#body parts bloom from seemingly nowhere

[tawfu]

a flower yet to bloom

cw: sub kabukimono, dom reader, gn reader, corruption, masturbation, virginity loss, hand jobs, blow jobs, fingering, anal sex, dacryphilia, overstimulation, size difference, masochism, praise, dick can be read as strap, mentions of codependency, exhibitionism and dismemberment

wc: 1.3k

Summary: The Electro Archon’s puppet discovers a special kind of pleasure.

A pure, delicate puppet. Pliant and innocent. You’re certain that if you didn’t take him into your hands, someone else would. Someone evil, who’d take advantage of the sweet boy.

You would never.

It was only a few months ago that you had your first encounter with Kabukimono. He was drenched, curled into a corner in Shakkei Pavilion, eyes screwed shut and hands covering his ears from the sounds of thunder and rain. 

Your hand reached out, and he looked up at you with the prettiest puppy eyes. You had to help him. His own hand grasped yours, cold and small, and he followed you home without question.

Did he see no other exit, or was he just naive? You quickly realized it was the latter.

At first, Kabukimono wasn’t the talkative type. He never requested anything, and the only words he’d mutter were “yes” and “thank you.” Even so, you’d always talk to him, and allow him to help you with house chores as a bonding activity, and with that, he slowly grew more and more attached to you. 

Bright smile greeting you when you returned from your adventures, blush painting his cheeks pink when you pointed out his beautiful features, tiny giggles escaping his lips any time you cooked together, and always eager to learn anything that you were willing to teach him.

These innocent feelings continued developing quicker than Kabukimono could understand them. Normally, seeing your skin exposed around the house or when you exited the shower didn’t cause him to react, but now, seemingly out of nowhere, he feels his whole body heat up as an unfamiliar feeling rises in his gut. He mistook it for anxiety at first, however, a more likely explanation dawned on him.

You’d told him many fairy tales of romance before, ones you’d gathered from your visits to the city of romance itself. The puppet wondered if this was what love felt like. How he shivered when your fingers grazed his arm, and the way he’d get nervous when you’d get too close. How he felt a bit weird… down there, when you praised him.

And sometimes, it would get a little painful. Surely, with your knowledge, you’d be able to give him a solution to the problem, but he was too embarrassed to ask. Those are his private parts, after all. 

All he could do was sigh in frustration, cupping himself over his pants when you were out of sight while making his way to your bedroom, plopping down on the bed with a small thud and burying his face into his pillow.

“Why does this keep happening?” he thought to himself, squirming in place– “O-oh! Oh god!” 

His eyes widened, and he was trying to comprehend what he just felt. He attempts to recreate the movement again, and the same electrifying feeling runs down his body, eliciting a gasp out of him.

It felt… really good. Right where the tingling sensation arose. So he kept going, rutting against the bed softly as he rested his chin on the pillow, hands holding onto it like a lifeline while his eyes were screwed shut. 

Soft little whines poured out of his mouth as he kept going, drooling all over your pillow. He felt guilty for dirtying it, but your sweet scent that lingered was driving him crazy. The more his dick grazed the bed, the louder he became, but he didn’t care. Kabukimono had no way of knowing that such activities were meant to be… private.

Your scurrying to the bedroom was inevitable, worried that something may have happened that caused those moans and whines of your name to be heard from afar, though the sight to be beheld wasn’t expected. Any words you had remained in your throat, leaving it as a small gasp instead.

The puppet’s head turned around at the sound of you walking in, his bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, eyes filled with tears and cheeks burning hot as his humping subconsciously sped up at the sight of you. Your gaze only served to rile him up more, and he moaned loudly, reaching his hand out to you.

“Please help me…” he mumbled, taking hold of your hand and placing it on his cheek as the tears flowed freely.

Maybe this once, you’d indulge him.

Your sweet Kabukimono didn’t know it was possible to feel this good.

One hand tugging at his aching little cock, mouth latched onto his perky nipples as he thrashes around and cries out in pain. He could barely fit a finger in at first, but now all you can hear is the lewd squelching of your fingers, knuckles deep, stretching him open as his cum splatters all over himself once again with a scream.

And yet, this newfound pleasure that has him in a haze still leaves him absentmindedly begging for more, even if he’s overstimulated to bits. There’s no point in turning back, not when his hole clenches around nothing as you pull your fingers out, practically begging for you to stuff him full.

The puppet’s eyes dilated at the sight of your cock. It was much larger than his, but he wanted it carnally. He wanted you to feel the same pleasure he felt.

He crawled towards you, making his way between your legs and wrapping his small hand around your cock, almost inspecting it.

“Can I… put it in my mouth?” he spoke softly, innocence still laced in his voice, and you nodded, a sweet smile adorning your lips.

He smiled back shyly, wiggling in place as his lips littered kisses on the tip of your cock, before his tongue darted out to leave kitten licks there. He wasn’t good at giving blowjobs at all, but he looked too adorable and eager for complaints. No matter, you’d train him sooner or later.

“Open.” You spoke, and he complied, watching you slap your cock on his tongue before shoving it in, his eyes rolling back in response.

His hands held onto your thighs, clawing at them as you held him by the hair, pushing his head down while his tiny, wet mouth coated barely half of you with saliva. He couldn’t fit more, gagging and mewling with each bob of his head, and as much as you wanted to fuck his throat until his voice got hoarse, you only wanted to make it easier for him to take you.

Kabukimono whined when you pulled him off, and he could feel his throat burning and his scalp hurting from your hold.

“You did so well.” You kissed his sweaty forehead while maneuvering his small body to its previous position, spreading his legs apart and bending him in half hurriedly. The way you manhandled and used his body only made him twitch and leak further, face lighting up at the prospect of making you lose control from desire.

… “Making love,” he called it. Asking you to fuck him silly was too embarrassing, but the feeling of your cock slowly filling him to the brim was too addicting. How you’d cradle his face even as he’d scratch your back and lock his legs around your hips, pushing you further into him until his hole was gaping. How the sudden “I love you” that left his lips in a moan as he squirted onto his tummy was reciprocated while your cock still pistoned into him, going round after round because Kabukimono didn’t want his first time to end until he fell into unconsciousness.

And he’d beg you every day since then. To please make love to him, to ruin him again and again. It didn’t matter if you were busy, if you were outside, or if the world was lit aflame. He would still cling to you, get on his knees, spread himself open, even cut his limbs off if you so inquired. 

The pure boy you met was naught but a sweet doll, yours to use and love eternally. And making love was how lovers expressed themselves, so won’t you please wreck him until he is an empty shell, dependent and permanently living through the pleasure you graciously bless him with?

[duskandcobalt]

Stargirl: Part Three

I didn't expect this to have another part but here we are...

Elain has a perplexing vision involving a black ribbon and a slice of cake.

If you missed the first two parts of Stargirl, you can find them linked in my masterlist

Read on AO3

2.1k words, some sexual imagery (18+)

ENJOY XX

Just one time. 

That’s what Elain had told herself as she took Azriel into her body that very first night. 

For almost as long as she’d known him, a certain longing had simmered beneath the surface of her skin. It was a longing that had been somewhat easy to ignore until that vision had come out of nowhere, acting like fuel to a fire and setting her ablaze with a desire that she wrestled with for a seemingly endless month before they finally gave into temptation.

How naive she had been to think that she’d be able to walk away from that night and not need more.

It was never going to be that easy, not when that first time had immediately ignited something within her soul - a carnal craving that took on a life of its own and became something like a siren song. It was as if her very blood continuously called to him - beckoning him until he answered by putting his hands on her body whenever possible, as often as possible. 

One time had become one night and one night had turned into month after month of increasingly blatant trysts which were accompanied by rapidly intensifying feelings. She could barely look at him without feeling her skin prickle with want, without needing to press her thighs tightly together to ease an ache that only he would be able to satisfy. 

They hadn’t discussed what this was, what they were to each other, but they had settled into it as easily as breathing. This new physical dynamic intertwined so smoothly into their already established friendship  that neither of them had felt the need to question or label whatever bloomed between them. 

To Elain’s delight, Azriel’s early morning interrogations had continued. They maintained the guise of being acquaintances in front of their families, allowing themselves only the occasional touch or glance just to provide themselves with some sort of an outlet for the desperate way they needed each other. 

Each time they found themselves in the same house at the same time, anticipation would build quietly over the course of the day with the shared knowledge that they’d inevitably find their way into the same bed as each other in the quiet of the night. 

His shadows aided them - shrouding the two lovers from the rest of the world as they spent hours tangled under the covers. Talking and teasing, touching and tasting - until the first light of dawn would signal that it was time for them to separate.

…

They had ended up in Azriel’s bed on this particular night. The sheets are a crumpled mess around their waists. The candles he had lit earlier had burnt out long ago. The only source of light comes from the waning moon hanging high in the night sky outside his window.

Elain’s head rests on Azriel’s chest, the golden strands of her hair are plastered to his sweat slicked skin. A strong arm is slung around her bare shoulders, holding her firmly to his body. She listens carefully, relishing in the slow beat of his heart as he sleeps peacefully beneath her.

He hardly ever falls asleep before her and it’s so rare to see him like this - so at ease that every muscle in his body is completely relaxed as he rests. It’s a state of tranquility that could only come from hour upon hour of giving and taking pleasure from each other until their bodies completely gave out. 

Elain takes the opportunity to study him - his long, dark eyelashes fan out over the very top of his sharp cheekbones, casting shadows over the planes of his face. Those beautiful lips, that just moments ago had tenderly left strategically placed marks on her breasts and thighs, were now slightly parted as he slept.

She resists the urge to brush the dark hair off of his forehead, doesn’t want to risk waking him up. Instead, she continues lazily tracing the swirls of black ink on his brown skin, tries to keep her finger steady as his chest rises and falls under her touch.

Elain is halfway to drifting off to sleep herself when it happens again.

Azriel’s face fades from view as her vision shifts and his dark moonlit bedroom transforms into blinding light.

When her eyes adjust, she finds herself standing in the garden of Rhysand and Feyre’s home.

The sky is a beautiful dusky blue. The late afternoon sun is a brilliant amalgamation of oranges and reds, casting stunning patterns of sparkling light as it just begins to set over the river at the far edge of the garden. 

A long pathway looks to have been carved into the grass lawn. Either side of the makeshift aisle is decorated with bright blooms of carefully arranged flowers. Roses, peonies, and carnations in various shades of pink and blue, are perfectly balanced with generous clouds of white baby’s breath. 

The arrangements  were a perfect match for the stunning bouquet clasped tight between her trembling palms.

Her arms are covered in a delicate ivory lace that  flows into what is easily the most beautiful gown she’s ever seen, let alone worn, in her entire life. 

It’s only when her satin slippered feet start carrying her down the aisle that Elain looks up from the flowers and the pretty dress to see the familiar faces of her sisters staring back at her. Both of their eyes are shining with tears. 

The soft strings of a harp play a familiar tune as she walks. It’s a song that she’d heard countless times as a young girl while attending the numerous weddings her mother used to drag her and her sisters to. 

A wedding. 

No.

If this was a wedding, if she was the bride, that meant… 

No. No. No. 

Elain claws at the recesses of her mind, tries desperately to free herself from this. 

She doesn’t want to see it. Doesn’t want to face the inevitable. 

Nothing she tries works. She’s trapped in this vision, in this world, walking down the aisle towards a fate she has no desire to be a part of.

But if this was happening, the overarching emotions in her body - the one she inhibits in this vision - are so at odds with what she would’ve expected to feel in this moment.. 

She expected to feel anger, reluctance, even sadness. Instead, it’s  pure happiness that courses through her. It’s joy coupled with unadulterated love and relief. 

Everything makes sense when her eyes finally lift and she sees three males standing tall on the opposite side of the aisle from her sisters, each of their finely honed bodies are clad in well tailored black suits and white shirts. 

The hair on each of their heads is as dark as night. There isn’t a single strand of auburn to be found amongst them. 

There’s no room for doubt remaining when the male standing closest to the inside of the aisle turns and those  familiar hazel gaze locks on her. It only takes a second of him looking at Elain with so much love before tears begin to spill from her own eyes. 

Azriel. 

… 

Her vision shifts again and it’s a flash of scenes in quick succession. 

Scarred  hands holding her own hands while they exchange vows. 

Nyx, now a toddler, teetering towards them from where he was seated on Mor’s lap - a small plate with a generous sliver of cake held proudly in his small, chubby hands. 

Nesta and Feyre winding a black ribbon around her and Azriel’s joined hands. Cassian and Rhys taking over to tie the satin into a tight knot, the former of the two males muttering something that has Feyre quickly covering her son's ears. 

Elain doesn’t have the time to properly register what she’s seeing before the scene changes once more.

This time they’re in the townhouse. In her room. On her bed.

There’s what appears to be hundreds of candles lit on every available surface, casting the room in romantic golden light and flickering shadows. Her usual lilac bed linen has been replaced by billowing white sheets strewn with white rose petals. 

That beautiful dress she had been wearing is draped carefully on the back of her armchair, Azriel’s suit lies on the floor at the side of the bed. 

The only bit of fabric on either of them is the black silk ribbon from their ceremony which is now wrapped around both of Azriel’s wrists, binding his hands to the posts of her headboard. 

When she looks down, her hands are in his hair - tightly fisting the dark strands between her fingers. Her thighs are on either side of his face - a face she can’t quite see because she’s hovering over it. 

Elain jolts when she feels the pull of his lips as he takes her clit into her mouth. The action is swiftly followed by the long, torturous slide of his flattened tongue along her sex until he finally dips it inside her - lapping up the arousal that he’s summoned. 

She feels the tremble in her thighs, the tight coiling of the release that’s quickly building in her core, making her so unsteady that her hands abandon his hair only to grapple with the headboard in an effort to keep herself  upright. 

The obscene noises of his skillful tongue working her dripping sex fill her ears only to be drowned out by her breathy moans partnered with deep, primal sounds that come from his mouth and reverberate through her body as he greedily accepts all that Elain has to offer.

 Her voice is so hoarse and so needy as she cries out his name over and over again. The warmth of an impending orgasm just begins to seep through each nerve in her body.

She feels the whisper of a shadow breeze over her taut nipples right as her vision shifts for the last time and she’s propelled back into his dark bedroom. 

…

Elain scrambles with the sheets as sits upright, pulling them tight against her heaving chest as she silently wills the room to stop spinning. 

She barely even registers Azriel next to her, propped up on an elbow with his chin resting in his hand as he watches her through sleepy eyes. 

“Please tell me that one was about me.”

Elain can’t even bring herself to laugh at his joke because she’s too busy replaying that vision scene by scene. 

Her first vision had been so straightforward, she had known what it was and what it had meant immediately. There had been no need for interpretation. This time was different, her mind races as she adds it all up in her head and tries to make sense of all the different factors. 

There was a priestess. 

A length of shiny black satin ribbon. 

Her nephew, no longer a babe, holding out a slice of cake. 

Cake, not rings .

It had been Azriel standing beside her. It had been Azriel with whom she had exchanged vows.

Elain feels like she’s going to be sick. 

It’s impossible. She can’t figure out how what she had seen could possibly happen. Because if that was how her future was to play out… if she was to be a part of a ceremony that involved the symbolic offering of food…  it  meant that certain aspects of her life as she knew it were not as they seemed. 

Her visions had always come true. Small details would change, yes. But for the most part, everything that she had ever seen had eventually come to fruition.  How could this be an exception?

“Elain?” Azriel sits up, his face serious as he kneels in bed next to her.  

All traces of sleep are gone, his eyes blaze with concern. He cradles her cheeks in his palms as he tilts her face up, forcing her to look at him. “Are you alright? What is it? What did you see?”

“You…” Elain takes a deep breath in, releases it slowly.

She says her next words so quietly, so whisper soft, that she’s not even sure Azriel had heard them until he goes completely still. His hands are frozen on her face as he stares into her eyes with a confused look that she’s sure matches her own. 

You’re my mate.

[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 6: The Detritus

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Tarkin pushes Cassian too far…and all the rebel can do is think about Jyn.

Here's a nice long chapter for you. I hope you enjoy reading it :)

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 6: THE DETRITUS

Cassian was freezing, his teeth audibly chattering in his head.

Why is it so damn cold in here? he thought, his brain feeling slow and frozen like the rest of his body. Aren’t they cold too? he wondered of his captors. Tarkin paced back and forth, seemingly impervious to the iciness. The death troopers shifted their weight. He could hear their gear creaking.

The temperature had dropped so low that blood was beginning to freeze in Cassian’s hair and along the edge of his right eye. His skin was burned under the electrobinders. His lungs ached. He could barely see. Whatever the IT-O droid injected had practically blinded him, retracting his vision until he could only make out blurry images directly in front.

But the pain.

The pain was beyond anything he could have imagined.

And it was constant, a never-ending barrage that flooded every nerve, every cogent thought. He lost consciousness several times, but the droid instantly revived him, showing no mercy. At first, he had been cataloguing each scratch, trying to rationalize his way through the agony. It’s only a chemical reaction. They hadn’t needed severe tactics; the injections multiplied the smallest cut into fire that bloomed across his nervous system. He tried to reason away the pain, trick his brain into believing it was an illusion.

But that didn’t work.

Eventually he had vomited on one of the death troopers. Cassian wanted to laugh every time he remembered it. The trooper had practically yelped before punching him; it was a small price to pay for something so deeply satisfying. Cassian allowed himself to laugh out loud when Tarkin ordered the soldier from the room. “Sorry to spoil everyone’s fun,” he snorted.

The Grand Moff hadn’t found the incident nearly as amusing as Cassian. His response was to increase the interrogation’s intensity. The droid used a razor-thin blade to pepper the rebel’s body with small half-inch cuts. Nothing significant in an of themselves, but together, and combined with the droid’s relentless injections, they became excruciating. His neck, his chest, his face, his hands, his fingers, his feet; there was nowhere to retreat from the pain.

Tarkin kept asking him to identify everyone who had been with him on Scarif, showing him one hologram after another. When Jyn’s face appeared, Cassian had made a strange sound, somewhere between a gasp and a croak, that he managed to cover up with a coughing fit. Jyn’s smokey eyes, her mocking smirk, almost undid him right then and there. He knew he should stuff that part of himself somewhere deep and dark, cover her up and convince himself that she was nothing.

If he didn’t, he would break.

If he broke and gave the Empire what they wanted, Jyn would be next on Tarkin’s list.

The thought of her enduring the Grand Moff’s sadistic interrogation techniques made him sick to his stomach. He would endure this pain so she and the other members of Rogue One wouldn’t have to.

By now, Cassian was in a stupor. His head fell back as he struggled for air. Every breath burned.

For the first time, the IT-O droid spoke. “A suspension of interrogation is recommended.” Its voice was monotone and deep.

“Whatever for?” Tarkin replied, annoyed.

“Subject’s core temperature is dangerously low and continued hyperventilation of cold, dry air has put the prisoner at risk. If we carry on, his lungs will fill with blood and he will be useless to you.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Allow the room’s temperature to rise above freezing.”

The Grand Moff did not hide his irritation. “Do it,” he said, moving toward the door. “We can’t have him dying on us. We have far too much to discuss.”

——————–

He didn’t know how long they left him alone. He could feel warm air blowing into the room and he forced himself to focus on how it felt against his skin. Eventually, he stopped shaking as his blood and lungs returned to normal temperatures.

He wanted to sleep or cry. He wasn’t sure which urge was stronger. But he was afraid to do either.

For now, he focused on tangibles. He knew the warmth wouldn’t last, so he drowned himself in it, letting it permeate every sense.

It reminded him of something.

A warm breeze on a curved shoreline.

And orangish-pink sky.

Sand under his knees.

Scarif.

That hellish mission haunted him like no other.

All of this, everything Tarkin was doing to him now, was because of Scarif. Cassian’s heart tightened in his chest. He hoped the sacrifice was worth it. He hoped the Death Star plans were with the right people, people who were smart enough and brave enough to blow these imperial bastards to hell. He had already lost so much; anyone he ever cared about had disappeared like smoke.

Except Jyn.

The thought hovered in his mind, frozen on the threshold as he tried to decide whether to welcome or banish it.

Cassian clenched his teeth and swallowed thickly.

He let her in.

He didn’t care about the risk, didn’t care if it made him defenseless. He needed her strength.

So, he permitted himself to think about her.

She was unexpected. Wary, damaged, and bitter when they first met.

Just like him.

But, over time, as they proceeded through Operation Fracture’s labyrinthine twists, something came alive in her, something truthful, vulnerable, and determined. As Cassian watched her transform, something inside him began to change as well. She turned the mirror back on him, forced him to see how far afield he’d strayed. He had become so committed to the Rebellion that he’d forgotten how to listen to his conscience. He believed in the greater good, the cause as they called it, but he had allowed the ends to justify the means for too long. Jyn had not so gently nudged him back on course.

And he had begun to love her for that.

He hated that word.

Love painted a target, put everyone involved in jeopardy.

Plus, how could he love someone he hardly knew?

But ever since they met, Jyn was right alongside him, matching him step for step. Or perhaps he was trying to keep pace with her. He liked that about their friendship. She blazed her own trails; she didn’t need him, but she wanted him, sought his camaraderie, his advice, his laughter, and he did the same with her.

He couldn’t put a finger on how it happened. All he knew was that they trusted each other, had complete faith in each other, and treated each other with equal respect. He knew he could put his life in her hands and vice versa. Is that love? He wondered if there was a better word to describe his feelings for Jyn.

When had the shift from strangers to companions first started?

Perhaps on Jedha. He could have left her to die in Saw Gerrera’s hideout; he found Bodhi, who could have brought him to Galen Erso, negating the need for Jyn. But Cassian couldn’t leave her behind. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying about her the entire time he was trapped in that small, dark cell. After seeing Bodhi’s condition, Cassian worried Jyn might suffer a similar fate at Saw’s unpredictable hands.

Why had he cared?

Just days prior to meeting her he had shot his own contact in the back on the Ring of Kafrene. Why did he suddenly want to protect a resource with which he had no established history?

Cassian finally admitted it wasn’t all that sudden. He’d had his doubts about his own morality for a long time. The Rebellion had made a habit of asking him to kill, like it was an automatic given despite the toll it took on Cassian’s soul. The more lives he took, the more he thought of Clem and Maarva. Not that they would have opposed his joining the Rebellion; they both suffered cruelly at the Empire’s hand. But Cassian found himself thinking about what he wished life had been; something quiet and safe where Maarva and Clem laughed and were happy and grew old together. And every time he pulled the trigger on his blaster or sniper riffle, that dream slipped a little further away. By the time he’d met Jyn, he no longer had the refuge of daydreams. All he had was a waking nightmare that he desperately wanted to escape.

