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starshideurfics · 7 months ago

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Thirsty Thursday - Stevie’s Garage

steddie, omegaverse, 1960s, omegas entering the workforce, single parents, cw: vague references to suicide

Steve liked working with his hands. As a child that meant playing with lincoln logs and tinker toys, after he presented it meant baking a sewing. Then his no-good, two-timing alpha left him for his secretary, with two pups, Danny (6) and Jenny (7 1/2). Steve won full custody in the divorce, and at least his ex pays his alimony on time.

But it isn’t enough to live on, not with the mortgage and the kids. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to worry about the house falling apart; he’s been doing home repairs the entire time, learned to change his own oil in his car, can fix a flat tire with ease.

More and more omegas are driving now, and Steve figures they would appreciate service from someone who won’t talk down to them. He gets a loan from his aunt, a maiden omega who invested well, and opens his own automobile service station: Stevie’s Garage.

Robin helps him get set up: painting the sign, ordering supplies, answering phone calls, while Steve gets under the hoods and gets his hands dirty.

He does well enough that after the first month he puts an ad in the paper to hire a second mechanic. He figures it will take a while to find an alpha (or even a beta) who can stand working for an omega.

Much to his surprise, a man with dark curls and a shy smile comes by later that week asking if the job is still available. Steve has Eddie check the car on the lift, and he finds the loose fan belt in a couple minutes, changes it out.

Steve hires him on the spot.

It turns out Eddie’s got a pup, too. Carrie’s in Danny’s class at school, and all Eddie will say is that her mother isn’t around anymore. Steve doesn’t pry. It means the three pups ride the bus to the garage after school and play together there until the workday is done. Jenny’s bossy, a bit feral, and loyal to a fault. The first day Carrie gets off the bus with them, she asks why she isn’t going home to her mom, all childish bluntness.

“Mama died in the bathtub when I was really little, then I went to live with Daddy,” Carrie answers, just a statement of fact.

Steve’s glad he didn’t pry.

After that, Jenny is as protective of Carrie as she is of her brother.

Three months after he hired Eddie, Steve admits to himself that he likes the alpha. More than likes him. Eddie smells nice, and he’s gentle with the pups, never raises his voice in anger—only in excitement or fear—he tells jokes and stories to pass the time, sings along with the radio. But mostly, he looks at Steve like a starving man looks at bread when he thinks the omega isn’t looking.

Steve wants to feed him.

They both have engine grease under their fingernails, are covered in heavy-duty cotton, Steve’s hair is under a kerchief; there is nothing particular sexy about the moment. But Steve can’t wait any longer, and he presses up against Eddie, pins him in place and kisses his mouth.

“I’m dead, yeah? The lift fell and I was crushed by Mrs. Wheeler’s Bel Air, and I’m dead,” Eddie babbles when their lips part.

“Not dead,” Steve replies with a grin. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve leans in for another kiss, one that Eddie deepens, his tongue slipping easily between parted lips. “I’ll need to get Robin to babysit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Munson. You’re taking me out dancing.”

✨✨✨

Steve answers the door with his housecoat still on, crouching down to say hello to Carrie first, the pup throwing her arms around his neck. “Head into the living room, honey, the kids are doing a puzzle with Robbie,” he says, watching her scamper past him into the house. He turns to Eddie with a soft smile, “Just give me a couple minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie agrees, smile just as soft.

Steve disappears to his bedroom, and Eddie waits awkwardly in the doorway. He hears laughter from deeper in the house, followed by Robin saying, “Hey there, Care-Bear, come sit by me.”

He’s ruminating on how nice it is to have people who adore his kid as much as he does around, to give her that big family feeling, at least a little bit. Then Steve comes down the hallway wearing a proper dress, and Eddie quite literally stops breathing.

Dressed to the nines, Steve is a revelation, but he simply takes Eddie’s hand and says, “So, where are you taking me?”

“Enzo’s,” Eddie answers, no longer worried that it’s too much. Steve deserves the nicest restaurant in town for their first date. Steve deserves the best of everything.

Not that either of them has fancy tastes, not knowing what half the things on the menu are. Eddie gets spaghetti and meatballs, and Steve gets a chicken dish with some kind of red sauce. They talk and trade bites of food, both careful as they eat—Steve due to a lifetime of practice, Eddie because he realized as soon as the waiter took their order that he’d made a mistake and that leaving without marinara on his shirt would be a miracle.

After, he tells Steve to order dessert, and they split a tiramisu. Eddie pays the bill without really looking at it, having kept a tally in his head of the prices by habit, leaves a nice tip, and helps Steve up from his seat. “Ready for that dance?”

Steve smiles and nods, following Eddie to the dance floor. Enzo’s has a live band on the weekends; “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole starts just as Steve steps onto the parquet dance floor, his arms settling easily around Eddie’s neck. “I love this song,” he murmurs as they start to sway.

“Makes sense,” Eddie murmurs, “You’re certainly unforgettable, Steve.” They’re silent after that, moving to the music, bodies pressed close. A new song starts, and they keep swaying, dancing merely an excuse to hold each other in public, to trade small kisses.

“Robin’s planning to spend the night at my place,” Steve says once they are safely back in Eddie’s car.

“Oh?”

“We still have plenty of time…”

“Steve?”

“Take me back to your place, Eddie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, driving on autopilot, as Steve rubs his hand up and down Eddie’s thigh.

Steve pounces on him as soon as they get through Eddie’s front door, kissing him hard and reaching for his belt. They shed clothes down the hallway, until they reach Eddie’s bedroom, leaving the lights off, everything illuminated well enough by the nearly full moon.

Eddie stops breathing again. Steve is a vision in only his slip, white satin and lace showing off so much more of his skin than Eddie’s ever seen. Carefully, he reaches out, suddenly nervous—a crass, unworthy man standing before the loveliest omega on earth—and pinches a bit of fabric at Steve’s waist, afraid to touch more.

“Hey,” Steve whispers, placing a hand over Eddie’s, “It’s okay. I’m still just me. Not gonna break, Ed.”

Everything after that is slow and sweet. Perfect.

Eddie cries tears of pleasure as he sinks into Steve’s wet heat. Steve mewls at being properly knotted for the first time in years. They fall asleep tangled together, the most relaxed either of them have felt, possibly ever.

Steve wakes early, before the sun is up. Eddie stirs beside him as soon as he moves, and Steve is happy to take a couple minutes to kiss.

There’s plenty of time to get home before the pups wake.

✨✨✨

Big thanks to @itcanbepalped for sharing the inspo with me and then riffing for a bit! Love you, Mads!!!

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #stranger things fic #ficlet #thirsty thursday

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naffeclipse · 16 days ago

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S'mores

Reader x Cryptid!Monty

Commission Info

This was requested by @catbeastaisha who was so darling and wanted some more Cryptid Monty from my fic! There's nothing like enjoying some marshmallows and discussions of how cryptids function while out in the marsh, and you get to do so while spending a night camping out under the stars! And you feel completely safe in the dark.

———

You’ve never found yourself out in the marshland so often after dark, but this night was a long time coming. At least, Monty has been asking you again and again to venture out into the swamp to spend a night with him. He could only have nefarious purposes or so you teased him, but he grew quite insistent that he wanted to spend such quality time with you.

The truth is that you only declined the first few times because you had late baseball games. Not that Monty minds watching you play. You’re not certain how the cryptid watches you during one of the late night, bright light tournaments that leave you drenched in sweat in a dirty jersey from sliding into homebase. But, the back of your neck prickles with the awareness of eyes upon you. A few of your teammates will shudder despite the hot night and throw wayward glances to the fence way out in the outfield, but return to the game, no less on edge from seeing nothing out in the darkness.

You smile to yourself, hand in glove, knowing that you’ve got someone cheering you on.

When you linger in the parking lot long after the lights have been shut off and everyone has gone home, he’ll detach from the darkness, hulking and outlined in starlight, to gather you in a huge hug and spin you once. He’s dynamic, roaring about your plays and then tearing apart any calls the ref made on times you got out. Nothing makes you grin more.

And, especially after a terrible game, when you’re half ready to smash a helmet with the nearest baseball bat, he’ll take your hands and let you squeeze his rugged, scaly palms until you don’t feel like biting clear through a barb-wire fence, and tell you that your anger is good and what happened wasn’t right, but it’s okay now. You can be mad all you like.

Somehow, that always takes the ferocity out of you. You’ll stop grinding your teeth and seeing red, and you’ll let Monty take you somewhere, anywhere to help you calm down.

A claw, dark and sharpened to a skewer tip, touches the brim of your baseball hat. You lift your eyes from memory, and smile at the red eyes studying you with a mild concern.

“Almost lost you there,” he rumbles in a crocodilian hiss. “Where did you go?”

