value

#GoldenEgg #EggHunt

Let’s Paint Eggs!

Mammoney: Wouldn’t it be good to sell ‘em?

Angeluke: Dessert ingredients…...

L3V1: Let’s make some omurice(3) and do ketchup art

monSOLO: What would happen if you drew a magic circle?

#Eggs #PaintingEggs

Egg Panic!

AsmoBaby: I wanna eat egg disheees

Lucifer: What are you doing, seriously(4)

ButlerBarb: The eggs are acting oddly

stn: Don’t show those to Beel

#Eggs #MidSearch

1. So with the sentence we’re given I don’t think I can tell if Asmo wants to put decorations on Simeon or if he wants to put them in his own hair. I left it ambiguous as a result. (Based on their translation they might have not known either lol) 2. I have. Zero idea why Satan says this. Idk if there’s a clue in the story or not but the summary on the wiki gives me no hints. Also でも (demo) is a pretty versatile particle, so he could be saying “You’re even looking for a goose?”, but I THINK this one makes a little more sense. Edit: Thanks @otomenormie for reminding me that there’s a fictional goose that lays golden eggs lol, Satan’s probably referring to that. 3. Omurice is fried rice wrapped in a thin omelette layer. (Fun fact I can never remember how to spell omelette.) It’s popular to draw patterns and cute pictures on it with ketchup, and it seems like it’s a popular dish with children! 4. Lucifer uses まったく (mattaku) here, which I’m sure we all know by now, but I couldn’t really take him seriously saying the common translation of “good grief” lol

Masterpost

荘厳な鹿に誘われた

Lucifer: アドリブにしては熱がこもっていたな Angeluke: シメオンの怖い顔は見たくないな Mammoney: 見ろよ！！ AsmoBaby: ぼくも角に飾りをつけようかなー＃神秘的　＃演技

コウモリは偽れない！

stn: 意外な苦手分野だ LordDiavolo: どうなるのか楽しみだ DDSimeon: さすがアスモデウス！ Belphie: ぼくの部屋ではやらないでよ？＃苦手　＃演技

小さな子犬の大きな決意

DDSimeon: ルークなら出来るよ Mammoney: チワワだからだろ monSOLO: ルークらしくていいと思うんだけどね ButlerBarb: 今でも充分強い天使ですよ＃可愛い　＃子犬じゃない！

強者と強者

L3V1: この2人とはケンカしたくない AsmoBaby: ソロモンがここまで本気って珍しー stn: これはいい物が見れた！ Beelzeburger: 見ごたえがある＃本気？　＃強者

金の卵は誰の手に！？

Beelzeburger: 美味そうだ stn: ガチョウでも探しているのか？ Belphie: ベールの為に持って帰ってきてよ ButlerBarb: 卵は栄養価が高い素晴らしい食材です＃金の卵　＃エッグハント

レッツ、エッグペイント！

Mammoney: 売ればいいんじゃね？ Angeluke: スイーツの材料…… L3V1: オムライス作ってケチャップアートやろうよ monSOLO: 魔法陣を描いたらどうなるんだろう？＃卵　＃エッグペイント

エッグパニック！

AsmoBaby: 卵料理たべたーい Lucifer: なにをやっているんだ、まったく ButlerBarb: 卵の様子がおかしいですね stn: ベールに見せたらダメなやつだ＃卵　＃捜索中

バルバトスはダイコンとはwww

#obey me #obey me!#obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me luke #obey me lucifer #obey me solomon #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #obey me translation #devilgram #devilgram rush

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years

Text

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85

~^~

Tuesday, 10:33

Song: The Neighbourhood - Sweater Weather

Jens paces across the doorstep as he tries the call a fourth time, jamming his thumb against the button before raising the phone to his ear. It buzzes, and buzzes, and buzzes, and Jens curses under his breath.

“I’m not giving up, so fucking pick up,” he mumbles.

On the sixth ring, Lucas does.

“What the fuck, Jens? Can’t you take a hint?”

“No, and please don’t hang up, okay? I’m outside.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m at the front door of your building. At least, I hope it’s your building.”

“How do you even know where I live?”

“You told me last week when I was going to come pick you up, but I don’t know the apartment number, so let me in. Please?”

There’s silence on the other end, and after a few seconds Jens is worried the other boy has hung up. But when he checks, the call is still connected.

He injects some extra pleading into his voice. “Just give me a few minutes to explain. C’mon, I’m freezing my balls off for you right now.”

The silence extends, and then Lucas lets out a sigh. “It’s number seven. Three flights up.”

The line disconnects and Jens fumbles not to drop his phone as he hears the door buzz and quickly moves to push it open. He tucks the mobile safely into his pocket before climbing the steps, not wasting any time taking in the building in his rush. At the top of the third set of stairs, Jens casts his gaze around for a door with the number seven and instead finds Lucas at the end of the short hall, leaning in an open doorway.

Jens falters in his steps as he slowly makes his way to him, suddenly unsure. He hasn’t actually come with an apology in mind; he’d simply told himself with Lucas in front of him, he’d know what to say.

Now that Lucas is in front of him, his mind runs blank. He barely looks at Jens, instead rubbing a tired hand over his face. His eyes are droopy and the skin of his cheeks is a light, rosy pink, the same colour as the sweater he has tossed on over black sweatpants. He looks sleep-soft and cuddly. He begs to be greeted with a kiss. Jens barely manages to refrain.

He may have spent the weekend freaking out. He may still be freaking out. The feelings filling his chest, his stomach, are unfamiliar, and he’d taken Lucas’s few days of silent treatment to attempt to sort them out. To ponder. To research.

He’d spent yesterday doing quite an extensive bit of research.

When he realises that Lucas has caught him staring, he clears his throat. “Hey.”

Lucas crosses his arms over his chest. “Hey.”

His voice is raspy and sleep-soft, too, and Jens decides this was probably a really bad idea. He sweeps his gaze over Lucas once more and raises a brow. “Did I wake you up?”

Lucas scoffs. “Three missed calls, Jens. One right after the other. Yeah, you succeeded very well in waking me up.”

Jens winces. “Sorry. But I mean, it’s half ten. I assumed you’d be up.”

“It’s the holidays,” Lucas sniffs, and Jens supposes he can’t argue with that.

Jens nods, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. “Uhm—can I come in?”

Lucas shrugs and otherwise doesn’t move. “You only need a few minutes, right?”

“Yeah.” Jens tries not to feel disappointed, but it’s difficult. It’s difficult to hold onto any control at all, faced with a Lucas who is so closed-off, a Lucas who’s definitely mad at him. Jens wants to get angry, too. He wants to tell him to stop overreacting. He wants to beg and plead for forgiveness. He wants Lucas to stop shutting him out.

He wants Lucas to at least smile at him again.

“Okay.” Jens blows out a breath. “I’m really sorry. I mentioned that Jana wanted to meet up?”

Lucas nods, drawing his arms around himself tighter.

Jens nods back, and he doesn’t really know where he’s going with this. “And you know I was confused, after Friday. I needed to clear the air. The whole thing stressed me out and I just had a serious brain-glitch, or something. I genuinely forgot. I know excuses can sound like shit, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t mean it, Luc.”

“So your ex-girlfriend—who you don’t wanna get back together with—messaged you, and your brain short-circuited to the point you forgot I existed?”

At this point, Jens understands that Lucas is still thoroughly unimpressed.

“No, I didn’t—that’s not what I’m saying.”

“So what are you saying, Jens? Because to me, it sounds like it’s yourself you’re lying to.”

“What?” Jens furrows his brows. He isn’t lying to anyone.

Lucas softens slightly, but shakes his head. “You’re seriously still saying you don’t feel anything for Jana?”

“She’s leaving.”

That makes Lucas pause. “What?”

“She wanted to talk to me because she’s leaving. At the end of the week. She’s going to New York.”

“New York?”

“She told us about it during the summer, but back then it was just a plan that had fallen through. When she came back to school, I forgot about it. But it’s happening now. That’s why she kissed me.”

Jens didn’t really expect that this is what he’d have to explain, but it’s now that he sees Lucas’s defense begin to slip. The reasons for why—the potential that Lucas is mad not because he was ditched, but because he’s jealous—sets something stirring in Jens’s chest. The something feels a little too much like an excited thread of hope, and he snaps it immediately.

“Why, exactly?” Lucas asks hesitantly.

“She needed to prove to herself that there really was nothing left. And she did. I already knew. Like I told you. It wasn’t about wanting Jana. It wasn’t even really about Jana in the first place. My head was already a mess because my dad was bugging me that morning, and then Jana messaging me just reminded me that we hadn’t spoken, and I blanked. And I’m really fucking sorry. I’d never purposefully miss out on time with you. Seriously.”

It’s more than he usually likes to admit, but he seems to be in the habit, around Lucas, of giving away more than he probably should. He also knows it’s probably the best course of action—and his hope is confirmed when the rest of Lucas’s defense falls away.

“Dads can be a pain in the ass,” he allows.

Jens grins. “Yeah. I knew you’d get me, if you just heard me out. You’re a stubborn fuck, you know that?”

“You deserved it. I froze my balls off for you first, and you didn’t even show up.”

Jens laughs, and permits a shrug. “I deserved it.”

Then there it is—Lucas’s smile.

Bright and easy and beautiful. It begs to be kissed.

Jens resists.

“That’s what I wanted to see,” he says instead, soft, and he’s granted a blush and a roll of eyes in response. Then Lucas finally holds the door open and nods inside.

The change in temperature is immediate, and Jens sighs as the door shuts behind him and he’s wrapped in warmth. He shrugs off his coat and pulls off his beanie, letting Lucas take both from him and hang them on a hook by the door. It’s only when Lucas begins leading him down the hallway that he realises he’s in the boy’s apartment.

His hands grow clammy, and he wipes them discreetly on his sweats as they enter the kitchen.

“Hot chocolate so you don’t lose any body parts?” Lucas teases.

Jens snorts. “Of course you’d offer hot chocolate.”

“What does that mean?”

“Mr Sweet-Tooth, right?”

Lucas side-eyes him. “So you don’t want hot chocolate. Good. More for me.”

Jens makes a small noise of protest. “I never said that.”

“Uh huh,” Lucas smirks at him. “That’s what I thought.”

He moves around the kitchen with ease, taking two cups from one cupboard and the hot chocolate from another. Jens feels warm as he watches him pull up his sleeves to fill the kettle, exposing lightly-tanned forearms, thin but corded.

Jens has to snap his gaze away when Lucas speaks up again. “Stop being awkward. Sit down.”

“I’m not awkward,” Jens mumbles, awkwardly avoiding Lucas’s gaze as he pulls out a chair. Lucas merely turns his head to hide a smile and doesn’t comment.

“Are you here alone all week?” Jens asks, as Lucas busies himself with wiping down the spotless counter.

“Yeah. Apparently offices don’t get the same holidays as schools. Pity.”

“Aren’t you lonely, though?”

Jens regrets the question as soon as it leaves his mouth, and then ten times more when Lucas turns around to look at him. He leans back against the counter, wrapping his hands around the granite top. He shrugs, tilts his head, and asks, “Aren’t you?”

“Most of my time is spent babysitting,” Jens points out.

“Lotte isn’t a baby.”

“I’m talking about Lies.”

Lucas snorts, and the tension dissipates. “She’s the one you didn’t want me to meet?”

Jens rolls his eyes. “You could have met her if you wanted to.”

Lucas hums, unconvinced.

“Really though, Lucas. I’m sorry I fucked up.”

“S’okay,” Lucas shrugs. “Maybe I was being a little harsh.”

“Maybe a little.”

Lucas tilts his head, unimpressed.

Jens says, “Let me make it up to you.”

That seems to be of slightly more interest to Lucas, who raises a brow before moving to pick up the kettle. “How so?”

“Come hang out with me again. This time I’m going to pick you up from right here so you can’t be left waiting in the cold.”