In Jedha’s holy quarter he watched a broken, angry young woman put her life at risk for a child she didn’t know. She took out an entire squad of stormtroopers with nothing but a truncheon—Cassian smiled at the memory. She fought desperately to save her father on Eadu. Then she faced death on Scarif, willing to give her life for something bigger than herself.

If that wasn’t worth loving, he finally decided, he didn’t know what was.

After Eadu. That’s where it changed.

They had been standing in the stolen ship as K-2 and Bodhi navigated them to safety. Jyn was frozen with shock, her clothes dripping with the acrid Eadu rain, staring at him from across the compartment. Cassian could feel her eyes on him even though his back was to her. Jyn’s rage was palpable; he understood it, but he was dealing with his own demons. She lit into him right there in front of the others, called him a murderer and a stormtrooper. He flared with anger, almost shouting in her face. They both had their righteous fury, their personal pain, their justifications. Even though he had been livid, he respected Jyn for giving him hell, and, more so, for not backing down when he gave it right back to her.

After that argument, he didn’t think she would ever forgive him, especially since his mission had been to kill her father. But somehow, she’d seen past her grief and judged him by his actions rather than his orders. Now that he knew her better, it didn’t surprise him that she’d forgiven him. Jyn was raised in battle and had an uncanny ability to sift through emotional detritus and get to the root of things. Ultimately, it made them closer, gave them an instant loyalty that could only be made through scorched egos.

When they arrived back on Yavin 4 Jyn still despised him. But when he’d backed her plan for Scarif and recruited a team of thirty soldiers willing to die by her side for the greater good, the anger fell away allowing them to finally understand each other. Up to that point Jyn and Cassian had been surviving their lives, moving from one moment to the next, never really landing anywhere stable. When Cassian leaned in and whispered, “Welcome home,” he wasn’t welcoming her to the Alliance, he was telling her that he was sticking with her all the way to the end. Jyn’s gentle smile proved she understood.

They set off for Scarif, ready to die together. The entire ordeal had been like a horrible dream, bluffing their way into the citadel tower, deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast until they crossed a point of no return. When K-2SO died, Cassian knew their fate had been sealed. His droid, his friend, was the latest in a long line of losses. It was the catalyst that forced him to let go of any hope for survival and allowed him to fully commit to their mission, no longer worrying about protecting himself. He would protect Jyn for as long as he could, giving her a running head start to transmit the plans.

Then he fell.

Hard.

Well, first Krennic shot him and then he fell, hitting two durasteel beams before smashing into a grated platform. He broke four ribs and fractured parts of his hip and left leg. He lay inside the databank for what felt like ages; the pain was delayed but when it came it overwhelmed him. As he fought to breathe, he was startled by a banging sound and realized her could hear Jyn climbing the tower. He also knew Krennic wouldn’t give up until he killed her. So, Cassian forced himself to move, dragged himself off the metal grate and into an access vault where he found the lift to the spire’s top. Adrenaline dulled his physical suffering just enough for him to reach the data dish platform in time to see Krennic, his blaster fixed on Jyn, standing between her and the transmitter. Cassian didn’t hesitate; he shot the bastard that had ruined his friend’s family, who had taken her childhood, her safety, her parents. He wasn’t about to give Krennic the chance to take Jyn too.

Cassian would never forget the look on Jyn’s face after she initiated the transmission, sending the Death Star plans into the chaotic battle above before stepping to his side and grasping his arm, relieved that he was still alive.

He remembered the anger that entered her eyes and roughly pulling her away as she lunged for Krennic, their foreheads touching as he said, “Leave it. Let’s go.” She had leaned into Cassian and allowed him to guide her away.

They got into the lift and headed down to the beach. The long ride was a momentary respite, an unexpected quiet fraught with emotion as Jyn and Cassian held on to each other. She had looked up at him with large, open eyes, an expression on her face he had never seen, as though no one had ever come back for her, as though she didn’t know what it was like to matter to another person. He tightened his grip as Jyn held him up; in that moment, nothing existed but her. All the pieces of his life fell into place; every heartbreak, every mistake, every victory culminated here in Jyn Erso’s arms. The understanding gave him calm. He wanted her to know that she mattered, that he cared, that he was with her.

When they made it to the beach, they saw the radioactive plume rising out of the ocean, recognizing the work of a planet killer. Their steps slowed as realization set in. Poetic, he had thought, to be killed by the very weapon we’re trying to destroy. They fell to their knees on the shoreline, watching certain death rushing head on. As Jyn had said, their chances were spent. They were both afraid. What would this death feel like? Would they even feel it at all? They wrapped their bodies around each other, together all the way to the end. Jyn tried not to sob. Cassian shook with fear, whispering, “I’ve got you,” in her ear over and over. Then, out of nowhere a ship dropped in over the water, the side hatch open with Baze and Chirrut visible inside. Jyn hauled Cassian up and they sprinted, dumping into the shuttle before the hatch slammed shut. The sudden relief made Jyn burst into tears while Cassian’s wounds finally got the better of him. The last thing he remembered was Jyn cupping his face in her hands, begging him to stay with her. He woke a week later in a hospital cot, in a long room lined up and down with injured men and women. Jyn was there, right by his side. And she stayed every day until he was able to walk again.

After Scarif’s intensity, Jyn and Cassian were closer than ever. But they had not yet been able to cross the barrier where that closeness dissolved a life’s-worth of fear.

As Cassian sat now, covered in his own blood in an imperial cell, he wondered, if he had the chance to do it all again, would he tell her? Would he have the courage to tell Jyn that she mattered to him, that he cared about her, that he was hers, if she wanted him, all the way to the end?

He looked down at himself, wrists raw from pulling at his binds, skin burned by shock cuffs, blood running down and dripping from his fingertips onto the floor. His reality, as Tarkin put it, was setting in. This cell and pain and blood was all he would know until he took his last breath. Jyn was out of reach forever. He had to accept that. Cassian closed his eyes against the tears that rose to the surface, forbidding them from spilling over and running down his face.

He knew what he should do, but after Jedha and Eadu and Scarif, Cassian Andor could never let go of Jyn Erso.

——————–

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE SALT" - Jyn is ready to launch her rescue mission but all she can do is think about Cassian. Tarkin has no more mercy for Cassian and uses a brutal tactic for personal gratification.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3 - Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 "The Detritus"

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

READ CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 "The Reprieve"

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

READ CHAPTER 23 “The Wounds”

READ CHAPTER 24 “The Hand”

READ CHAPTER 25 “The Heart”

READ CHAPTER 26 “The Beginning”

[cosmothealien358]

Then the impact hit. It jarred Cole worse than any earthquake he’d ever produced. He let loose a soundless scream, a massive outlet of air that shook him to his core. Every molecule of his body was erupting into pain, a sheer agony he could never have even conjured up in his darkest nightmares. There couldn’t possibly be a single bone left unbroken. Cole heaved out a weighed breath, exhaling a cloud of dust which was soon followed by a hacking cough that pinched his sides and rattled his ribs. 

Cole only felt pain, and nothing else. Laying there on an alien surface entirely detached from his body, staring at a sky of black, he knew he was a dead man. There was no other explanation nor remedy for his pain. But still, somehow, some impossible way… he was alive. He was in agony, yes, but he certainly knew what being dead was, and this wasn’t it.

The black ninja gingerly sat up, clutching his broken ribs with a fractured wrist. Pains immediately stabbed and shot into every inch of his body with the movement. Almost as if it sensed human despair, Cole sensed another black tendril slithering towards him. He felt his innards begin to succumb to the cold allure once again, vying to accept numbing stone over endless torture. But the small part of him- the warrior inside- simply refused to quit. Not knowing what else to do, he thought back to the warm feeling he felt while falling. Cole anchored himself in the memories of his loved ones, and once again, warmth bloomed from his chest and spread throughout his body, energizing him with a feeling that reminded him of the moment he returned to a man after living years as a cursed spirit. From seemingly nowhere, Cole managed to summon enough strength to stand upright. If he wasn’t in a garish wasteland, he would have sobbed with joy. His bones miraculously held up!

It was not a time to celebrate, though. Survival hasn't yet been achieved. He swiveled around in a slow circle to analyze his surroundings. He appeared to be standing on an upper level of the Ninjago News Tower. The streets below were unrecognizable. Whatever Cole could see (and there was hardly anything to BE seen with the darkness clouding his vision) would make any ordinary civilian fall to his knees and declare the world over.

He witnessed empty buildings shrouded in blackness, cars that had been hastily parked or completely crashed off road, and, most disturbingly, the stone bodies of ninjago's population. Children, the elderly, young couples, mothers- no one was left untouched by the plague of the Oni. All were left behind as horrifying statues with limbs frozen in grotesque positions and face painted with pure horror.  

Cole, however, did not faint nor lose control at the sight of such mass terror. After all, he never was an ordinary citizen. 

He was a ninja.

He had seen enough suffering to last several lifetimes. Destruction, death, violence, panic. It was all too familiar to him, and yet somehow, nothing ever could prepare him for each depressing situation. Imprisonment by Chen. Running out of the haunted house of a madman only to find yourself dead. Watching your city be torn apart by a man you once respected. Time after time, wreckage after wreckage. Disaster was simply part of his job. 

But this was different. Cole was alone, in the dark, with no backup and no hope of escaping. Hell, he shouldn’t even be alive. Why hadn’t the darkness taken him like the stone civilians surrounding him? 

Cole shook his head. He couldn’t spare another thought that didn’t lead to his survival. Besides, despite the dread sinking in and his situation objectively fucked, he was alive. That stood for something. He had enough strength to get back to his friends, and with that, Cole knew he could make it. 

Only a minute of descending to lower levels of the tower led him to inevitable danger. The dark hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight as a chill swept over the air. Cole didn’t need to turn around to know that a misty tendril was curling towards his alive self. Not only that, but faint footsteps began to grow louder by the second from below. Cole could see his words coming out in clouds of fog as he spoke quietly to himself.

“Well, shit.”

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Chapter Three

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

“Are you sure you want to go alone?” 

“Hey, I’ve got this.  It’s important to make sure we know before this meeting, right? And it’ll only take a minute..  I know how hard it is for you to see her like that..heh…or at all.” 

“I will be here if you need anything, simply call.” 

—---------

Ethan was standing barefoot in one of the many blooming, cliffside gardens of the Heisenberg estate when Eva’s voice faded.  He closed his eyes and passed through the liminal space, which he now understood was simply a gateway to the real layers of the Mutamycete’s realms.  

Passing that one thin layer that almost-touched reality meant that he disappeared from where he stood in the garden.  Physically, he was now completely within the mold network.  

It was a way to travel that he’d gotten more comfortable with in the last few months, if comfortable was the right word.  Thanks to Eva, he was beginning to understand the network he was unwillingly a part of.  

This–moving, it felt like flipping through pages of a book.  Ethan spoke to the ever-present yet startlingly shy choir of whispers that moved around him.  

Take me to Miranda’s garden.  

The first time he went there, it had been involuntary, nearly a disaster, and Miranda had a hand in his partial appearance.  Now that he chose to travel within this world, he could be safer about it.  Sort of.  

The “garden” was not a real place–it had no counterpart in the outside world–rather, it was one of Miranda’s created spaces.  It was a deep lake where hundreds, if not thousands, of bodies floated under a mass of liquid that he wasn’t entirely sure was water.  Sometimes it changed to black, and sometimes a bloody, disgustingly deep red.  He saw it in his nightmares.  

Instead of manifesting under the water, face to face with scores of decaying bodies, Ethan found himself on the rocky shore of the lake.  Large stones made a border around the dark water, where gentle waves created lapping sounds.  

Willing himself invisible was something he had no problem learning, much to Eva’s delight.  In an instant he looked down, seeing the golden shimmer that dissipated like sparks around him.  He could not see his own body.  Ethan paced along the water’s edge.  

He chose this spot simply because Miranda seemed to spend more time here lately.  Eva guessed it was to help phase out of ‘memory’ mode, where Miranda had been reliving nearly a decade of her own life with her daughter on a dreamy, ever-repeating loop.  Moving into her own created space where she could focus on her “power” meant that she was more interested in that, than her daughter’s life and memory.  

To no one’s surprise, really.  

The “garden” was something Miranda had created after she touched the mold in the cave, but not much else was known about it.  She could quickly sense Eva in these places she’d made, but so far, she had not sensed Ethan.  This would be his third time in this miserable place, and he hoped, one of his last.  He needed the connection with Miranda’s consciousness to “jump” to the next memory he wanted to see.  To see if his, and Eva’s, hunch was correct.  

But where was Miranda, dammit?  Ethan strode farther out toward the beckoning, murky waterside, his eyes tracing the line of the water’s horizon across the foggy shores.  

It felt like a terrible spot to be, void of any other landmarks save the faux-treeline, faded mountain backdrop and the fog itself.  The lake was medium sized, but endlessly deep.  Still, on the surface, she had nowhere to hide.  There was only water, and several rock formations nearby, away from the shore.  

He would have to swim to get to them, and he had absolutely zero interest in doing so.  On his first venture here Miranda had sat on those stones, and once, seemingly prayed, or spoke to something that Ethan could not see.  

As the midnight moon rises on black wings….

Something bubbled, moved.  He froze, watching the water, and then nearly ran back toward the tree cover when Miranda’s head emerged from the water.  She shook her head as her body rose, moving directly upward.

At first he thought she was floating upward, but he realized as his stomach turned, that tendrils of mycelium were wrapped around her bare legs, pushing her upward from below, and now drifting toward the rocky island.   

She held something in each hand, and blackish-maroon water cascaded down, dripping off her pale form as she gracefully stepped onto a flat stone.  Miranda was only forty or fifty feet away.  She had been in the midst of transforming, he realized as he stumbled backwards subconsciously.  The long blackened claws were now fading into feminine hands, her almost spidery body shrinking to the petite form he was familiar with.  She hummed in approval of this and stroked her cheek with one hand, still holding whatever she’d fetched from the murky water.  

She was naked.  Remembering what lay at the bottom of this lake, Ethan truly thought he might be sick, but he forced himself to watch as she spun on her toes, facing the area she’d just emerged from and raising one of the items in her hand over her head in a triumphant gesture. 

It was a heart, he saw with a sinking feeling, and Ethan took respite in the tree trunk he was now backed up to, sagging against the rough bark as though the pine needed to hold him upright.  Not only was Miranda wringing the heart’s blood over her head as she’d done with Ethan, but she now spoke something else unintelligible–Romanian, he could tell–and then after her remark, she sank her teeth into the muscle.  

It squelched, and he grimaced.  Ethan didn’t need to see more, he remembered.  She was here, and that was what he needed.  

With an exhale, he tried very hard to focus on literally anything other than the image of naked Miranda eating a heart, and he mentally spoke the request linked to the woman’s consciousness.  

Show me her memories–where she put the crystals of the people below the water.  

The only reason that Eva had known the purpose of this macabre ‘garden’ was thanks to Miranda’s notes, which on this topic had all but vanished over the years.  It seemed it was one of her first ‘tasks’ after being infected with the mold.  Rendering souls inside the mutamycete unable to move or communicate by drowning them, and then somehow transferring whatever was left of them into a crystal.  

As Heisenberg explained it, it was not a death.  It was worse; she was creating a network of batteries.  Souls to be utilized as power.  Her power.  These “bodies” were suspended, frozen in a state where only Miranda had access to their energy, while the essence of their humanity–a nuisance that was not needed–was split into a crystal and discarded. 

In addition to the mass murder of the village that happened just before Ethan’s arrival, it seemed Miranda had orchestrated a reign of terror on the Mold’s consciousness as well.  It was likely one reason that the voices were so timid around her, as well as a reason that Eva hadn’t met a plethora of other people catalogued by the Mold in her time there.  

The sound of Miranda’s almost sensual eating of the heart paused and she looked in Ethan’s direction, one eyebrow quirking as though she sensed him.  

“Who disturbs me?” she asked sharply, and Ethan raised his eyebrows.  Anytime now, voices. 

The scene began to shimmer and he knew he would soon leave this stratum, as the edges of his vision darkened.  

Miranda couldn’t see him, but she was powerful enough to sense him, and likely the moving, responsive network of the mold as well.  

She called a name that Ethan didn’t recognize.  Jochen?

Just as the scene darkened and Ethan felt the earth tip away from him, she called another name, and that one he did recognize.  

“Mia?” 

—---------

Ethan found his feet easily, and stepped into a trail in a moonlit forest.  He shivered and heard his heart suddenly, thudding loudly in his chest.  It was perhaps due to almost being seen by a naked, blood-soaked heart-eating crazy bitch, but also to the name she’d said.  Why would Mia be there? 

Ethan nearly fell over a rock when he realized he was walking behind a blond woman.  So close that he could reach out and touch her.  Despite his original inkling that it was Eva, he realized moments after that this woman was definitely not Eva.  

She walked with purpose, and an almost hedonistic feminine gait.  She was clad in simple black, but even from the back Ethan could see that it was far more revealing than her “Human” clothing choices.  

And she smelled coppery.  Like blood.  

Miranda. 

This was her memory–he was in no danger here, at least not immediately.  The mutamycete was simply pulling information from history: in this case, from Miranda directly.  The same way it replayed all of the moments from his own life after his body was re-absorbed.  

Eva postulated that the Mold tried to replay scenes to better store them, especially ones that it “liked”, but he didn’t know anything about that.  The whole idea was creepy.  As if the mold watched lives, and had thoughts about what it saw.  

He began to walk in step with her.  If he’d known Romanian, Ethan might try to speak to the woman, but he only knew grocery store words, how to order beer, and the occasional curse.  But from this angle he could see into whatever she was carrying–a basket, full of –oh, fuck, disgusting-dead crows, and among them, a bed of jagged crystals.  

So that was how she got rid of the humans, he realized with fresh horror–the parts of them that weren’t useful in her energy network, her “garden”, were bonded with….other physical beings.  In this case, it appeared, birds.  That would explain the sacrifices.  

The crystals were all coated in blood, and her hands were bloody.  

Miranda was nearly skipping along the dark path, and Ethan noted that she seemed drunk.  His long legs slowed until he was behind her again.   To see less was somehow easier.  

The only good thing about this situation was that he did recognize where he was walking.  He and Eva had made this hike a month ago when they first started unraveling Miranda’s plans, trying to get one step ahead.   

On the mountain range that kept the village isolated was Lacul Vrăjitoarelor, or, “Witch’s Lake.”  (“Of fucking course that’s its name,” Ethan had spat venomously at the map, which caused Karl to chuckle, and Eva’s eyes to widen at his sour disposition.) 

It was not too far of a walk from the village, but Karl had confirmed it was out of the Mutamycete’s reach–the mold did not seem to grow anywhere around it.  He had raised a magnetic field around the area, while Eva tried to locate any trace of the mold, but none existed.  It was likely past the ‘border’ of the mycelium.  

And here was Miranda, with her basket full of bloody crystals.  

If their guesses were correct, she was isolating harvested souls to a ghoulish, swampy lake where they could never be recovered or reunited by way of the Megamycete.  

The ecstatic woman approached the water’s edge and dipped her feet in, spinning as if dancing in the shallow water.  Ethan paused with his hands in his pockets, the look of disgust clear when she paused in her spin, staring at him in shock.  

“Alătură-te mie?”

He actually understood that one, but Ethan shook his head slowly.  This was the first time she’d seen him, spoken to him in a memory.  And if history were anything to go by, the real Miranda could rejoin this ‘memory’ anytime she wanted, as if alerted by her former self of his presence.  

“Oh, you speak English,” she said in a heavy accent, and the wide smile that broke across her face was nothing but uncanny.  She wore dark makeup and her cleavage was…well, it was there, and then some.  Ethan’s eyes widened at her remark.  How was she able to know English if this was a memory? 

She pressed him.  “Don’t I…know you?”

“No,” he said very quickly, and dipped his head toward the basket.  “What are you going to do with those?”

“These….sinners?”  Her smile was still strong.  She was acting…seductive?  Was she flirting with him?  She gazed toward him with heavy lids and the smile morphed into a grin, then she bit her lip.  “Come in with me and see.” 

“Isn’t it bad enough that you ripped people away from their bodies,” he countered with a gesture.  “Without the insult of taking them away from the network that preserved them?”

“I do know you,” she said in that same heavy, sultry voice that suited her so poorly.  Miranda tossed the basket aside, discarding its macabre contents into the stillwater without a single thought.  “We were…together.” 

“Nope,” he said even more quickly.  Well, dammit.  If she was going to do anything different before she’d seen him, his chance was gone.  “Wrong guy.”  

Home, he begged internally.  Home, now.  

The ground began to wobble, but she stepped out of the water, unbuttoning her bodice thoughtfully as she began to circle Ethan.  His cheeks turned red as he reached up toward the necklace.  The compass.  Ethan gripped it so hard he thought it might shatter.  

Home?

She is keeping you there, came the fairy voice, in a hurried whisper.  Not the mold.  Eva.  

Wait there, I will get Karl.  

His heart doubled in speed.  

“Why are you holding me here?” Ethan said bluntly.  “I don’t want–”

“I am?” Miranda looked genuinely befuddled, and even stopped with the undressing.  “How curious.” 

So, memory-Miranda wasn’t doing it.  It was probably “Just had two hearts for brunch” Miranda who was preventing him from leaving.  Great.  All she had to do now was find him, traipsing along on her memory stratum, and interrogating her about her shitty soul-battery program.  

Ethan felt a pulling sensation.  In his feet, fingertips.  A magnetic field.  

“But we were together.  I was….someone, for you.  I shifted.  I remember it.”

“N-nope,” Ethan said as he struggled to stand upright, hand still clenched over the compass.  “Wrong guy, I told you.” 

“You were exquisite,” she said as if remembering the tastiest dessert of her entire life.  Just as Ethan cringed, he felt the pulling sensation turn into vertigo, and the scene, including Miranda, fell away into blackness.  Just as he was pulled, another memory entered his mind–blending with Miranda’s, likely.  

But it wasn’t the memory of her masquerading as Heisenberg.  

It was an intimate encounter between him and Mia.  The last night they were together before…Before Chris….

That flickering feeling overtook him.  Like flipping through pages of a book. 

Ethan again landed on his bare feet, stumbling, and felt a strong hand on his back.  His shirt was bunched up, and Ethan realized Karl was holding him by the scruff of his neck as if he were a dog.  When Winters abruptly righted himself, he turned and caught the bewildered, wide-eyed gaze of Heisenberg.  It immediately turned into a scowl, in which the engineer began gruffly,  “Just what in the hell–”

“It was my fault,” Eva interrupted, but Ethan stopped her. 