“I’m right here,” you chuckle, reaching up to take his hand from your hat, though you didn’t realize how much you’ve spaced out. “Sorry, I was just thinking about baseball. And that hot dog.”

You still have the roasting stick in hand, but you’ve dutifully cleaned the end and prepared it for the real pièce de résistance for tonight.

S’mores.

The campfire crackles quietly, burning a bit lower but hot with red embers sitting in the pit. It’s taken you a while to find a decent camping site where there would be fewer people and less chances of Monty terrifying some unsuspecting people coming out to enjoy nature as you are doing now. Your sleeping bag is set out and ready to go, alongside a cooler and bag of necessities. Monty’s vessel, a shattered, broken beyond repair animatronic bearing a resembling an alligator in mascort form, is propped against a far cypress.

You roasted your dinner and piled a hotdog bun high with condiments for Monty to see. He’s wanted to share a meal with you for some time, and this seems appropriate enough considered that his diet consists of what he calls rule breakers.

“I don’t know how you humans eat those things,” he shakes his long mouth. “There’s no crunch. There’s nothing to crack open with your teeth!”

It’s comical to have him sit beside you on a log that he pulled out of the swarm, scattering a few frogs from their perch while you nestle in a camping chair. He’s massive. Even with his shoulders hunched slightly to lean closer to you, he towers in the orange flames of the campfire. He watched closer as you explained how you like to turn the roasting stick slower to evenly cook the hot dog. You refuse to eat it until it’s sizzling and split from the heat.

“They’re good! Just as good as your rule breakers, I’d say,” you counter, half grinning at the dark humor of it all. You just do your best to not think about it too much, lest fear start eating away at you.

He snorts. “Not even close.”

You leave it be and bend down to search the near darkness. His tail wags slightly behind him, the thick, musculature of his tail covered in thick, green scales sweeping behind you when you pull out a bag of jumbo sized marshmallows. You cheered under your breath when you found these in the grocery store.

“You shouldn’t have, shug.” His wide mouth opens, teeth gleaming under flickers of flame.

All of your concentration goes to spearing the jumbo marshmallow onto the end of the roasting stick. Carefully, you snatch up graham crackers and chocolate bars from the small tote underneath your chair, and you prepare the pieces before you flash a grin and set the marshmallow carefully above the embers. There will be no treats catching fire tonight.

“Just wait until you try it.” You don’t even take your eyes off of the end of the roasting stick. “You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

He chuckles, a deep, crocodilian like hiss underneath the burly sound, and he tips his head. “You know kids love s’mores? Can’t get enough of them. They might like trying to cook them more than actually eating them, and there’s a fair bit more of burned ones than edible ones, but I’d scarf those down too. That would dry up any tears.”

You warm with the image of Monty reassuring a child their burnt marshmallow is still good by tossing it into his mouth, and the shiny gleam of a child’s eyes as they stop crying to watch in awe. Your gaze remains on the white edges of the marshmallow, on guard for scorches or the beginning of a golden outside.

“Do you usually watch over kids camping?”

“Sometimes,” he rumbles, and his tone deepens into a primordial growl. “The marsh draws a lot of people in it. Some good. Some bad. The rule breakers think they can hide under moss and blackgum trees, but they can’t hide from me.”

Risking a glance away from your masterpiece, you watch the cryptid beside you for a moment. His eyes gaze deep into the fire, and his claws curl slightly before he shifts, and places his hand tenderly on your knee. He squeezes once, releasing whatever was steaming up within him.

You look back to the marshmallow, and pull it slightly up from where your lax grip was lowering it too close to the hot coals. Thankfully, no burn edges appear when you twirl it around once for inspection.

“Good,” you say. “I’m glad there’s someone like you out there making those kinds of people scared.”

His grin spreads wide in your peripheral vision. His hand remains on your leg, waiting for the dessert you promised him. The marshmallow begins to puff up, roasted tenderly as a golden edge begins to bubble on its edges.

“There we go,” you mutter, baring your teeth in concentration as you bring the roasting stick close and place the gigantic marshmallow onto the graham crackers and chocolate bar. Immediately, the chocolate begins melting. Carefully to not get any gooey marshmallow on your fingers, you press the other graham cracker on top and present Monty with your most tasty creation.

“How’s that for a s’more?”

He doesn’t wait before snatching it deftly between two claws. You sit back and watch him stuff it into his long jaws. It would be comical to watch an alligator-like beast of the swamp chew on the delicacy were it not for the red gleam of his teeth flashing viciously between each chomps. Crumbs fall from his jowls. Marshmallow sticks to his scales. Chocolate stains a long, dark tongue before Monty turns to you, eyes feverish.

“Oh, I ain’t letting you go, junebug.”

Your mouth split into a grin.

“I told you it was good.”

You pull out the marshmallow bag again and before Monty steals it from you, you nab a marshmallow for yourself. The white fluff skewers easily on the end of the roasting stick and you hold it once more above the embers.

Your mind wanders slowly to what will come next, and you fight a slight blush as you ask, “Do you sleep?”

“Me? Sure.” He takes another marshmallow, fresh from the bag, and you’re not entirely certain that he didn’t just swallow it whole. “It’s not quite the same, but we can get some shut eye.”

“For how long?” You glance at your sleeping bag. Returning to the fire, you swear under your breath as your marshmallow receives a scorched and ashy side from brushing against the side of the fire pit.

“Not as long as you humans,” he chortles, thick and booming. “Why? What’s got you worried, shug?”

“I sleep like a rock,” you frown. “Won’t you get bored?”

He throws his head back and laughs a roaring thing. You glare, a red flare setting in your chest before he shakes his head vigorously, and touches your arm once. You try to turn away from him and slip out from his grasp, not seeing what’s so funny, but he firmly and gently stops you from going anyway.

“I ain’t laughing at you,” he bites back another chuckle, “I��m just amazed that you don’t think this will be a great night for me. Being with you is always exciting. Besides, I want to hear what you’ve got to say in your sleep.”

You stop, and stare at the fire in hope that the flames will excuse the pink brushing against your cheek bones.

“I don’t talk in my sleep.” You arch an eyebrow in challenge.

“We’ll see,” he smugly replies.

You huff indignantly before Monty points out that your marshmallow is on fire.

#naff's writing commissions #i love monty so much he knows exactly who he is #but he's also soft for one (1) creature on this earth aside from kids #and that's you #cryptid sightings #the marsh monster #cryptid!monty #naff writing

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willowed-wisp · 7 months ago

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relationship headcanons [ price ]

SFW

- He’s definitely your reliable neighbour who has become your impromptu repair guy whenever something goes wrong

- Whether you’re younger or the same age as him, you’re smitten by the man who wears fitted t-shirts and a set of dog tags

- Only at a summer barbecue, a few drinks deep did he finally make a move on you after you insult yourself, “Oi, for someone so beautiful you speak rubbish,” taking your face in his hands and giving a quick peck to the lips

- He was still your neighbour but you started seeing each other.

- Loves to cook for you, he’s romantic like that

- As well as living room picnics on the floor and candlelight homemade dinners.

- He’s not one for going out and buying food; he loves seeing you smile and hearing your laugh

- After getting home from being on base, he just wants to cuddle on the sofa with you in his arms and watch tv

- Blanket hog- you always wake up in the middle of the night cold

- Until he tackles you in a bear hug, forgetting about the blanket theft on the morning.

- A full English waiting for you as you get up, the sweetest look you’d ever been given.

- Loves matching pjs

- Drives whenever you go on trips with your hand on his thigh, “cheeky…”

- Definitely has a fireplace

- Lives in the country side and collects firewood from the forest nearby and teaches you how to chop the logs properly

- Takes you on long walks with his two dogs

- Yes they are rescue dogs

- And yes, they are tiny. A dachshund and a pug.

- You didn’t know whether or not you loved the dogs more or John

- Actually helped build his own house and decorated it by his own accord…

- Though, he’s glad when you add your own personal twist- new cushions, curtains…

- Everything so him, he fell in love the day you bought a new duvet set for the bed

- Always wanted to be a dad, it was never the right person or the right time

- He has a room not too cluttered for that exact reason- for a nursery.

- John isn’t a bath guy, he has a massive shower which can hold two people…

NSFW

- He was a gentleman when it came to sleeping together the first time

- Unfortunately for him, he didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into because you were far from gentle with him

- Nails scratching into his chest, riding him on the kitchen table the first dinner date. Dress and heels on, his shirt unbuttoned while holding your hips for dear life.

- That night you did went eight rounds with a bull, so gentle with his hands but yet so brutal using those hips.

- All culminating to lying by the fireplace, cushions and blankets dragged down from the sofa. Your head on John’s naked chest, drawing patterns on your skin. “Should’ve warned me…”

- You rolled to face him- hand firm on the hairs of his chest, “About what?” His finger wiping the hair from your eyes. A mischievous glint in those flame-kissed eyes.