Lucas asks, “Milk or no milk?”

Jens blinks. It takes him a few seconds to realise he’s talking about the hot chocolate. “Whichever way you prefer it.”

Lucas gets some milk.

Then he asks, “When?”

“Anytime you want.”

“We’re hanging out right now.”

“That doesn’t count. Come on. I’m giving you a once-in-a-lifetime, all-access pass here. I’m completely at your mercy.”

Now Lucas appears intrigued. “Really?”

Jens is not one to backtrack. He hums affirmingly.

“Friday?”

Jens nods, and that same feeling is stirring in his chest once more, the thread unwinding into rivulets of apprehension.

Lucas’s gaze is challenging. “But I’m not organising it. Your apology, your work. I expect big things.”

He sets Jens’s hot chocolate in front of him as Jens grins. “I’m sure something will come to mind.”

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 33 -Don't Mole On My Parade

"Beware evil doers, for I, the mighty Minimax, doth roam the streets with my trusted partner Fred, along with his newest protégé Varian, and together we plan to buy a DVD!"

Varian watched the small robot jump upon a mailbox to proclaim this lofty goal. The little automaton looked just like his namesake, a mini Baymax, but his behavior was far different from the robotic nurse. Hiro had built him to be a sidekick for Fred and so the robot acted just as if he came out of a silver age comic.

"Hey Fred?" Varian asked.

"Yeah?"

"What happened to 'keeping a superhero's identity secret is rule number one in the hallows of superherodom'?"

His friend looked back at him confused, "It is. Why?"

"Because your robot pal isn't exactly what I would call ' inconspicuous'. Aren't you worried someone might recognize him and, you know, put two and two together?"

Fred looked surprised, as if he had never considered this possibility. After a moment's thought he called after his robotic companion.

"You know, your right. Hey Minimax,

come here, you need a disguise."

The little android dutifully ran up to the teen and Fred pulled out a pair of sunglasses and placed them upon its head.

"There! How does that look?"

"Like a small white robot wearing sunglasses."

"Exactly! Usually he wears a cape when he's superheroing."

"You seriously don't expect people to be fooled by a pair of glasses do you?"

"Why not? It worked for Henry Reeve. He played Captain Fancy in the tv show."

"Yeah but I doubt the guy was a two foot tall robot."

"As far as we know…." Fred said stone faced as he looked Varian dead in the eye; the way he often did when spouting some crazy theory that no one else believed.

Varian decided to cut his losses. There was no getting through to Fred once he latched onto an idea; regardless of how ill advised and detached from reality it was.

"So where are we going again?" Varian asked instead.

"We're going to the comic book store to buy a copy of the Professor What DVD that just came out."

"I thought you already owned every episode though?"

"I do. Of every aired episode that is. This is the "lost serial". It was recorded but never broadcast due to a production strike during the 70s and the only way to see it was through bootlegs. But now the EBC has released it in full on dvd, plus extras, like special interviews with the cast and such."

"Ok, that's cool, I guess."

"Mega cool! I can't wait to see it in all it's high definition glory!" Fred joyously squealed only to sober up as they neared the comic shop. "There's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"Richardson Mole" Fred growled.

"Mole?" Varian echoed, confused.

"My arch nemesis, remember? His is the only comic store in town that currently has any copies. The rest won't get theirs till next week!"

"Then why not wait until next week to get it then?" Varian very sensibly asked.

Fred looked at him aghast, "And let Mole gloat over getting to see it a whole week early!? Un-uh! No way! Buuuuut he won't sell me a copy; so that's why you're here."

Fred wrapped an arm around Varian's shoulder and pointed at the other teen's chest as he recounted his plan.

"You see, Minimax and I will cause a distraction drawing Mole outside. While he's gone, you quickly grab a dvd from the display stand and mix it up with a bunch of other stuff you're going to purchase and dump it all on the counter. Hopefully he'll be so annoyed by what me and Minimax have planned, that he won't notice that he sold you a copy along with all the other things you grabbed. It's the perfect plan!" Fred rubbed his hands together devilishly.

"Uh...hun….Ooor I could just walk in there and buy a copy outright instead of paying for a bunch of stuff I don't want." Varian countered.

"You know... that's so crazy…it just might work. Minimax; new plan!" Fred yelled after his robot.

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

The comic shop was not much different from the store inside the mall that Fred had taken Varian to on his first day in San Fansokyo. The main difference was it was a freestanding building and the cashier was a short child perhaps only a few years younger then Varian himself.

"Hello, welcome to my sho--oh it's you, Fred." The kid interrupted his enthusiastic greeting towards Varian the moment Fred walked in behind him.

"Why hello, Mole, unpleasant as ever I see." Fred retorted back with equal disdain.

Mole only sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do you want Fred?"

"Oh contraire, it's not what I want but what my friend here wants." Fred gently but firmly nudged Varian up to the counter as he said this. "Tell him Varian."

"Uhhh...I'd like the newest Professor What DVD...the lost episode one?... P-please." Varian wasn't sure what he had expected when Fred first asked him to come along on this quest for a DVD, but being glared at by a very irritated 12 year old from across the counter wasn't it. Moreover he hated being put on the spot like this. He really had no context for this apparent feud Fred had with this kid.

"Really?" Mole raised an eyebrow. "And there's no chance that my rival Fred here didn't put you up to the task of buying the dvd for him?"

"Uh...d-does it matter?" Varian shrugged, now completely bewildered. He had assumed Fred was only exaggerating about Mole, same as he exaggerated about just everything, but no, turns out that the pre-teen really was that petty.

"Uh, of course it matters." The kid replied as if Varian had missed something obvious. "I have the only copies in town and in limited quantities. I'll only sell them to true fans of the series, otherwise someone might just buy from me and then sell it at a mark up price online or something. Now why should I give someone else that advantage when I can corner the market?"

Varian raised an eyebrow at this explanation but Fred stepped in before he could say anything.

"Hey, Varian's a fan. We've been marathoning the series. Tell him, buddy." Fred gave Varian another nudge.

"Oh really? Well then, Varian, who is your favorite Professor?" Mole's voice dripped with incredulity.

"Y-you mean there's more than one?" Varian began to ask in confusion but Fred jumped him, covering Varian's ears with his hands. Though it did little good as Varian could still hear Fred shushing Mole.

"Shhh...Careful with the spoilers Mole!"

"I knew it! I knew It!" Mole yelled back. "You just dragged your friend over here to buy the special edition dvd for you!"

"I did not!" Fred snapped back.

Minimax jumped up onto the counter and pointed a finger at Mole. "No one accuses my Fred of trickery, foul villain. For even though that is indeed the plan and you must have only deduced that with your nefarious cunning."

"Minimaaaax!" Fred whined.

Varian was losing his patience. He shoved Fred off him. "Look, yes, I came here to buy the DVD so Fred and I could watch it in our marathon. But so far we've only watched the first season and more copies are arriving in a week, so what does it matter!?"

"Wait? You've only seen season one, as in the original series first season from 1963?" Mole asked.

"Uh..Yeah?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Mole." Fred interrupted again. "He's going into the series completely blind. He doesn't know about… r-e-n-e-w-a-l yet."

"Renewal?" Varian echoed now even more confused. Fred had tried to drop his voice to a whisper but Varian heard anyway.

Mole's entire demeanor magically changed. Gone was his standoffish and combative nature and in its place was a look of genuine excitement.

"Ooooh, how I envy you my friend! Imagine being able to experience the whole series fresh! Oh..oh, then what's your favorite story so far?"

"Ummm...I liked the one we just finished… it's the one where they're stuck in the middle of the French Revolution."

"Interesting choice." Mole said intrigued. "So who's your favorite assistant?"

"Well I don't if she counts as an 'assistant' but my favorite character so far is the Professor's granddaughter, Sue."

"Yeees!" Mole exclaimed suddenly, taking Varian a back. "Finally, someone who sees sense! Sue is so underappreciated. You know what?" Mole continued as he reached behind the counter to pull a dvd box off the shelf. "Just to show my support in your endeavor to embark on such a daunting quest as to view the entirety of Professor What, here is the dvd to complete the collection, free of charge."

"Really?" Varian asked bewildered as Mole handed him the coveted copy.

"Yup, just come back and let me know how you enjoyed the later seasons, or stop by and maybe check out some of the other Professor What merch I got for sell."

Mole cheerily waved goodbye as Varian, Fred, and Minimax walked out of the shop.

"What just happened?" Fred asked.

Varian opened the thin box to see the disc inside. "Well, apparently your mortal enemy just gave me a free dvd."

"I don't trust it." Fred said darkly. "Mole is up to something."

"Do you want me to return it?"

"No!" Fred quickly exclaimed and reached out to grab the case. But Varian snatched it back out of his reach.

"Now, now, he did give it to me, you know." Varian said as if reprimanding a small child and a sly grin slowly formed on his face.

"Oooh, but.. But I waited years to see it… pleeesee."

Fred was practically crawling over him to get to the dvd but Varian fended him off while trying unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter.

"I'll tell you what… I'll let you have it…but for a price."

"Name it."

Varian thought for a moment. "I wanna drive the limo."

"Oh… but Heathcliff…" Fred stopped mid sentence as Varian waved the dvd in his face, his crooked smile growing wider.

"Ok. Fine." Fred relented. "But on one condition. Heathcliff has to teach you how to drive it."

"Deal."

They shook hands and Varian handed over the movie.

"Huhzzah!" Minimax proclaimed. "And once again the heroes have concluded their quest and now return home victorious!"

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

"Hey Mole," Fred shouted as he sauntered into the comic shop. "Do you got any replacement parts for a limited addition Space Hike laser gun? I kind of broke mine dur---"

Fred's voice trailed off when he noticed that the little store was empty. A week had passed since he and Varian had procured the Professor What DVD and Fred hadn't seen nor heard from his nemesis in that time. Fred didn't think that was too odd, it wasn't like he and Mole talked daily or anything, but it was suspicious for his rival to leave the store unattended without closing shop first.

Fred's senses went on alert and he instinctively went into stealth mode: dropping to the ground and crouching on tiptoe as he looked for booby traps on the shelves, behind the doors, and under the displays.

He didn't find any.

Though as he ransacked the counter during his search, he did hear the distant sound of laughter and music coming from the "staff only room." Which wasn't a room really. It was an elevator that went into the basement. Mole had a private arcade down there and must have been playing video games and had simply forgotten to lock up.

Satisfied that there was no danger of a prank literally blowing up in his face and covering him in some sort of slime or soap bubbles or something else that was similarly messy (Fred never forgot that time when Mole dumped dumped a bucket of chocolate fudge on his head five years ago) he decided to go down stairs to ask Mole about the previously mentioned parts.

What he found was far worse than a bucket of chocolate syrup.

In the basement Varian and Mole were both playing a video game. It was an old stand up arcade machine and on it was a retro beat 'em up. Both seemed to be enjoying themselves and called good natured taunts as they furiously pressed buttons trying to one up the other.

Neither had noticed Fred enter.

"Oh you're going down now!" Mole cheered.

"In your dreams!" Varian laughed.

He pressed the block button and his little pixelated character averted a punch from Mole's pixelated avatar and then grabbed said character into a hold and bodied slammed him to the ground.

"K.O.!" A distorted voice from the machine announced and Varian threw up his hands in victory.

"Ah…. Man!" Mole bemoaned. "You got lucky. I had you on the rocks."

"Yeah, I did." Varian admitted with a snicker.

"Best two out of three then?" Mole asked.

"Naw.. I got an essay I need to finish bef-" Varian paused mid-sentence as he turned around and finally saw Fred. Who just stood there with his mouth agape.

"Uh...hi, Fred."

Fred just pointed his finger at them and made an unintelligible sound like a cross between a gasp and a squeal.

"How the heck did you get in here Frederickson?" Mole said irritably.

This seemed to awaken Fred from his stupor.

"Betrayal!" He shouted, still pointing his finger accusingly at them both.