“It was not,” he began, but Karl was already arguing again.  

Ethan sighed and blinked in the early morning sun while Heisenberg ranted, “--supposed to just, wait for the next dumbass thing for you to get yourself into, like a goddamn cat in a roomful of rockin’ chairs, I swear to fuckin’--”

“Shall we eat breakfast?” Eva asked in a withering, motherly tone, and Ethan cringed at the memory of the squelching heart.  He knew he was probably a light shade of green.  Without waiting for either of them, he shrugged away from Karl’s grip and headed toward the dining room.  

[scrambledlikeeggs]

Working title: How To Prove You've Lived

Chapter 1: Seeds

it’s been exactly 436 days since he’s been here. But Mumbo would rather forget about that. Instead he thinks he should focus on the part where somewhere in those four hundred and something days he’s decided to harbour a criminal.

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

Mumbo's been fine living in the middle of nowhere, minding his own business trying to forget his past so when he accidently befriends a cryptid in the woods he's pleasantly surprised at how nice it is to have 'human' interaction. So when his friend has to flee he does the only logical thing: to go with him across the country in search of safety with both their past and the new gods hot on their tale

The flowers outside were going to bloom soon.

Mumbo had thought that for the past few days now, he’d been waiting for them. Sat at his table ignoring a piece of toast and absentmindedly sipping at a once hot drink that was now a little too bitter to enjoy. The wood was splintering where he rested his arm, not that he noticed it, his eyes were firmly stuck to the horizon eagerly awaiting the arrival of a multitude of colours that would dapple the bland landscape ahead of him in a myriad of colours. It meant that there was still a tiny bit of good out there,  just as it also meant that it had been exactly 436 days since he’s been here.

But Mumbo would rather forget about that.

Instead he thought he should focus on the part where somewhere in those four hundred and something days he’d decided to harbour a criminal.

An alleged criminal, he internally corrected, there was no evidence towards any crime, no wanted posters or radio message, and there had been no cliches that happen before a betrayal like in all the movies. That was because there had been nothing, and it was nothing. Nothing at all.

Definitely not a reason to be pacing the worn floorboards of his house, but then again there were only so many things you could do to be chased down by the New Gods themselves.

He was going to throw up or cry. Possibly both.

Mumbo stopped his pacing, sat down and tried to breathe a little slower. He noticed the splinter, it buried itself further into his skin every time he bent his arm. That was particularly frustrating as it was something he’d been doing repeatedly to try and get a better look at it. Sighing, he dragged his body to the cupboard that held a mismatched bundle of medical supplies that he certainly didn’t buy, but had used more than double the amount of times that the average person would have, and tries not to wince when the seemingly centuries old hinges pierce the air in a futile cry for attention. He was supposed to renovate a while ago. Introduce some simple redstone to this place, maybe automatic doors, the whole shebang, then he had remembered why he came here.

He forced himself to stand up a little straighter, rolled back his shoulders from their usual  position and stretched to pull out a pair of tweezers, disinfectant, and now empty box of plasters. 

He stuttered to a stop and felt his heart seize at a sight he’d long forgotten was even there: stacks upon stacks of books. Hidden from sight, neglected faded in their muted red and maroon  yet cared enough for not to be thrown away, shoved into empty shelves that were much too small for the thick textbooks they were storing. He let himself indulge for a moment. Let his nose inhale the smell of worn parchment that filled the air, let his hands drag through the dust that settled snuggly between pages like a cloak on cold shoulders and let his eyes fondly skim over familiar titles and names inked in metallic looping letters down the spines until he came across his own, Mumbo.K.Jumbo.

He slams the door closed. 

Unsurprisingly, it promptly falls off it’s hinges. He felt the bile rise in his throat and swallowed.

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

1st chapter is complete so you get a teaser of the 1st 500 words of the almost 5k 1st chapter to a ten chapter fic of a 10-11 (or more series) i'm holding chapters hostage so i continue to write so i'll see you in six months with the finished thing/hj

1st fic is mostly boatem with their life series persona's growing to become more of the hc boatem we all know and love.

The whole life series crew show up and have their own stories- i'm going to stop myself there before I spoil stuff.

[little-life-of-bushra]

Death & Flowers

My partner came into my life totally by accident. I was searching for allies in the system. Something I had avoided when I left the big corporates at the age of 28. Totally over it.

I could work with them but with at least one degree of separation - with the small sustainability companies I worked at or my own innovation company even academic or artistic projects.

Only and only out of total determination to establish myself within innovation despite the what seemingly insurmountable mountain I had to climb, did I do the thing which is really against my nature ... approach the regular systems for help. Actually it was kind of a very alternative system ... the crypto world. I mean I was completely blocked in the digital sense ..so I had to physically pitch up to web3 events .. hey I do VR... that's web3 ....I think.

And a middle aged brown woman (ex police) from the UK who appeared from nowhere butterflying around crypto events ... I am sure was curious for everyone.

So yes that's it, that's I guess how we sort of met.

Go to web3 events folks ... you never know where it might lead.

And yesterday he came to my parents cemetery with me. And we laid flowers. Glorious sweet smelling blooming with colour.

Lots of them.

It was take 2 actually. We were there the day before but it wasn't right.

So he went back with me to make it right. That shows integrity and love.

The day before take 1 - was harrowing for me. Particularly as I had to tell them that their house was sold and most of their possessions had gone into the skip or the recycling centre.

My mums sarees ... I had kept them after so long, conjuring up reasons not to let them go. My mum had said I would follow her around as a toddler holding onto her achal which is the long bit of saree that floats down the body over the shoulder.

I literally was holding onto her achal ... hoping that the rest of the saree would have her wrapped in it.

Everything had been cleared, there was nothing left of them there and we were about the hand the keys to a new family.

But there was. The garden they had nurtured was still there. Admittedly not maintained as they had but the fruit trees and flowers had been growing in their absence.

And this was a big part of their lives and them.

My parents loved flowers and gardening. When we lived in Southport they would visit the botanical gardens and my dad would take cheesy photos of my mums face next to big red rose. Once he had this camera effect where it duplicated this image 6 times in a circle on a photo.

He missed her so much. We all did. Do I mean.

My mum died of bowel cancer just before covid. It is an awful disease. One minute she was raking her vegetables in the back garden, in her saree. Skin golden in the sun, her soft wavy hair, curled up with sweat around her face. Smile wrinkles.

A loud hearty laughter and louder voice which held the room. Articulating herself with creative expression off the cuff. You didn't want to get on the wrong side of her, she'd give you a bollocking ...poetically.

And yes one minute she was in the garden, wiping her forehead with her arm, one hand bent awkwardly grasping weeds with the ill-fitting glove and the other hand resting on a rake to balance herself.

The next minute she was in hospital having blood transfusions and her tumour out, a stoma put in.

I wish she had dropped dead that day in the garden. She was content. Struck down by a freak lightening bolt. May be a car could have careered into the garden into her. May be a plane part fell out of the sky.

Just not this.

She came home immobile, gaunt and with no voice. A shell. A shadow. Already a ghost.

I went straight online and told my mum I would set her up with a bed downstairs so she could see the garden from the conservatory. And she communicated don't worry, you don't need to. It won't be used.

She was right. I was in denial.

That mattress was never used and was cleared out of my parents house just this year. 5 years after her death. I feel ashamed I couldn't have accepted it more easily I mean even now I cannot.

I was in denial till the moment she died a few weeks later. I actually laid next to her and held her. I had slept next to her till I was 7. And I loved lying next to her. Holding her arms heavy with gold bangles. A familiar safe smell of ponds cream. I held her for one last time in my parents bed.

And my dad like many during covid was on his own. What a time to not be with your wife of 50 years. He said to me that he could die tomorrow so he would rather take the risk and for us to visit him. He certainly could not be alone for the duration. And we did visit him with my daughter. We didn't go if we had any symptoms or there was a spike. But we did it and I am glad we did, because during that time he developed dementia. In a funny sort of way I think despite the horrifying realisation this brilliant man was loosing his cognitive abilities (he was already incontinent), I think he liked the fact he forgot my mum had passed away and he was living in this betwixt world he had her.

We also left flowers at my family friends daughters grave. She was only 22 when she died. It was of a severe asthma attack during covid. It is not my story to publicly share but because when she had the attack, it was during a time when authorities were not sure of the covid rules, confusion of NHS protocols lead to this trajedy. My family friend, her mother said that there is some solace that her daughter's grave is near my mother's. My mum loved kids and had known her daughter she since she was born and loved her daughter as well.

My partner and I talked about grief and loss and also covid and the societal trauma and damage and fall out left behind. Micro and macro and collectively and personally. It's everywhere.

A melancholia we now have to compartmentalise to fully live our lives again. And deal with our own way.

I am so glad we went back.

And it felt right.

My parents loved flowers.

[uselessboss]

A Flower that Could Never Bloom(2/3)

“Not only you are the youngest boss to date to own your unit but you also use your spare time to solve old cases. You are truly an overachiever Crowa Miller".

“Are you insinuating that I need to touch grass and find a better hobby Mr. Hills Johannes?"

That earns a chuckle from him.

She smiles.

It was fun bantering with him.

“That would have been hypocrisy from my part to make such a claim as I don't like going out either”.

“What about chess? You seem the type to enjoy this kind of thing"

“How so?”

“According to the knowledge I acquired from watching movies and reading books it seems that Chess is a game for smart people" she jokes.

“Yes, I do enjoy it" Johannes admits, amused. “What about you? Do you like it Miller?”

“I know the rules" she nods, thanking Johannes for picking the box for her. “But I wouldn't say that I know how to properly play it”.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

“You mean thoroughly kicking my ass right?”

“Just as much as the literal asskicking you give me in our combat training”.

“You are so petty Johannes".

They laugh together.

Clap clap

“I saw it many times already and yet it never fails to amaze me.” Johannes smiles, giving her a towel to wipe her sweat. “How you are able to solve missing cases that no one else could"

When Johannes had asked her to bring him along on her “extra cases" she had been hesitant at first.

‘Give me some time to think’

It hadn’t been an easy decision for her. She had so many things to think about and several factors to consider.

First of all how he would take it.

People usually found her “skills” disturbing. 

The ability to find bodies in the most unlikely places, sometimes in the literal middle of nowhere with no landmarks in sight unsettled them. The uncanny way she was able to pick on a tell when no human possibly could was unnverving. Her accuracy at predicting that an unassuming and innocuous random object turning up as an important clue to a case was thought as eerie.

It frightened her peers. They found no logic, rhyme or reason to her actions. From their point of view she must have looked like a crazy, erratic and nonsensical woman, someone to not be associated with and to be avoided at all cost.

From what she could garther Johannes didn’t seem the type to be fazed by anything but still, she could not be sure. Moreover there was another far more pressing problem that she knew for a fact that he DID take issue with.

Namely, reasoning.

Or, in this case, lack of thereof.

Because how do you explain what she did in a way that appealed to common sensibilites?

She knew where the corpse was because she can see spirits and they tell her where their body is. Being able to pick on tells isn’t due to any visual or auditory clues, it’s because she cheats by reading emotional reactions to things and the zeroing in an seemingly ordinary object was because people leave “emotional imprints” on them and she has the power to perceive it.

Yeah, that wouldn’t fly. 

Johannes would think she was either out of her mind or that she was mocking him. Whichever would be the worst option, she didn’t know, but regardless, he would lose respect for her.

This spelt disaster no matter how you looked at it.

...And yet she allowed him in.

“It’s incredible how precise your “intuition” is”. He edges the hole she had dug, leaning closer to take a look. “Of course we have to wait for results from the analysis to determine if it’s the person we were looking for but it wouldn’t surprise me if you were right once again”

“Anything else you want to put to test Johannes?” she sat besides him, looking above the water bottle she was drinking, taking a peek at the neat handwriting of her second-in-command as he took notes about the case.

She had preemptively told him about how she directed her forces by intuition and instinct but it still felt embarrassing and mortifying to show him firsthand what it looked like.

Thankfully he hadn’t been too put off by it. It may have caused him to raise an eyebrow on occasion but he didn’t look disgusted nor freaked out by it. If anything he looked intrigued.

‘I can’t explain to you how it works but I can show you that it works.’

No matter how much she thought about it she couldn’t find a plausible enough explanation to give to him. She could lie and make up an excuse but she knew that Johannes was far too perceptive for that to work. 

She could have denied his request but then what would that do? As long as he worked under her she couldn’t hide this side of hers from him, it would come up one way or another to some extent while they worked together on the field.

She could tell him to just accept things as they are and not question it but that didn’t sit well with her either.

So, the only thing she could do was to double down, expose everything and let him be the judge of it.

“That day... When you saved me it was thanks to that “hunch” of yours right?” he suddenly spoke. “Even the guys that left me to die couldn’t possible know my exact whereabouts yet you managed to find me in the nick of time”

“I guess I sensed you calling for help”

“Oh? So does that mean that if I think hard enough about you there’s a likehood of you coming to my aid?” he smirked. “Now that’s something I would like to test”

“Please don’t. You shouldn’t needlessly risk your life like that”.

“Why not? After all, aren’t you trying to show me how reliable you are?” His smirk widened.

“It’s not like you to be reckless Johannes”

“That’s true” he conceded. “But that just shows how much faith I have in you. In fact, maybe moreso than myself”

She was glad that Johannes was taking her demands well.

She was aware of how he was treated before. How his ideas were constantly shot down and snubbed, how he was assigned menial and unimportant tasks to put him in his place and the kind of condescension he had to face before joining her unit.

She had considered the possibility of him taking her criticisms the wrong way due to his bad experiences but soon enough he proved her fears to be unfounded. 

He took her words with a level headed consideration. Always up to the challenge, it was a testament of how smart and talented he was as he was quick to learn and adapt to unexpected situations.

It came to a point where she didn’t need to intervene anymore and when she did he didn’t take issue nor ressented her for it. They knew what the other was capable of and held a mutual respect over it. There was no “lesser” between them, only equals that pushed each other to flourish to greater heights.

Johannes was a man of action.

“Miller, we need your help to interrogate this susp-”

“Let me have a look at it”

“Johannes?!”

“Huh, it seems simple enough, I can handle this in her stead” he nods. “Besides, it would be a perfect opportunity to put in practice what she taught me”

She leaned back on her chair and closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling and getting lost in her own thoughts.

She never had this opportunity before, the chance of having time for herself.

Johannes was probably doing all of this for the sake of improvement and perfecting his craft but still.

No one had done that before. To offer to do something for her sake on their own initiative without her needing to ask for it.

It made her happy.

Her peers constantly demanded something from her, pilling more responsabilities, requesting her to do this or that without regards towards whether or not she could take it. They did not care if she was busy, if she was tired, if she was overwhelmed by everything, they kept pushing everything on her back.

But Johannes was different. He was the first person to try and share her burden.

He asked for help but also payed back in kind.

He readied detailed data for her, helped her to fill in reports and troublesome bureaucratic documents, delegated orders while on the field and even took some investigations and interrogations requests dumped on her. He took a massive weight out of her shoulders. She found she could breath again, all thanks to him.

She was truly fortunate to have someone like him by her side.

“Johannes certainly became docile”

“It’s kind ironic. He always made such a big fuss about not bending the knee to someone he considered bellow him and yet he became a tamed mutt to Miller of all people”

“How low he has fallen, he completely lost any sense of pride he had. Unfortunate, really”

She was naive.

She had dropped her guard, thinking it would be safe to take her mask off becase unlike with Andrews Johannes wasn’t related to the “incident”.

She hadn’t accounted for the fact that people would look down on him, subject him to slander just because oh him being associated with her.

She chanced a glance at him.

Johannes stood tall among the gossip, carrying himself with pride just as always, his confidence not shaken in the slighest.

She looked him in admiration.

“Johannes what do you think about the gossip going around?”

“What about it?”

“People calling you “my dog” or something” she elaborates. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Not really. In fact, I kind like it”

“What.”

He chuckles at her perplexed reaction.

“I want to make clear to everyone how highly I regard and respect you” he explains. “Nothing makes me prouder than being your most trusted person Miller”

He bows, leaning closer to her ear, voice low as if was sharing a secret only meant for her to hear.

“If anyone else thinks I will bow my head to them they will be in for a rude awakening” he laughs breathly. “My devotion is meant only for you. No one else has the right nor deserve to have this claim over me like you do”

She flusters at his pledge, his warm breath still tingling on her ear as he leans back to look straight into her eyes.

His gaze was intense. She could feel the strength of his conviction, she can tell that he’s being sincere.

She feels her heart beating faster.

Does that means he cares about her?

=_=_=_=_=_=

...It had been a while since she last sensed supernatural activity.

“A rescue mission huh? I have the layout of the place, I think-”

“Johannes” she cuts him off.

“Yes Miller?” He immediately replies.

“I have to go. Alone”

She wasn’t new to this, she had to deal with a fair share of them already.

But this one would be the first time she had one since Johannes joined.

“Why is that?” he asked her.

“…Remember when I once told you about a situation that would require me to use my 'Authority’? This would be it”

She felt her mouth go dry.

Usually she allowed him to execute his plan and then change it accordingly if necessary but that day she couldn’t afford to do that. She had to go in, alone, and couldn’t offer him a plausible explanation, she had to keep him in the dark.

She would have to order him to stay. For the sake of keeping him and everyone else safe.

But... She would rather not do that.

She knows she’s asking too much. 

There was no reassurance nor logical reasoning to her actions. From his point of view it probably looked like a suicidal and reckless move.

And she was asking him to put his principles aside, everything he believed in, for the sake of trusting in her.

“…Are those one of your 'hunches’?”

“No.” She denied, face turning serious. “ It’s a certainty”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

She could almost laugh and cry in relief right now.

“Thanks Johannes. Make sure no one enters the perimeter until I get back alright?”

Everything went well on the rescue mission. She got everyone out safely and severed the spiritual connection so everything could go back to normal.

She looked at Johannes at the corner of her eye.

She was that glad that nothing went wrong. That she didn’t betray the trust he had placed on her.

Everything was alright now.

“I’m truly grateful for what you did Johannes”

“I did nothing in special to deserve such compliment, I only did what you told me to do”

“Still, that made me really happy” her eyes lightned up, voice going soft. “…You became someone I grew to cherish so the fact that you did it out of trust really means a lot to me”

It was true.

She truly cherished him.

Directly or Indirectly by the plea of their hearts, people always expected her to “be something” or to “think of their needs”. She always had to think of other’s sake and never hers. She was asked to put herself aside, to never be a priority here.

Johannes had asked what she needed. He didn’t take from her but gifted her instead. His heart... It wasn’t made of only demands, he shared things with her. 

Not only requests like others, but contentment, accomplishment and pride- At himself and at her too.

Maybe it was why, despite her previous experiences, despite closing off to the world due to her traumas that she was so willing to open up and trust in him.

He was fair to her. Since the first time they met.

You accept his criticisms so he gives you advice. You share in your knowledge with him and he helps you back. You are honest with him and he will answer with sincerity.

Even if his actions were done for the sake of his job it still touched her in a way no else did before.

It might be foolish of her to think of it like this but...

“I think the same of you”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I never cared about seeking companionship or comradery with anyone until I met you” He speaks, unchacteristically soft. “The bond I have you, I cherish it, because you are “special” to me”

Thump Thump.

Ah... What should she do?

His words... It made her so happy. She didn’t know how to react. What to say.

‘You are special to me’

She didn’t know why, but the idea of being important to him made her chest warm with an unknown and indescriptible feeling. 

Something gentle, kind and soft.

Like the bloom of a flower.

[mxacegrey]

The Masked Part 1

Fandom: Fate the Winx Saga

Pairings: Sky x reader, Riven x reader, Saul Silva x reader (Platonic or otherwise undecided)

Warning: Descriptions of violence. swearing and hints of childhood abandonment.

A/N: This part is based on Season 1 but the rest will be pre- and in Season 2 (Rosalind’s era). So spoilers for them.

Taglist: @v1naco | @instantplaiddream | @faithm120601 | @holyhumorliteraturelight​​

Series Masterlist

You woke to the vibrations of their makeshift bed and the engine of the Solarian guard car in which they slept. You could hear the words of the driver and passenger of the car, a pair of fairies, one a fire fairy and the other an air fairy. The two fairies were ‘friends’ with your best friends, Sky and Riven respectively.

“You stole a car? How do you know how to steal a car?“ You heard Bloom, the fire fairy, ask Beatrix, the air fairy.

“I know how to do a lot of things.” You heard Beatrix retort as they drove off to an unknown destination. Now why you were in a Solarian guard’s car was simple... No, you didn’t sleep with a guard that arrive that morning. You didn’t sleep at all the night before and when one of the guards, an old friend called Cathán, asked you to grab something from the car, you may have fallen asleep. 

The drive went on in silence, you laid stiff with tension. The car twisted and turned, the sound of tires over gravel the only other sound. Soon the car stopped, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Bloom and Beatrix stepped out of the car, causing you to exhale heavily,

“Aster Dell was a town, right? Are you sure this is the right place?” You heard Bloom ask, Beatrix replying.

“I'm positive.” 

“How could a town be marked on a map if it's on the side of a mountain?” Bloom asked as she walked further from the car. Your hand went towards your phone and read the most recent texts from Sky and Riven.

BlueEyes: Where the hell are you?!

Raven: Fuck this! Sky is calling Silva! So get your ass back here!

Soon enough, Bloom and Beatrix got back into the car, Bloom’s face depressed. You heard them talk about Rosalind and Aster Dell... Two very familiar names.

“Dowling imprisoned her. I'm at Alfea to break her out.” Beatrix explained before exclaiming as something hit the car. “Shit!”

The tires screeched and Beatrix ran out, only to be stopped by Headmistress Dowling and Professor Harvey, who was holding her in place using Earth magic. 

“Take Bloom. We’ll handle this.” Headmistress Dowling stated, your body froze in the back of the SUV. The group began to move away from the SUV when Silva then stated.

“You know... Y/N was missing today. Sky and Riven told me they weren’t on campus. Then one of the queen’s guards, Cathán, said that Y/N was helping him with something in the SUV before he got knocked out.” Silva explained, walking towards the back of the SUV. He opened the door to your sheepish face, staring blankly at you. “Get out, Y/N.“

Meanwhile back on the Alfea campus, Sky and Riven were talking to each other. They stood in the training grounds, wooden sticks in hand as they fought.

“And you’re sure Y/N isn’t here?” Riven asked Sky, his stick spinning as he hit Sky.

“We looked everywhere.” Sky explained, before dodging a swipe and blocking another hit. “I told Silva and...”

Sky was cut off by a loud ping and Riven’s phone went off a second later.

Silva: We’ve got them.