- “About how fucking dirty you are…” His hands orchestrated you atop of him, cock steeled once more and with hunger driving you wild, hilted it inside of you. “That’s it, sweetheart…”

- So attentive during sex, if you ask to stop- it’s not even a question.

- Loves fucking you in his 1980s 4x4, specifically in the drivers seat- reclined and riding him.

- He may just love cowgirl a bit too much.

- He’s a tits guy, doesn’t care what size they are. He just loves to worship them.

- Loves your lipstick stains covering his neck and chest

- Blowjobs with lipstick on, he’s a gonna with that. Hands guiding you up and down, telling you how good you were doing.

- A big foreplay guy

- Eats you out for days and has very talented fingers

- He’s been with a few women so he knows what to do and has mastered the arts

————

cod m.list | request guidelines | price m.list

#captain john price #john price #cod modern warfare #cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod smut #smut #cod mw x reader #cod mwii #headcanon #captain price #call of duty #cod mwf2 #price cod

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rebelliousstories · 8 months ago

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Home for the Holidays

Relationship: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Alcohol

Word Count: 2,190

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: If there is anyone that can convince him to stay home, it was her. And if there was any time for him to stay home, it was now.

Consider Donating: Here

“Logan!”

“Logan! Come back!”

“Logan! Wolverine!”

Too many times had he heard the call of his name by those he loved. Too often did he refuse to turn back to go to them out of his own stupid pride. And, because of this, far too much did he miss out on fun events and memories. That had apparently went out the window the second that he decided to date his girlfriend.

Do not be mistaken, Logan still manages to find ways to slip away from the school in order to not join in on festivities. But it had been greatly reduced since she came along. A mutant who has the ability to decay anything with a single touch, that somehow fell in love with the man who could not seem to die.

Logan was picking up the keys to his motorcycle when she came to fetch him.

“Log, hey honey.” Her wide beam smile threatened to infect his own face, but he let a small tilt of his lips escape.

“What do you want, darling?” He grumbled, plopping his heavy body on the machine.

“Will you stay home with me tomorrow?”

Her eyes begged him, oh so cutely. But he knew what that was code for. It was what she did each and every time.

“Nope.”

“But, Logan.” He began to start the bike up, which drowned her out for a second.

“No. You’re not dragging me to another party.” The rumble of the beast underneath him was a calming feeling and sound. It was part of the reason he went on so many drives on it. Silence was so hard to achieve when you could hear things most people could never.

“Log, wait just a second,” her arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him right where she wanted him. “Please, it’s Thanksgiving. Just stay home with us please. With me?” Her pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“I don’t do holidays. Besides, I’m Canadian.”

As he drove away, Logan could still see her crestfallen face in his side mirrors. Once he was out on the open road, he tried to put her upset expression out of his mind, but found he could not. This happened every major holiday; even the minor ones too. It was not that he did not like spending time with her, quite the opposite really. But it was that he did not care for the major celebrations.

Too many smells and sounds. People pretending that they wanted to be around him when in actuality they could not care less. As they got closer to the holiday season, people spent money that they did not have to impress people who would still think those same nasty things about them. The falseness of the months of November and December repulsed him.

But the long he went, the more he thought about her. This was their second Thanksgiving together, and he had done the exact same thing last year. Driven off on his bike, camped at a dingy motel for the next two days with a constant supply of alcohol, before returning on Friday. Would it have truly been so bad for him to stay at home with her, and suffered through the festivities?

A ding broke his gaze from the road. He was running low on fuel. Sighing, Logan kept his eyes out for a gas station along the deserted road he was on. There was nothing he hated more than to run out of gas before he got to a place to fill up. Thankfully, that was not the case.

An old station that had probably not been repaired since the mid 70’s came upon his journey. There was a lone truck at the pumps when he pulled in, and another around back meaning that there was at least two people inside the building. For some reason, Logan felt the need to go inside and grab a snack. As soon as he stepped through the door, a warm scene greeted him.

There stood a dad with his children who were laughing while their mom checked out with their snacks. All of them were so happy with each other. Even the woman at the register was smiling because of them. Logan could hear their conversation, and it was all so hopeful. The children were talking excitedly about what they wanted to eat for the holiday, and which cousins they would see. Their father was happily listening to them, and prompting them to talk more about what they wanted to do.

It was so beautiful to watch that he was a little sad that they had left afterwards. He set his pack of beer and chips on the counter, but let his mind wander. Logan had long since given up on the concept of having a family himself, even though he would like one. With his mutation, it was probably not possible. He very well could outlive his own children, or whoever was their mother, and that was not a fun thought for him to have.

Getting the case of beer and food onto the bike took a bit of maneuvering, but the mutant made it happen. Instead of going back to the school though, he just continued down the road now that he was refueled in more ways than one. What was once a peaceful drive meant to clear his head and heart, had quickly turned to quiet for him.

All he could think of now was being home with his girlfriend for Thanksgiving. During the school year, he loved watching her interact with the younger children. It always stirred something in him that he kept dampening down whenever it sprung up. This was part of the reason that he was so reluctant to spend holidays with her.

She always made sure that the kids who had no family to go home to were taken care of; unfortunately, that was a majority of the students at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. But she never made them miss out on fun festive activities. He knew that leading up to the big day, her lesson plans always took some time to make decorations. The younger kids had made hand turkeys, while the older ones used the changing leaves outside to make their own collages or scrapbooks.

That was just how she was. Even though her mutation caused destruction, her spirit repaired others. There was nothing that she was not willing to do if it meant making others happy. It often caused some insecurity to sprout in Logan’s chest. Because, how was someone so kind, so caring, so lovely, so precious, dating someone like him? A mutant who tried to find solace in the bottom of a bottle, and kept killing bottles to find it. A mutant who got into fights whenever he felt like it, and kept true to his lone wolf personality.

The motel that evening did not provide the comfort he was looking for. Usually, there was a little ease associated with it. A nice, calm, stable environment for him away from the hustle and bustle that he knew was overtaking the school at this very moment. As Logan cracked open his first beer, he thought about how shut down she was when he drove away. His pride would not allow him to admit that he was wrong, and frankly, up until this point, he had not believe that he was wrong. And yet, there was just a little something in his chest that tugged on his heart as he went to sleep that made him believe other wise.

After Logan had left, she went back into the mansion with a frown etched deep onto her face. But there was little time to dwell on the fact that her boyfriend was leaving once again. There was so much to do for the big meal tomorrow. Cooking for an entire school was an arduous task, but one that her, and the other adults, took on gratefully.

Her mind was kept free from thoughts that would damper her mood all through the rest of the day. So many people had joined together that year to make their feast. Different dietary restrictions, different cultures, and different preferences had made for one interesting prepping day. She did make sure to include a couple turkeys on the table that had to be prepped, but there was just so much variety.

However, sleep continued to evade her that night. The blame was partially on the lack of her space heater lover not providing adequate warmth for her. During the colder months, Logan’s ability to run warm was her favorite thing about him. He was just a big, hairy, perfectly warmed teddy bear to latch onto in the middle of the night.

But most of the blame was on the fact that she would, once again, be alone on the holidays. Sure, she had her friends and the kids, but that was not the same as having her Wolverine. He would be doing whatever he was doing for the next two days, before coming back like nothing had happened.

And that was how she found herself in the kitchen, stress baking, at four o’clock in the morning. Her ever so popular iced lemon cookies were on the menu. It was a process that she had done so much, that she did not need to think about what she was doing. She knew that these would be going like hot cakes tomorrow, or rather today if someone wanted to be technical. So she did not worry about making too many; there would never be enough.

Five am came far faster than she ever thought. There were a few of the older people that had begun trickling in, and here she was. Still baking. Charles got his morning tea before retreating into his office. Scott made his and Jean’s cup of coffee and left to go to their room. Storm, however, stayed. She made both of them a cup of coffee before starting on food preparations while the other woman finished off her baking.

They snacked on cookies and remnants of food for breakfast while the rest of the school woke up. Remy and Rogue both came down to share a plate of eggs and toast in the dinning room, aiming just to stay out of the way for now. However, as soon as they were done, they were put to work warming up side dishes that had been prepped the day before to save on time.

In a few hours, the adults had the perfect Thanksgiving meal on the tables. Everything was served buffet style, with additional chairs and tables inhabiting the dinning and game room. Every one fixed themselves a plate with a little bit of everything they wanted, and sat down to enjoy a nice time together. But she just watched from her little corner.

Sure, she had a plate of food, but it did not seem too appealing right now. Right now, she was just enjoying watching everyone enjoy themselves. She saw Scott and Jean laughing, feeding each other bites from their plates, and chatting with the youngsters they had come to take in as their own. It made her a bit bitter on what was supposed to be a day of thanks. Pushing around a bit of Rogue’s green bean casserole, she did not know what she was expecting when someone cleared their throat behind her.