"Now Fred, don't overreact." Mole chided. "My friend Varian and I were just playing a friendly little game of Street Combat."

"Friend? Friend ?! My bestest buddy and protégé playing video games with my arch nemesis and mortal rival! This just like when Captain Fancy found the Fearless Ferret robbing banks with the Toymaker in Earth's Greatest #20!"

"Fred…" Varian started to reason with a weary sigh but Fred interrupted him.

"No. I don't want to hear it!" And with that he turned around on his heel and marched back into the elevator. "But mark my words Varian, Mole can't be trusted." And with this warning he pressed the first floor button and the elevator doors closed.

Varain rolled his eyes and followed after his friend. "Sorry Mole, I gotta go smooth things over with Fred. I'll see ya later."

"Okay, oh I almost forgot" the Professor What convention is next month. You want to go?" Mole replied as Varian hurried over to the elevator.

"Yeah sure, sounds like fun." Varian answered back distractedly. "I'll see ya then." He waved bye to Mole as the door to the elevator closed.

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

When the elevator opened back up Varian saw Fred stomping away down the sidewalk outside and raced after him.

"Fred! Fred, wait up!"

"Why? So that you can stab me in the back again?" Fred called after.

"Fred...you're being ridiculous."

He stopped, incensed, and fumed at Varian, "Ridiculous?! Oh, I'm being ridiculous now am I?"

"Yeah, you are." Varain stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I see how it is. Crazy Fred is just being paranoid again. It can't possibly be that Mole has been trying to ruin my life since he was in dippers. Seriously, when I first met him he was a week old and I had to be the one to change him. It was all downhill from there."

Varian crossed his arms and gave Fred a reproachful look.

"Oh you don't believe hun?" Fred defended, "Well did he tell you about the time he cut the power to my house so he could win the online auction for Captain Fancy 133? Or the time he spilled hot fudge on me at his 7th birthday party? How about the time he stole my prized Captain Fancy pants? Oh, or how he bought out the mech wrestling league just so I couldn't own it? And he doesn't even like wrestling!!"

Varian didn't answer and kept up his disapproving glare.

"I tell you Mole is just using you to get to me. Don't you see? It'd be the ultimate revenge if he stole my protégé away--."

"Ok, first off, I'm not your "protégé" or "apprentice" or whatever, and second off, Mole never mentioned you the entire time we've hung out. Couldn't it just be possible that he wants to be friends with me and that you're making a big deal out of nothing?"

"Oh really? Then how would you feel if I started hanging out with that princess you hate so much? Rapunzel! Yeah, wouldn't you be hurt if I became pals with your mortal enemy."

A shadow fell across Varian's face and his mildly annoyed glare transformed into cold steely gaze.

"Fred."

"Y-yeah."

"Rapunzel left me, my father, and my entire village to die. Your 'mortal enemy' just buys the same stuff that you want."

Fred looked like a man who had just had a glass of ice water splashed in his face.

"Ooookay...I-I'm beginning to see the difference…"

Now it was Varian's turn to storm off in a huff leaving Fred to stand there bewildered.

"Wait! … She did that ?!" He turned and ran after Varian. "I thought fairy tale princesses were supposed to be nice?"

"Well, they're not, and my life is not a fairy tale Fred."

Fred pouted as he tagged long after Varian, unsure of what to say now.

Varian stopped at the bus stop to wait on his ride home and Fred sheepishly stared at his shoes. After a few awkward minutes he spoke up.

"H-hey, Varian.."

"What."

"I'm sorry….maybe I overreacted a little?"

"A little?" Varian raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, a lot. But I just don't understand why you want to even hang out with Mole."

Varian heaved a heavy sigh and relented. "Look...I just, don't have many friends ok? And before I came here I didn't have any friends. So if someone invites me to hang out with them then I wanna go. Cause that doesn't happen often, and I don't like being alone, and....and Mole doesn't know who I am or about my past. Same as Carol, or Karmi… It's just nice to feel normal for once."

"Annnd you can't feel normal around me cause I know you're magic, right?"

"For the last time Fred, I'm not magic." He growled through his teeth and then in a gentler voice said. "Also, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, you're not normal."

"Fair. Though, if we're talking 'normal' I don't think Mole counts either."

"Maybe not, but I don't think he has a lot of friends either. I guess in that way we have something in common."

Fred looked thoughtfully at that. It was true, Mole really didn't have any friends; a combination of homeschooling and being a huge nerd had left the kid pretty isolated. Fred understood that. He'd been there too, but then again he wasn't a huge jerk to people.

"I still don't get it…. Buuutt if you want to hang out with Mole I'm not going to try and stop you."

"And you're not going to pitch a fit, or sulk, or argue with me if I do?"

Fred heaved a sigh. "No. I'll be very mature about it….also very confused…but I'll be cool, promise."

"So we're still friends?" Varian asked with some slight trepidation.

"Well of course we're still friends! That was never in question. Friends have fights sometimes, ya know, but they always stick together in the end."

He gave Varian a playful nudge on the shoulder and Varian smiled back.

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

Big Hero Six walked away from the college campus and headed towards the parking lot where Wasabi had parked his car. The gang of teenagers laughed and conversed until the squeal of tires on pavement sounded off in the distance and the sound of motor revving became louder and louder.

Soon a fire red sports car came barreling down the drive towards them. They jumped back as the car skidded to a halt next to them, making black marks on the pavement.

The little group stared in shock at the close call and a window rolled down to reveal the driver.

"Hey guys!" Varian cheerfully called out, oblivious to the fright he had caused them.

"Varian, what are you doing!?" Wasabi yelled.

"Oh, Heathcliff is giving me driving lessons."

The Frederickson's faithful butler tilted his head to give the other teens a better look at him. He was dressed in his usual work attire but save for the pair of sunglasses he wore. He said nothing but his stoic face broke into a sly grin and he gave a thumbs up. He was clearly enjoying being chauffeured around for a change.

"Yeah, Fred let me borrow his car to practice with." Varian continued and then turned to the man sitting beside him. "You were right Heathcliff, this is cooler than the limo."

At this Gogo punched Fred in the right arm.

"Oww, what was that for?" He rubbed his arm ruefully.

"You never let me borrow the race car!" She said deeply offended.

Hiro also gave Fred's left arm a much lighter smack just to get his attention. "Yeah, and I got a learners permit; same as Varian."

"Yeah but I'll get my actual license before you so I need the practice more." Varian smugly replied.

Heathcliff interrupted this friendly spat with his usual soft spoken British accent, "Master Varian, how about we learn how to pass other cars safely on the road next; and see how fast this bad boy can really go."

"Heck yeah!" Varian laughed. He moved the gear out of 'park', yelled "See ya!", and slammed on the gas. The car took off like a shot; burning rubber as it went.

"Oh what fresh horror have you unleashed?" Wasabi asked Fred as everyone stared dumbstruck after the boisterous teen and renegade butler.

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

Hey I’ve recently lost my job and am currently hunting for work so story updates will be slow.

If you would like to help out you can all way support me on ko-fi

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

#varian #Fred Frederickson IV #minimax #mole #big hero 6 #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #BH6 the series #bh6

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withoneheadlight · 4 years

Text

Kinda want to make us happen (so stop smiling at me like that)

"Okay. What would you go for, then?"

"I don't know. Johansson, maybe? I like that one" says Steve, thoughtful, dropping down next to Billy, his back against the boiling side of the Camaro" Ooor-oh! Williamson! That one sounds good. Steve Williamson. What do you think?"

"Weird." Billy taps his cigarette butt with his thumb, blowing the ash, "I think it sounds weird. And I don't know why you want to change it, if all of those rhyme with the one you already have”

Steve rolls his eyes. The screams from the pool come gusty, like the wind that has risen from the east. The kids are already more than fifteen minutes late.

"Let's see. You try. I'm sure you'll have a knack for it"

Billy should get mad about his haughty tone, but what he feels instead is that tone describing a line that travels straight down from the hollow of his throat to just below his navel. The wind has extinguished his cigarette when he brings it to his lips. He throws it. Steals Steve's.

"Hey!"

"I don't know" he hits a puff, pretends to ignore him "I like the one you have. Sounds good. Ha-rring-ton. HaaaarringTON ”

"You only like it because you use it to harass me"

Billy can't help but smile. Wide. Cheeky.

"Maybe"

Billy shouldn't know about this last name thing. It's not like he and Steve have anything remotely close to that kind of familiarity. They are not friends or anything. Most of the time Billy only gets to see him like this, in passing. An almost daily coincidence. On days like today, waiting for the kids around a cigarette. On the days Steve stops by the gas station during Billy's shift to refuel the BMW. When he sees him in the distance, walking by, like those people you see only in the movies. Sunglasses on. White, pristine Nikes, a smile more expensive than all the money Billy will ever have in his hands. Million-dollar Steve Harrington, with his million-dollar smile. Completely unattainable for someone like Billy.

Because, that’s it, people like Steve Harrington happen to people like Billy Hargrove only in passing. And he knows, he knows, but he can't help but force those coincidences a little sometimes, push them into happening, like dropping by the Mall to fetch an ice cream on the Scoops –even if it really does have the best stuff in town–, accidentally catching a conversation ("Dingus. I vote for dingus. That’s your new last name" and "Thank you, Robin. I'm glad you're taking it so seriously" and "I take it seriously. Steve Dingus. Think about it"). And Billy is curious now. As he always is, inevitably, about all things regarding Steve Harrington.

"And why do you want to change it?"

"I'm gonna-" Steve hesitates. Draws a long, curved line with his shoe, staining the tip with the dusty ocher dirt of the gravel "I'm gonna leave"

It's a curious thing. One moment it feels like there's plenty of air filling your lungs, and the next, you have nothing.

"From Hawkins?"

"Eh? No. No” Steve takes a deep breath, “Only from my parent’s house”

Billy doesn't know if when your heart skips a beat you can ever get it back, but if not, Steve Harrington owes him this one.

But he sounds cool, perfectly collected when he speaks again. A long, hard-learned ability.

"And the last name thing?"

“My father– He's always saying this shit,” he sighs, makes his voice even more serious, rounds it in an exaggerated imitation of his father “This –You're not worthy to carry the Harrington name– shit. So."

Billy knows a lot about asshole fathers and never meeting impossible expectations. If he could, he would erase every trace of Neil off himself, even if he's not sure how much would be left after that.

"Yeah"

He hands him the cigarette and Steve accepts it with a small smile.

"It will cost me almost everything I have. But, you know, is worth it"

Billy frowns.

"Don't you have like, a shitload of money?"

"Not if I leave" Steve shrugs, turns his head in the direction of the pool, throat working "If you leave casa Harrington, you leave casa Harrington for good. No car, no inheritance, no nothing. We’re not– in the best terms right now. My father and I"

Billy wants to know about that too–he wants to know everything– but it seems like too much to ask.

Steve's head lulls down. The wind picks up momentum over the curve of his back, ruffles his hair in a whirlpool. He puffs on the cigarette.

It's the closest Billy is ever going to get to his lips.

"Well, welcome then, to bottom of the bottom of the social scale. I’m sure you’re gonna enjoy yourself down here, surrounded by the poor and the unprivileged “

He means it as a joke, but realizes he has screwed up the moment the words leave his lips. Steve’s face twists into something sad and ashamed and Billy is a fucking asshole that needs to stop and think before opening his big, stupid mouth.

"I guess so," he says, lips pressed thin. And God, Billy is like a fucking elephant, stepping on every delicate thing. He should know better than making it worst.

Fuck.

Because is not as he can’t imagine the reason why Steve wants to get away from Robert Harrington. Why he needs to stop being someone so small under such a large shadow. Because Steve it’s not like that. It’s not some selfish and self-centered prick. Steve is caring and protective and so, so good.

And Billy is totally gone for him.

"You can have mine" he says, and immediately wants to smack himself in the head because though you were gonna start thinking before speaking, Hargrove.