As they read the message, another appeared from their friend.

Y/N ⚔❤: You fuckers snitched! Silva hasn’t stopped yelling at me since he found me!!

Due to your ‘actions’, Silva placed you on house arrest with a curfew. Bloom was spied upon and Beatrix led away by Headmistress Dowling. A few days passed and soon you were called to arms against the Burned Ones.

“Y/N. We need to go!” Riven called out before you grabbed your dual swords with a silver hilt and ran outside the school. Unsheathing your swords, you began cutting down Burned Ones, leaving a trail behind you. In the distance, you could make out a redhead walking towards the Burned Ones and transforming, fire swirling around her. You began walking back to the school, passing out from exhaustion.

The next day, you stood outside with Sky and Silva when Solarian troops exited their vehicles and armed themselves, glancing between the three of you. A car door opened to reveal the figure of Queen Luna of Solaria, who walked up to you and began speaking.

“Saul Silva. It's with a heavy heart I must place you under arrest.” 

“For what?” Silva asked confused, you echoing.

“The attempted murder... of Andreas of Eraklyon.” Queen Luna explained. 

“‘Attempted’?” Sky asked, bemused. Another door opened, causing your heads to spin around, and a man in a specialist uniform stepped out. Closing the door behind him, Andreas walked forwards, glancing at Sky. Silva and Sky’s eyes widened in shock while yours widened in horror, your jaw clenching.

“Hello, Sky.” Andreas smiled at Sky before turning to face you. “Hello, little warrior.“

“...Andreas.” Came your cool reply, your stomach churning as Andreas’ smile widened as he looked at you. Sky’s eyes looked at you, betrayal evident while Silva barely spared a glance at you. “I assume there will be some changes to Alfea now.”

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided)  ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too. 

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby. 

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air. 

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully. 

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr. 

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby? 

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too. 

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen. 

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration. 

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic 

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised. 

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively  good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls.  The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly,  “get my pretty name out of your mouth.” 

There’s a pause full of tense silence. 

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.” 

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis. 

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

  ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing. 

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan. 

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour 

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. 

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno. 

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi. 

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao 

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

 Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[avintagekiss24]

one cup sugar, one cup spice | a. barber

→ pairing: andy barber x black!reader

→ word count: 7074

→ warnings: age gap, corruption kink, innocent reader, daddy kink, pain kink, smut, sex, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, hand job (male receiving)

→ author note: happy holidays my dudes! what i would do to have andy barber standing in my kitchen... anyway, reader is i n n o c e n t, but totally of age, and in college. as always, line breaks by @firefly-graphics​, gif by @evansensations​

There’s a light dust of white covering the green lawns and black asphalt of the street. You shiver as you follow your parents out towards their car, pulling your beanie down over your ears before you shove your hands into your navy blue Dartmouth hoodie.

“Honey,” your mom coos, turning back towards you as your dad loads the car, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? Your aunt has plenty of room.”

“I’m positive,” you laugh, “Aunt Sohpie and I don’t get along that great anyway.”

“Well, you could try a little harder.”

Your mouth drops open, eyes wide as you stare at her, “She called me a stuck up, yuppie bitch when I told her I wasn’t going to stop using deodorant.”

Your dad chuckles, prompting a swift slap to the shoulder from your mother before she turns back towards you, “Sophie is a free spirit. She doesn’t believe in putting chemicals in or on her body. One week of trying to get along won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, it’ll hurt,” you answer, pulling her into a hug, “Smelling her B.O. for a week would actually kill me.”

Your mother tuts, pulling back and slumping her shoulders a little as she squeezes your sides gently, “I don’t want to leave you here alone for Christmas.”

“Oh, stop badgering the girl. She’ll be fine,” your dad cuts in, kissing your forehead when he approaches, “She had a tough semester, she’s allowed some alone time. Be good, baby. I left a credit card on my desk for any emergencies.”

You smile warmly, “Thanks daddy.”

There’s a sound of a door opening, then closing, heavy footsteps against the old wood of the porch next door, “Oh, Andy,” your mom calls towards the neighbor, “You got a minute?”

Your face scrunches as you glance over at your father, who sighs heavy, “Don’t get mad, baby.”

“Why would I get mad?”

“She kinda, you know,” he shrugs, knocking his head back and forth, “Asked the neighbor to look in on you while we’re gone,” when your face drops, he throws up his hands, “I didn’t do it, she did.”

“Mom!” You hiss, flipping your eyes to the tall, dark haired man cutting across his front lawn, “I don’t need a babysitter! I’m twenty years old!”

“Hush,” she whispers, plastering a smile on her face as she wraps her arm around your waist, “Sorry to bother you, Andy.”

“Oh, no, no, no. It’s okay, I was just checking the mail.”

You’re angry and embarrassed as the tall, older man approaches, but a sudden heat blooms across your chilled brown skin. Pushing your glasses up your nose, you take a heavy breath, expelling it hard as you eye him. You’ve only really seen him in passing, throwing your hand up in a friendly wave as you jogged into your childhood home during a long weekend away from school. You only vaguely remember him moving in about a year or two before. Hell, you don’t even think the two of you have uttered anything more than just a neighborly ‘hey’, and now, thanks to your mother, he’s going to be keeping an eye on you.

Just wonderful.

She smiles proudly, “You remember our daughter, right?”

“I do,” he smiles slowly, an intense pair of blue-green eyes bouncing between yours, “We’ve run into each other a few times over the years. How you doin’ kiddo?”

He reaches out, extending a large palm and long fingers. You take it gently, smiling soft as you drop your eyes from his, nerves suddenly pooling in your stomach, “Um, good. Thanks for asking. How um,” you swallow, glancing back up at him, finding his eyes still centered on you, “How are you?”

He shrugs, but keeps your much smaller hand in his, “Can’t complain.”

“Listen, honey,” your mom starts, “I asked Mr. Barber to pop over and check on you every now and again while we’re gone.”

“Mother,” fake laughter filling the air, your face hot from being annoyed to all hell, “I’m not a child, and I’m sure Mr. Barber has better things to do with his time than to check on me constantly.”

“It’s no problem,” he shrugs again, those eyes of his now roaming, down your body, then up again, slowly, “I have the next couple of weeks off myself.”

“Congrats on the promotion, by the way.” Your father smiles, finally drawing Andy’s attention away from you. He nudges your side with his elbow, “Andy’s the new District Attorney.”

You keep your eyes on the tall Andy, sliding them the length of his body. He’s sturdy. Broad shoulders not so hidden underneath his zip up hoodie, clinging to thick biceps. Dark jeans accentuate long legs and a little waist. A perfect, full beard lines his strong jaw and chin. Two enormous hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants, so large that they don’t even fit right… You inhale deep, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth, sinking your teeth into the flesh as a tiny moan slips through.

Blue eyes snap to you again as it sounds. God. Your lips part, eyes widen as they stare back at him in embarrassment. He just smiles again, slow and seemingly knowing; his eyes falling down your frame again.

“We better go if we’re gonna miss traffic, hun.” Your dad’s voice suddenly breaks into your conscience, snapping you out of the small trance that Andy Barber has leveled over you, “Andy, thanks for watching over our baby while we’re gone.”

Andy winks at you, “I won’t hover, I promise. If you need anything, at any time, I’m right next door, okay? Better yet, let me give you my number.”

You nod quick, clearing your throat as you fumble around with your phone, pulling it out of your hoodie and handing it over to him, “Sure, yeah. Th-thank you, Mr. Barber.”

“Andy,” he corrects, reaching out and cupping your elbow gently, “Please.”

Another warmth spreads through you, emanating from the contact, making you giggle and smile nervously like a stupid girl before you get a hold of yourself and blink away. You all exchange another round of pleasantries, Andy wishing your parents a safe trip before he locks eyes with you again— biting his lip as he blinks and hands your phone back before turning away and heading towards his mailbox.

Almost frozen in place, you blink as you watch him move across his grass, forcefully swallowing. You really need to get out more.

One last hug from your mom and dad and you wave as they pull out of the driveway, your mom waving excitedly at you through the windshield. Rolling your eyes, but smiling wide, you return a wave before heading back inside, locking the door behind you before making a brisk b-line to the front door.

Andy’s still outside, pushing the green trash cans up against his garage as you peek out at him from behind the thin, white, door curtains. He throws open one of the lids before dipping his head, eyeing the mail in his hand as he flips through it slowly, tossing the junk into the open can. A pink blush piques on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, lips red with the chill. He looks up suddenly— out of nowhere— and cocks his head, letting another smile curl onto his lips when the two of you make eye contact again.

You gasp and jump back, instantly turning on your heel to run up the stairs towards your bedroom, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The smell of fresh baked cookies fills the house as you pull a pan from the oven. You hum in satisfaction, a small smile on your face as you scoop the sugar cookies onto the cooling rack before pulling your mom’s Santa Claus mittens off your hands and tossing them to the counter. Last Christmas by Wham plays from the small bluetooth speaker in the corner of the kitchen, A Charlie Brown Christmas on mute playing from the ipad leaning against the utensil holder.

There’s a random crackling from the fire you started in the living room as you move around, a whir from the mixer as it beats the eggs, powdered sugar, vanilla extract, and corn syrup together. You dip your finger into the mixture, popping it into your mouth and groaning as the sweetness explodes on your tongue before you pull the beaters out, slipping your finger down the stainless steel to collect the icing still stuck to them.

A knock sounds from the front door, permeating through the rather quiet house. You lean to the side, blinking at the door as a shadow shifts through the windows on either side. Shoving the icing laden finger into your mouth, you jog towards the door, bare feet heavy against the wood floor.

“One second, one second,” you mumble, wiping your hands on your pale pink cotton shorts before you tug at your hoodie and unlock the door. A sharp inhale of cold air fills your chest when you pull open the door to find one Andy fucking Barber standing on the opposite side, “Oh,” is all you can manage.

“Hey,” he smiles, “It’s been a few days, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Being a biomedical engineering student, you can rattle off some of the most difficult, obscure words known to man with exactly zero problems. When it comes to social interaction with the hot, forty-something, lawyer next door? Your tongue is heavy, your brain… dumb.

His smile widens as you blink like a moron, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he waits for you to talk. Here’s the part where you speak, dumbass! “Um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I, uh, yeah, I’m okay. I’m good, sorry.”

“Smells good in here.”

Nodding, you bite your lip, your eyes everywhere but on his face— his stare just too much, “I’m making cookies.” you glance over your shoulder before you point, “Do you want to make some? I mean,” you slam your eyes closed, “Do you want to try some? Not, some, one, do you— do you want to try one? Or some… I guess… whatever.”

Idiot. You’re a bumbling, stumbling, idiot.

He chuckles, the rumble low and deep as he runs one of those big ass hands through his dark, soft looking hair, “That is the best offer I’ve had all day.”

He steps over the threshold, his fingers brushing over yours as he reaches to close the door. You snatch your hand from it quickly, wringing it within the other as you turn awkwardly and move towards the kitchen, swallowing hard, suddenly hyper aware of how bare your legs are.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Andy starts from behind you, “I’m surprised to find you here and not out with some friends.”

You move behind the marble topped island in the center of the kitchen as Andy walks around the opposite side. His eyes are on you again, staring as you fumble with the spatula, your fingers going as dumb as your brain, dropping it with a loud clang. You don’t even know why— okay, you know why, but this is something deeper, something you haven’t experienced before.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No, I uh, I just kinda like to stay around the house.”

He nods slowly, “A homebody, huh? Me too.”

He makes you dizzy; his masculinity is intimidating. It fills up every little space in the room. His intelligence— worldly, experienced—  oozes from him. He looks like you could ask him anything, anything, and he’d have the right answer for you. He could teach you a thing or two, that’s for sure.

A shudder creeps through your body, heat blooming across your skin, having to shift on your feet as your stomach flutters while you focus on icing this stupid cookie. The physical space he takes up unnerves you too. That wide, towering frame looming over you. Deft, thick fingers tapping gently against the countertop as you stumble around, your hands shaky.

There’s a stickiness. A warm, little wet spot in the center of your panties as stupid thoughts run through your stupid brain. You’re being ridiculous. Like this grown man would be interested in an inexperienced, socially awkward, in bed by eight thirty, little girl. Get a grip.

You slather some icing over the warm cookie and cautiously hand it towards him, clearing your throat and forcing a smile. Wringing your hands again, you find a little courage to lift your eyes just as he pops the small cookie into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chews slowly, a grunt sounding from deep in his throat.

Every muscle in your body clenches at the sound. It’s gorgeous— and if there’s anything your body appreciates, it’s a gorgeous man with a gorgeous grunt.

“It’s okay?” You squeak, timid and small before you nervously clear your throat.

“Shit, girl,” he moans again, licking his lips as he extends his hand again, “I could eat every single one of these.”

Nervous fingers clutch another cookie, adding a dollop of icing before you hand it over to him, eyes drifting up his chest and to his face as he devours the second treat. Your curious eyes watch with a longing. Pretty, thick, dark eyelashes closing again, splashing across smooth, slightly reddened cheeks. A pink tongue darts out of a wet mouth to slip along an inviting— too inviting— bottom lip, and you zero in on it. Chest rising and falling a little harder as you blink, in your own little world as you imagine just how much experience those lips, that tongue has.

There’s a hint of blue suddenly, his eyes no longer closed, now set squarely on you as those sickenly perfect white teeth emerge with another sly smile.

Another wave of embarrassment pushes through your veins, but you can’t look away from him this time. Locked in a heated stare, mind racing, palms sweaty as you watch Andy dip his index finger into the bowl of icing, scooping the sugary mix onto the pad of his digit.

“You like watching me, huh?”

Your mouth parts to answer, but nothing comes out, mouth and throat suddenly dry. He laughs at you, standing there, dumb and nervous, unable to form a coherent sentence as he pushes the tip of his finger into his mouth, sucking the icing from it slowly.

He’s moving, that much your brain can comprehend. Moving around the island, sliding the bowl of icing right to the edge where he dips his finger again, curling it to collect another glob.

Shallow, shaky breaths escape the small part in your lips, your chest and stomach so tight you’re surprised you can breathe at all. As it is, you have to rest your palm against the marble island, just to keep from falling over.

A long arm slips around your waist, nudging you forward— closer— so close that when one of those shallow, little breaths pushes out, your chest, well, your tits, brush against his. You picked a fine day to go without a bra. He drops his free hand to your waist, pushing it underneath your oversized hoodie to feel your skin as he wraps those long fingers around your hip, giving it a squeeze before he cups your chin.

“You have a boyfriend back at that fancy ass school?” He asks, eyes hooded as he tilts your head upward.

A hum vibrates through your chest before there’s a quick shake of your head as he pushes the icing over your bottom lip, smearing the sugary mix along it. He keeps your chin anchored in his hand as he stares down at you through slits, his own mouth dropping open as he coaxes yours.

“No, a smart girl like you doesn’t have time for boys, does she?” He purrs, “You probably haven’t even been touched by a boy.”

A squeak chokes in your throat as he teases you, pushing that finger back and forth, the tip pushing ever so gently into your mouth. He chuckles again, real low, menacing almost as he knows he has you right where he wants you.

“Ya know,” he starts, thumbs stroking your chin and jaw, “This Christmas cookie frosting would taste a hundred times better on you than my finger.” He smiles again, tilting his head, “Can I see?”

You mewl, pitiful and small as emotion pools in your eyes. You’re overwhelmed— nervous and unsure, wanting to be perfect. Womanly— but surely falling flat.

“Oh, baby,” he laughs, sweeping his thumbs underneath your eyes to catch the hot streaks, “Awww, it’s okay.”

Andy pushes in close, his lips brushing yours as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of yours, a low sound thrumming in his throat. He presses his cheek against your face, the soft hair of his beard pushing along your skin, goosebumps popping up all over. Your bodies start to sway in a slow rhythm, side to side, his warm breath washing over you as he smiles.

He pulls away, eyes traveling your face, “You haven’t even been kissed before?” When you don’t answer, he closes his eyes, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, “No? Oh, my sweet girl. That is just,” he groans, eyes twinkling with an emotion you don’t even understand, “You are so perfect— so good.”

His forehead comes to rest on yours, his hands still corralling your face, fingers sticky. His tongue darts out quick, licking at your lips, dragging up to the tip of your nose. You shudder, bleating as the rough velvet passes over your mouth.

Andy moans again, sucking the icing into his mouth and swallows slow, “Yum.”

You’re jittery— clammy, as labored breaths push out of your mouth, a murky fog clouding your brain. Shaky whirs tremble through your chest as you shift on your feet, your panties sticking to your now throbbing pussy. Andy closes the distance between your mouths again, his eyes hooded as he nips at you.

Your eyes flutter, closing instinctively— waiting for the claim. It doesn’t come, not right away, making your eyes pop open, a childish whine squeaking out. You even stomp your foot a little. Twenty years is a long enough wait.

“Kiss me,” you breathe, not wasting a second, “Please, Andy—”

The words are barely out of your mouth before he grabs your lips, inhaling deep. His tongue fucks into your mouth, slipping along the roof before massaging yours, sucking lightly. You go limp against him, trying to keep up with the fervent kiss, but soon just let him take full control.

Andy pushes his hips into yours, pressing his hard cock against you, forcing you to break the kiss, gasping deep. He rests his forehead on yours again, tittering as he bites his bottom lip, “Never felt that before, huh? Mmmm,” he groans again, “I bet you feel good. So tight and warm— umph, I’m probably not even going to be able to fit my cock all in.”

You shudder at the thought.

He brushes the tip of his nose against yours, “I gotta open you up a bit, don’t I? Hmm? This sweet little cunt needs to get used to being stuffed full.” He turns you in his hands, presses his burly chest into your back, his lips to your ear, “I want you to finish icing these cookies like a good girl, okay? You do as daddy says.”

You don’t move, you can’t really, as you try to comprehend what’s going on. It takes Andy pushing his crotch into your ass, grinding your hips against the island and literally grabbing your wrists, making your hands grab the butter knife and a cookie before your brain catches up. With shaky fingers, you push the knife through the icing and slather it on one of the small, round, golden brown cookies.

“Good girl,” he praises, pecking your cheek, nuzzling into the side of your face, “Daddy wants you to focus.”

He drags his warm palms up your forearms, stroking gently before they fall to your sides. They push up into your hoodie, fingertips glancing across sensitive, untouched skin. Small laughter vibrates through his chest as you jump and gasp, huffing and keening as he explores.

Little kisses are pressed to your temple and side of your face as his hands venture up your sides, curling around your rib cage until he’s grasping your bare tits in both hands, squeezing and kneading— hissing as he grinds his rigidly hard cock into your ass.

You freeze, body going stiff as nimble fingers play with your thick, piqued nipples. Warm lips nip at your neck as you push back into his hips, wiggling slowly, the thin cotton of your shorts not proving to be much of a barrier at all.

Andy reaches around, plucking the cookie out of your hand and pops it into his mouth just as his free hand skips down your stomach— right into your shorts. You jut your hips forward as his fingers plunge through your folds, massaging your clit slowly as he murmurs in your ear.

“That’s what I love about virgins. The slightest little touch gets you all worked up.” He pulls his hand from your shorts, holding it out for you to see your slick coating his fingers— a string connecting from his index finger to the middle. He brings his wet fingers to your lips, steel eyes peering at you as he waits, “Clean ‘em up.”

He slides his free hand back into your sweatshirt, pushing it up over your tits before he tweaks your left nipple, rolling it slow as he pushes the tips of his fingers into your mouth. Sweet, tiny little whines sound from you as you accept his long fingers into your mouth, starting to suck gently, the taste of your arousal exploding on your tongue.

“That’s right, just like that baby.” He reassures, slipping a hand back into your panties.

Your mouth goes slack around his fingers as he toys with you, rubbing your achy clit as your hips start to move with his rhythm. Resting your weight against his sturdy body, you moan loud, pushing out hard breaths, eyes slipping closed, head rolling on his shoulder as his wet fingers slip from your mouth back to your left nipple.

His fingers start to tease your slit, pushing gently, slowly, until… a sharp yelp fills the kitchen as two fingers stuff you full. Andy wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to him, cooing in your ear as he continues to push in, “You’re okay baby. I know, I know sweet girl, we’re almost there. Just a bit more.”

Tears sting your eyes as your face strains from the pressure and pain of being spread for the first time. Once his fingers have disappeared, the heel of his palm pressing against your folds and clit, he pulls your chin towards him and licks at your mouth, sucking air in between his teeth.

“I can’t wait to fuck this sweet pussy,” he kisses you quick and hard, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before he releases you with a loud smack, “I love a virgin cunt. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

You squeak when his fingers start to move, slow, deep, a squelch sounding as his fingers push into your muscles. It hurts, but there’s a twinge of good, something inside of you being pleasured once you push past the pain. The sweet taste of pleasure doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks as his fingers pick up a brisk pace.

Andy growls in your ear, the sound scratching at the back of his throat, kind of hollow and breathy as he grinds his cock into your ass, “You havent fucked yourself like this before? I didn’t think I’d hurt you this bad with just my fingers, baby.”

A hot, rough wetness slides along your cheek, his tongue, lapping at you. You grab onto his forearm, feeling his muscles tense and flex as he fingers your innocence, digging your nails into the thick Shetland wool sweater covering his torso. He pushes deep, suddenly, making you cry out again.

He grunts, snaking his hand up into your hoodie to take a firm hold of your tit. Resting his forehead to the back of your head, he quickens his fingers, his hot breath on the back of your neck, quick swipes of his tongue and lips against your hypersensitive skin— making the miniscule hairs on your body stand on end.

His palm presses against your clit with each shove of his fingers. Strapping, hard chest flattened to your back, loud, husky moans in your ear. His hips roll and push, writhe into yours as his fingers start to thrash. Teeth sink into your shoulder, his tongue sliding and sweeping.

“Andy—” you cry, whimpering like a child, “It hurts. I— I can’t,”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His fingers slow and then stop, pulling out of you to rub your clit, soothing the balmy flesh. He turns you around in his arms as you cry, lifting you right from your feet, “I’m sorry. Shh, shh, I’m sorry, baby.”

The instant warmth of his mammoth chest and arms soothe the tumultuous pangs of anxiety coursing through you. Nuzzling in, the softness of his beard helps ease your nerves as you wrap two jelly arms around his neck. Andy’s big hands push up and down your back as he murmurs sweet nothings. Stomach tight, heart fluttering, face hot and wet with tears— you’re properly overwhelmed and overstimulated, and Andy could just eat it all up.

“You are so pretty when you cry, you know that? You did so good, baby. You took my fingers so well.”