Logan was the last person she expected to see, though.

He stood a bit awkwardly. His hands were shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans, right next to the big belt buckle he loved wearing. The flannel covering his arms and chest was the one that she had gotten him as a belated Christmas present last year. Not because she forgot to give it to him on Christmas, but rather because he was not there for it. Logan cleared his throat again before trying to speak.

“Mind helping me fix a plate, darling?” Her shock was recovered quickly as she stood, leaving behind her own plate. She talked him through each dish, and helped load up his plate with things that he may not have understood, but would definitely enjoy eating. There was a little something that was nagging her as they went to go sit down again.

“What are you doing back so soon?”

For once, Logan did not have what seemed like an appropriate response. He never bothered with giving a good answer before because he never cared who took offense to what he was saying. Now, he was terrified to upset his girlfriend even more.

“I just figured I would give this thing a try.” Logan tried to keep his eyes to his food, and shoveled a bit in before he could speak more.

“Well,” she began putting together her own first bite, “thank you for humoring me.”

“Don’t get used to it, darling.”

Anyone who did not know Logan would assume that he was being serious. But she knew better. That twinkle in his eye let her know that she just might turn his cynical heart around yet.

#rebelliousstories #writing #xmen imagine #x men 97 #x men comics #x men imagine #x men #x men movies #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan wolverine #wolverine #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine

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livingstonenterprises · 1 year ago

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#Furniture refinishing #Log home repairs

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berrybamblz · 26 days ago

Text

Okay! So, with the possibility of tr!Bad chasing tr!Lukey down the hallways of his own laboratory to kill him, I thought I would try to analyze whether it would be possible for our local hamster to get out of that scenario alive. And tldr? The odds are slightly more in his favor than what it may seem like at first glance. And here's my reasoning.

So- there's a couple things here to go over, and I'm kiiiinda hyperfixated on Minecraft PVP mechanics atm so I'm expecting this to get kinda long. Will be under a read more for anyone who's interested.

..Also, some of my argument here relies on the assumption of Lukey being locked in and making the best decisions he can in the moment. Which is pretty unlikely if we're being honest? I still wanted to analyze the mechanics that would slow Bad down in killing him, though. And of course the server damage reduction would play a huge role in that too.

Alright. So, the first thing I'm gonna go over is tr!Bad's way of fighting- and how on actuality his preferred PVP kit may end up hindering him.

Although Bad tends to come across as a fighter to people meeting him for the first time, he honestly fits better into the role of support, or that of a strategizer. His strengths lie more in planning than they do in raw skill and knowing how to choose his battles. He very rarely takes on fights with players more skilled than him unless there's something at play giving him a decent advantage (Ie. On the day of orange faction's arrival, Bad got into a fight with Sneeg and Zam due to Bad attacking Zam first. He shot at Zam with a crossbow while her armor was off. If this were any other server, Zam would've been killed instantly)

Speaking of which, I'd like to reference this wonderful post here analyzing the inventories of green faction's most active members and what they seem as important to carry on them in a fight.

Let's take a look at Bad's inventory as seen there.

Hm, okay. So we can see clearly here that Bad heavily prioritizes his ability to get out of dodge over what is convenient to have in a fight. I won't go super into detail beyond that, as the linked post itself does a wonderful job of it already. I'd mainly like to bring it up to contrast with the inventory he held as of logging off the realm today:

..Hm, okay, so there's a few things different here already. For one, his hotbar isn't ready for a fight. At all. He's got 18 gapples total, shield not in offhand, 16 enderpearls, and absolutely zero potions. Of course this can be explained meta-wise with the fact that Lukey isn't even on at this point in time and cc!Bad is prioritizing storytelling over preparation, but if he were to log on in the lab tomorrow with this very inventory to jump Lukey, Lukey would have both an advantage in the amount of enderpearls he has on him and significantly more gapples. It wouldn't be too difficult for Lukey to chug gapples and pearl spam his way to the elevator and with an elytra he'd essentially be home free. Seriously, Bad? No elytra?

But there's a good chance Lukey might not log on tomorrow- but Sunday instead, giving Bad a whole extra day to prepare and get his inventory ready for a potential fight.

So let's say for the sake of argument, that in this scenario Bad does have his ideal fighting kit on him. Would Lukey still be cooked? Honestly? Lukey could still get out even with his current mess of an inventory.

What does that look like, by the way? (Screenshot is from this post here)

..Not ideal, but honestly it could be worse. I'll give him points for having 23 pearls to Bad's 16 though. Elytra could also use repairing but that's been an issue for a while, and I'm not too worried on account of it being an unbreaking 7 legendary one. Those things last for eons compared to vanilla Minecraft. His chest plate is in his hotbar as well for quick swapping.

Lukey's.. interesting inventory aside, the first thing to consider in an actual fight scenario would probably be the element of surprise: Does bad have the advantage of catching Lukey off guard to get some free damage in?

With his ideal fighting kit? He doesn't, actually. And that's due to one simple thing.

Bad doesn't use splash potions.

According to the Minecraft Wiki, it takes approximately 3 full seconds to drink a potion. That may not seem like much, but that would mean giving Lukey 3 full seconds to process the danger he's in before Bad can get any decent damage in with strength. In fights, quick reactions are key to staying alive. The 3 second delay per potion is the exact reason why players like Pangi and Zam who are more experienced with environments where they could get jumped at any moment almost exclusively carry splash potions.

Okay. 3 seconds have passed, and Bad has applied his strength 5. From there Lukeytv needs to haul ass and Enderpearl spam over to the elevator, get his elytra out, and run the fuck away.

I was curious about what type of rockets he had on him, and it's kinda hard to see in this screenshot, but if you squint you can just barely make out the flight duration number on them.

..Flight duration 1. Anyone else thinking of that time Pangi grilled him on using flight duration 3 rockets instead so he can outfly his pursuers? Lukey wasn't, apparently. Well, shit.

That's not the end of the world though.

Because Bad exclusively uses flight duration 1 rockets too.

As long as Lukey can manage to get out of the elevator first and elytra out before Bad does, Bad wouldn't be able to catch up to him on merit of distance alone. Congrats on the escape from death himself, Lukey! Have a gold star.

..Of course, this is also assuming Bad doesn't instantly one-shot him with his crossbow or the bleeding bug, but I'm decently confident in saying that for meta reasons I feel like cc!Bad would shy away from using them. He may threaten to, but during the era where traps were abundant on the server, Bad himself has stated that he prefers making ones that give wiggle room for his victims to escape. And I imagine this mentality carries over to PVP, too, especially considering how after his fight with Sneeg and Zam he stated he wanted to avoid fights until the bug was patched. I don't think he'd intentionally use it to one-shot Lukey.

So uh, yeah! That's the end of this post ig. Conclusion is Lukey isn't as cooked as he might appear to be because Bad needs breaks to chug potions and neither party has taken notes from Pangi on what rockets to use. Yep!

Idk how to end this, ig someone hopefully finds this interesting :P

#ive never done a full on analysis post before so i hope this is at least halfway decent!!!#trsmp #badboyhalo #lukeytv #the realm smp #certified berry original™ (text post)

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chocopriski · 7 months ago

Text

JAYVIK SFW & NSFW HEADCANONS

SFW

-Who cooks?: Viktor. Their house chores are meticulously planned around Viktor's condition. Jayce does the most physically straining ones.

-Who’s the messiest? The cleanest?: Jayce is the organized out of the two. His clothes neatly folded and hung on his closet. His side of the bathroom sink grouped by product type.

Viktor though, just throws his clothes into the closet and closes the door as quickly as he can. Like when storing Tupperware. This man somehow knows where he left that tiny little thing among a pile of stuff. It might look messy but he knows exactly where he left everything.

-Who fixes the vehicle after a breakdown: Jayce. I mean, he's the engineer out of the two. Viktor just stays there with the excuse that he's there to help. He obviously just wants to see Jayce all messed up and sweaty. Jayce knows that, and he makes sure to give him a good sight then act completely oblivious to the fact.

-Living space has a leak! Who fixes it?: Same answer as before. Except Viktor will be ready to call someone to repair it for them in case Jayce has no idea what he's doing.

-Who buys the groceries?: Both, but mostly Jayce. Viktor is either working himself to an earlier death or sleeping at their place. If it's the random thing you run out of, Viktor will do it no problem. If it's all the groceries for the month, Jayce will do it. Again, to avoid straining Viktor's already fucked up body.

-Going out to eat: Who pays? Who orders the most food? And who has dessert?: Jayce pays. He never lets Viktor pay, he has the most money, I guess. "Oh, I ate more, I'll pay". Or saying he's going to the bathroom and paying so by the time Viktor asks for the bill, Jayce mutters "Who could've been the smart man that already paid?". Only Jayce orders dessert but Viktor always steals a bite or two.