Steve looks at him, curious and a bit confused. Billy inhales. Deep.

"Can what?"

"My last name" he says, because Steve is looking at him intently, and there’s nothing he can do now "I hate it. You can have it if you want”

And Jesus, he feels so stupid right now. It’s like he can’t control his fucking mouth when he's around Steve, like he’s still seventeen and trying so hard to impress him. Fishes inside his back pocket for the pack of cigarettes. He can see Steve’s smile growing in the corner of his eye. And ok. That’s ok. Billy is a big-mouthed asshole. But Steve is smiling now, so ok.

At least he made it better.

"I don't think Steve Hargrove sounds very cool either, truth be told"

But it does. It does. And Billy is turning red, warmth spreading through his face, burning on the tips of his ears.

"It’s better than Johansson"

"That’s true" He does this thing he does sometimes, this thing of fixing his eyes on Billy and instantly looking away, elusive, and Billy's body tightens as if ready to hunt him down, thrumming with the blind impulse of reach after him. In this distance, he can see all the moles that dot his skin, delicate and beautiful, the long to touch them hurts at his fingertips.

"How are you going to do it?"

“No fucking idea,” he shrugs. “I guess I can stay at Dustin's for a few days and try to come up with something from there. I don't really have anything planned. I just want–". He doesn't say it, like he’s not able to find the words. Like it’s less formed thought and more feeling. But there’s no need because Billy knows them all. He has an interminable list of them. It starts with freedom, with independence, with never again. He yelled them all at his father when he got away last year. Max is the only reason he hasn’t flown from Hawkins yet.

Well, not the only reason. Just the only that’s not a fucking dream.

“No fucking idea” Steve repeats like an echo, huffs a laugh that comes out ragged. Nervous. Like he’s caught up in that thought. How are you gonna do it?.

And Billy is an adult now. Shouldn’t be losing his self-control around a boy like this anymore. Even if that boy is Steve Harrington. Should be able to stop his fucking mouth for fuck’s sake.

But he asks, anyway.

"Wanna crash at my place?"

“Uh?”

Steve’s brow furrows. Most days it ain’t easy to tell apart the color of his eyes, irises so dark they mix with the pupils, but the sun is sinking low now, golden light brightening them lighter, a soft shade of brown. Billy tries not to think about how impossible he is, how out of reach even like this, so close to him, side to side, their bodies brushing.

"While you figure it out, I mean. Or, you know, I could use a roommate, share the rent, once you regain some money, I mean”

It's a stupid offer and he knows it, because people like Steve Harrington never really happen to people like Billy Hargrove, only like this, the luck to steal a few moments, a coincidence.

"Really?" Steve asks with something completely, disarmingly unexpected. Something like hope.

He gets up, looks at Billy like he’s trying to decipher something.

"No. Not really. Didn't you just hear me, Harrington?” He says, uses his best unrepentant asshole tone. Lights another cigarette “I'm wasn't by any means inviting you or something"

And Steve smiles smiles smiles. And Billy has never-ever wanted to kiss someone so much, and for so long, and be able to hold himself back.

"Jesus, Hargrove" Steve breathes out a laugh, and he's beaming, and Billy doesn't have the slightest idea how he managed to do that "Is there anything you are not willing to give me?"

And he’s kidding, of course he is, but the words hit like a blow, straight to his solar plexus and Billy is not fast enough, he wasn’t prepared. So when he lowers his head, he’s sure Steve has seen it all, right there in his eyes.

Everything.

He lights the cigarette, fills his lungs till he feels them burning.

"You take it or what?"

"I take it" he says. Low and soft like it is something intended only for Billy to hear "And, you’re right, by the way”

“Uh?”

“It sounds better the more I think about it"

(This is how it goes:

Steve never gets to change it.

He moves in with Billy. Needs the money because (“No, no, no. You’re not gonna pay for all our food ¿You want me to die of embarrassment? Wait. Wait. Don’t answer that") so he postpones it because, there's no rush, really (“And you keep calling me HAAaarrrrington, so feels a bit like a waste”) it was one those in-the-heat-of-the-moment kind of decisions anyway so (“No. It was no childish. You’re an asshole. Ok, well. Yeah. That I can accept. It was not the most practical) it ends up on undefined hiatus.

And then they start joking about it. Billy calls him “Mr. Hargrove” (“Good morning, Mr. Hargrove” or “Wanna go to the movies tonight, Mr. Hargrove?” or “You forgot to do the dishes yesterday, Mr. Hargrove, that's five bucks to the forgotten-dishes jar, Mr. Hargrove”) and Steve uses his, when replies, in a fairly accurate impersonation (“You owe like, twenty dollars to that jar, Harrington. So you are not to speak”) and keeps on using it against him on a regular basis (“Gosh, Harrington, you're such softie. And think that you used to be such a hard-ass on High School” every time Max convinces him to take her shopping).

And, truth be told, Steve never hated it that much. Kind of loves it, now that his father hasn’t power over him anymore, now that it's Billy who uses it, rides the letters like a wave, HarrignTON, piling up the syllables like in a roller coaster. When he says,

“I’m glad you’re here with me, Harrington” falling asleep against his shoulder on the couch.

When he says,

“I miss you, Harrington. This is so boring without you” that time Steve took the kids on a camping trip for a whole week.

When he says,

“I can’t stop myself from kissing you anymore, Harrington. So this is your chance to step away”

They hyphenate, at the end.

There are a lot of Hs and Rs and Gs, that they share, and Steve wants them all.

They toss a coin in the air.

“Are you sure you haven’t cheated, pretty boy? You look too smug to not be lying”

“Why would I? But we can switch, if you want to”

“Nah, I think it sounds pretty good, actually” Billy says. Kisses him “Better the more I think about it”)

#dumb boys being dumb #dumb writers being even dumber #harringrove #harringrove fic #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #billy x steve #Steve x Billy #xharringrove

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

how do u feel abt doing smth like a modern au where billy is like , all this punk rock and teen angst and leather nd jean jackets kinda of thing and steve is the exact opposite of him with fluffy skirts and soft polos nd just really soft and they two have seen eachother but dont actually talk to one another until they have a school project and they just. fall in love overtime? basically , femme steve + punk rock billy falling in love.

(pt. 2) also!! happy 21st birthday 💓💕💗💖💕

The university had a strict core curriculum, meaning that Steve was ten minutes late for his Philosophy of the Modern Era class.

He couldn’t find the room, was wandering around in this basement with his schedule written on the back of his hand. He was peering at room numbers and muttering to himself 067 067 067.

“You looking for that philosophy class?” Steve turned around at the voice.

The guy was stomping down the hallway in big leather boots. His jeans were ripped and shredded, and he was wearing a black t-shirt with pink font reading Dog Park Dissidents. His denim jacket was covered in pins and patches and sharpie drawings. He had Silence = Death written on one of the pockets, Being nice IS punk rock was scrawled down one arm.

“Yeah, that modern era one?” The guy smiled and nodded, reaching forward to shake Steve’s hand. His eyes were a startling blue, lined with a thin smudge on black. His hair was wild and curly, shaved on each side into this beachy looking mohawk. He had his nose and his eyebrow pierced, along with several in his ears.

“Billy Hargrove.”

“Steve Harrington.” Steve could feel the tips of his ears go red as Billy looked him up and down. He was wearing something cute for the first day of class, a chunky white cardigan over a soft pink peasant dress. He had gotten up early to do his makeup well, and was late to class anyway because this stupid building was a fucking maze.

They set off down the hall together, looking at each door they passed by.

“Oh shit. Pretty Boy, I think I got it.” Steve flushed slightly at being called pretty, still not used to being able to dress like this in public. Billy wrenched open the door, and stomped in, not a care in the world for being twenty minutes late.

The professor raised his eyebrow.

“And what were you two doing out in the hall?”

“I’m sorry, we couldn’t find the room.” Steve’s cheeks were hot as he was standing at the front of the class.

“That’s okay. you have missed class introductions, to please say your names, pronouns and majors.”

“Billy Hargrove, he/him, double majoring in literature and social work.”

“Steve Harrington, he/they. I’m also a double major in education and early childhood development.” The professor made a note on his role sheet.

“Thank you, you may sit down.” Steve went for the back of the room, flopping into the first empty seat he could find, ducking his head as he quietly got his laptop out. Billy had stomped into the seat next to him, had gotten out a notebook and proceeded to doodle in it for the rest of class.

He sat next to Billy every Monday Wednesday and Friday from 9:20-10:35 and and outside of their ten minute search for the classroom, they had yet to say anything to one another.

It certainly didn’t help that Steve was harboring a little crush on the guy. He would watch him in class, the way he would doodle little sunflowers in the margins of his notes, smiling softly at them.

“So, for the rest of the semester you will be working in pairs. I want you to go through the readings we have completely and work together with the philosophers we have discussed to create your own system for the modern era. How do you believe society exists now?” Billy turned to Steve, grinning at him.

“You wanna be my partner?” Steve gave a sheepish smile, his heart racing.

“I, um. Yes. Yeah, I’ll be your partner.” Steve dug his phone out of the tight pocket of his skirt, trading with Billy. He put his number under Steve Harrington - Modern Era Philosphy.

“You wanna get coffee after class, start working through our beliefs?”

“Um, sure. I don’t have class until, like, 3:30 today.” Billy grinned again and fucking winked at Steve. He needed to calm the fuck down.

“So basically, a lot of my beliefs are based on the punk message.” Billy was sipping at his black coffee, had laughed and said should’ve fucking known when Steve ordered a large mocha with extra chocolate syrup, and whipped cream. “I’m a very live and let live person, but I believe everyone should live and let live. If someone is trying to dictate how others should exist, they’re fucking garbage.”

“Okay, I actually really agree with that.”

“That’s because you’re punk rock.” Steve laughed, but Billy’s eyes were serious. “No seriously, there’s nothing more punk rock than being unapologetically yourself.”

“When did you get into punk philosophy?”

“When I was in high school. My dad was a real prick, and I was angry, and a lot of punk is loud and pissed off and it helped, but then I started going to shows, and talking to people, and it’s not what you’d expect. Everyone at a show is like a weird family for a night. If someone comes in and tries to fuck with someone, the family deals. I can’t tell you how many fights I saw that broke out because someone was perving on a girl, and these other guys started protecting her. And that only grew as I started getting into queercore.”

Steve was listening to Billy, eyes wide as he described stories from shows, how he had jumped in on fights to defend the family, how he would walk girls home or to their cars parked a ways down the street, how he knew everyone would do the same for him.

“God, I wish I had a community like that. I didn’t really have anyone growing up. You know, token queer in a small town kinda vibe.” Billy smiled at him sympathetically.

“That why you came out to San Fransisco?”

“Oh yeah. Wanted to come somewhere where, this, didn’t matter.” He gestured to himself. “I just don’t get why it bothers people. I just do it because it makes me happy. I don’t know why it concerns anyone else.” Billy was nodding vigorously.

“Exactly. That’s the whole truth about being queer. People hate you for something that has nothing to do with them. It’s completely wack. Like if I’m with someone in whatever capacity, we’re both consenting adults. It literally doesn’t matter.”

“Do you think we could expand upon this enough for our project? Talk about how we feel the world should just stop caring about what other people do if it has nothing to do with them.” Billy grinned.

“I think we could make something happen.”

They began getting coffee after each class, taking through their project, finding resources to back up the ideas they had discussed. The more time they spent together, the more Steve liked Billy, liked how sweet he was, how positive. They talked about having terrible parents, how Billy’s dad had kicked him out at sixteen for being gay, how he had lived with friends, saving up to get himself through college. They talked about how Steve’s dad had found his stash of makeup and threw it all away, making sure it was ruined and broken. How disappointed his father was that he was studying to become a teacher.

There was one Friday they had met up and stayed all day in the coffee shop stayed until the 5 pm closing.