You huff, disappointed, pushing your face deeper into his neck, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” he whispers, “It’s okay to not be ready.” He sits you back on your feet, pulling and adjusting your sweatshirt back over your chest. He pecks your lips quick before cupping your face in his hands, “It’s gonna make our first time together so much better.”

He pushes in to kiss you again, but stops, just as his lips brush yours. You get up on your tiptoes, wanting to meet his mouth but he’s quick, pulling away and stealing another cookie as he takes a step back.

“Thanks for the cookies, sweetheart.”

And just like that, with a wink and a smile, he’s moving out of the kitchen, the front door slamming behind him.

It might as well be the middle of a Texas summer heatwave in your bedroom. Exasperated, you throw the covers away from your body, skin slick with sweat as you wipe at your forehead. You’ve been like this all day— hot and irritated, stomach and mind jumbled, unable to focus on much of anything but thoughts of depravity. Pissed off at yourself more than anything; that you couldn’t take it all.

You sit up in the dark room, a sliver of moonlight spilling in from behind the thin curtains over your window. Snow flakes float down from the sky, glimmering, basking in the soft, natural light of the moon. Thoughts of Andy return. Reddened, full lips on your face, his soft, velvety, pink tongue forging its own path in the uncharted territory that is your mouth. His hands, big and warm, pinching and grabbing, pushing in deep.

Every muscle in your body clenches; achy cunt squeezing around nothing.

A soft light illuminates from the nightstand, followed by a buzz, a random alert from your twitter. But then, oh but then— Andy’s words come floating back to you. Better yet, let me give you my number. The sleek iphone is in your hand within seconds, fingers sliding over the keyboard, shooting off a text.

You 1:15am

You up?

Andy B. 1:17am

What’s a smart girl like you doing up so late on Christmas Eve?

An influx of air fills your lungs as your heart leaps.

You 1:17am

I can’t sleep…

Andy B. 1:18am

Want me to help with that?

You won’t be getting much sleep tho…

You 1:18am

That’s what I’m hoping…

Andy B. 1:19am

LOL, okay smarty pants, come wait for Santa with me, front door’s open

You’re already halfway down the stairs by the time his invite slides across the screen. You shove your feet into your Ugg boots at the bottom of the staircase and grab your jacket from the coat rack, pushing into it as you throw open the front door. Crossing your arms over your chest, you jog down the steps of the porch and start for Andy’s, an instant chill rattling right down to your bones.

Footprints in the snow follow you as you cross the lawn, a light crunch sounding underneath your feet, adding to the whoosh of a breeze that rips through the sleepy street. Once you’re on Andy’s porch, you reach for the door, pushing through the threshold and closing it softly with a click.

The house is dark, and quiet, a tiny point of light coming from the kitchen and the random ticks of a clock somewhere deep. Your jacket hits the floor, ugg boots thump against the wall as you kick them off, hand slides along the banister as you climb the stairs slow. Wide eyes adjust to the dark as you pad slowly down the long hall, passing by one closed door, and then another until you reach one that’s slightly ajar. Light spills out of it, splashing over your bare toes as you step right up to it, fingertips pushing against the door.

You find Andy propped up against his headboard, chest bare, legs spread— hard, pink cock sticking out of his boxers, gripped tight in his hand. He flips his eyes to yours as he strokes himself slow, pushing his hips into it, groaning at the sight of you.

The air in your body— the room— is sucked right out as you lock eyes. With a blink, your greedy eyes are on the move, down his hair smattered chest and chiseled stomach, over the dark blue boxer briefs, down his meaty thighs and toned calves, right to his curled toes and back up again.

You have to bite your lip to keep quiet.

“I’ve been,” the words out of his mouth come to a halt being replaced by a low grunt as he squeezes his cock, precum dribbling out of his slit, “Shit sweetheart, I’ve been thinking about you all day. Haven’t been able to cum since you left me all worked up.”

You bleat softly, blinking wild and nervous as you watch his hand slide up and down, palm and fingers sweeping over his mushroom head to collect the droplets of his arousal to push it down his shaft.

“Well, come on. Come touch me.”

It’s a good thing your feet aren’t as stupid as your brain, or else you’d still be standing in place. Before you can get your mind to catch up, you're pulling yourself towards the edge of the bed, falling forward, catching yourself with your hands. Crawling between his legs, your tank top hangs low, Andy’s eyes peering down your cleavage before you sit on your knees— hands trembling.

He reaches for you, grabbing your wrist gently, pulling your hand towards his towering cock. Guiding you slow, he wraps your hand around him, his hips jerking soft at the warmth of your palm and pushes your hand down to his base, before dragging it up to the tip. He helps you for a few more strokes, twisting your hand around him, guiding your fingers up over his cock head and then back down, squeezing your hand to apply a gentle pressure.

“That’s right, baby—ah—” he hisses, jutting his hips up into your hand, “Shit.”

You continue to pump him after his hand falls away, relishing in the small noises that sound from him— sending your heart soaring. His hips pulse into your hand, eyes fluttering as more cum bubbles out, slipping and sliding over your fingers. Andy reaches for the lamp on the nightstand, turning it out, covering the room in darkness except for the moon.

He’s beautiful like this. Chest tight and shuddering with each breath, dark eyelashes splayed over fair skin, a chorus of sweet, small little whines and praise pouring from him. A soft pink blush unfurling over his broad chest, creeping up his neck.

“Fuck baby,” breathless and strained, “You’re a fuckin’ pro already. My smart little girl.” You suck your bottom lip into your mouth but still can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners, “Oh, you like that?” Andy smiles lazily, “You like being my smart little girl?”

Hot lips are on yours before you can even form your mouth to answer. Flipped onto your back, strong hips digging into yours, his cock pushing against your covered clit and slit as he kisses you hard. It takes your breath away.

You’d always thought you’d be awkward, stiff and unknowing, once you finally reached this moment— nothing but teeth and elbows and knees in all the wrong places— but, there’s a natural instinct coming into play. You’re lost, but somehow intricately aware. Fingers creep up his biceps and curl around his shoulder blades, digging in as your hips push back into his. Mouth leans into the feverish kisses, tongue sliding with his.

Colossal hands push into your shorts, pushing them down before his feet knock them off the rest of the way. Your top is rucked up, up over your breasts, exposing more brown skin, two soft, jiggling mounds, two piqued nipples soon sucked into a warm, wet mouth. A long middle finger toys with your clit, rubbing circles before more fingers join, slipping through slick and skin as they play.

“Tell me,” hot, whispered words sting in your ear, “Tell me you like being my smart girl.”

Hips dig into yours once more, hard cock pushing against your sensitive nub, then pressing at your opening. You grab the back of his neck, moaning hard and loud as electricity bounces through your veins, “Andy—” you squeak, “I like—”

A sharp cry breaks through the words as Andy pushes hard, spearing you for the very first time. Pressure and pain courses through you, body going tight and stiff as he sinks deeper and deeper, large palms on your cheeks, forehead to yours, warm breaths and ragged, choked grunts washing over your face.

Hard kisses— one, two, three— on your lips as he holds your face, his eyes closed, mouth hanging as he sinks, sinks, sinks until you’ve taken him all. Your head is empty. Devoid of any real, coherent thoughts, unable to focus on any one thing; well, nothing other than the fullness.

“Tell me you like being my smart girl.” Andy rasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to keep himself together. He shifts, hips pulling away from yours, cock dragging out, “Come on baby, tell me you like it.”

Andy pushes his hips, pushes back into you, but real gentle and smooth, knowing you’re teetering— overwhelmed in more ways than one, a feeling that can turn south on a dime. So, he keeps his hands on your face, thumbs rubbing soft circles. He opens his eyes, giving you something to focus on as he moves gently— so, so gently. Keeping you present.

“Use those words, sweet girl. Talk to me.”

Water fills your eyes as you grip, nails biting into the meat of his sides as he fucks you slow and sweet. Heat burns through you, tiny sounds, choked sobs scratch at the back of your throat, but it’s good— feels so good. Your legs push up and around his waist, hands start to snake up his sinewy back, feeling the muscles flex and tighten as he makes you a woman— makes you his.

Safe. Warm. Cocooned between his heavy body and the light mattress. Hips rolling, pushing and pulling. Hot breath over hot skin. Quick, jumbled words, thick and ripe with a heady lust. You like being his smart girl. Gripping fingers, around your face, your wrists, your tits, hips, thighs, ankles— everywhere you could possibly imagine.

Andy flips you over suddenly, his back now pressed into the mattress as you lay on top of him. He positions you right where he wants you— sitting you up straight, positioning your hands against his brawny chest. He encases your waist with those massive hands, squeezing tight before the pads of his fingers drag along your thighs as you wiggle, getting used to the new position.

“Push up— that’s right, sweetheart,” he sighs softly as you follow his direction, “Now sit back down— slowly, baby, go slow.” His head falls back on the pillows as he exhales, a groan trembling through his chest, “God, yeah babe. Good girl. Up and down, up and down.”

Your fingers push through the tuft of soft, dark hair covering his chest as you ride him, lifting and sitting, rolling and bucking as you get a hang of it— catch a feel— your clit rubbing against his taut skin. You feel Andy trying to keep his composure, feel him trying to restrain himself, his hips. Watch his eyes flutter and close as his mouth goes slack again as he pushes up into you, meeting your increasingly greedy thrusts downward.

“I’m your smart girl,” you whisper, heart beating hard and fast in your chest as your confidence grows, “I’ve always wanted to be your smart girl.”

He jams up into you, much harder than anything you’ve felt so far.

A sharp yelp cracks into the silence and he grabs your wrists, runs his hands up your arms, before he cups your face, “Shhh, shhh, shhh, I’m sorry baby. I didn’t know it was gonna sound so sweet,” he laughs, “God, I fucking love hearing you say that.”

He drops a hand back to your chest, grabbing a handful of your tit, toying with your nipple, pinching and pulling. His other hand wraps around your hip again, helping to pull you forward, as he thrusts soft. You don’t move; you just let him fuck up into you, grab his hands and thread your fingers with his as you bounce.

Thrusts get faster; hips hurried, jabbing. Wet rasps fill the room, octaves soaring. You fall forward a little, unclasping his hands to catch yourself against his chest. Andy’s hands are back around your waist and hips as you fuck down onto him, chasing that little, dull ache in the pit of your stomach that grows with each push of his hips.

Andy has two full handfuls of your ass, growling loud, hips faltering— losing control as he forces you down on him. You take each hard thrust, tears spilling down your cheeks, pleasure and pain all wrapped up into one. Sweat and heat crawls along your skin, stomach goes tight, throat dries. You dig your fingers into his chest as your toes curl, whimpering and crying out, choking as the pressure builds.

You tighten— freeze quick, gasp hard as a white hot orgasm floods your veins, like a molten lava, oozing, spreading. Flattening yourself to Andy’s chest, you let him wrap his arms around your back and hold you tight as he fucks you through it. The meat of his thighs slapping against yours, your cunt sounding wet and filthy, squelching and convulsing as you come.

There’s another heat, quick and dense, filling you as Andy’s grunts grow deeper. His grip on your ass tightens as he spurts— your used cunt coaxing long, hot ribbons of white silk from his sensitive, red cock head. He falls out of you, dick wet and hard, pushing through your ass cheeks as his hips still churn out of habit and inherent instinct.

Hands are on your head, fingers wiping at your face and forehead, pushing hair away. You’re embarrassed— not sure why— and nuzzle into his neck, hiding your face as you tuck your hands into your chest protectively. Another laugh sounds from him, vibrates through you, as he kisses your forehead and rubs his bearded cheek against your face.

“You’re a sweet girl,” honeyed, his voice, smooth and sweet, slow drags of his hands up and down your back lulling you, calming you, suddenly nervous, “My sweet, smart little baby. You okay?” you nod, but it isn’t good enough, “Tell me.”

“I’m okay.” You sniffle, eyelashes clumped, cheeks wet, lips swollen and red.

You nuzzle into him more, taking a deep breath as you listen to his heartbeat. Another silence fills the room, Andy’s breaths soon turn deep, slow and rhythmic, his hands and fingers coming to a slow stop but still splayed out over your back. A quick press of your lips against his neck makes him shift, but doesn’t wake him. You press another on his chin before you settle down into him once more, watching as snow starts to fall again.

There’s a Christmas present sitting at the edge of the bed when you wake the next morning, your name scrawled out on the name tag. You tear into it, pulling out a small white box, the name LELO embossed over the top. Eyebrows firmly furrowed, you turn it over in your hand, mouth falling open as you read the description and eye the two twenty karat gold Ben Wa beads.

Andy appears in the doorway, a steaming cup in his hand, a smile on his face, “Merry Christmas. Santa came for you, huh?”

“Merry Christmas,” you glance away, “I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s okay,” he shrugs, “I was a bit presumptuous after our little rendezvous in the kitchen— ordered those from Amazon yesterday.” He pads towards you, leaning down to kiss you quick before he hands you the hot mug, “Are you okay?”

A nervous giggle escapes through your lips, your head falling as you cover your mouth with your hand, “Mmhmm.”

Andy tips your head back upwards, pushing his index finger underneath your chin, smiling again before he kisses you all sweet and soft and slow, making you go all stupid and gooey again.

“What are these for?” You ask after he pulls away a few moments later.

His eyes twinkle in the sunlight as he winks, “Training. Now, lay back and spread your legs for daddy, little one.”

[ashxllbey]

Starman - Poe Dameron x fem!reader - Chapter 3: A Change is Gonna Come

GIF by jangofctts

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Finally. Word count: ±11k Warnings: mild language, canon-typical violence.

She had always loved droids. They weren't mean by nature, unlike people. They were smart little guys, very helpful, and incredibly thoughtful if you managed to tickle their fancy. Of course, in the First Order, they were treated as objects and programmed to be either useless tools or mortal weapons. This one, however, almost sounded like a little human. A smile bloomed on the pilot's face. She stood up and looked down at the little droid, whose head was weirdly angled, resting on the side of its body so it could look back at her.

"I'll let you go on your way now, sweetheart. I have to go to the tech department, and I've gotten quite lost. It's my first day, I wouldn't want to be late," she added. Enthusiastic beeps answered her and she raised her eyebrows.

"You want to take me there?"

Beep beep. Yes. I know where it is. I can show you.

She smiled at the little ball and nodded.

"I'll be honored to be walked there by you. Lead the way!"

And off they went, droid and human, conversing on their walk here. BeeBee asked her when she had arrived, and she told the droid a bit about herself. It —no, actually, she couldn't bring herself to call him "it" anymore; he was her friend, now— beeped a welcome, and Y/N chuckled. Soon enough, they ended up in front of the room from which shouts could be heard - as Klana had said.

"This is me, BeeBee. Thank you for helping me out. I will see you around. You know who to call if you need someone to rescue you from evil crates again!"

Beep beep. Thank you.

With one last cheerful beep, the droid zoomed away, rolling around the corner and disappearing in the hallway. Y/N watched him go with a smile. This day had started awfully, but it really had taken a turn for the better.

Once the little orange ball had left her alone, Y/N had no choice but to turn toward the door behind which the shouting match was held. The woman winced. Loud noises weren't exactly a liking of hers. But when in Kuat…

With a sigh, already regretting the company of Beebee, Y/N marched into the room. It was a mess - and that was putting it lightly. Various crates were laying around, torn open with their content spilled on the metallic tables next to them. On her right, people were shouting at one another in front of a bunch of computers, seemingly in a very heated argument. On her left, some sort of machine was being used to… print? Metallic parts. The woman had nowhere near the required knowledge in weaponry and physics to gather what they were doing. And although she was very curious, she was also on a mission. She made her way through the room, approaching what looked like the place's leader, a Togruta with a frown on his face.

"Hello? I've come to retrieve-"

He turned on his heels and smiled broadly at her.

"Ah! Yes! The newcomer! Come, child. I have what you are looking for."

Mouth still agape from being interrupted mid-sentence, Y/N raised an eyebrow and watched as the orange-skinned creature retrieved a package from a crate. How he remembered where everything was going was beyond her.

"A standard datapad, a commlink, and this… was requested by Commander Lightring."

He shoved the thing in Y/N's hands; the woman glanced at him with a hint of confusion. Carefully, she unpacked the bundle that had been tightly wrapped up in a rough piece of cloth, only to find-

"My blaster?!"

It wasn't anything special, but it was hers. Ages ago, she had carved her initials on the butt of the weapon. The Togruta nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes! Skylen gave it to us when he came by earlier. We improved it to our standards! No offense, but it was a sad thing to look at before I took it upon myself to make it better. It's now more precise, more powerful. I've actually increased the shooting distance from eighteen percent and-"

… And he went on.

Y/N wasn't a science buff, but she respectfully nodded along to everything the togruta said. After all, he had improved her blaster and she was getting it back. This made her feel happy. She didn't have much, but her trusted gun was one of her only possessions.

A few minutes later, the creature's attention turned to one of his colleagues and before Y/N could fully register what was happening, he was waving her away. With wide eyes and a muffled "thanks", the woman was ushered outside as the shouting match pick up in intensity. The doors closed in her face.

She stood there, flabbergasted, for a solid five seconds.

Well.

No use in sticking around.

She walked down the hallway before stopping and leaning against a wall. She didn't feel like going to bed, not yet. She still needed to unpack the events of the day. Might as well put her restlessness to a good cause… The woman quickly unlocked her datapad and checked what was on it. A map of the base —that would definitely be helpful— the schedules, the results of the latest test runs… And her inbox.

The newly-appointed pilot had a message, and she tapped on the screen with great curiosity.

… X-Wing made available in garage four.

She didn't read anything else. Her heart started pounding like crazy and a grin painted her face as she sprinted toward her room. Fortunately for her and her not-so-desirable sense of orientation, she wasn't far from her quarters. The woman quickly threw her stuff on her bed, strapped her commlink around her wrist, and sprinted again, careful not to bump into anyone. Y/N was grinning like a kid at Christmas. Because what the message was saying was much more than just "you have a ship."

She had her OWN ship. She had her own ship!

It wasn't much, for sure. It was just a regular X-Wing, undoubtedly one of the older ones. But she didn't care. She didn't care if it wasn't new or perfectly painted. It was hers.

And that was enough to make her smile.

She reached the garage, slightly out of breath. Hands on her hips as she caught her breath, Y/N looked around, eyes taking in the room. On her right, a group of teenagers formed a tight crowd around Skylen, standing on a crate. That seemed to be a common sight around the base. Giddy with anticipation, Y/N checked her communicator, silently re-reading the message. The ship was apparently decked in zone three, spot five.

A quick glance around allowed her to find the said spot, and she made her way toward Skylen and his group. Hopefully, the bearded pilot wouldn't-

"DUCKLING!"

Yep. Never mind.

With a shy smile, the woman got closer to the group. Everyone was staring at her now that their leader had so subtly caught their attention. Unfortunately, she couldn't walk past them and just go, since her ship was right next to the one Skylen was currently standing in front of.

It looked like her luck had run out for the day.

"Skylen. Hi. Sorry, I don't want to interrupt. I'm here to check on my X-Wing."

Maker, saying it out loud made her feel even giddier. The pilot laughed out loud.

"Ha! They already got you one, huh? Kids, meet Y/N Thunderbird, General Dameron's newest squad member. One day, if you actually listen to what I'm saying, you might get to join Blue Squad like her, too."

The kids whispered, sending curious and wary looks in the woman's direction. Yikes. Looks like the rumors had spread to the younger members of the base, too.

Y/N awkwardly turned around and walked to her ship. The sound of the group's voices drowned out as she stared in awe at the spaceship in front of her.

It was blue and white, but the paint job had seen better days. The fuselage was dented in several places, undoubtedly from blaster shots. It wasn't perfect, as she had expected. It wasn't new either. Some would argue it was a hunk of junk.

But it was her hunk of junk.

She smiled softly. This ship would be her best ally for the upcoming years. Where she would go, it would go, too.

"You're Thunderbird?" A voice asked, and she turned around. A mechanic was standing next to the nose of the X-Wing, rolling a cart full of tools.

"Yeah," Y/N said simply. The guy smiled.

"Knew it! You have that look on your face. The one new pilots get when they get their ship. I was just going to start freshening her up. Unless you wanna have a go at it first?"

The woman furrowed her brows in confusion, and the guy chuckled.

"Ah, they didn't tell you. Many pilots here fix their own ships, at least for the easy things. They leave the hard work to us, but they just love to tinker with their babies. Makes our job a lot easier, I'll tell you that."

What? She was allowed to…? Her silence and confusion must have been visible because the guy snorted and pushed the cart toward her.

"I'll take that as a yes. Have fun."

Before she could think hard enough to find something to say, he was already gone, whistling to himself.

She wasn't a complete newbie when it came to fixing spaceships. Y/N had run into her fair share of trouble and had to make do with what she had - namely, not much, and definitely no mechanic to help her. But during her service in the First Order, she had an assigned worker. As an officer, her ship was treated way better than the others. Which meant she had never really taken the time to get her hands dirty in the belly of a TIE fighter… And had never approached an X-Wing.

She welcomed the challenge, though. How different could it be? They served the same functions.

…Or not, as she quickly realized, five minutes later, when she gave up on trying to open the side panel. A loud grunt escaped her mouth and the defeated pilot leaned her head against the metal. What was she thinking-

"Whatcha doing? Imitating a Wookiee?"

She rolled her eyes when Skylen's teasing voice caught her attention. With an exasperated sigh, she turned to her new friend who, as expected, was leaning against the side of her ship, arms crossed and a grin plastered on his face.

"Make fun of me, go ahead. I've never worked on an X-Wing before, and I'm lost. I'll just give up and leave it to the pros."

His grin turned into a soft smile as he walked closer to her, patting affectionally the metal hull.

"You're in luck, Duckling. I used to be a mechanic before I joined the Resistance. C'mere, I'll teach ya the basics. I assume you know a thing or two, right?"

She nodded and followed him like a lost puppy to the other side of the ship. Skylen grabbed a wrench and used it to point at various parts of the X-Wing.

"That's the deflector shield projector. Next to it, is the hyperdrive motivator. The weird pointy thing is the suppressor…"

He went on, listing the different parts of the ship and pausing in between to make sure Y/N was following. The woman was listening intently, eyes wide open. Skylen was a great teacher and it was obvious he was both very knowledgeable and passionate about mechanical technicalities.

"…And that's the BAK X12 laser canon. You got all that, Duckling?"

She nodded, and he answered with an impressed hum.

"Not bad! My students would've been whining by now. You learn fast. Now, for the wiring: it's essentially the same thing as a TIE. Just keep in mind that we use flat screwdrivers to open the panels. You'll be just fine as long as you remember that."