-Would they go to the beach?: Jayce loves the beach. Viktor not so much. Viktor likes swimming, he enjoys the water lifting him and taking away most of the pain. But the sand, oh, he hates the sand. The times they've gone to the beach together are mostly because Viktor feels bad telling Jayce "no". Jayce is aware of this so he makes it worth it for Viktor by giving him a spectacle out of Baywatchers. Drying himself up as little as possible just to get a reaction.

-Who knows how to swim? Who doesn’t?: Both know how to swim. But Viktor enjoys just floating while Jayce goes "DIVEBOMB!" and splashes literally everyone and everything around him. Then just swimming for hours to then complain about sore muscles the day after.

-Any pets? Or plants?: Viktor has his own little garden. He treats the plants very carefully, even having a log of the changes in them and last time they've been watered. Every time Jayce even comes near them, he hisses like a cat.

-Baths or showers? Together or separate?: Jayce prefers a quick, cold shower to get off all his sweat (also I like to think that Jayce is the type to always be feeling hot while Viktor's the one that always feels cold, mostly due to his lack of body fat).

Viktor enjoys long, warm (boiling hot) baths to soothe his aching muscles. Sometimes he'll fall asleep and have Jayce walk into the bathroom all concerned about the amount of time he's been in there just to find Viktor sleeping in the bathtub with his finger pads all wrinkly.

They do their own thing separately. But sometimes doing it together doesn't sound so bad. When feeling all romantic they bathe together. However, when they're all warmed up from the inside out, shower it is.

-Can they stand silence? Who talks the most? Who talks the least?: They can stand in silence as long as Jayce doesn't start overthinking and asks Viktor if he's mad at him or if he's upset or if he's tired or... (anything). They definitely have a yapper/listener dynamic. Jayce could talk for days on end and Viktor would listen to every word.

-Who stays up late? Who sleeps the most?: Viktor is a chronic overworker. So, even at home he'll stay up late to finish up some notes he took home from the lab. Either that or the pain keeping him up. Which he never tells Jayce but he can somehow detect Viktor's in pain and happily massages whatever hurts. But whenever Viktor gets uninterrupted sleep, he hibernates. There was one time where he took a nap and woke up at the same time but the day after.

-Does the other have to force them to sleep/wake up?: Following the last point, Jayce always has to drag him out of the lab. And sometimes wake him up since there were times where Viktor was up at 5am and times where Viktor slept like a log.

-Who is the highest maintenance? Does the other mind?: Unsurprisingly, Viktor. His leg hurts, his back hurts, his wrists and fingers hurt, his neck hurts, his shoulders hurt, he has a migraine, now he has a coughing fit, now he gets a cold that somehow lasts a whole month. But Jayce doesn't care at all. He actually enjoys taking care of Viktor, a sort of intimacy that isn't matched by anything other than that.

NSFW

-How often do they have sex, if at all?: Whenever it fits into their schedule, honestly. Sometimes they get home after a long day of work and seeing the other so disheveled from work makes their gears start turning. Or sometimes when Jayce checks up on Viktor to see if he's had a break during work, they'll have some other type of break different to a cup of tea. Not in the lab, obviously. They go up to Jayce's office just for that. That desk has seen things.

-Who brings ideas? Who initiates?: Viktor doesn't care as long as it's good. And he doesn't consume adult content so he doesn't really come up with anything new. Jayce, on the other side, watches stuff while only thinking about Viktor, and when he sees something he likes, he brings it up whenever appropriate.

Jayce mostly initiates, being obnoxiously obvious about how he's feeling. And even if he tried to be smooth about it, the semi he's packing definitely tells Viktor all he needs to know. Viktor is either too tired or in too much pain for the idea of sex to come up in his head. But sometimes he'll be in the mood. Being way more subtle and smooth than Jayce, which consequently gets Jayce going.

-Oddest place they’d have sex?: The lab in the middle of research. Door unlocked too. One of the times where they couldn't wait to make it to Jayce's office. Also the time they learned that they needed to turn off the soldering iron before bending over the table. Viktor burnt his hand pretty bad.

-Favourite positions?: Anything that lets them see the other's face. Mostly Viktor on the bottom to, again, avoid physical strain.

-Dom/top? Sub/bottom? Any switches?: Jayce is a sub top. We all just know that. Don't act surprised. Viktor's a dom bottom.

-Genital headcanons?: Jayce is a bit above average girthy. Unlike Viktor, painfully average and on the thin side. Also points to the side whenever hard.

-Quickest turn ons? Immediate turn offs?: Viktor with messy clothes is one of the best things for Jayce. Or whenever he starts explaining some project that Jayce can't understand a word of.

Viktor goes feral over a sweaty Jayce. Whether it's because it's hot, he just finished working out, or anything related to the forge (including being covered in soot). Also whenever his hair is messed up. Jayce spends his sweet time every morning styling his hair, a million different products and techniques to give him his signature style. Whenever it's all undone, Viktor needs to stop himself from drooling.

-First to orgasm? Last to orgasm? Who comes the most? Does someone ever end up unfinished?: Viktor comes first, as much as he tries to hold it in to make it go for longer. Jayce needs his sweet time to come, that guy has some serious stamina.

Even though Viktor's the first, Jayce has a significant load when he finishes. Getting the most out at first and some small ones during the next few seconds. Viktor's is in small quantities but persistent.

Jayce sometimes ends up unfinished, taking way too long to orgasm but seeing how Viktor is too messed up to keep going. He finishes himself off.

-Favourite romantic gestures during sex/orgasm?: Viktor loves touching foreheads. Eyes closed as Jayce is on top of him and just enjoying the moment. Jayce will brush through Viktor's hair with his fingers and smile at him telling him how much he loves him.

-How are their afterglows?: Viktor is always disheveled by the end of it. But at least the pain went away momentarily, which adds to the pleasure. Jayce gets clingy, spooning Viktor or anything that involves continuing the physical touch.

-Who’s loud? Who’s quiet? Does one try to make the other louder/quieter? How?: Jayce is the loud one, that man grunts and moans. Viktor lets out some soft moans (which make Jayce want to somehow make a million babies) but he stays quiet for the most part unless they're talking.

Jayce pleads to hear Viktor, it gets him going and gets him closer. He literally just asks him, and if that doesn't work, begs him.

-Lights on or off? Do they look at each other? Or is someone embarrassed?: Lights on, they love each other and they love to see how the other comes apart. Eye contact is persistent all throughout.

#jayce league of legends #jayce lol #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayvik #jayce x viktor #viktor lol #viktor league of legends #arcane viktor #viktor #viktor arcane #arcane season two #arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #arcane ships #arcane headcanon

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timelesswoodcare · 1 year ago

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Chinking Interior Walls

Say goodbye to unsightly gaps and cracks on your walls with Timeless Wood Care Products' innovative chinking interior walls solution. With just a few simple steps, you can transform your walls into a flawless masterpiece that provides long-lasting protection.

#Wood Repair Epoxy #Wood Putty Epoxy #Preservatives Wood #Log Home Supplies

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ducksido · 2 months ago

Note

I have an idea. Stay with me on this, okay?

TWST boys with a reader who's like Cole from Yaelokre personality-wise. Their story? They made a wish to be somewhere else and were running away from home with a troupe of travelling performers. Reader played the role of the Hare in their troupe because of how similar their behavior is to a hare: skittery, solitary, timid, but very loyal. They play the guitar, but never perform until they were allowed to wear their hare mask from their world. Then, they can actually be lead singer, like they were for their troop back home.

(STAY WITH ME JOHNY, I did the first years)

Ace Trappola

At first? Oh, he teases you. Constantly.

“Hey, Hare-chan, you gonna bolt again when Crowley sneezes too loud?”

But then he sees it. One night during a casual Heartslabyul gathering, someone coaxes you into performing. You refuse—until someone brings your hare mask. You slip it on, pick up your guitar… and everything changes.

Ace gawks.

“You’re kidding… That’s really you?” His voice is half teasing, half stunned. Your skittish demeanor vanishes on stage. There’s power in your voice. Control. You even make eye contact behind the mask.

Afterward, he’s less of a jerk (only slightly).

He starts guarding your mask like it’s made of gold. Won’t admit it, but he brags.

“Our little scaredy-hare? Yeah, they shredded the courtyard stage. You should’ve seen the crowd.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce is gentle with you from day one.

He notices how you flinch at shouting and always offers you a quiet seat beside him during lunch. He’s your knight-in-shining-blazer.

When you finally sing in your mask for the first time—maybe during a school festival—he’s absolutely shook.

He doesn’t speak for a solid minute after.

“I didn’t know you… wow. That was amazing.”