“You wanna come over? I have a single room. We can keep working.” Billy grinned at Steve like he always did, showing off all his white teeth. So they walked side by side to Steve’s room.

Steve kept his room neat, a habit left over from overbearing parents who would shame him into cleaning his room.

Steve’s room was exactly how Billy imagined.

He had soft white lights, a full length mirror on one wall. His bed was covered in pillows, duvets, and even a few stuffed animals. The wall above the bed was covered in pictures of Steve back home, several with a group of younger kids, and a lot with a blonde girl.

“This your girlfriend?” Steve snorted.

“No, that’s Robin. She and I are just really close friends.”

“What’s with the kids?” Steve blushed.

“I babysat all through high school, and those kids kinda adopted me as their pseudo parent. It was a lot of driving them all over town.”

“That’s cute. That why you wanna teach?”

“Yeah, I’m good with kids.” Steve had plopped himself on the made bed. He watched as Billy took off his heavy boots, placing them neatly by the door before stepping onto Steve’s plush grey rug. His socks were thick wool and had little cartoon dogs on them. Steve was in love.

Billy sat with Steve on the bed. He was taking a closer look at the photos.

“I could see that for you. You’re a caring type.” Steve looked down as his feet, could feel his face getting hot.

“Why did you pick social work?”

“When I was a kid, CPS would be called to our place like, once every few months. My dad was a real good schmoozer, so I would always just be left with him. I wanna be able to help kids get out of bad situations.”

“God, and you call me a caring type. You’re gonna save the world.” Billy laughed.

“The children are the future. I’ll save ‘em, you teach ‘em.” When Steve looked up, Billy was leaning closer into Steve’s space. He had a soft smile on his face. His eyes were bright and beautiful and so fucking blue. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you, what?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” Billy still hadn’t leaned back.

“‘Cause I have a big dumb crush on you, and I think you have one on me.” Steve’s face was pink.

“I, uh, yeah. Go, go for it.” Billy laughed, taking Steve’s face in both hands. He leaned in, just gently pressing their lips together.

“So, was I right?”

“Yes. Very much so.” Billy laughed again, loud and sweet, pressing another kiss to Steve’s lips.

“You wanna go on a date? A real one? Not just us getting coffee and pretending we both weren’t totally into each other.” Steve snorted again.

“Yeah, I would really like that.”

#harringrove #yikes writes #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove

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randomikemendegen · 4 years

Text

It's nearly 4:45 in the morning (at the time of writing) where I am but fuck it, my brain's creative juices are flowing but my body says no so HERE'S A TEXT POST ABOUT MY OCS AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR RESPECTIVE DORM LEADERS--

(note: I WILL be drawing a relationship chart sooner or later... or in the future, hopefully soon 🤡🤡🤡)

HEARTSLABYUL

Quintin Blanpine — Riddle Rosehearts

At first, their relationship was really.... kind of "cruel", in a way really.

What with Riddle essentially working Quin to the bone, though his reasoning was more of [He needs to build more confidence in himself] and genuinely thought that what he was doing was the right thing. Quintin wasn't PLEASED AT ALL with the treatment, but kept quiet about it...

.... at least until Chapter 1 occured.

They got to actually talking and found that they had some common grounds and became close acquaintances.

(One such thing is their shared thought of Seisear being a huge PAIN to deal with despite his usually good and sincere intentions; another is actually them bonding over the dormitory's hedgehogs and love of crossword puzzles.)

Seisear Marchare — Riddle Rosehearts

A one-sided "friendship" on Sei's part (initially).

Riddle really HATED how Seisear was almost always out-of-control "like a petulant child" and seemed to follow his own sets of rules, thus he more often than not hit the other student with his Unique Magic in order to make him reflect even just slightly.

Seisear on the other hand found Riddle to be quite the "hilarious little prince"~. He always found the redhead's reactions funny, and while he may act terribly uncontrollable, Sei does notice how lonesome and closed-off Riddle seems to be-- it's mostly the reason why he likes to bug his classmate almost all the time~.

(Thankfully it seems like after Chapter 1, they've actually become closer and a little bit more friendly... though Sei still keeps getting collared with [Off With Your Head!] due to how far he can go with messing with Riddle for the laughs~.]

SAVANACLAW

Lala-Phula Tigris — Leona Kingscholar

Kind of an odd relationship.

On one hand, they both act somewhat antagonistic towards each other, on the other hand they're actually... kind of close??? To say the least??? Like, they casually throw snarky words and insults at each other, but they also acknowledge each other as "okay"???

Leona finds Lala to be more like a bothersome kid that won't stop pulling his tail for some attention (if you can call the regular declarations of challenge to be that).

Meanwhile Lala thinks that Leona isn't deserving of being "the king of the pack" (ie. dorm leader, in her own terms) but also begrudgingly accepting the fact that he is genuinely strong and thus respects him.

Raetel Gura — Leona Kingscholar

More animosity here than the previous one that Leona and Lala had, though it's not out of actual malice and there's no actual fighting that's happened so far (except for the first time they met), but there ARE some close calls here and there.

Though they're more prone to hurling insults at each other and getting creative with their wordings on how to best annoy the other instead.

Raetel is GENUINELY livid with Leona, mostly out of the fact that they know that Leona could do so much better but chooses NOT to and instead prefers to usually lazy around.

Leona on the other hand mostly thinks of Raetel just as "that fox-sham of a teacher's kid", along with expressing annoyance at how much Raet gets up in his case.

OCTAVINELLE

Leviotan Genov — Azul Ashengrotto

This relationship is on thin-fucking-ice. Period.

Levi knows Azul's type and thus is ALWAYS wary and cautious of his dorm leader, while Azul notes on how distrusting Levi is and is just as wary of his potential plans and methods in which he can foil him.

Funnily enough though, they actually respect each other to some extent and have some slightly similarities here and there that have even both of them acknowledging that fact.

It's to the point of them actually often being seen talking with each other, though if you inquire about that they'll just reply with "it's just business talk".

Viviane Genov — Azul Ashengrotto

Friends....???? To be more accurate, Vivi sees Azul as a friend (like she does with literally everyone else) while on Azul's end he's not sure if they could even BE called "friends".

They certainly are on good terms though that's for sure.

Viviane can see past through Azul's personality and pick up on how actually lonely he is and how much hard work he had to do to finally get to his current self, so she's genuinely really nice and friendly to him.

Meanwhile Azul's kind of wary about Vivi's sincere attitude and is a bit doubtful, though he doesn't mind it at all now that they're both in 2nd year and even seems to actually take a liking to having her in his company on occasion.

Azul still thinks she would make for a good business advertisement and attraction to Mostro Lounge, but Levi threatens to suffocate him to death if he ever tries to so he'll have to pass on the tempting thoughts.

(NO SCARABIA FOR NOW I'M SORRYYYY :(((( I'LL MAKE SOME SOON I PROMISE)

POMEFIORE

Fuyume Yukitosu — Vil Schoenheit

Acquaintances? Of sorts?? It's,,, kinda hard to describe this relationship.

Fuyume has no specific feelings whatsoever to her dorm leader and is perfectly willing to go/do whatever he asks or whatever house rules there are.

Vil meanwhile likes the fact that Fuyu is among the more obedient (especially to the strict regiments that he makes EVERYONE adhere to) of the Pomefiore students, though he can't help but vocalize on how she should open up more to other people.

Which results in her acting like a confused child at times because she has zero ideas on how to NORMALLY converse with someone, so Vil personally takes to putting her in more social circles despite any plights she may have.

He is slightly bit jealous at how she doesn't need to do anything and still remain beautiful, but that feeling decreases due to the fact that she's basically almost like a wallflower with no life and thus can't help but also becoming strict with her in an attempt to get her to finally bloom.

IGNIHYDE

Ophiou Chos Gorgos — Idia Shroud

Close friends!! They have a lot of shared hobbies, likes, dislikes, and interests!!!

They're even close enough that they call each other with nicknames and are even online friends (they even message each other whenever Idia doesn't wanna go out of his room).

Ophiou does sincerely appreciate and like Idia's companionship (along with Ortho), and is very grateful to have someone he could finally call a "friend", yet he does acknowledge on how isolated Idia is more so than himself and can't help but occasionally worry. He is also still mildly scared of being rejected by his (first) friend because of his eyes.

Idia, meanwhile, is DELIGHTED to find someone he calls a "kindred spirit" and is even more open and honest with Ophi due to this fact. Though even then, sometimes Idia's slightly afraid that he might push him away if he ever gets too heated up about any topic and end up looking/acting creepy.

Regardless, they both game together on occasion and even hold anime marathons. (Of course, Ortho is more than welcome to join in)

Raneus Salpho — Idia Shroud

This relationship, unlike the previous one, is more distant. The two of them don't interact that much, but whenever they do, it's with a comfortable distance between them.

It's not that they hate each other, it's just that sometimes their interests align and it's mostly the reason they interact. (Even though they've known each other from way back, they were still distant towards each other and didn't talk much)

Idia often approaches Ran for commissions in sewing cosplay clothing or even just general merchandise that can be sewn before quickly going back to his room.

Though the few amount of times he actually managed to talk with Ran, he found that they actually had some few common grounds... before Ran ended up (unintentionally) scaring him (again).

Raneis meanwhile is totally neutral to his dorm leader, but is a tiny bit annoyed with how Idia doesn't take care of his appearance and thus often finds himself essentially getting up on his face and even threatens him to take better care of himself. Besides that little nugget, he takes up on Idia's requests with no complaint whatsoever.

DIASOMNIA

Cirnu Alva Valirgethen — Malleus Draconia

Cirnu treats Malleus like a younger brother and you can't change my mind.

Okay okay, but in all seriousness, they have a really close relationship! Almost sibling-like, in a way.

While Cirnu does like occasionally playfully messing with Malleus, it's just harmless fun and she's quick to apologize if she says anything out of line. She (also) looks out for Malleus and feels bad that he's not getting invited to anything by anyone, and tries her best to cheer him up by reminding the other Diasomnia members to NOT forget to invite him to any parties that the dorm may have.

(It's also the major reason as to why, despite knowing about it since way back, she allows and supports Malleus and Yuu to interact with each other.)

Malleus, meanwhile, does sincerely appreciate her efforts in making sure he does get invited to stuff and socializing, he does wish that she would be a bit more gentle in her readings since it's a bit embarrassing.

Especially since she often calls him "boy", despite the fact that even though she IS older than him, they only have a few years of an age gap between them.

Berebis R. L'Ephegor — Malleus Draconia

Another complicated relationship to explain??? Kind of????

On one hand, they've barely interacted with each other, but on the other, Malleus' heard of Bel so many times from either Lilia, Cirnu, Silver, and/or Sebek (definitely more with that last one due to his annoyance with Bel).

So Malleus more often than not decides to go looking for him out of curiosity.

After some awkward distance and general apathy (mostly from Bel's side) for a while, their relationship eventually becomes that of quiet acknowledgement and understanding. And occasional harmless jokes and teasing (from both sides).

Due to Bel being among the very few that neither fear nor revere him, Malleus finds some form of comfort and companionship in him. He's mildly curious as to why Bel is the way he is but doesn't push that topic any further since except for a few times due to being unintentionally more curious than he should.

Bel meanwhile didn't like the fact that the most powerful student of NRC kept approaching him and often ignored him, but eventually relented and decided to converse with Malleus. Only to actually end up slightly come to like how Malleus was different from his initial perception, and now kind of enjoys his company.... but you won't get him to admit it. Ever.

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msmkcreates · 4 years

Note

“so it’s a date?” “nope. not a date” for Slim/Reader? not from any specific fic, i dont think, though what ive read has been *chefs kiss*

I went with Mutt, since I'm not exactly sure what you meant by Slim? And also, this is absolutely not what you had in mind, most likely, so very sorry about that. On the bright side, it sets up for something else and I kinda like that.