They fell silent. Around them, the garage had quieted down. The chatty teenagers had left, undoubtedly to get some rest. Y/N realized they were alone, save from a few mechanics on the other side of the huge room. She turned to Skylen with a frown.

"Weren't you supposed to leave with them?"

The bearded man snorted.

"Ouch. That's the second time today you've said something like that, I'm gonna end up believing you don't actually like my company. No, I saw you struggling and I couldn't leave you to fend for yourself, could I? Not when the General is so damn strict about X-Wings care. We've got a reputation to maintain as the squad with the best-kept ships, and you better not forget it," he added with a wink.

Oh, right. No pressure. Y/N winced. It seemed like everything was stacked against her when it came to making it into the General's good books. She hadn't even met the man yet, and she was already off to a bad start. Great.

If Skylen noticed her defeated look, he didn't say anything. Instead, he walked up to the cart left by the mechanic, picked up some tools, and handed them to Y/N.

"Come on. Try your hand at it. I'll guide you through it. Let's get started on the thrust engine right here. It could use some work."

He grabbed an empty rolling cart and gestured for Y/N to lie on it. The pilot easily slid underneath the engine, eyes facing the rounded piece of metal. While religiously following her mentor's instructions, she started talking.

"So, you were a mechanic before, huh?"

She heard him chuckle from above her. He took his time to answer, leaving her plenty on her side to try and open the panel. With some effort, she managed to unhinge the thing and grinned proudly.

"Nice, Duckling. And yeah. I was a mechanic on Dantooine, born and raised there. It was a quiet life. Not many peeps to talk to. Nice place, but really dead. I couldn't wait to get the Hell out of there."

The never-ending call for adventure… This seemed to be a common trait among pilots. Considering the amount of traveling they did, it wasn't a bad one to have.

She picked up another tool next, ready to tinker with the engine's parts. It was relatively in good shape, save from some scraps lodged inside.

"There's an old rebel base on there. My grandpa served during the war. He retired when they blew up the Death Star and my parents grew up as farmers. But it wasn't a life I wanted for myself. When I got the chance, I enrolled as a mechanic in the Republic Navy. Must have been good, because I caught Leia's eye and she asked me to join her when the war broke. I didn't even need to think about it. Jumped on a ship and I've been following the Resistance ever since. They're family to me."

Y/N glanced at him from under her engine. There was a proud smile on his face, and she found herself smiling back. It had worked out quite well for him, and she was genuinely glad it did. From what she had seen that day, Skylen was truly a good man. The kind you would expect to serve in the Resistance. A devoted soldier through and through.

To her surprise, he laughed loudly and shook his head.

"Ah, I'm boring ya with my story. It ain't all sunshine and rainbows, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. But if I had the chance, I'd do it all over again. They're nice folks, Y/N. Really nice. Except for Tarsen, but he's always been an ass."

Oh, that, she knew already.

Sensing he was done with the story, for now, she nodded toward the open engine.

"What's the best tool to clean up this baby?"

He crouched down to her level and winced.

"Ah. They didn't go lightly on her, the poor thing. Try that. You'll have to be patient, though; it's gonna take a while."

He handed her another tool and she got back to work. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them. Skylen sat next to her and occasionally piped up to give her pointers or tease her (more often than he actually helped her). He had a great sense of humor and was very patient. Y/N could already tell (or at least, hoped) they would be friends. Klana and he were the nicest people she had met, and that wasn't something she was used to. She could still remember the first troopers who had "welcomed" her on the star destroyer, years ago… It was very different, then.

Working on her ship was a very effective way to relax and temporarily forget that the following morning, she would be meeting with the best pilot of the Resistance —as they called him— who happened to be the General and her new squad leader. What if she messed up somehow? What if he changed his mind? Surely, he wouldn't, but Skylen had said earlier that they needed to confirm her joining the squad with him. There was still a small chance…

No, she couldn't think like this.

She shook her head and went back to work. The woman was almost done with cleaning the engine she had been working on. It was some tedious work, but it kept her busy and sharpened her skills. Two birds, one stone.

After five good minutes of comfortable silence, Skylen patted her shoulder slightly.

"Alright, you don't need me anymore, Duckling. I'll leave ya to it; you've got it. I won't be too far, but I'll see you tomorrow morning anyway, we've got an introduction thing planned with my squad and the General's. Try to get some sleep before; I'm sure undereye bags aren't a good look on you."

Y/N snorted but didn't say anything back. He was right; her complexion didn't look too good with dark circles on. Also, she wanted to be well-rested for her debut. She needed to bring her A-game, prove to that ass Tarsen that her test run wasn't pure luck. With a warm smile and a wink, Skylen stood up and the sound of his footsteps faded away. The woman took a deep breath in. He was right, she had got it! She was more than capable of doing this task herself. And, yes, she could have left it for the mechanics; but pride and an overwhelming need of using her hands to do some tinkering had rooted her to the spot, lying with her back on the uncomfortable cart.

She focused on the task at hand. The inside of the engine was almost squeaky clean, free of any debris. Grease was tainting her jumpsuit and Y/N stopped, screwdriver in the air. Kriff. She hoped they had gotten her a new pair or the meeting the following morning would be very awkward.

Oh, well. If the General didn't know what grease-stained clothes looked like, he wasn't that great of a pilot. Shaking her head, she got back to work, taking full advantage of the silence of the garage. Occasionally, a loud clatter would be heard from across the room, followed by a string of curses as a mechanic dropped something, but the pilot didn't pay attention to it. Truth be told, she wasn't paying attention to anything but her engine.

Which was why she noticed the footsteps coming her way so late.

In fact, it wasn't before they almost stopped next to her that she noticed someone was approaching. She didn't stop on their account.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said with a huff. "Make fun of me all you want, Skylen, but this engine has never been cleaner in its entire life."

Skylen didn't say anything back. Wow, had someone cut his tongue or something? Was he just admiring her handiwork? She didn't know which option she liked best. With a shrug, she finally tossed the last piece of shrapnel away from the cogs it was stuck between and let out a quiet "yes".

"Okay, well, if you're going to stand here, help a girl out. Hand me the wrench."

She extended her hand out and waited until she felt the weight of the metallic tool against her palm.

"Much appreciated."

With a triumphant noise, she screwed the panel shut and let out a grunt.

"Kriffing finally! I swear, I remember TIEs to be easier to fix than X-Wings."

She didn't get an answer this time either. This got her to frown and she dropped her hand down. Her muscles were killing her at this point.

"Okay, you're scaring me. I haven't known you too long, but you haven't shut up since I met you this morning. If you're staring at my ass, I swear I'll-"

She pushed the cart from under the engine, finally getting to see the man-

Except it wasn't who she was expecting to see.

  "You're not Skylen," she mumbled, freezing on the spot.

And what a first impression it was. Her laying on her back, her white tank top covered in grease and hair sticking out of her ponytail. The man standing next to her X-Wing was upside down (or rather, she was, technically), but she could still see very clearly that he wasn't her new friend. Unless Skylen had gotten a tan, brown eyes, and shaved his beard.

Which she was pretty sure he would rather die than do.

"No, unfortunately for me. This guy has one killer beard."

His voice was smooth and he was smiling down at her, leaning against the side of her ship with his arms crossed. Y/N hurriedly jumped to her feet after pushing her body as far away from under the engine as she could - the last thing she wanted was to hit her head while standing up.

She bent her legs and pushed herself off the cart, finally facing the man properly. She wiped her hands on her jumpsuit (the thing was ruined anyway) and tightened her ponytail in a vain attempt to look presentable.

He was around her age with a jumpsuit matching hers. His hair was a tousled mess, with deep brown locks sticking out from several places. A pilot, like her. He had hazel eyes to match his hair and his skin was nicely tanned, darkened on his defined cheeks and jawline by a five o'clock shadow.

Undoubtedly handsome and friendly-looking, too.

He was wearing a bright smile, obviously amused by the confusion. Y/N grimaced.

"Sorry, I mistook you for someone else."

He chuckled.

"Yeah, I noticed. And, for the record, I wasn't staring at your ass."

Maker, help me.

Y/N turned a deep shade of crimson and rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand in embarrassment.

"…You heard that. Great."

He snorted and shrugged in excuse. Quick, she had to change the subject.

"Sorry, huh… Do you need the tools to fix your own ship? I'm not really sure how things work around here."

He shook his head no, amusement still visible in his eyes.

"No, actually, I was just hearing some noise coming from this side of the garage and I wanted to see who was here so late. Figured you weren't a mechanic when I saw the orange jumpsuit."

Oh, well, he'd be right. His gaze was oddly inquisitive and it made Y/N squirm on the spot. Her fellow pilot gave her a bit of a break when he started looking at her ship, walking around the X-Wing with critical eyes.

"Hm. Not bad. She's in good shape, for the most part. Nothing a good paint job and some minor repairs won't fix."

Y/N watched him with curious eyes. He was obviously a seasoned pilot, but she had no idea who he was. She was fairly sure she hadn't seen him before, and he either didn't know who she was or belonged to the minority who did not care.

After a few moments of close inspection, he turned back to her and raised an eyebrow.

"So? Humor me. What are you doing here at ten o'clock, alone with the mechanics when you could be sleeping?"

Y/N glanced up at the ship with a soft smile.

"I got her earlier tonight. Figure I'd try my hand at fixing things myself. I'm not used to X-Wings yet, and I've been told we need to take extra care of ours."

Again, he nonchalantly leaned against the side of the ship.

"We do, but not to the point where we're supposed to stay up all night working on them."

Yikes. He had a point. It wasn't that late, though. And what was HE doing here in the first place anyway? She hadn't heard any ship land for the whole time she was under that damn engine. He must have been coming from inside the base.

She wasn't going to ask, though.

"I know. But Skylen told me my new squad has a reputation around the base. Apparently, we've got the best-kept ships and the General is very strict about it."

He snorted.

And shook his head.

Y/N frowned. What was so funny?

Her face must have been confused enough for him to quickly say:

"That sounds like Skylen. Also, I was right. You're the newbie who made it into Blue Squadron."

The woman couldn't help it; she grimaced. He shook his head.

"Hey, I'm not here to grill you. I was just curious. You've already quite a lot of people talking about you."

He grimaced again. She was aware, and that didn't make it better. Her colleague shot her a lopsided smile.

"Relax. I don't listen to the rumors anyway. What else did Skylen tell you, huh?"

She shrugged. Was she supposed to tell him? What harm could it do? He probably knew the bearded pilot better than she did, and maybe he could give her pointers, too! Every piece of information could be useful.

"Well. He told me the General is supposedly the best pilot of the Galaxy. He was raving about his piloting skills. Apparently, he can fly anything."

He crossed his arms and smiled.

"You don't believe that?"

It was Y/N's turn to laugh, and she leaned back herself, facing the pilot. He was very curious, she noted. Not a bad trait, at least, she didn't mind.

"I don't know. I guess we will see that tomorrow. But the people I've met who gloat about being the best pilot usually aren't."

He gave her a genuine chuckle, biting at his lip in amusement.

"You sure got one Hell of a strong opinion on the guy, huh."

She groaned. Was he teasing her on purpose because she was new? Was she that easy to tease anyway? Apparently.

"I did NOT say I don't believe it," she added quickly to clarify things. "I'm just saying, I'll wait to see it for myself before I get behind the whole "best pilot" ordeal. Also, according to Skylen, there's a fifty-fifty chance he might hate my guts, so I won't get my hopes up. I just wanna do my job and stay low on everyone's radar."

With a smirk, the pilot looked up, eyes studying the ship once again.

"He won't."

Damn, the guy was awfully cocky. Did it come with the jumpsuit? Y/N looked him up and down with a cocked eyebrow.

"You look really sure of that. Do you even know him?"

His brown eyes met hers and he reciprocated the look she had given him a second earlier.

"Pretty well, actually."

Oh, kriff. That was just her luck. The guy was BFF with the General she had been so vocally doubting.

"So, you can tell me if the rumors are true, then."

Y/N should have expected the answer. Considering how badly he had been teasing her up to that point, she really should have.

But she had the slightest spark of hope that he would actually give her a genuine answer.

"I guess you'll see that tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes so far in her head that she saw more stars than she did at light speed.

"Dang, do you people give such a hard time to all the newcomers?"

He gave her a mysterious smile and a dismissive shrug.

"Nope, only the ones who are fun to mess with."

Ass.

Although, she couldn't really complain. He wasn't being mean. He was one of the only people who had taken the time of their day to have a conversation with her that wasn't held at gunpoint. It was definitely an improvement, and he was nice.

She didn't have the opportunity to think about it much more, because loud beeps echoed across the garage. Both pilots turned their heads toward their source.

A small, orange ball, rolling toward them at full speed.

"Beebee?" Y/N asked in disbelief, eyebrows knit together as she watched the droid get closer.

The little guy rolled up to the two humans, looking from one to the other in visible confusion. The brown-haired man turned to Y/N in visible surprise.

"You know my droid?"

Wait, what? It was the woman's turn to frown in confusion.

"Wait, he is your droid?"

"How do you know my droid?" he said, ignoring her question.

The little ball beeped affirmatively. Momentarily forgetting herself, Y/N dropped to her knees and waved at BB-8.

"Hello again, sweetheart. I'm glad to see you."

She missed the new surprised look on the pilot's face. The orange droid turned to his master and beeped him through the event that had taken place earlier. His human smiled.

"Ah, so she's the one who saved you from that big ass crate, huh. I guess I should be thanking you, then. I've told them countless times to pay attention to the droids."

Y/N laughed as BB-8 met her extended hand, and she petted his head affectionately.

"Don't. He is such a cutie; it was my pleasure."

Beebee beeped happily and she could hear more than she saw the man rolling his eyes.

"Oh please, no. His ego is big enough as it is."

The droid beeped indignantly, little head snapping toward the man. Y/N chuckled.

"Don't listen to him. You're adorable."

With one last pet, she stood up again and absentmindedly dusted off her jumpsuit. Not that she could do much to clean it at this point, but it's the thought that counts, right…?

Her gaze fell on the droid by her side and something popped in her head. She frowned. They had been talking for what, a solid five minutes? And not once had he mentioned anything about his squad or his name.

With both eyebrows furrowed, the woman cocked her head to the side. The man was still watching her, arms crossed, obviously expecting a question from her.

Ask, and you shall receive. If she had tried not to be too openly curious before, since she had just implied he was shamelessly staring at her ass, they were clearly past that, now.

"Hey. I don't believe you've told me your name. I know your droid's name and you know mine. It's only fair I get to know yours."

He bit his lip again and shook his head - but it was more to himself than out of annoyance. He also didn't answer right away; instead, he made sure to face her fully and stare at her. With a pat to the side of the ship, he took a step back from the X-Wing and, instead, took a step toward her until he was but a mere meter apart from her. With a bright smile, he held her hand for her to shake and answered with an obvious smirk:

"I'm Poe. Poe Dameron."

Yep, the staring definitely made sense. He wanted to see her reaction.

And boy, did he get one.

Y/N absolutely froze on the spot, blinked thrice, stared, blinked once more, opened her mouth, and closed it.

The bastard had got her good.

She searched her mind for something to say. Apologize? She had said nothing wrong, and he was the one who tricked her in the first place! Pay her respect? She had almost called him an ass earlier, no need to suck up to him now.

So, she did the only thing she could think of.

She chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Well. No need to give you an official salute now...?"

Poe chuckled and ran a hand through his already messy locks.

"Yeah. I'm not sorry, it was way too tempting. We don't get fresh faces too often. And you're easy to mess with."

Now that she knew he was the General, Y/N bit back the snarky comment that was about to roll off her tongue. Instead, she let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Talk about a good first impression, huh."

He gave her a pat on the shoulder and a wink.

"I've seen worse, honestly."

"Have you really?"

He seemed to think about it for a second before he burst out laughing. It was a nice sound, not obnoxiously loud like Skylen's laugh was.

"…No, that was a lie. But at least, you didn't shoot me," he said with a shrug. He was smiling, though, and his eyes were bright with amusement.

This time, Y/N couldn't stop herself. She nodded toward the doors of the garage.

"If that's what you're into, I have a brand new blaster in my room I need to test out. Feel free to drop by later," she sassily said.

Okay, who was this woman, and what had she done to Y/N Thunderbird?!

But since she was utterly screwed in his eyes anyway, might as well go down the funny route. And he seemed to appreciate it because he laughed and gently hit her shoulder with another one of his crooked smiles.

"I like you."

Maybe this wasn't such a disaster, after all.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, Y/N took a second to study him again. She didn't know how she had missed it, but the way he carried himself definitely screamed "leader" to her. He exuded confidence, charisma, and a slight hint of cockiness.

Call someone the "best pilot of the Galaxy" for too long and watch them get full of themselves.

But he didn't seem to boast about it too much. It obviously made him laugh and he could laugh at himself, too. The guy was nice.

Everything she was not used to seeing in a leader, to sum it up. He wasn't one of the stuck-up officers Y/N was used to seeing in the First Order. He looked like a regular, sassy pilot with a great smile (she hadn't seen First Order officers smile a lot either...) and great hair. Not what you'd expect of a seasoned pilot who took down the fleet of the Emperor.

Oh, well.

"Come on, Y/N. Let's get out of here. I promise I won't say anything if your ship isn't spotless. And you've had a long day; leave the maintenance to the mechanics, alright?"

How could she say no? She was tired, in need of a shower, and frankly shaken up from this unexpected meeting during which she had made a fool of herself. Although Poe didn't seem to mind.

She was going to love working there.

With one last glance at her beautiful ship, she followed after him, BB-8 rolling by their side. The two pilots walked in silence, and Y/N took a look around. The garage was quite empty, as expected. Only a couple of mechanics, who probably worked the night shift, could be seen here and there. They met the mechanic she had seen earlier coming the other way. The guy waved at her and went on his way, still humming. He would have a long night ahead of him if he wanted to make the X-Wing look newer than new. If he pulled it off, Y/N would owe him a nice bottle of something potent.

Even though the woman felt awkward walking around like this in perfect silence, she had to admit it didn't feel as awkward as walking next to Kylo Ren did. She shuddered when she bought about it; how she would trail just one step behind the Knight of Ren, clad in her black uniform as he glared his way through the crowds. Poe was very laid back and although he naturally commanded authority, he wasn't abusing the power he had. Proof had been how he had let her talk about him and shrugged it off with a smile.

Finn might have been right. Maybe they would get along just fine.

If she could survive his sassiness. But he wasn't the only one who could be a tease.

"Alright," his voice interrupted as they reached the door. "I'll leave you here, I still have work to do. You get some rest, and I'll see you tomorrow at ten on the airfield, alright?"

She nodded stiffly.

"Yes, General."

His eyes sparkled in amusement and he gave her a half-smile and a gentle slap to the shoulder.

"Congrats on making Blue squad, by the way. I've been looking to fill the position for a while. And I look forward to showing you exactly why I'm the best pilot of the Galaxy."

She was never going to live that down.

Never.

Y/N rolled her eyes as he walked away, seemingly very satisfied with himself. BB-8 turned his little head backward as he followed his human, and Y/N blew him a kiss. The droid beeped happily.

Yes… Things were definitely looking up.

But at this moment, she was looking forward to taking a shower.

Poe chuckled to himself as he walked down the hallway. He glanced down at BB-8 when the droid beeped to get his attention. Listening intently to his little orange companion for a second, he then rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Beebee. You did tell me she was nice. But being nice won't make her a good pilot."

The droid beeped again, and this time, Poe stopped, eyebrows raised.

"What do you mean she's nicer than me? You know what you are, buddy? You're a traitor, that's what. Maybe I should give you away to the tech people. I'm sure they would find you a nice crate to sleep in."

An offended beep answered him and the pilot frowned, eyes squinted suspiciously.

"I told you to stop listening to R2-D2! That was a bad word, Beebee. I don't know who raised you like that, but they did a bad job. My droid swears, now. I have an ex-TIE pilot in my squad, and my droid is having a 'phase'. What the Hell did I do to deserve that, huh?"

Human and droid disappeared around a corner, their friendly banter resonating in the hallway.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

  There was an undeniable lump in her throat as she sat alone on the bench. Everything in the room was pristine white, from floor to ceiling, and it contrasted even more with her dark outfit. The standard TIE uniform was still on her body, clinging awkwardly to her form. Her helmet was by her side on the bench, and the pallid lights reflected on its smooth surface. The fabric of her uniform smelled like smoke, a tinge of sweat, and overall exhaustion. Her hair was loosely wrapped up in a chignon that used to be slick but now only looked sad with the strands that had escaped its cage. Y/N could have taken a second to rearrange her hairdo, but she was too tired. The battle had been absolutely exhausting and she didn't have the strength to pretend it hadn't. As she stared at her black helmet, she could see the darkness of space on the shiny surface and the fresh memories of the ships exploding superposed with reality. Past and present clashing, and in the middle of the fight, Y/N.

She could still hear the screams of her friends as their fighters went down, hit by enemy ships. The tremendous amount of stress she had been under, the adrenaline, the pain. The daunting amount of focus she had needed to take the shot. And then, the enraged screams of the Captain that almost busted her left eardrum.

On her left, the door opened with a pneumatic whoosh and a stormtrooper appeared on the other side, seemingly all stoic behind his white mask. She faintly turned her head toward him, waiting for him to speak, silently awaiting her punishment. He was alone, which meant she wasn't going to be executed, at least not right now.

"Please follow me."

She would have questioned him, but she didn't have the strength. Instead, she just stared tiredly, expecting more.

"Your presence has been requested by Kylo Ren. You are to accompany me immediately."

Wait, what? Kylo? REN wanted to see her?!

Her legs obeyed unwillingly and she followed the guard, taking her helmet with her. She was trying to understand why she had been summoned by Ren. Was she that screwed?

"What does he want with me?"  She managed to ask, and the guard spared her a glance.

"I don't know. I have only been asked to take you to him and Captain Zulu."

Ah, so Zulu was with him, then.

She was so dead.

With the little strength she could muster, she straightened her back and squared her shoulders in a meek attempt to look professional. It was a lost cause, she looked like shit, undoubtedly. But she had never met Kylo Ren and wasn't too keen on making a bad impression.

She wasn't particularly interested in being noticed by him but wasn't scared either. She knew, much like everyone else, of what he could do. But if she was to die by his hand, at least her friends wouldn't be here to witness her explode.

The black and white duo reached the conference room, and the guard stopped, facing Y/N.

"Wait here."

He took a few steps and started talking lowly, probably to whoever was supposed to be warned about their arrival. Y/N used the opportunity to take a glance at her reflection in a metallic part of the wall, only to discover she had a thin trail of dry blood on her cheek.

"Kriff,"  she cursed under her breath and tried to get the dry blood to come off by rubbing at it.