From then on, he keeps a careful eye on anyone who tries to mock your nervousness. He’ll say stuff like:

“They’re not just nervous. They’re brave. Braver than anyone who hides behind loud mouths.”

Deuce doesn’t understand the mask at first, but he respects it like it’s sacred. It becomes a symbol of your strength to him.

Jack Howl

Jack relates to the whole quiet loyalty thing.

You remind him of a desert hare—small, skittish, but clever and tough. At first, he treats you gently, respecting your space, never pushing you to speak more than you want.

When he learns about your performer past and sees you perform in the hare mask, he's speechless.

Afterward, he says:

“That… was you? You’ve got guts. Don’t let anyone think otherwise.”

Jack will help you train your confidence—not by removing your mask, but by making sure you don’t get hurt when you choose to wear it.

“A mask doesn’t make you less real. You’re still you. You’re just braver with it on. And that’s fine.”

Epel Felmier

Epel thinks the mask is the coolest thing ever.

He immediately romanticizes your whole “travelling performer” background.

“Wait—like a runaway with a guitar and a secret past? That’s sick.”

He’s the first to ask you to perform at a dorm party. When you decline, he respects it… but when you later show up, guitar in hand, mask on… he cheers the loudest.

He’s like:

“YUU’S IN THEIR FINAL FORM!! LET’S GOOO!”

Epel’s also the one most likely to ask if you can teach him to sing/play guitar too, whispering:

“Y’know, just in case I need a stage persona or somethin’.”

Ortho Shroud (Platonic)

Ortho adores you and your story. He logs everything about your performances, your personality shifts, and even helps repair the mask if it cracks.

He scans your brainwaves during music time and says:

“Did you know your anxiety drops 63% when you wear the mask and play? That’s a neural safety association—like a digital avatar!”

He asks questions, but only when you’re comfortable. He’s curious, not invasive.

He builds a mini holographic backup mask you can use in emergencies.

“You always deserve to feel safe. No matter what form that takes.”

Also creates a special mode in your room: low light, quiet ambiance, and a privacy lock he calls “The Burrow.”

Sebek Zigvolt

At first? Oh, he does not get it.

“WHY DO YOU HIDE BEHIND A MASK? SUCH BEHAVIOR IS UNWORTHY OF A STUDENT ALONGSIDE THE YOUNG MASTER—!”

You flinch. He sees it. And something clicks.

He’s horrified he scared you.

From that point forward, he becomes awkwardly careful around you. He tones down the volume, asks permission before speaking, and even watches your performances quietly from the back—hand over his chest.

When he sees you perform for the first time, he’s speechless.

Afterward, he says (a bit too seriously):

“I… apologize. Your voice is worthy of royal halls. You are… stronger than I gave you credit for.”

Sebek doesn’t understand fear, but he respects courage. He’ll be your overprotective bodyguard from then on—quietly, of course.

Grim

“Why do you gotta wear a creepy bunny mask to sing?! You’re already weird enough!”

But he says it with his tail wagging.

Grim teases you, but it’s affectionate. He’s the one who sits on your foot while you tune your guitar and insists you practice with him nearby. (He pretends he’s guarding you.)

When you finally perform at the school festival in your full hare mask?

“THAT’S MY HENCHHARE!! LOOK AT ‘EM GO!!”

He’s smug. Brags about you constantly. May or may not swipe your mask once to pretend he’s the famous performer.

“Who’s the real star now, huh?! Oh wait—this thing makes me itchy.”

He always brings you snacks after gigs and growls at anyone who tries to mock your quiet nature.

#twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst yuu #twst headcanons #yaelorke #yaelorke!yuu #grim twst #orthro shroud #twst sebek #epel felmier #jack howl #deuce spade #ace trappola

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downbadf0rficppl · 1 year ago

Text

always been you

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: Miscommunications happen. Less so when you work in communications, but they happen.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Slight blood warning, a smidge of angst, and a handful of smut :)

Repost

Home meant different things to different people. To some, it meant green rolling hills and the sound of wild animals running through the forests, some hunting, some hiding. To some, it looked more like the cold cityscapes of somewhere like Corellia or Daiyu - where day could be night and night could be day because the city never slept. More like the planet never slept.

To you, home meant a dark room in the back of the compound on D'Qar, where you sat for hours on end. It meant the whirring of plane engines and the whooshing of blast doors. It meant ration meals and celebrating when there were enough jogan fruits in season to make jogan fruitcake. It meant the constant fear that someone you loved may not come home.

You had grown up on Dantooine, maintaining the old rebel base there with your father - an ex-pilot with the rebellion. He'd taught you all about the world of space flight and you'd decided early on that maybe you preferred the ground. Oh, the irony.

At 19, you moved to Coruscant - under no threat from enemies, the base on Dantooine was not needed. You moved away to find a job that could give a life of comfort. Maybe you just needed some excitement in your life that didn't involve exploding wires or stealing your dad's glasses.

When General Organa started recruiting for the resistance, you were one of the first ones there. You distanced yourself from your father's legacy, not wanting the pressure of being someone's someone to be held over your head.

You settled into the anonymity of comms comfortably, making decent friends with your co-workers.

Days came and went working for the resistance. Soon enough, you'd been for a year, and then 2, and then it had been so long since you'd left Dantooine that you could barely remember what your life was like there.

The cantina was empty when you walked in. To your knowledge, black and blue squadrons were out on a field mission, but no one else was in sight. You walked around the base, looking for any signs of life. Dear Maker, had they all evacuated and forgotten about you.

You walked over to the med wing, hoping to see someone. And you saw, well, everyone. Apparently, half of those on base had come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You were called in to speak with General Organa, who assigned you double and triple shifts, considering you were the only one of 6 comms officers who hadn't come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You had spent all day, without rest, in comms, checking data logs for gold squadron, assisting in decoding transmission, and helping base mechanics with routine repairs. Essentially a normal day in the office, but six-fold the responsibilities. You went to bed, with your head swimming with responsibilities for the next day - hopefully, someone would be able to help you.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring loudly. You groggily headed to the cantina for a cup of Caf before heading back to comms.

You picked some undecoded transmissions, before starting on some reports for General Organa. You barely had enough time to stop for a meal, grabbing the first thing you could see before heading back to comms.

Black and Blue squadron were currently MIA. They had radioed in earlier in the morning saying they were ok without radio connection while there was a shortage of comms officers. Still, it didn't mean you weren't worried about them.

"Black Leader to Base, come in."

You scrambled over to your headset and plugged it into the system, "Alpha 4 to Black Leader, you're a go for Base. What seems to be the problem?"

"We're running low on fuel, any republic supporters in the outer rim?" Poe's voice came through as you tried to lock on to his location.

"Where you are, the chances are slim, Black Leader." You sighed, as his location pops up on the screen. He was so far in the Outer Rim, where so many remained Empire supporters. Even with many ports on neighbouring planets, there were few ways that they could make it out of them safely.

You had an idea. "Black Leader, can you make a single jump."

"Just about."

"I'll send the coordinates, get ready to jump."

While Black and Blue Squadron jumped, you connected another line.

"Hi, dad."

"Hi, sweetheart." Your father's tired voice rang through the headset, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, dad-"

"It's ok, sweetheart. What do you need?"

"I have 2 squadrons that need fuel. Any chance you could help?"

"Of course, sweetheart. In fact, I've just seen them enter the atmosphere."

"Thanks, dad. Love you."

"I love you too."

Your dad cut the line to go and help the pilots. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You always felt guilty asking your father for help. He never quite knew how to say no.

You stayed up well into the early hours of the morning, signing off paperwork and compiling mission reports for Captain Dameron and Captain Wexley to sign off on.

In fact, you had worked so late that you heard Black and Blue Squadron's land the next morning. You heard them raucously walk through the halls to the cantina. You sighed. A small break wouldn't do any harm, right?

Wrong. As soon as you got up, a beeping from your headset rang through the room. General Holdo needed some data to do with her mission, so you were back to sifting through mission reports to send her what she needed.

By the time, you had signed off with her, Jak (one of your fellow comms officers) strolled into comms.

He ruffled your hair affectionately, "You're a legend, four."

You had known Jak since your days on Coruscant. You had shared an apartment when you were new to the city and he really showed you the ropes. You probably wouldn't be as trusted by the resistance as you were, had it not been for Jak.

"How are you feeling?" You asked, eyes still trained on the screen.

"I'm fine." He settled down next to you, grabbing a headset, "You, on the other hand, have seen better days. Maker, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror!"

You punched him in the arm, "My name's not Captain I-cannot-survive-without-my-mirrors Dameron." He feigned an injury, falling onto the floor and hollering in pain. The delirium of sleep deprivation was getting you, as you doubled over in fits of giggles, tears streaming down your face.

In fact, you were laughing so hard, you didn't even hear Captain Dameron walk in.