Tags/Warnings: Eating Disorders, insults, not much fluff here, fat-phobia (?), reader has body issues and Mutt is an asshole, seriously an asshole

"Re-Hate-tionship" (SF!Papyrus/reader, platonic SF!Sans&Reader)

Was it bad, how much you hated Mutt? Was it wrong of you, as Black's best friend, to so completely despise his shit-talking older brother?

It can't be wrong, you reason, because he hates you just as much. He makes snide remarks at you, about your clothes, your hair, your anything really as long as it's something to pick at. He mocks you when you're trying to be serious, he pulls faces at the back of your head when he thinks you aren't looking, and you're pretty sure you could draw his middle finger from memory.

So, a mutual hate. A re-hate-tionship, if you will. You said that once, and he laughed, and then he looked so upset with himself for at least three days. Black has begged you both to get along, but honestly he's given up at this point--as long as nobody is throwing anything he lets you dance your dance of disapproval.

You'd asked him once, what you ever did to him, and he replied that you were a human of unknown intentions hanging around his brother...and you assumed that your retaliation had lit the flames to you being a bitch, which fed the hate. It isn't like you didn't try to be civil (okay it was rare but sometimes you tried) but it's hard to stay nice when three seconds after entering the house you're being insulted.

Today was no different, of course, you weren't sure what you'd expected when you'd come over for dinner. He hurled his usual insults at you, but this time he somehow hit a sensitive spot.

"why the fuck're we feeding you, too, again? honestly you could probably fit t'skip a meal, flesh-bag."

You stiffened immediately, and Black noticed. His face was full of fury, ready to tell Mutt off, but he didn't say anything when you sharply shook your head.

But it was too late, he'd noticed your lack of response. He didn't make another stab at your weight, at least not right away, but he smirked like he'd won something as you stabbed at your salad, perforating it over and over but ultimately pushing it away.

You weren't very hungry anymore.

It was halfway through the night, the movie still barely ramping up through the action, when he broke from his usual game of begrudging silence to take another crack at you.

"yer movie picker is shit," he said simply.

"It's a classic, everybody likes this movie," you huffed. "At least, anyone who isn't a complete degenerate. Guess I can't expect you to have any sort of taste, not like me and Black."

That earned a snicker from Black, almost a stamp of approval, and Mutt scowled. You only smiled back sweetly.

"i dunno if you can talk 'bout taste, do y'even taste the snacks you shove in yer face? or are y'just hooverin' them down?"

You pressed your lips into a thin line of displeasure, your free hand not holding the popcorn moving to Black's knee, squeezing as you felt him tense beside you. You don't respond, glaring at the TV in front of you, but you do put the popcorn aside, instead crossing your arms and wholly ignoring his presence.

It's fine. It wasn't as if you hadn't been horrible to him on other nights. You insulted him just as much for things he might be sensitive about--his scars, his golden tooth, other appearance based insults you'd be ashamed to repeat to your mother. Maybe if he didn't get a reaction, he'd poke at something else and leave your eating habits alone.

At the very least his little victory kept him in smug silence until the credits rolled.

"PERHAPS WE SHOULD SEND THE LEFTOVERS HOME WITH YOU, MY DEAR," Black said, bundling the last of it into a Tupperware. "DON'T THINK I DIDN'T NOTICE YOUR LACK OF APPETITE TONIGHT."

"M'fine," you said, waving away his thinly veiled concern. "You guys keep it."

"a shocking twist of generosity," Mutt added in a bored tone from the living room.

"I'm sorry, did I ask you? Or in some way imply that I was talking to you at all?" You huffed, glaring at him as Black rolled his eyelights, packing the Tupperware into your bag. "You know, you'd be a lot more fun to be around if you didn't spend every waking moment being an asshole."

"i don't spend every moment being an asshole," he chuckled, leaning over the half-wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. "it's somethin' i can turn off, so if that's my worst trait at least m'pretty."

"Gag me," you spat.

"now there's an image."

"Ew!" You scoffed, turning away from him to look at Black with exasperation.

"it's a date, then?" He laughed.

You looked back at him, horrified. "No, no, not a date, definitely not a fucking date. If you think you're coming anywhere close to my mouth with any filthy fucking part of your body--"

"what, i thought you liked a little sausage?" He practically purred. "y'certainly eat like ya'd suck a mean dick."

"MUTT! THAT IS ENOUGH!" Black said swiftly, but the damage was done.

It seemed he had found his new Favorite Thing to poke at about you. The unbothered look on his face as Black raised his voice at him was enough to make that blindingly clear, and you set your jaw, fists clenching as you glared at him.

"I eat like everybody else!" You said finally, hands shaking in your rage. "I'm not fat!"

"OF COURSE, HE DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT WAY--" Black tried, and you shook his hand off your arm.

"He did mean it that way!" You flipped Mutt off, with gusto. "Fuck you, and that isn't an invitation."

With that, you took off, storming out and onto the terrace. You would have left completely but your stuff wasn't all together yet and you didn't fancy coming back for it in twenty minutes. You slammed the sliding glass door as good as you could and dragged a deck chair to the edge of the balcony, plopping down and leaning on your crossed arms, staring down into the trees and foliage behind the building.

You could hear Black blowing up on Mutt inside, though the soundproofing was good enough that you couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, only the tone of it. He knows all about your history with your eating disorder, you'd broken down and cried to him after he'd asked you one too many times if you'd gotten enough to eat.

You understand that underground, resources were scarce, and that's why he always makes sure you've eaten enough. He's been good about his wording since then, carefully asking if you have everything you need, with heavy implications that he means food. It's worked thus far, and sending leftovers home was kind of his way of saying he loved you.

You assume, then, as you calmed down a bit, that Mutt really meant no offense when he said you eat well. It was probably a compliment, even, as veiled as it was. And it wasn't like you'd ever opened up to him about your strained relationship with food and your weight. He probably thought it was funny that a small compliment made you clam up in a way his insults never had.

The door slid open behind you and you sighed, closing your eyes. "It's fine, Black, I'll get over it."

"good, here i thought i'd hafta apologize."

You huffed and turned a glare on Mutt as he closed the door behind him. That was not your best friend as you had expected. "What, did he make you come out here to say sorry? Well, you can save it, I don't take insincere apologies."

"actually, he told me he's fed up with how i treat you and that he didn't want to see me within a mile of ya again." Mutt pulled up the second terrace chair and took a seat. "but i don't think i can do that."

"What, come to make fun of me, then?" You hissed, leaning back and glaring over at him. "Maybe call me names? Make pig noises?"

"i wouldn't do that," he said, seriously. "i pick my words pretty carefully, you know, if i'd'a known you had a thing about food i woulda picked 'em even more carefully."

"Since when do you give a shit about my feelings?"

"always," he said, and you snorted, disbelieving. "we may not get along, but yer important t'sans, that makes you important t'me. an' you ain't nothin' but beautiful, so i guess i didn't think that you'd take it as me callin' you fat."

"First you insult me, and now you lie to me." You stood up, and he looked right up at you as you loomed over him the best you could. "Anything else? Maybe poke fun at my dead mom, or fake-ask-me-out?"

"why would anyone fake asking someone out?" He asked, genuinely surprised. "i'm a mean bitch at heart, so is sans, but we'd never do that."

You huffed. "Well then congrats, you're better than the kids I went to school with. Barely."

He hummed thoughtful and you were about to turn and leave him behind--

"wanna fuck?"

Slowly, you turned around, looking at him in disbelief. "I'm sorry?"

"i said," he stood, crowding you against the balcony fencing, his hands on either side of you. "wanna fuck? you an' i might not get along, but you're fine as fuck, i'm not so bad, and i gotta bed we can work out our aggressions on. so, wanna fuck?"

You inhaled, hands on his chest and ready to push him away...but you're due for some stress relief and if anything you can trust him not to get attached, and despite being the opposite of friends you trust he'd never do anything to hurt you, if only for his brother's sake.

"You know what?" You breathed, straightening your posture. Your hands went from pushing to gripping his shirt. "Yeah. Let's fuck. You've had worse ideas."

#sf!papyrus/reader #drabbles #mkwrites #mutt being an asshole #tw: eating disorders #tw: weight

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

Text

VI. In for Life*

Summary: The final installment of his enormous dumpster fire :’) Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: NSFW! It has arrived along with a short epilogue at the end. Thanks everyone for all your love for these three bastards (and Buckeye, too!)

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

It’s hot.

It’s so damn hot and your back is slick with sweat.

Your eyes fly open to the stifling humidity of the dark room. A heavy hand is on your hip, lazily draped over and brushing against the soft skin of your tummy. A back is pressed against your chest, heavy breaths drawing in and out, slightly wheezing. Even atop of your feet, there is a weight.

Jesus (Steve), Mary (Bucky), and Joseph (Buckeye).

You are completely smothered by all of them. When any of you fell asleep—and when Buckeye found it appropriate to flop himself on top of it all is bewildering.

There’s not even a sheet or comforter on top anymore, both things piled on the floor like a lumpy mountain. Buckeye stirs the same time you do, opening his mouth in a squelching yawn and tipping his head back. You glare at him in the dark and uselessly wiggle your toes. “Get off!”

“Buck!” You hiss. He lolls his head sideways and flops his tongue out at you before nuzzling back down onto your ankles, setting his chin on what is probably Bucky. His butt wiggles around, trying to find a new comfortable position, legs kicking yours.

“Your fucking goblin nails! Ouch, Buck!”

Steve stirs with a moan, turning over and throwing his heavy arm over your shoulder, pressing his face into your chest with a contented sigh. It could be sexy, you think, but you’re sure that your boob-sweat is being inhaled right now straight into his lungs.

Bucky grumbles into your back, shuffling until he’s squeezing you too tightly between him and Steve.

“Are you guys awake?” You whisper, “Are you doing this on purpose?”

You release a long-suffering groan when all that responds is another one of Buckeye’s squealing yawns. You slowly pick up Steve’s arm to move it back, but it’s heavy as hell and he keeps grunting into your chest. Somnambulist pervert.

Bucky’s arm moves down, fingers slowly coming to rest on your hip and then slowly—oh hell.

“Dude.” You mutter. His fingers dig into your ass as his shoulders begin to shake behind you. This motherfucker had been awake this whole time, just watching you suffer in-between two human and one canine heater. You swat him away, but he shoves his face deeper into your neck until his breath begins to tickle. Your hands slap harder and faster, “Fuck! Stop! I’m gonna scream!”

“What time is it?” Bucky asks, pulling away with a pant, blowing his hair from his face.

“Way past when we were supposed to wake up. Steve is out, Buck.”

“Yeah he doesn’t really have a middle ground. He’s either awake or he’s dead.”

A silence passes before Bucky’s hand finds the waistband of your romper again.

“You wanna fuck?”

You slap him away with what a shriek might be if someone could do it with their mouth closed. He’s awfully bold and unfiltered now that you’ve shown him your hand and you think he’s probably not bluffing. Bucky laughs again behind you, pulling on the back of your outfit, tugging it a few times and letting it flap. You realize, with a little bit of fondness, that he’s trying to cool you off.

“C’mon.” He slips his legs out from under Buckeye, who whines in betrayal, but watches him with interest anyway. Bucky tugs you out of bed, moving Steve’s arm and pushing his face away from your chest. “Kid’s always been a tits guy.”

“Yeah. Yours are like a B-cup, huh?”

Bucky ignores you, “I like ass. You’re a pain in my ass sometimes… but I bet one of these days, I’ll be a pain in yours. Literally.”

You turn red as a beet, sputter a few times, and then just shut up for your own damn good.

“Just kidding.” Bucky continues, leading you out of the room, “It’ll be mostly pleasure. We’ll find a good balance, sweetheart.”

He traipses into the kitchen, entirely content to strut around as you close your eyes and count to a million because Bucky Barnes has just one-upped your comment so hard you have absolutely nothing else to fire back at him. You think you might swoon; you’re both proud and devastated.