"Here."

She jumped and turned around, only to be met with the vision of the stormtrooper who was holding a piece of cloth, probably taken from one of his numerous storage pockets on his belt.

"Take this."

Y/N gratefully did and wiped off the blood from her face. The trooper took the cloth back and put it where he had taken it from.

"Good luck in there."

He pressed a button and the door opened, leaving no time for Y/N to wonder why exactly he was being so nice. She wasn't used to anyone being nice to anyone on here. Maybe he was just in a good mood?

Or maybe he knew something she didn't...

In any case, she had no time to ponder on it.

"Thank you,"  she whispered to him before walking inside the room.

It was a fairly long one, rectangle in shape, with the door located in the length of it. In front of her, a huge window pane allowed anyone standing inside to marvel at the immensity of space. The ship wasn't in hyperspace yet and the stars were shining dimly in the distance.

But Y/N didn't have time to enjoy the view. Sat near the end of the table was her Captain, who snarled when he saw her. And with his back facing him, his cape the only thing visible of him, was Kylo Ren.

The door closed behind her and Y/N did her best to steady her heartbeat, let go of her anxiety and keep a clear mind as she walked up to the two men. She wasn't going to show weakness.

Once she got close enough, she bowed her head slightly, even though Ren couldn't see - unless he has eyes on the back of his head.

How was she even supposed to call him? General? Commander? Leader? Hopefully, he wouldn't be pissed off if she made a mistake.

"Master Ren. Captain Zulu."

Silence met her salutation and she closed her mouth, hands joined behind her back, waiting for someone, anyone, to speak.

After a few seconds, Kylo turned his head slightly to the side, as if he were trying to catch a glimpse of her from his peripheral vision. He couldn't, at least Y/N didn't think he could, but he stayed like this for a moment before he spoke.

"Captain Zulu told me you are the pilot who took the shot against the admiral ship."

His voice was deeper than she had anticipated. It sounded almost like a deep rumble of rocks or a sound coming from the depth of his soul. The slight buzz of the modulator told her it was modified, but it was still fairly surprising.

"Yes, Sir."

"Against his direct orders,"  he stated. There was no anger in his voice. Zulu had a fleeting smirked and Y/N sent him a silent glare from the corner of her eyes.

"Yes, Sir."

He hummed in approval and turned fully toward her, cape flowing and following his movement before it settled behind his body. His helmet was black and silver, metallic and menacing. It radiated authority, and even though she wouldn't yield to it, Y/N felt it. He felt... powerful. On his belt, the infamous lightsaber rested.

The pilot looked at him straight in the eyes, at least where she supposed his eyes were. She wanted to show him she wasn't afraid to face the consequences. She wasn't provoking him, but she wasn't hiding from his potential wrath either. She couldn't really run away anyway.

"Why?"  He simply asked.

Y/N opened her mouth to answer but her attempt was cut short by a scoff.

"Because she is an impulsive and irrational element who shouldn't be trusted with-"

The end of his sentence died in his throat in a gurgle as he choked. Kylo hadn't lifted a finger but it was quite obvious he was responsible for the sudden interruption. Zulu vainly attempted to grasp the air and free his throat of the constriction, but nothing was holding him.

"Don't interrupt me."

The statement was very obviously a threat. Ren released Zulu of his mental choke and the man fell forward, coughing loudly and wheezing as he caught his breath. Y/N could die happy, right now: the sight of her annoying boss being put in his place was one she wouldn't forget. But he had asked her a question and she didn't have time to take pleasure in Zulu's struggles.

"I was close enough to assert the probabilities, Sir. When the order was issued, I was already on my run to the generator. I could have turned around but I chose not to."

Kylo tilted his head slightly. She couldn't see his face, but his curiosity was palpable.

"Why is that, trooper?"

Y/N glanced at her superior who was still coughing. She couldn't really lie to him, he would sense it, wouldn't he?

"Because, with all due respect, Sir, Captain Zulu's orders were Bantha shit. He told me to retreat not because it would save my life but because he didn't believe I could make it, and that assumption was based solely on the fact that I am a woman. He doesn't trust my abilities, but I do. I took the shot because I knew I could do it, because I could assess the situation with my own eyes and because I was collected enough to make an educated decision. If it impacted your mission in any way, then I offer my apologies and I accept my fate. Sir."

Silence again. Y/N could feel the weight of Kylo's eyes on her and she tensed up a bit but forced herself to remain calm. She wasn't choking yet, which meant he wasn't too upset.

Yet.

"Leave us."

She looked puzzled for a second and showed it by frowning. But even in her tired state, Y/N realized that he had tilted his helmet very slightly to the right.

Toward Zulu.

Who looked positively thunderstruck.

And if he wasn't careful, he would absolutely end up struck by lightning in a very literal way. Y/N knew of the rumors about Kylo's powers and she wouldn't mess with them if she were him...

Or actually, she would. It could be interesting.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

His voice had grown impossibly lower as he all but growled and that seemed to wake Zulu up from his shocked state. He stood up and almost ran out without a look back.

The door closed with a quiet whoosh and silence engulfed them.

Y/N could hear Ren's shallow breathing, buzzing around the edges through his modulator. She had no idea what he wanted with her. She wasn't scared, but she was curious.

And in need of a shower.

Meaning probably wasn't the best idea for him to stand so close to her.

Oh, well. His problem. She wouldn't back down, not as a provocative act, but because she knew she had done nothing wrong and wanted to show him she was confident in her decisions. The woman could only guess that a man of his stature didn't exactly enjoy fickle people who had no backbone.

Which was the exact description of Zulu. No wonder he had been shoved outside unceremoniously.

"You disobeyed a direct order from your Captain, and in doing so, you endangered your own life, something I couldn't care less about; but you endangered Zulu's as well."

Y/N's eyes shot up, meeting his through the visor of his helmet - at least she assumed so. He stayed silent for a second before adding:

"I couldn't care less about that, either."

The woman couldn't contain her snort, even in such a serious situation. She was fairly sure she had heard amusement pooling at the edges of Kylo's voice. He tilted his head.

"Something on your mind?"

Ah, shit. He had heard it. Of course, he had heard it. She cleared her throat, trying to come up with an explanation for that throaty sound. She couldn't, so she opted to back down. He hadn't burned her to a crisp yet, but it was still a possibility.

"No, Sir."

He stared at her from the anonymity of his helmet. Where was he going with that line of questioning? She wasn't a pile of charred meat on the floor yet, and she wasn't howling in pain either, so that was a good sign, but still…

It took five seconds of silence before something happened.

Something… Touched her brain.

As weird as it sounded, Y/N felt like something was poking at the grey matter with a stick. It was an insidious feeling, a treacherous wave creeping on her. Her composure vanished and she frowned. It wasn't hurting her, not yet, anyway. But it wasn't enjoyable. Her head twitched slightly to the side as she tried to get rid of the weird sensation. What could be causing that? Did she hit her head during the attack and was only feeling the effects of the concussion now?

No, she didn't-

Hold on.

She raised her gaze toward him, eyebrows knitted together.

"What are you doing to me?"

In a purely defensive mechanism, she figuratively put her brain on lockdown, pushing every single thought away. She wasn't doing so maliciously, but she didn't understand what was going on. It wasn't like she had anything to hide; she couldn't remember shit about her past life.

But that seemed to surprise Ren. He took a step back and the feeling disappeared. So she had been right; he was the one causing it.

She waited for his anger to strike her down. Whatever he had been doing, it wasn't without reason. And if she had shut him out like this, he would think she had something to hide. A hidden motive to justify her reckless actions of earlier…

But to her surprise, he simply raised his hands, attached them to his helmet, and lifted the thing off. It came off with a pneumatic hiss and Y/N found herself staring into a pair of brown eyes. He was younger than she expected him to be; around her age, undoubtedly. He had fairly long, dark hair, and very striking features. Why he had taken the helmet off, she didn't know. Maybe he was in enough of a good mood to allow her to see a human face that wasn't Zulu right before she died.

"What is your name?" He asked, completely disregarding her question. That made her jaw twitch, but she didn't push it. She knew better.

"CX6669, Sir."

Annoyance crossed his features.

"I asked for your name, not your serial number."

Hold on. How did he know about that?! She must have looked confused because he pursed his lips and explained:

"I probed your mind. Your thoughts were all over the place, but I did see that you have more of an identity than TIE pilots usually have. I don't understand why."

She gulped. Zulu had told her to never use it again. But she hated Zulu, and Kylo was above his pay grade, so… The woman licked her lips. Even though she had to tell him, the fact that he had just probed her thoughts didn't sit well with her. How much had he seen? Why had he stopped? She was sure he wasn't in her head anymore, but she felt… violated, somehow. It was bizarre. Ren was definitely way more dangerous than his youthful face let on.

"Y/N. Y/N Thunderbird, Sir."

If he tried to hide the flash of surprise and recognition that appeared in his eyes, he did a poor job of it. But he didn't comment on it, and Y/N hid her observation in the back of her mind, somewhere he (hopefully) couldn't access.

"Why do you have a name, Thunderbird?"

Because she was a person and not a droid? No, that probably wasn't the answer he was expecting, especially since droids had names too, and she valued her life too much to try and be sassy with him before she got at least a couple of answers.

"Because I was recruited by the First Order a few months ago, Sir. I had a life before I was taken in. There's not a lot I remember, but I do remember my own name."

He didn't answer, but he seemed to be thinking about her answer. It took a few moments before he hummed in approval. Y/N felt uncomfortable. To be honest, she could rather be tortured than interrogated like this. He made her feel ill at ease. He was acting unlike she had been expecting him to. He wasn't violent; he wasn't scolding her. He was just… Asking questions.

And, you know. Probing her mind. Which was not polite at all.

"Your actions protected half of our fleet, today. If you hadn't shot down the admiral ship, we would have lost the fight. It was a very difficult shot, and yet, Zulu told me you handled it with deadly accuracy. Something you undoubtedly learned before you joined us…"

Yes. He was right. Even though she couldn't remember where she had learned to fly as she did, she was a seasoned pilot, without the shadow of a doubt. The woman had tried to recall where she got her training from, but it only brought her a headache, so she stopped trying. Was that what he had been trying to find in her mind?

"While you disobeyed, you did so because Captain Zulu's orders weren't aligned with mine anymore. He is a coward, whose fear could have endangered our mission. You saved it. I appreciate your loyalty to the cause."

Hah. That was a surprise. Zulu being called a moron, and her being praised? It must have been freezing in Hell or something.

"This calls for a reward. You went beyond your mission as a pilot, today, and you shall be thanked accordingly. I hereby name you Captain of the First Order. You no longer serve under the orders of Captain Zulu. I want you to take the lead of your own squadron."

… WHAT THE KRIFF?!

Y/N had always prided herself in having a killer poker face. But right now, she was easier to read than a Gungan high on spice. Her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide. She was lost for words. This, she was sure of it, was unheard of in the First Order. A nobody becoming Captain overnight, after disobeying her superior's orders?! That wasn't possible. Kylo was making fun of her. But then again, he didn't seem to be the kind of man who would make jokes…

It still didn't check out in her book. Why was he doing that? Why was she even still alive? Why give her the time of the day, and even more, why NAME HER CAPTAIN?! She had so many questions, but the woman didn't want to push her luck by smothering him with all of them. Instead, she asked the most pressing one:

"Which squadron, Sir?"  was the only coherent question she could form with words that didn't contain swearing.

And his answer left her even more surprised.

"The 204th."

To say the 204th Imperial Fighter Wing was legendary was a meek euphemism. They had been created years ago, during the Imperial Era, and the project was picked up again with the rise of the First Order. They directly worked with the high-ranked officers and were deployed on the most strenuous missions. It was entirely unrealistic of Ren to think she could lead them.

Yet…

"I… Why? Why me?" She asked, unable to contain her questions any longer. This was more than what she had bargained for. But just as she had expected, his gaze hardened.

"Are you questioning my decisions, Captain?"

Captain. It had a nice ring to it, but it still sounded foreign. But she didn't get the opportunity to bask in the glory. Kylo's voice was tainted with danger. Y/N vigorously shook her head no.

"No. But with all due respect, Sir, I was a rank-less pilot two minutes ago. I joined the Order maybe two months ago, and I disobeyed a direct order. I'm not the kind of person you see climbing the social ladder."

Welp. She had said it. Y/N was sure he would realize his mistake and zap her into nothingness, now. Damn her and her big mouth.

But he didn't.

"I sense something in you. Something… Unusual."

That wasn't ominous at all. The woman knew he was some sort of psychic, that he had some powers she knew nothing off. Could they be why she was being thrown into the Captain's seat? Out of the fire and into the frying pan…

He put his helmet back on without any other explanation. When he spoke again, his voice was significantly deeper.

"You will be shown to your new quarters. Rest, and come to hangar six tomorrow at eight. I expect you to be at my beck and call. You will be introduced to your new unit, and whatever order I will give you, you will follow it."

He took a step forward and stopped a couple of inches away from her. Y/N didn't flinch.

"I might have accepted your disobedience toward Zulu, but do something like that with one of my orders, and I will kill you on the spot."

Okay, that was fair enough. The pilot had no issue with following orders, provided they weren't stupid. And Kylo Ren seemed smart. They would work well together, she was sure of it.

"Yes, Sir,"  she simply said, and he hummed in approval. Without another word, he walked away. Y/N watched him as he got closer to the door and then stopped.

"One last thing, Captain. Soon, I will call you. You will come to the location I will provide you with, and not tell anyone about it. Don't be late."

With that, he opened the door and walked out, his cape flowing behind him, leaving a very confused Y/N in the room.

What had just happened? Why would he want to see her outside the usual encounters between Captains and their commanders? What wasn't he telling her?

The woman sighed. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more but to crash in her bunk.

With one last look through the windows, she walked out as well. Outside, she found the stormtrooper who had walked her there in the first place. He cocked his head to the side.

"You're not dead."

She snorted, finally feeling the pressure leave her body.

"I'm not dead."  She confirmed, holding both her arms out as if she were basking in the praise.

He nodded with a slight snort and adjusted his blaster.

"Master Ren instructed me to bring you to your new quarters. Please follow me."

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Y/N awoke in a gasp, sitting up in her bed. Her sheets were clinging to her sweaty skin and her heart was going wild in her chest, like thunder roaring inside of her. She gulped away the dryness of her throat and tried to calm herself down. The images of Kylo Ren were slowly fading away from her mind as she slipped away from her dream and regained consciousness. But the feeling of dread, the prickling of his Force intrusion in her mind… She could still feel them.

Everything was quiet. She couldn't hear anything from the hallway, but she was sure that if anyone was to walk past her room, they would hear her heart beating like crazy. These memories always came back to haunt her. Her time in the First Order was one she could never truly be able to leave behind.

With trembling hands, she pushed the covers away from her body and sat on the edge of the bed. The cool air of the room made her shiver. Or maybe that was the adrenaline; she wasn't quite sure.

Navigating in the darkness with the help of her extended hands, she made her way to the bathroom and tilted her head under the faucet, happily taking huge sips of water. It calmed her down a bit and quenched her thirst. The dim light above the mirror cast a cold hue on her features. She met her own eyes in the reflection; she looked pale as if she had just seen a ghost.

Maybe she had.

Y/N splashed some water on her face and went back to her bed, taking the time to glance at the clock on the way. It was five-thirty. She still had a few hours to sleep, assuming she could find sleep again.

As she snuggled under the covers again, she focused on happier thoughts. The promise of a brighter future, her new friends.

The thought of impressing Poe the following morning and showing him that she could give him a run for his money.

The woman smiled to herself. She had always liked a good challenge, and surprising her General was exactly the kind of excitement that would get her motor running. The ruthless teasing she had been a victim of earlier was still fresh in her mind, and call it pride or stubbornness, but Y/N wanted to make sure he knew she wasn't that easy to mess with.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face, her memories of Kylo pushed to the back of her mind. They wouldn't bother her again, not that night.

Instead, she dreamed of an X-Wing with an orange droid next to it.

[sweetestlamb]

I've Got You Under My Skin Part 2

Author's note: Can you tell I'm inspired? A double fic post who is she? Dedicated to @serxeins because I know I can always count on you to read and comment and give me some good vibes.

Summary: She's not jealous.

He's not there the next day and it puts her in another foul mood, honestly who was he to invade her life like this and then leave as he pleased? She would be the one to send him away not the other way around, she was the one in control here.

She goes all the way to his house after work to inform him of this, slightly more prepared for his state of dress- he's only wearing a thin white shirt and flowy pants, both made of soft looking cotton.

"No wonder you're still sick. Look at you're wearing." She rolls her eyes at him not waiting to be invited in, he never waits for her and ignores her when she tells him to go away. It's their thing. Blatant disregard.

"That's shaming, that's no way to speak to a sick person. What medical school did you go to?"

"One that taught me to prioritize honesty over niceties."

She has more porridge but it's her mom's recipe the one she used to make when she was feeling sick and it was hard to keep anything down. She had suddenly remembered it the night before and woke up early to prepare it from sensory memory alone, she was hardly a chef but this was the only meal she could make without fail. If her eyes had prickled with instead tears as she stirred the pot that was no one's business but her own. She hadn't been able to make it for years now but for some reason she couldn't stop herself this morning.

"What's this?" He asks curious over her shoulder, his chin barely grazing her skin. She doesn't move away ignoring the thrumming his closeness elicits.

"Porridge."

"It smells good. It doesn't look like grandma's porridge. Where did you get it?"

"I made it." It's embarrassing admitting that she made anything for him, she feels like she's showing her hand far too much but can't get her mouth to stop revealing her heart.

"You're full of surprises. Let's heat it up."

He looks better now, no longer flushed and sweaty. The fever must have broken over night, he looks rejuvenated scooping the food into a pot and warming it up.

His house looks a bit cleaner today as well, the windows are open allowing a wonderful breeze to fill the space and sweep away the stench of sick in the air. She walks aimlessly until she sees a bit of material on the floor, bending to pick it up she glares at the material in her hand. It's a light pink scarf, thin and almost sheer. He has an eclectic style but this is indubitably a woman's scarf, she almost throws it on the ground in a fit.

"What are you doing?" He breaks her from her shock, walking towards her with twin bowls in his hands.

She almost hides the scarf away feeling ashamed of the searing hotness that rips through her chest like a current. But foolishly she swings her hand up presenting the offending item instead, narrowing her eyes as she peers at him.

"What's this?" She challenges, a voice in the back of her mind begs her to shut the fuck up but her anger pushes her forward recklessly.

He tilts his head looking intensely at the item before pursing his lips and answering, "I think it's a scarf."

No fucking shit Sherlock.

She looks at him unimpressed and unamused not quite understanding why she cares so much that there's a scarf- a feminine nother scarf in his house.

"I had a guest earlier. She probably left it." He replies lightly sitting their food down on the table and she follows him briskly still not satisfied with his answers.

"Give me back my porridge." She says childishly snatching away his bowl just as he's about to eat, the look of annoyance on his face brings her nothing but pure joy.

"What's your problem now?" He argues reaching for the bowl but she tugs it further out of his reach. With a long suffering sigh he stands up, stepping closer to retrieve the bowl but that move brings them chest to chest and she stares up at his bright eyes.

Bringing his hands up he touches the scarf in her hand, she drops it abruptly not wanting him to touch it at all now.

"Don't."

He stares at her long and hard, Adam's apple bobbing as their eyes lock. He shakes his head a tight smile on his face now and she wants to kiss that smug look right off his face. Wait.

What. What am I thinking?

The sound of his doorbell chiming breaks them free of this heated staring match, but not immediately he looks at her puzzled and is that something hotter, before slowly turning and walking towards the door.

"Hey, I think I left my scarf--"

A decidedly female voice sounds from the door and before she can second guess herself she grabs the discarded scarf from the ground and sashays over to the door. He looks completely surprised to see her walking over but barely reacts when she barrels next time, pulling the door open wider to see who's here to see them.

It's the new teacher that just moved into town, she hadn't yet been introduced to her but she'd heard nothing but bad things from the landlord. She was supposedly a man stealer.

"Oh! I didn't know you had a guest." The woman's gentle voice lifts in awe at her sudden arrival at the door.

"Here's your scarf." She thrusts the item fiercely at her, watching as the other woman jolts in surprise.

Du-sik looks curiously between the two seeming to feel the weird energy surging in the air.

"Miss Yoon this is--"

"Was that all you needed? We were in the middle of eating. He needs to regain his energy." She cuts him off, having no desire to be introduced to the other woman. The school teacher glances between the two of them being nodding slowly as if realizing something.

"Yes that was all. I'll leave you to your meals."

She watches as the school teacher disappears from sight, turning to walk back to the table.

"That was rude. Do you two have a problem with each other?"

Shrugging non-committally she pushes his porridge back across the space already digging into her own.

"Your meal will get cold. Stop saying nonsense and come eat."

He stares at her for a long time before retaking his seat and tasting the thick broth, she tries not to watch and wait for his reaction but it's probably a failure.

"It's delicious. I can't believe you made this."

Overlooking the backhanded compliment she hides her smile behind her spoon before looking up with a glare, "I'll never make it for you again." But it's an empty threat because she already made three containers worth in case he falls ill again.

"I'll turn off your electricity until you do."

She guffaws at the threat, grabbing the closest thing (a pen) and throwing it at him. It pings off his forehead and falls to the ground.

"Ow. That hurt."

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, no doubt her roommate asking about her whereabouts she had just suddenly disappeared out of nowhere after running out of the office. Swiping to open the phone she prepares for the onslaught of messages.

"---kiss it better."

She freezes at the words, dragging her eyes from the phone back up to his steady gaze. He's staring brazenly seemingly unashamed but the tint of red on his ears give him away, he's not at confident as he's pretending to be.

"What did you say?"

"I.....said you should kiss it better."

She has no clue what he's talking about but instinctively her eyes move down to his lips, blush pink and tempting they stand out on his pale skin. She wonders how they would feel under her own, if they would pucker up and press or bloom open giving her their sweet nectar. She wonders how many women he's kissed and if he's ever thought about kissing her.

"My forehead. I meant my forehead... because of the pen. I was just joking." He looks dazed now, still under her appraising gaze and she coughs swiftly moving her eyes and staring out the window.

"Mi-seon's looking for me. I should go."

Thankfully he doesn't comment on her running away again, he merely nods and collects their bowls.

"Thank you for the meal." She nods in response, her voice lost at the moment terrified of why she keeps coming here, what could she possibly want?

He walks her to the door, both of them dragging their feet and taking their sweet time.

"That was the worst part about not having parents."

She halts at his sudden confession, squeezing her fists tightly as she glances over at him.