"What's so funny?" He said, walking in and clapping Jak on the back. The two of you looked at each other, and burst into more fits of giggles. "You know what, I'm just not going to ask." Jak handed him the stack of papers that you had left for him to sign off.

Dameron walked out with the sheets, and you stood up to stretch your back. "You should get some food in you," Jak nods towards the Cantina, "I can hold the fort down until you get back."

The cantina is practically empty when you walk in, and you grab a sandwich before heading back to comms. What greets you is a relieving sight. Two of the other comms officers have returned to comms.

"You look rough," Drex said, nursing a healing tonic from med bay. Clearly, they were still suffering the after-effects of the food poisoning.

"So, I've been told," you elbowed Jak in the ribs as he laughed heartily. You sat down and returned to the paperwork you had left behind. A connection came in, which Jak responded to immediately.

After a beat, he beckoned you over, handing you the headset, "It's your favourite. Captain Dameron."

You let out a huff, before putting the headset on. You sat down.

"Alpha 4 for Black Leader, you're a go."

"Well, hello, my new favourite comms officer. How are you on this fine morning?" He said, smugness colouring his tone as he prepared to take off.

"I hope you aren't trying to flirt with me, Poe?" You smirked through your question.

"Oh, I am. I most definitely am." Poe laughed.

"How unfortunate for you." Poe laughed again.

You led him through his routine surveillance trip, making funny quips throughout. Poe responds almost exclusively through chortles and guffaws.

"How come I've never actually spoken to you on base?"

"I don't know, maybe because you've always got one of those pretty girls on your arm?"

"Oh, you're real pretty, Alpha 4, just gotta give me a chance, hun." Poe thought you were pretty.

You laugh again, "In your dreams, Captain."

There was a beat of silence, before Poe piped up, "someone special at home?" You swallow guiltily.

Ever since you first met Poe, you had been head over heels in love with him. Sure he was good-looking, and his reputation in the bedroom preceded him, but beyond that, he was charming, funny, and he cared. About everyone. Not just his superiors, or his friends, but even stupid kids who had no idea what they were doing when they landed on base.

You thought of his face, his beautifully warm brown eyes, his stupidly floppy hair, "Yeah, someone real special. I'm just hoping he'll give me a chance back on base."

"He'd be stupid not to."

"You're just saying that."

"I mean it, 4, he'd have to be blind to not see what a catch you are." You can tell by Poe's tone that he is being genuine.

"Thanks, Poe, you're clear to return to base. See on the other side."

You hear Poe land as you head back to your room. He calls your name as he is walking.

"Hey, 4, wait up!" You wait patiently as he, and BB8, catch up to you. "About this guy."

"Poe, let it go."

"I'm serious, 4. I can help you get that date."

"No, I mean it, Poe. Let it go. You can't help me here." You stare straight into his eyes. Big mistake. You get lost easily, wanting to let the warmth cocoon you into a false safety until the rest of eternity.

You shake yourself back to reality, walking away from him and leaving him confused and annoyed.

Days pass, and you find that Poe has pushed himself further and further away from you. You were still his chosen comms officer, but he avoided you on the base. You felt bad. He'd practically confessed that he thought you were pretty and you'd turned him away, letting him believe that there was someone you were pining after. Even though that person was Poe.

You had tried to talk to Poe before he went on a mission alone to Coruscant, but he walked away, feigning that he was busy. He even deflected your questions in the air, and turned his transmission signal off when he got to Coruscant. You were fuming.

How dare he put himself in danger with no chance of backup?

Realistically, your anger wasn't anger at all. You were worried for Poe. Even if he wasn't your Poe.

You vowed to have that conversation with him when he returned.

Poe couldn't stop thinking about you. He hadn't since he first spoke to you about 6 months ago. Before that, he just thought you were pretty. But once he realised that, not only were you beautiful, but you were also smart and had a sarcasm to match his, well he was a goner.

When you told him, that there was someone else, he saw red. He wanted to put his first through the fucker's face, but goddammit, he would do anything to help you.

So he offered to help you get that date. It was a mostly harmless offer, and he didn't really expect you to take him up on it, but he put it out there nonetheless.

What he didn't expect was for you to raise your voice and storm away. He was shocked.

He figured he overstepped some undrawn boundary, and he felt guilty. So he tried to give you space, give you distance. He'd give you anything if you even mentioned it once. But, jealousy took over his previously well-intentioned thoughts. If you wanted someone else, fine, you could have them. But Poe couldn't watch you get them.

He didn't want to take the mission on Coruscant. He wasn't a spy, he was a flamboyant and show-off-y pilot. But he didn't want to see you in another man's arms. So he took it.

That was what landed him in his current predicament: tied to a chair in the basement of one Zek Shadej - an ex-smuggler who turned to an arms dealership for the higher paycheck.

Zek slaps Poe. He demands, once again, to know what a pilot for the Resistance is doing at a gala for the low lives of the galaxy. He didn't word it that way but the sentiment still stands. Poe says nothing, just spitting a mixture of blood and saliva at Zek's shoes. Zek curses and heads to the door: "I'm done with him. Dispose of him."

The guards left in the room stalk toward him, blasters unsheathed and ready to fire. Poe uses the pin you gave him to cut through the ropes binding his hands.

It was his fifth birthday on base, he reckoned. With different systems, and different lengths of orbits, it was hard to know for sure, but he knew the rest of Black Squadron were planning his celebration for today. So he remained in bed, lying on top of the sheets, head propped up on his arm.

A gentle knock rang through his room. He'd told the person to come in, and you did. Armed with a giddy smile and a small wrapped package. Poe had no idea where you had found wrapping paper, or why you would buy him a present but here you were.

"Jess said it was your birthday today. Thought I'd give you something neat." You said, approaching him nervously. He swung his legs and sat upright, pulling your arm so you were standing right in front of him. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, taking in your kind face. You and Poe were hardly friends, but how he wished you could be more.

"So, what did you get for me, pretty girl?" Poe rests his callous hardened hands on your hips - he liked the feel of your soft skin under his palms. He also liked how sensitive you were to his touch - your flushed expression and lust-filled gaze confirmed it.

You handed him the small parcel, "I hope you like it."

He takes it from you, pulling you to sit beside him. He opens it with careful hands to find a small pin. A Yavin Parakeet. Poe's favourite bird.

"They used to symbolise freedom. Like you do." You whispered the last part.

Poe had never wanted to kiss you so much.

Poe threw the chair he had been sitting on at one of the guards. He landed on the floor with a loud groan, his blaster skidding to a halt at Poe's feet. It was Poe's lucky day.

He shot the other 2 guards, dashing out of the basement onto the catering floor. He escaped through a back door, a few of the staff giving his bloody face and dishevelled appearance a double look. He sprinted through the streets to a docking station a few miles east. Zek sent a few men after him, but Poe was smart, and he knew Coruscant well. He dodged the men, and fired up his X-wing. He had Leia's intel safely stored in his shirt pocket.

His X-wing was severely damaged - his landing gear compromised and the transmission antenna bent at an awkward angle. He took off precariously - he knew he'd have to stop somewhere to fix the ship and refuel. He remembered the old outpost on Dantooine. Your dad's outpost.

He lightspeed jumped into the sector, breaking through the atmosphere mere seconds later. The landing was rough and he saw your father running towards the ship, blaster raised.

"Come out, slowly and unarmed. Do anything I don't like the look of, and I shoot."

"It's me. It's Poe. I came by a couple of days ago. I promise I mean no harm."

The old man lowered his blaster. He tucked his shoulder under Poe and helped him inside, "Let's get you looked at, son." Despite the pain, Poe smiled. Son. He liked that.

Your father patched Poe up, offering him a nice meal and a shower. While Poe cleaned up, your father called you.

"Hey, dad, what can I do for you?" You respond, your brain still focussed on the transmissions you were decoding.

"I wouldn't call if it wasn't necessary-"

"I know, Dad. What do you need?"

"I got one of your guys," your ears pricked up, "and his ship is damaged. I need to know how to fix it. Think you can help?"

"Yeah, of course. I don't remember sending anyone your way though, think you can tell me who it is?"

Your dad grunts as he climbs up the ladder, radio tucked under his chin, "yeah, it's the pretty boy from a few days ago. The captain. Can't remember his name."

"It's Dameron. Who're you talking to?" Poe comes out wiping his hands on a towel. Despite this man being your father, years in the resistance had warned him against trusting strangers.

"My daughter. She's telling me how to fix your ship."

"4? I wouldn't trust her anywhere near my ship."

"I heard that you know," you laughed. You brought up the specs for the X-wing, "I'll send you a copy of the spec - that's probably more useful than anything I have to say."

Your dad laughed and you sent him the specs.

"Good luck, boys," you ended the transmission.

The rest of the day was spent fixing the ship. Poe and your dad made good small talk - they were both pilots. They had a lot in common. They also both loved you. They had that in common too.