It’s the middle of the night and Bucky is preparing to brew a pot of coffee. You tap him on the shoulder to suggest that it would be a bad idea, but he bites your pointer and snarls like a wild dog.

“God. Once you crack the surface, there’s so much of…this…” You gesture vaguely up and down, “Wha—wait a minute.” Your eyes narrow, “Did you just snarl at me? You don’t snarl at me; I snarl at you!”

He spends another few minutes repeating the same noise, just to get on your nerves because he knows there’s not much you can do but give him lip. Frankly, the tables have turned, and Bucky is giving you quite a run for your money when it comes to sass.

It’s kind of hot.

You watch the way his arm flexes when he reaches forward to turn the knob on the stove top. The other one rests loosely on his hip where the band of his sweatpants hang, string untied. His shirt is crumpled unevenly, one hem lower than the other as his metal fingers play with the edge absentmindedly. It’s a bit of a shock for you to realize that Bucky Barnes putting the kettle on is what gets you going.

You’ll take it, though.

You grab a glass of water and down it in three seconds flat before you do anything stupid, but when you turn around you catch him staring at your ass. So, you stare blatantly back at his tush, eyes comically wide.

“Those your bedroom eyes?” He asks, grinding the coffee beans and dumping them into the press. When the kettle begins to screech, he takes it off and fills up the carafe, tapping out five minutes on the microwave timer.

“Buck,” you call seriously, hopping up to sit on the counter, “It’s almost three—neither of us should be drinking coffee.”

“No.” He corrects, “You shouldn’t be drinking coffee. It doesn’t affect me. I just like the taste.”

“I’m gonna drink some if you drink some.”

“What are you, a lemming?”

“Yes. If you jump, I jump. If you sip the chocolate bean juice, I sip the chocolate bean juice.”

He laughs, and you do too, finding the sound of it more charming each time you hear it. God, he’s so stupidly handsome. You kick your foot out, poking his side with your toe until he shifts and slyly nestles himself in between your legs. “Stevie’s gonna get jealous.”

You seriously doubt there is any merit to that statement. If anything, you think, Steve is probably creeping around in the shadows with your dog, cheering Bucky on silently. He’s a motherfucker like that, orchestrating all of this like a horny puppeteer.

But no, really, he’s very sweet. They both are.

Leaning in, you tug Bucky forward by the collar of his shirt, wrapping your legs around his torso and pulling him in for a kiss. He smiles against your lips, and you’re half tempted to pull away just to get another look at it on his face; it’s something you’ll never get enough of.

His cold hand runs up the length of your spine while the other slips beneath the opening of your romper, tugging playfully on the fabric of your underwear. “You---mmmf—pervy old fuck.” He keeps on, slipping his tongue into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip when you try to pull away for air. He could smother you, and you’d let him. He’s acting like it’s his intention, anyway.

A part of you feels alleviated, as if the new intimacy has stripped everything else away. You move naturally with Bucky, running your hand through his hair, trailing your fingers over his shoulder and arm—something you were previously concerned about even bringing up. Another part of you is a bit more grounded, too.

The questions you have for them keep getting brushed off. Some things aren’t as easy as they make them seem. Certainly, this relationship won’t be?

“Don’t start this again.” Bucky murmurs, as if reading your thoughts.

“I can’t help it!” You whine. “I’ve never done this before! Nor will it ever happen again—the two of you aren’t exactly regular people, you know?”

“It better never happen again.” Bucky places both his hands on your waist, “Once you’re in, you’re in for life, kid.”

Your eyes widen when you look at him, jaw set firmly, eyes searing into yours. “We’re serious about you. So, what’s it gonna be?”

The timer beeps and he turns around to carefully push the plunger into the press, leaving you staring at the dark tresses of his head. Your heart beats in your chest like a collapsing drum, crashing down and falling apart at Bucky’s bare feet.

He pours two mugs and empties the rest into a thermos for later.

Behind the thin cover of the steam, you avert your eyes. “Y-yeah.” You mutter.

“Yeah?” Bucky takes a sip. You’re not made of super soldier, so you wait for the coffee to cool.

“Yeah. Yes.”

Bucky licks his lips and tilts his chin at you, smiling, “Drink your coffee, sweetheart. Let’s go fuck.”

It’s … you can’t even. That’s what being with Bucky is like.

In the cool chamber of the guest room you’ve been sleeping in, he lays you down on the mattress and taps his fingers up and down your arms until your skin crawls with goosebumps. His touches are feather-light, deliberately gentle, teasing and tugging on every last one of your stretched nerves.

No, you would have never guessed upon meeting him that he could be capable of this kind of tenderness. He was joking when he said fuck, because you are certain no part of what he will do to you is as indelicate as that word. Fuck can be reserved for another time— but this, this feels remarkably close to love.

He’s stripped down and sitting up, letting you see him as he is under the soft lamplight glow. Bucky tucks his hair behind his left ear and waits for you.

“Yeah?” He asks quietly, timid smile forming on his lips.

You sit up too, face him, and pull the straps of your outfit down until it pools around your waist. Then you lift yourself up out of it and crawl into his lap, pressing your body flush onto his.

“Yeah.” You sigh, “Yes, Bucky.” And then you can’t help but laugh just a little as you bury your face into his neck. It’s silly. “God—who would have thought?” You ask, “Us? Right now?”

He grins too, kissing your shoulder, “Thought I was going to murder you that night.”

“Yeah. I would have been fine with it as long as you took care of my dog.”

He bites the same place he just kissed. “Don’t ever. Again. Never.” The finality of his statement shuts you right up with a quick yelp with his teeth clamped down on you.

“Okay, sorry.”

“Shit sucks, but now you got us.”

“Okay.”

He nips at your neck, hand rearranging your legs until they lock in behind him. He is warm and hard, your own hands travel over the plane of his chest and around to trace the muscles of his back.

The door squeaks open slightly. Both of you turn to see Steve entering with a lazy smile, flushed pink and shirtless.

“You sleep good?” Bucky asks before he returns to your collarbone, making a trail down to your sternum.

“Mhm. See you got started without me.”

“Sorry.” Bucky responds, not sounding like it at all, “Couldn’t get ya to wake up.”

He rocks his hips up, pushing against your underwear, and you let out what sounds like a balloon on its last squeak of deflation. Steve chuckles and finds a seat behind you, flattening his palm on your lower back, urging you forward.

You should probably be nervous, but for some reason you aren’t. Steve’s hand anchors you, holds you against Bucky carefully. The three of you balance on this tightrope wire, looking over the edge down into shadows.

But there’s a net there. And when you all fall together the love will catch you.

It’s all love.

Steve kisses your back and scoots forward until his chest is pressing into your spine. His other hand pulls your panties to the side and Bucky takes the opportunity to slowly press in.

You arch forward into him, your breasts to his mouth. They’re one and the same, guiding each other, murmuring in low tones and whispers. Slowly, as they move and touch and consume you, you become the same, too, until all three of you melt into the darkness.

Morning arrives and pulls you awake in a jarring grip. Your back is sweaty again, completely drenched and slippery as you wiggle your way out from two naked bodies.

Steve stirs slightly, nuzzling his nose into your cheek. “Mm-uh. Stay.” He tries to convince you by pressing his torso to your side, rubbing himself against your thigh. “We can do it right here.”

Your face burns hot as Bucky groans on the other side.

“I gotta get up and do some work, Steve.” You run your hand through his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp, “I’ll be back to wake you two. We gotta go to King’s Island today.”

He kisses the top of your head sweetly, but you have to get up or else the work will be so piled on you’ll never resurface from it.

You slip from them, leaving Steve’s grumbling behind.

Furious clicking finds Bucky and Steve when they rise an hour later. You sit in the living room with your tablet balanced in your lap, the thermos from last night empty. They watch proudly as you flip through an enormous journal full of notes and then turn to another binder full of print-outs.

“Hey.” You say distractedly, “Pancakes and sausages’re in the oven keeping warm, I got three more exams and then we can get started.”

Buckeye is faithfully by your knee, tail tapping against the cushion at the two men in the hallway.

When they don’t move, you turn and look at them, “What’s up?”

Steve’s arms are crossed as he leans against Bucky. They share silly smiles because you’re crosslegged again and surrounded by paper and books and your fingers are moving even too fast for super soldiers to keep up with.

“Lookit her, Stevie.” Bucky grins, “Smart girl.”

You make another charming ppppffftptbbblblbppttt and roll your eyes. You know he means it but the compliment is so strange escaping his lips. It’s still new, his affection. Steve’s too, you suppose. Your cheeks flare anyway as they pad into the kitchen for breakfast.

You were sure to make precisely a bajillion blueberry pancakes this morning and a tray full of sausage links, saving just a few of each for yourself. Between reading a book and taking notes, cooking on a giant griddle and sticking sausages in an oven made the tasks relatively simple. You’ll also read and grade on the way to the park.

In the corner of your eye, Steve pokes at a fluffy stack with his fork. Bucky bites into a sausage and waggles his eyebrows. They both snort and start flicking each other off. You have to focus, but damn if they don’t make it hard to stay on track.

Spending the last two months in their presence has made little changes to your routine that you’re now thankful for. Before them, it was nothing but school and Buckeye. Hardly any time to cook or to enjoy yourself. There was nothing but monotony and the proclamation of your dog being the only tether to this world.

Your poor therapist, worrying her lip each time you came by in a rush between your classes, words tumbling so fast she had to make you stop and literally breathe each time.

Now, there’s so much laughter. So much silliness.

Your cheeks continue to burn.

There is so much love.

Steve plants a syrupy kiss to your lips. Bucky presses a berry onto your tongue soon afterwards.

The tablet is pulled away, books too. Even Buckeye is picked up and placed onto another chair. Your disagreeing voice is smothered by two mouths, taking turns overwhelming yours.

“I gotta--”

“Nope,” Bucky hushes.

“Not right now.” Steve confirms. “Gonna do you on the couch.”

“It’s a nice couch,” Bucky states plainly, “Real nice. Soft leather.”

“Your parents’ couch.” Steve adds.

Bucky laughs in your ear, pressing your chest down until your back hits the soft cushion, “That’s direct action, baby.”

“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no-ohnonononono…” And then finally, “FUCK NO!”

The shriek flings itself back behind your shoulder as the rollercoaster drops down and takes your stomach right out of your throat along with your words.

Bucky is cackling madly to your left, Steve on the other side of him whooping. He’s yelling something that is making Bucky laugh harder, but you can’t hear it for the whips of wind tearing through your ears.

“Technically!” You yell, “King’s Island is an expansion of Coney— but no one really remembers—- Ah FUCK!”

The loop slams your head into the cushioned rest, and you bite down on your cheek. You’re going to vomit. You scream again when the next drop throws your stomach up into your diaphragm.

As the ride slows, you blink the tears away and sniffle.

“Aw, baby. It wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s the wind you jerk! I’m not actually crying!”

“Are you gonna throw up?” Steve wonders, thinking on the memory of the Cyclone.

“No! Don’t get your hopes up, Rogers. You’re the only one here who’s a bitch.”

Bucky laughs and tugs you against his side. The three of you trek onward to the next destination, caps pulled low on your heads so that neither of them are recognized. Luckily, it’s overcast again so Bucky wearing a long sleeve isn’t so strange.

The only strange thing is that three of you are full grown adults at the park without any children. Either way, there are occasional stares.

A frozen banana is shared and devoured in three bites from three different mouths. Five more rides are taken and when you take them into the line for Flight of Fear, Steve peers around curiously at the very X-Files décor. Real Roswell, you share, pretending to be that guy from the History Channel, Aliens!

At the loading station, Steve bristles and you’re not sure why until you see the cryotube props. Bucky pats him on the shoulder, “Don’t get offended for my sake.” He climbs into the seat behind you and Steve and plays with your hair when the shuttle clatters forward into the dark.

“I didn’t realize.” You whisper in Steve’s ear.

“I can hear you.” Bucky replies.

When the rain hits as you’re buying your second frozen banana, Steve is ready to go home. He’s not spending another day sopping wet on an outdoor excursion. The white of his shirt turns peach like his skin.

You take them to a bar, instead, even though you promised that you were just showing them the scenic route before heading home. In the car, Bucky grew suspicious when you began to drive in the opposite direction, but you distracted Steve with more threats of Skyline, and he was quick to reel Bucky to his side.

It’s still somewhat early, only around eight or so, and the bar is barely half-full, mostly couples who are at the end of their day-drinking and want to relax with video games.

“Knock yourself out. All arcade games are free.” You grin happily, “This place is awesome. And the drinks are--” You kiss your fingertips and blow it into the air, “Be back in a sec.”

They watch you prance over to the bar and wait in line, bouncing on your feet. Steve shrugs and begins to wander while Bucky lingers by the table, eyes fixed on you. When you arrive at the bar, you smile cheerily at the bartender and show him your ID.

You’re much nicer to strangers than you are to… Bucky scoffs inwardly, superheroes, apparently. The more Bucky watches, the bigger his smile grows. You’re leaned forward, listening intently as the guy points to each item on the menu. It’s cute how your nose scrunches up at something you don’t like, or the way you nod enthusiastically when something catches your fancy.

Then, suddenly, Bucky begins to grow apprehensive because why are you spending so long at the bar? And why are you leaning forward so far and smiling so much? You have never smiled for that prolonged of a time at anything other than your dog.

You catch his eye a few seconds later and wink at his scowl. Upon returning with three drinks in your hands and a wrapper of something in your mouth, he understands now.

“That dude gave me free drinks and a popsy.”

You slide one glass to him and keep the others. Then, you tear open the plain package and reveal a bomb pop—red white and blue. “Popsicle!” Then you stick it in your mouth and swirl the ice around until it turns a muted purple, staining your tongue.

Distractedly, you look around for Steve who is standing at a pinball machine, tapping furiously on the paddles.

Bucky sends you a withering look.

“Don’t be a wet blanket. I got the drink for you. It only cost me five minutes and a smile.” Then you dunk the popsicle in his cocktail and give him a cold kiss on the cheek. He shakes his head, glares back at the bar where the guy is looking over and stands up so that he’s blocking the view to your back.

Next to Steve, Bucky tattles.

“Oh, be quiet!” You cry, hand coming up to cover his face, “Mom and Daaaaad!” You whine nasally, “Can I go out to plaaaaaay?”

“You were flirting for a free drink!” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Excuse me, there are three?” You steal the popsicle back and crunch through it.

Steve huffs, crosses his arms, and lets his pinball fall straight in-between the immobile paddles. The machine warbles sadly before honking out game over sirens. Lights flash around the rectangle of its frame.

“Well—” Steve pauses, “Well, good for you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” You smile. Two girls to your side giggle at the conversation and you turn and curtsy to them. “Jonathan with the eyes is a sucker, ladies.”

Bucky grumbles and throws his drink down, snaps the wooden stick in half with his teeth. Everyone has fucking eyes, he thinks.

An hour later and all arcade games exhausted, Bucky drives home in silence, fuming. He’s still not over the fact that you saddled up next to some guy, but he just has to get over it. It’s really not a big deal. Steve winks at you from the front seat, catching your eye in the mirror.

“Funny movie?” You ask, kicking your feet onto the top of the coffee table, remote in hand and clicking mindlessly.

“Rom-com.” Steve requests, pointing to a title above two generic white actors giving each other enamored glances. Lame.

“Zombies.” Bucky deadpans.

They both turn to look at each other, shaking their heads in disappointment at what’s been thrown out. You sigh, trying to find something that fits all three.

“Tucker and Dale, it is.”

When another college kid gets impaled, Steve pauses the movie.

He is not a fan. “I don’t get it!” He keeps saying, “Just call the cops!”

You throw your head back, “It’s bumfuck nowhere!”

He picks the next one.

“I hate this.” You stab the red button on the remote and shut off another mistletoe kiss. How does he even find Christmas Lifetime movies in the middle of the summer?

Bucky snatches it from the couch and clicks the screen back on.

“Zombies.” He proclaims again.

“It’s just not logical!” Steve cries, “They’re dead!” His voice rises until you think it could crack the chandelier in the living room, “What—why would they even be eating anything? They’re dead!”

“Zombies!” Bucky shouts.

“No!” You scream in reply, stomping your foot. In the background, Steve continues his rant—something about Banner finding a cure, something else about the sun, another thing about regardless of how the world is terribly messed up, God will not blight the Earth with zombies, of all creatures.

“Zom-bies.” Bucky hisses, glaring at you, as if you are the point of origin for his ire.

Buckeye hops off the couch and plods over under the coffee table. He snorts and shuffles around and scratches the rug before lying down and staring at the three of you like you all share one single braincell.

When Bucky hollers ZOMBIES for the final time, you lock eyes with your dog, who whines pathetically and turns away, as if he is embarrassed by the humans.

Cillian Murphy is twenty-something and gorgeous. You are obviously drooling over those enormous blue eyes and pouty, swollen lips, even if he is wind-chafed and underweight, running around in a flapping hospital gown.

Steve gets an idea when you lick your lips distractedly, reaching over the back of Bucky’s neck to twist a lock of your hair in his finger. Bucky shrugs him off, but he continues. 28 Days Later or not, Steve’s on a mission; fuck the zombies.

Obviously, you have a type.

But if he voices it, Bucky might go slash Jonathan’s tires and find Cillian Murphy somewhere in Ireland and do the same thing to him, too. New love, Steve muses, such a delicate thing.

He gets up and sits on your other side, pulling until you are resting on his chest. “Is it scary?” He asks.

“Ooooh, so scary,” you squeal, and then suddenly jump when one of the undead shrieks and tears down the road, “Fuck! These are runners!?”

“Eat him.” Bucky goads, “Eat him, goddamn it.”

Steve pulls your chin away from pointing at the screen and kisses you slowly, tugging you back each time you continue to turn, fixed on the scene. “Mmm, baby.” He sighs, “C’mere.”

“Dude, Steve, I— he’s mmmhm.. okay, wait…would you—- mm!” His tongue slides into your mouth as one hand grips your head. Okay, this fucker knows what he’s doing. “Buck,” you gasp, “fill me in on the deets because—”

“Because you have a crush on this guy, too?” Bucky glares, crossing his arms. You pull away from Steve and weave each attempt he makes at devouring your face.

“Are you serious?” You ask, “You are sipping hella dumbass juice right now.”

“Jealous juice.” Steve corrects, and you smirk at him because the two of you combined are a lethal dose of one-hundred-percent pure bastard straight into the bloodstream. Leaning over, still strapped in on Steve, you clasp your hand over Bucky’s jaw, pinching his cheeks together with a glare.

“You said in for life, you brat.” You mutter, “I’m in a relationship—not dead. Not ungrateful or unfaithful, either. Handle the fact that I’m a person, or get out.”

His eyes widen the same time Steve’s does because you’ve never been this serious with them before. Your tone is grave and your stare is fiery. In the middle of four-hundred solid pounds of serum-injected mass, you are a stark contrast, but somehow holding all the cards.

Something prods your inner thigh and you narrow your eyes, turning to Steve. “Really, Stevie? This is what does it for you?”

He only grins back, licking the corner of his mouth, “Can you blame me? Guess I’ve got a type too. Bossy. Mouthy.”

Bucky groans and smacks the back of his head into the cushion. “I guess I do too. Fuck.”

It’s as close to an apology as you’ll get, and you love that stupid, stubborn boy so you’ll take it. Steve smiles at him and then at you before pulling you closer by your hip bones, letting the heat of him burn past the layers of your clothes.

Bucky is content to watch, waiting for your permission.

Linking your fingers through his, you place both entwined hands on his thigh and kiss Steve, letting your tongue touch his in a slow, teasing lick. He chuckles into your mouth, grips the back of your head in a blistering passion and pushes his chest into yours until it feels like he’s crushing your rib cage. If this is how you die, flattened between two searing-hot (literally and otherwise) men who—Christ, love you for whatever reason—it’d be a death you look forward to.

Steve pulls away suddenly, eyes twinkling with some secret knowledge.

“What?”

“You called me Stevie.”

“Did I?”

Bucky grins, “Ooooh, Stevie…” he doesn’t know how to squeal so he says it in a low, husky tone instead and you swear Steve moans a little before he breaks out into a wide smile, so bright you have to squint. Jesus, Captain America should be on T.V.--- wait, he already is. You are so completely lost in that look he’s got on, like you’ve presented him with a puppy or something that you hardly notice Bucky to your side, humming a low throaty tune.

“So…” he sings, gesturing to the space where you have leaned away from Steve and then down to the tent in Steve’s jeans, “You guys fuckin’ or what?”

____________

The end of summer break nears and you’re ready for two years of writing your dissertation before you can fuck off out of the program with a diploma and a J-O-B. It’s both exciting and terrifying at the same time, but if you’re good at anything, it’s putting on a front. This semester you are working as a TA for one of your favorite professors and juggling an off-campus job at the local coffee shop.

Three more days left until the start of the semester and you’ve already met early with your professor and created your email list.

Buckeye is well, drooling all over the place, flopping down and staring out the window. Same as ever. Manhattan assholes still glare at him when you walk him down the street but it sure helps when Steve or Bucky are by your side and glare right back.

It’s cute.

Two boyfriends.

Who the heckin’ would have thought that the night your life flashed before your eyes twice (unnamed goon and Bucky Barnes’ fist nearly in your face) that you’d come out of it with two semi-retired Avengers attached to your hip?

Three days left and you’ve convinced them to jet off on a tiny mini-cation. You wrestled the wheel from Bucky and drove an hour east from the DFW airport with Steve singing along to Sad n’ Sexy Santa while Bucky kicks his seat repeatedly. It makes your heart swell because damn, how’d you get so lucky?

The interstate reaches cropped green plains as the metroplex skyscrapers sink further away into the horizon behind you. From the backseat, Bucky sits up, leaning on Steve’s chair as he stares out the front windshield at a cartoonish yellow sign.

“What… is… it?”

You smirk. “It’s why we’re here. That, and brisket.”

“It’s a gas station?” Steve is confused, too. You’ve been tight-lipped about the entire thing. But his eyes widen before fearfully glancing back and forth across the colossal parking lot and the stretch of what looks like fifty gas-pumps. “Or is it an airport…?”

You lead them in and it’s like their whole world has turned upside down. Steve and Bucky stare at the expanse of seemingly never-ending aisles. People rush about, enormous bags of popcorn under their arms. Chips, candy, kolaches, bear claws, stuffed animals, clothing, Texas-shaped cutting boards, and blinged out purses. There is even an aisle dedicated to pebbles. What does it mean?

“It’s a Buc-ees.” You state, waving your hand in a wide circle, palm flat. “Whatdya think, Bucky?”

The pun is not lost on him and he grumbles.

“You dragged me all the way out here for this?”

“And brisket.”

“There’s brisket in Manhattan, baby.” Steve suggests, but you whip around and hiss at him, “Don’t you dare. Heathen. Ain’t no beef like Texas beef. Grade A, one-hundred-percent beef.” Then you pause and with an exaggerated raise of your eyebrow, pinch his bottom. “And you too, I guess.”

Steve yelps with a slight jump, turning redder than Buc-ee Beaver’s cap as the eyes of strangers find him.

Your Bucky doesn’t notice, only staring on mesmerized by the bustle of foot traffic and the smells of jerky, candy, and the fresh, burning scent of Pine-Sol cleaner. Ahhhh… a perfect combination.

“What is this.” Bucky mutters, “It looks like hell.”

With a clap on his arm and a proud puffing of your chest, you pick up a nearby orange shirt with the slogan You can go to hell. I’m going to Texas.

“Welcome to Texas, baby. Everything’s bigger.” With a perverted leering at his groin, you wink. "You’ll fit right in.”

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