"Go clean up, Poe. I'll make us dinner." Your father said, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. Poe smiled. He liked this life.

Poe was back on base by nightfall the next day. You waited for him as he got checked up on in med, and then you walked with him to his room. The silence was deafening.

You followed him into his room, watched his every movement. He milled about, putting on clean clothes, washing his hands, and combing through his hair. His whole body was still tensed up from the mission - you wanted to stop him, hug him, do something. But you couldn't. He didn't want you near him. He was angry at you, and rightfully so.

"Your dad's nice." You looked up at him. Poe still had his back turned, but his shoulder had relaxed. You wanted to run your fingers down his back. "Peculiar, but nice."

You smiled softly, "He's lonely. Not that fun living on an abandoned base in the middle of nowhere."

Poe sat down on his chair, and you walked towards him. You placed your hands on his shoulder, gently soothing the knots out of his muscles. He leaned his head back, a low moan of satisfaction left his throat. The sound went straight through your body, eliciting shivers.

"Talk to me. Tell me what went wrong," you whispered in his ear, not wanting to break the calmness that swept through the room.

Poe shook his head, bringing you in front of him. He leaned his head against your stomach, hands coming to rest at your hips. You tangled your fingers in his hair, and he grunted in appreciation. You shivered again.

He chuckled, "you like that?" Your face blushed a bright red. Poe laughed again, before leaning to kiss your stomach. He kissed up through the valley in between your breasts, and up your neck. He stayed there for a minute, nipping and suckling at your neck, before making his way to your face.

He was fully standing now, his hands moved to your face, and he gently dotted kisses everywhere. Your cheeks. Your eyes, which had fallen shut at his ministrations. Your forehead, then your chin. He kissed the sides of your lips, and you let out a soft moan, begging for more.

"Greedy, are we?" He asked, his voice much lower than before. You opened your eyes to see a smug grin painted on his face. You didn't care.

You grabbed his face and brought his lips to yours. It seems he got the memo because as soon as his lips touched yours, he took over. His tongue slipped into your mouth and stroked yours gently.

He tapped your thigh gently, a signal to jump, and he carried you over to his bed, depositing you on the edge gently, dislodging his lips from yours. He knelt down in front of the bed, pulling your closer to him by your legs.

"Tell me to stop." He looked up at you, his pupils blown wide, as he took your dishevelled appearance in. Like a predator looks at his prey.

"Please don't."

He pulled your boots and cargo pants off, kissing up your legs. The arousal pooled between your legs, and you moan.

"So fucking wet, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whine pathetically, trying to pull Poe closer to where you want him. He just laughs.

"Bet the other guy couldn't do this to you. That's why you need me, ain't that right?" You whine again, "Need me to take care of you, baby girl, ain't that right?"

"Please, Poe."

"Please what, baby girl? What do you need?" Poe whispers, cheekiness glinting in his eyes.

"Please, fuck me, Poe." He smiled.

"As you wish."

He pulled your underwear down your legs and stared enamoured between your trembling things, "Such a pretty fucking pussy."

You threw your head back as he dove face-first into your folds. He kissed your mound lightly, before rubbing soothing circles around your clit. You buck up, the pleasure unlike any you've ever known, and Poe presses a hand onto your abdomen, locking you in place.

"Don't deprive me of my meal, honey," He whispers into your pussy.

He continues his assault, testing the waters of what you did and didn't like. You liked when he went fast, when he went slow, you got impatient. Maybe it was time to teach you some patience. But the low whines and moans were too much for Poe to bear. Soon your thighs were clamped around his head as you let out a loud moan, and you came undone under his touch. He lapped up every last bit of your release as if he'd been left in the deserts of Jakku without any water for years. And the moans. Oh Maker, his moans. You thought it impossible for a man to enjoy himself that much. But from the way he gripped your thighs, and pulled his body in further, you could tell he never wanted to pull away.

You laid limp on the bed as Poe stood up, and peeled his clothes off his body. You stared shamelessly. It wasn't the first time you'd seen Poe shirtless, but you'd barred yourself from staring then. Now it was allowed.

He smiled at your shameless ogling, and grabbed your hand, pulling you to stand up, pressed against him. You could feel his still-clothed cock, pushing into your abdomen, and you could feel it throbbing at the contact. You sunk down onto your knees, hands fiddling with his zipper.

He pulled you away and shook his head. "Not now."

He pushes you back onto the bed and crawls over you, his lips reconnecting to yours. He had unzipped his pants and kicked off his boots, leaving a pile on the floor.

"Tell me if it hurts." Poe kisses under your jaw before pushing inside.

Holy Maker, he's big.

His cock stretches you out deliciously. He pushes into you until he's settled within you and waits for you to adjust. The initial pain fades into pleasure and soon you're begging for him to move.

"You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. Bet you wouldn't beg for anyone else." Nevertheless, he moves.

He starts slow, getting used to feeling you around him. You want more.

"Please, Poe. Faster. Please, please, please." You beg him, screams ripping through your throat.

He picks up the pace, relentless now. Fast and hard. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, mixed together with both your moans. You feel the pressure building up and your moans get louder. Poe chased his own release as you got closer and closer to the edge.

"Poe, I'm gonna... gonna come. Please, Poe..." Poe slowed down a fraction, pulling you further from the edge. You whined pathetically.

"Tell me you're mine. Only mine." You smiled through your lust-induced haze.

"Only yours, Poe. Always yours." He picked up the pace again, and the coil begins to tighten. Poe's moans push you over the edge, and you cum hard. So hard that your whole body feels electrified, your toes curling in pleasure. Poe fucks you through your high, turning your entire body to jelly. He pulls out and shoots his ropes over your body.

You smile. You lift a finger up to your chest and lick Poe's cum off your chest, moaning at the taste. The filth of the act clearly affected Poe, as his eyes closed in pleasure. He moaned lowly, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses to them. You closed your eyes, falling back onto the bed.

Poe disappeared into the refresher, grabbing a clean towel and dampening it, before returning to clean you up. You looked confused. No one had ever done that for you before. He wiped your chest and between your thighs, before carrying you to the bathroom. You washed your face and brushed your teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes in Poe's refresher, before heading back out.

Poe was gone.

You were confused, given that he had changed his sheets and left you a spare t-shirt and pair of boxers to change into. You sat down on the edge of his bed, stretching your legs, a pleasant ache settling between them. Where the hell could he have gone?

A few seconds late, someone knocked, "Are you decent?" Poe.

"Yeah, come in." You stood up, shuffling your feet. Poe walked in, shirt almost completely undone, carrying 2 bottles of water from the cantina. Your heart almost burst.

He opened one of the bottles handing it to you, before leading you back to bed. You took a few sips, the coldness soothing your throat that was raw from screaming.

He laid back on his bed and beckoned your closer to him. You curled into his arms and reached up to fiddle with his hair. You both sat in silent reverie - taking in each other's company.

"Will I see you again?" Poe broke the silence timidly, running a knuckle over your cheek.

"You see me every day, Poe," You tease him gently, "You see me in the corridors, and in the cantina, and sometimes even after you get back from a mission." Poe slapped your ass, causing you to burst into laughter. He pulls you closer to his body.

"I mean it. Is this just a one-time thing? Given your - um - crush on the other guy?" You stay silent, "Is he a pilot? Is that why you're not telling me?" You nod your head, trying to hide your smile. You felt bad for not telling him, but it was funny.

"He's a pilot. But that's not why I'm not telling you." Poe frowns, creases appearing between his eyebrows.

"Is he a superior officer? Does he live on base?"

You decide to keep teasing him, "Yeah, he's a Captain." You look into Poe's eyes. "He's definitely my favourite person on base." Poe's frown turns into a scowl.

"He has the most beautiful brown eyes and the most amazing hair that I always want to run my fingers through," You tangle your hair in his, pulling it just the way he likes. "He's cocky, and he's so sexy. And he knows that he's sexy too." Poe tries pushing you away, rolling from his side to his back, but you just cling to him tighter. You place a kiss on his jaw and then on his ear.

"Why are you here, then? In my bed? In my clothes?" He says, jealousy and annoyance evident in his voice. You feel bad.

"You wanna know his name?"

"Not really. Then I'd know who I wanna punch, but I still wouldn't be able to do it."

"I don't really think it's possible to punch yourself." Poe turns to face you, the jealousy in his eyes fading into hope.

"What?" You just smile. "You love me?"

"I didn't lie, Poe. I'm yours. Always yours." He kisses you, hard, not giving you any space to breathe.

"You're not just saying that," He breathes, pulling away just enough to speak. You reconnect your lips to his, and he pulls you on top of him, your thighs around his torso. You look deep into his eyes, his pupils so dilated as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"It's always been you."

fin.

buy me a coffee

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