"Not having anyone who cared when I was sick. It was never clearer how alone I was until those fleeting moments, there was no one to pat my back or bring me food or tell me I would be okay."

It's an ache she's used up, the ache of wanting something she'll never have. Years spent pretending she didn't miss her mother everyday. His honesty forces her own to the surface.

"That porridge was the one my mom used to make for me. I haven't made it since she...."

She doesn't finish her sentence but the look in his eyes tell her that she doesn't need to, he understands loud and clear.

"Thank you for making it for me. I'm honored." There is reverence in his voice as if he's never meant anything more in his life, it makes her heart tremble.

They don't speak anymore as she puts on her shoes and lays her bag across her body, reaching behind her he tugs the door open for her.

With a solemn nod she turns around ready to leave but a moment of temporary insanity makes her turn back and grab his shoulder for support, there's a look of genuine shock of his face before she leans onto the tips of her toes and presses her lips against his forehead.

Her cheeks are on fire as she draws back and his face looks painful from his red it is.

"You're going to be alright." With her last strand of courage she wraps her arm around and pats him on the back in comfort, his eyes are glossy and he looks years younger.

"I'm going."

She's aching to run but she walks away calmly until she's out of sight, throwing herself to the ground as soon as she turns the corner grabbing handfuls of her hair.

So much for being in control. Fuck.

[blackacre13]

Hi please continue the vampire au

Of course! Part one is here. And here's part two:

“Do you rob all of them?” Debbie smirked.

“Of course,” Lou nodded. “You can keep that wallet by the way, but I want a cut from the next one.”

“The next one?” Debbie grinned. “What makes you think I like team work?”

“I think you might like it after I do this,” Lou whispered, shoving her thigh in between Debbie’s legs as the brunette let out a sharp gasp, the sharp nails digging into Lou’s shoulder and waist as she moaned at the sudden prick of pain. She dragged her tongue down Debbie’s cool neck, placing a half-sucked kiss at the base of it near her shoulder.

“I only fuck women,” Lou offered, her hand slipping beneath Debbie’s waistband, cupping her heat as she groaned at the brunette’s wetness.

“Me too,” Debbie panted.

“I really want to fuck you,” the blonde hissed as Debbie squeezed around her hand, Lou inhaling sharply.

“Fuck, me too,” Debbie moaned, pushing Lou’s fingers inside her with her own as a wicked grin appeared on her lips before diving in towards Lou with a venomous, deep kiss.

Debbie watched Lou suck her fingers clean, her eyes unable to look away as she let out a low moan at the sight.

“Do you usually fuck women in front of a fresh corpse in alley ways?” Debbie asked, her face growing smug.

“Only the special ones,” Lou winked, pulling Debbie in as she dragged sharp teeth over the brunette’s neck.

“Do you trust me?” Debbie breathed, her fingers dancing along Lou’s cleavage as she looked up at her with hopeful eyes.

“Oddly enough,” Lou chuckled. “I think I do.”

“Good,” the brunette smirked, tugging the blonde away from the wall as she led them down the corridor, stilettos stepping over the abandoned body as Lou kicked it once in the gut for good measure.

Lou let herself be led, enjoying the sudden trust blooming inside her as she watched Debbie closely. Her sway. Her walk. Her confidence. She smiled down at the new watch Debbie had confiscated for her. Thought of the way she’d wanted to save that innocent girl and punish that cruel and selfish man. Using their—uniqueness—this blessing or curse or whatever she’d call it depending on the day—as a way to take charge. Have power.

And this time, it had been a little something more than petty theft. With the added, twisted, delightful feeling of lust and passion pulsing through her veins, with a pinch of something else she couldn’t quite identify.

“What is this?” The blonde whispered, looking down at a long stretch of concrete steps seemingly leading to nowhere as Debbie grinned back at her.

“See for yourself,” Debbie winked. “What are you, scared? You’re immortal.”

“Again with the age reminders,” Lou tsked. “So inappropriate.”

Curiosity got the best of her though as she headed down the steps, feeling Debbie’s gaze on her hips and her ass she continued down into and through the dark, feeling her away around as she pushed open an eventual door in front of her, letting it creak open into further darkness.

She let her senses guide her. No traces of pulses or heartbeats. No sense of any life at all. The air felt stale. Forgotten.

She could smell the rust of the table legs. The wooden scent of the long countertop stretched before her. Could see the fibers and dust of deep red velvet curtains that hung as if they were in pain from hanging alone and abandoned for so long.

“It used to be a speakeasy,” Debbie murmured. “I like to come here sometimes to be alone. Been abandoned for decades.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lou admitted, her fingers plucking at the fabric as she watched some of the dust sprinkle the warped wooden floor.

“You’re beautiful,” Debbie whispered, suddenly right behind her, her breath cool against Lou’s ear, making her shiver. “I want to taste you,” she murmured, her tongue trailing across Lou’s neck. “I want to take you apart.”

“I thought we already had a deal,” Lou smirked, nodding down at the watch on her wrist as if reminding Debbie of their pseudo contract.

“We do,” the brunette agreed. “But I want all of you.”

“You have me,” Lou breathed. “In every way possible,” she promised, switching their positions to bring Debbie in front of her as her index finger slid under the brunette’s chin and lifted it up.

“I want you,” Debbie hissed, her arms reaching up to cup Lou’s face as the blonde stopped them in their tracks, chuckling as the brunette struggled against her.

“Show me,” Lou demanded, pushing Debbie’s chin up again before staring in awe at the woman in front of her, sinking down to her knees, her hands finding Lou’s hips and holding them tight.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Debbie smirked before pushing Lou’s pants down and settling her face between creamy thighs.

“Deb,” Lou laughed as Debbie grinned to herself at the sudden nickname. “Have you forgotten? We don’t need to breathe. We—“

But Debbie’s tongue was swiping through Lou’s folds an instant later as her hips bucked and she found herself clutching at the woman before her, suddenly gasping for breath as she groaned.

[dropssofjupitter]

Of Pride and Promises - P. 2

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader 

Summary: It has been a mere three weeks since your breakup with Draco Malfoy. Though your feelings haven’t changed, circumstances have. 

Word Count: 2.1 k 

Warnings: Angst-ish(?), swearing, sectumsempra, fist-fights, blood (minor?), aftermath of a breakup 

Requested? - Yes

Masterlist          Part One

A/N: For the lovely nonnie that requested it! I hope you like it! (I’m not exactly happy with it but hey, something is something!) [This work has not been beta read. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone] 

Edit:  I would also like to announce that I am looking for one, possibly two, beta readers! If you are interested please let me know!

Loving Draco Malfoy was like wading through quicksand. The more you resisted, the stronger the pull. Until eventually, you were pulled under. 

That’s what it had been like for you. That’s what it had felt like. You were suffocated and sedated until you couldn’t think straight, until you couldn’t see straight. Your hands were no longer your own, your magic was merely an extension of his. Everything that you owned, was his to use. 

Until you broke free. And then suddenly you could breathe. You felt lighter, you felt happier. You felt like you were more. But every time you saw him in the halls, every time you passed him in the Great hall, every time you so much as glanced in his direction, an intense wave of hurt and pain swept through you. 

And Draco only seemed to be getting worse. Dark circles clung to his eyes like forgotten friends, his cheeks had sunken in, and his skin was a brand new shade of waxy white. He looked sickly, often reminding you of the Victorian children that haunted the paintings in the Slytherin common room. You were no fool. You knew that although the breakup may have been hard on him, it was nowhere near the severity of whatever threatened him now. 

“Merlin, is that Katie Bell?” Pansy whispered to you, her chin propped up on her hands as she shamelessly stared at the girl who had just entered the Great Hall. “She looks like shite,” she said with a laugh, dragging her gaze back towards you. 

“Yeah Pans,” you replied, stabbing your fork into one of the many potatoes that lay on your plate. “Being cursed will do that to you.” 

The girl groaned, paying no mind to your snarky comment as she sat back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “And there goes Saint Potter, probably trying to be first in line to the pity parade and get all the sympathy points.” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, chancing a look over your shoulder at the scene unraveling in the middle of the Hall. You had to hand it to Pansy, she had nailed Katie’s description perfectly. The girl looked almost as haggard as Draco did. 

You watched uninterested as Harry no doubt grilled the poor girl about the happenings of her curse, your hand perched under your chin. You were about to turn back to your food and to Pansy, who had not stopped talking to you apparently, when your eyes caught on Draco’s form. 

He seemed frozen in place at the entrance to the Hall, unmoving as he looked at Harry and Katie in what appeared to be mute horror. He locked eyes with Potter and turned around, quickly making his way out of the Hall and down an unknown corridor. Harry soon followed him, and it was pure instinct that drove you to stand up from the table and follow after the two boys, much to Pansy’s dismay. Something else was happening here, and whether it had to do with Draco’s distance before your break up or not, you were going to find out just what the hell it was. 

Chasing after Harry, you frantically tried to match his pace, running into students and Professors alike as you turned corners and skidded down hallways. It was a miracle that you hadn’t run into a wall yet, truly. You watched as he disappeared from view, ducking into the usually haunted girls bathroom. With a frown etched into your face and nary a thought to the consequences, you followed him. 

Curses being flung across the bathroom at lightning speed met you on the other side of the door, and you had to duck almost immediately to avoid being hit. You lay flat on the ground, mumbling things like “What the bloody hell could have set them off in three minutes?!” as you fumbled for your wand with one hand and protected your head from shattered stalls with the other. 

You crawled forward as soon as your wand was in your grasp, dragging yourself through the wrecked toilet stalls and avoiding most of the spells being hurled across the room as you prepared yourself to intervene. You moved into a crouch, murmuring a quick shielding charm before walking through the door half torn off its hinges and into the middle of their duel. 

“Wands down -” You were barely able to get a sentence out before you had to dodge a curse sent by Potter himself, drawing your arms into your body as you heard him yell “Sectumsempra!”

Draco was flung across the room, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud. Both you and Harry looked over at him, pausing your actions as you realized that he wasn’t moving. “Draco?” you called out anxiously, taking a step closer to him. That was when you saw the blood blooming on his shirt and bleeding into the water. “Merlin,” you muttered to yourself, wasting no time in rushing over to his body, hands shaking as you tried to remember the proper healing spells. 

“What the hell did you do to him, Potter?!” you yelled, looking over at Harry quickly before looking back at Draco. Dozens of cuts had opened up on his body, continuously bleeding and showing absolutely no signs of stopping. “Shit shit shit shit.” You hated to admit it but you still loved him. You still loved how it had been when you were with him. And you were so, so scared that you would lose him like this. So suddenly. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, Professor Snape appeared out of nowhere, quickly rushing to Draco’s side and sending a long, slow look at Harry. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, rushed as you stared down at Draco. “They won’t stop bleeding. He won’t wake up.” The professor placed a seemingly comforting hand on your shoulder before wordlessly beginning to move his wand over Draco’s body, murmuring a spell underneath his breath so quietly that you couldn’t catch what he was saying. You didn’t care. The blood that had previously been pouring out of Draco’s body was returning to it, and the wounds were sealing. 

Footsteps sounded behind you, and you realized that Harry was running away. You shouldn’t chase after him. Not when you were no longer with Draco. And certainly not with a Professor standing right next to you. But all rational thought had left your mind, and all you could think about was making Harry pay. So you stood, and you ran. 

If you thought that Harry was fast before, he was even quicker now, running as if he knew he was being pursued. And maybe he did. But that just made it more satisfying for you as you ran him down, slowly but surely beginning to catch up with him until you hit him with a stunning hex and sent him careening to the ground. 

“What the fuck was that Potter! What, do you preach the absence of curses until it’s convenient for you like a fucking hypocrite?”

Students and staff alike were turning to watch the exchange, gathering nearer as they sensed a fight. It was likely that you didn’t have much time before you were stopped so you decided to make it count. The stinging hex was wearing off by now, you knew it would be. So you kicked his wand away before pocketing yours. If they wanted a fight they would get one. 

Harry turned to look at you, quickly standing up and getting to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The way he turned up his nose and squared his shoulders told you that he was trying to appear confident. The sweat on his brow and the shiftiness of his eyes also told you that he was epically failing. 

“Is that really how you want to play this Potter?” you asked, danger creeping into your voice as you squared off with the boy wonder. 

“Well it’s how your boyfriend wanted to play when he threw a hex at me,” he retorted, taking a step closer to you in a challenge. 

You barely had time to think before you were punching the Chosen One. Punching him poorly, might you add. You were pretty sure that you heard a faint crack from your thumb. But the blood that had begun to spurt from his nose made your minor injury all worth it. 

Harry cried out, falling back and to the floor as he immediately held one hand up to his nose. He looked at you in surprise, and it only took a few short seconds before a teacher was calling out your name and dragging you up towards Dumbledore’s office. 

You passed Snape on the way up, making eye contact as you noted the unconscious Draco in his arms. You nodded once, more towards yourself than towards him, before turning your gaze back to the professor currently lecturing you on the do’s and don'ts of fights at school. You tuned them out and every interaction after. 

~~~~~~~

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity that the tables had been turned on you. Yet again. Instead of you waiting in the dark to confront Draco, he had waited for you. You had known he was there as soon as you had closed the portrait, your eyes catching on his barely illuminated form as he sat in front of the fireplace. 

“I suppose I should ask you why you aren’t asleep yet.” You threw his words back in his face as you walked over to the couches, deciding to not even try and avoid him. Your arms were crossed protectively in front of your chest, a poor attempt to try and prevent what was probably about to come. 

Draco raised his hands under his chin, propping it up in a habit that he had learned from you long ago. “Why were you there,” he asked slowly, still not turning his head to look at you. It annoyed you, but you would let him have this for now. 

“I was tired of being lied to.” It was the truth, and that was more than he deserved. 

He clenched his jaw and turned to face you, his eyes narrowed. “You could have died. Didn’t you stop to think about that at all?” 

You sat down in the arm chair to his left, arms and now legs crossed in defiance. “I didn’t think that I would be barging in on a duel. It’s not my fault that you and Potter couldn’t keep it in your pants.” 

“This isn’t a joke!” His voice echoed across the common room and you froze. His gaze was level with yours, eyes glaring at you and hands clenched into fists. “You could have died!” 

“You could have too!” 

“That’s different!” 

“How? How is it different Draco.” At some point you had stood up again, a finger pointed in his face in your anger. The sheer familiarity of the situation was hitting. The two of you had been in these kinds of arguments many times before. “See this self-sacrificing bullshit is why we broke up. Because you couldn’t realize that your life was worth just as much as mine!” 

“No, we broke up because you got scared,” he retorted, standing up and matching your stance. “You got scared that I was actually being self-sufficient for once and you couldn’t handle not being in control!” 

You knew he was deflecting. You knew that the two of you were both lashing out, emotions high from the day that you had, but still you recoiled slightly. “Is that really what you think?” 

He just stared at you, stubborn ignorance formed in every fraction of his being. 

You swallowed thickly, straightening your clothes and taking a step back from him. “Alright then. Gad we cleared that up.” You turned around and took but two steps before you moved to face him again. “And for the record? I was scared. But I was scared that you were recklessly risking your own life because you couldn’t handle even the slightest threat to mine. Not because I wasn’t in control.” You paused, clenching your jaw as you searched his face for any type of reaction. There was none. “I guess today just proved that breaking up had been the right thing to do. Goodnight Malfoy.” 

You didn’t stop walking until you made it to your room with the door closed securely behind you. Letting out a breath, you allowed your body to sag against the door. You weren’t even sure if you could call that conversation closure. It felt more like another couples spat if you were honest, but you had meant your words. 

From now on, you didn’t care what Draco did. You didn’t care if he was sneaking around at odd hours of the night, or looking positively zombie-like. He wasn’t your problem anymore, so you were going to stop making him one. You were done with him. For good. 

.

.

Taglist: 

@hydrasbitches   @tayyymeek​   

Add yourself to my taglist

[turtlepated]

When it Rains in the Valley

Stardew Valley fic - ShanexFemaleFarmerOC

NSFW - One shot

-----

You could have happily stayed curled up in bed for another hour or more, but even though your eyes were still closed and your body still relaxed and warm below the quilt your mind was dragging itself awake.

Sighing softly through your nose, you burrowed deeper into the mattress and allowed yourself just a little bit longer before getting up and beginning your day. Eyes still shut, you began to mull over the plans that had begun forming the previous night as you dropped off to sleep. The wheat field would be ready to harvest soon, and there was the irrigation system to fine-tune before replanting with a new crop. Rows of corn stalks packed with ears that would need to be picked before the crows got at them. And of course there were the chickens that would need feeding and cows that would need milking. 

The list was never ending, crops to tend to, repairs to be made, wood to gather, fruit to be made into jams and jellies, vegetables canned and preserved. You were proud of your modest little farmstead, even if it did require all the work and attentiveness you could muster. 

With another gentle sigh you began building up the will to hoist yourself out of bed, going still when a soft, rhythmic sound met your ears. You stilled, frowning into the pillow, recognition coming slowly into your still-sleep-muddled brain. Just as you worked out what it was, you felt the mattress shift beside you as a heavy form settled at the edge of the bed, an arm reaching across you to brace against the comforter. 

A familiar scent and a waft of warm breath across your cheek as a kiss was pressed there, the ticklish scratch of stubble against your skin that made goosebumps sweep up your arms. You didn’t open your eyes, but you couldn’t contain the smile that stretched your lips as another kiss landed on your temple. 

“It’s raining.” Humming, you rolled onto your back, caged between the arm braced against the mattress at your side and the warm, solid body that perched on the edge of the bed. Even in the semi-darkness of the stormy, pre-dawn morning you could see him; his dark hair damp and sticking up oddly in a few places, his ratty blue Jojamart jacket nowhere to be seen. He smelled faintly of rain, crisp and tangy mixed in with the rich, earthy aroma of clean hay and the heady, somewhat spicy scent you’d come to associate with just him. As you were taking him in he did the same to you, his forest green eyes roving your form with avid interest and a profound fondness that made your breath catch in your throat. When your eyes met he grinned lopsidedly, lowering his face back to yours and favoring you with soft, languid kisses to your cheeks, your chin and nose and forehead, not stopping even when you giggled and squirmed at the tickle of his scruff. 

“I thought that’s what it sounded like,” you murmured in response, curling a hand around the top of his shoulder as he drew back enough so you could look at one another. Shane shifted then, reaching up with a hand to brush a stray fall of hair off your forehead. 

“I had an idea,” he said, his voice soft and low, making you shiver. You raised your brows at him, an invitation to continue. 

“You won’t need to water the fields today,” he went on. “And I just came in from taking care of the animals. I know you wanted to fix up the irrigation in the wheat field, but you can’t do it in the rain…. So the morning is pretty wide open...” You were grinning now, the hand on his shoulder gradually working its way up the curve of his neck while his own hand likewise began to wander, feeling for the top of the blanket and peeling it back enough to find the hem of your sleep shirt which had ridden up in the night. 

As his fingers splayed across your stomach, sliding in no particular hurry up towards your ribcage, your hand caught him by the back of his neck, urging his head down to you. You could see and hear him swallow as he complied, not quite able to shake his nerves even though this had been his idea. Craning your neck, you kissed the tiny furrow between his eyebrows, soothing away the worried lines on his features. “What did you have in mind?” you teased, able to discern the flush creeping up his neck and blooming on his cheeks even in the low light. 

Abruptly the large, warm hand on your torso slid up to cup your breast, kneading gently, the short, blunt thumbnail toying with your nipple until it hardened. When you let out an appreciative purr and reciprocated by raking your nails through the fine, buzzed hair at the base of his skull, Shane shuddered and dove down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. You broke apart long enough to kick yourself free of the covers as he clambered fully onto the bed, toeing off his wet shoes before settling at your side, supporting himself on one elbow so he could lean over you. 

Things stilled for a moment between you. Excitement was sparking through your body, waking you fully, every inch of skin prickling attentively in anticipation but you were transfixed by the awestruck look on his face, as if he still couldn’t believe something like this was happening to him. His eyes were riveted to you, flitting all over, seemingly unable to settle anywhere for long. You watched his tongue dart out to wet his parted lips, his chest rising and falling quicker despite the fact that all that had transpired so far was a hot kiss and copping a feel. 

Shane tended to get lost in his own head, and for most of the time you had known each other that could be a treacherous place. But you knew just how to bring him back to the here and now. Smiling, you reached up to touch his face, loving the rasp of his whiskers against your palm. He turned to press his lips into your hand, a rush of warmth spreading from the center of your chest outward. 

“C’mere,” you breathed into the space between you, meeting his mouth halfway as he leaned down to kiss you. You sighed into the kiss, drinking in the smell and taste and feel of him in the soft give and take that followed, quickly growing more demanding and desperate as you all but tugged him bodily on top of you. Fingers delved into his hair, scratching his scalp as your legs tangled together: yours bare but for cotton sleep shorts, his in old jeans from where he’d gone out to the coop and the barn. The rough texture against your calves and thighs was rapidly causing arousal to pool, bubbling like molten metal, in your pelvis. Shane had rucked your shirt up practically to your neck, squeezing and massaging your chest while breaking off from your lips to kiss a chain across your cheek to the sensitive spot behind your ear. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, hot breath blasting against the side of your neck. “You’re so beautiful. How are you so beautiful?” You felt yourself flushing under his murmured words of praise, struggling to get your shirt off and out of the way. Noticing your wriggling, Shane backed off and took the bunched material in his hands as you sat up enough to slip your arms and head out. His lust-blown eyes grew impossibly larger as he distractedly dropped your shirt and lowered himself, chest to chest, pressing you down into the mattress as he ravished your exposed neck and collarbones and shoulders with single-minded attention; lips and teeth and tongue, a mix of heat and chill as his breath ghosted over the dampened skin before pressing hot, open mouth kisses anywhere he could reach.  

You mewled softly at his ministrations, your blood scorching as it roared in your veins, your pulse thumping in your chest and in your ears and between your legs. Sighing his name you tipped your head to one side, offering him more room which he gladly accepted as he sucked marks along the column of your throat. You crossed your ankles around one of his, gripping his leg between yours, an exhilarating swooping sensation in the pit of your stomach at the prominent bulge that pressed into your hip through layers of fabric. 

“Mmm, too many clothes,” you managed to say, your hands fumbling for the bottom of the ill-fitting polo shirt he still insisted on wearing, saying it was a waste to wear anything else because it would only get dirty. Shane sucked in a breath as your hands tugged the hem from his waistband and you felt him tense all over. 

“Wait, wait,” he stammered. “Just… gimme a second, okay?” 

You let out a sad little huff as he lifted himself off you to sit uncertainly back on the side of the bed, sitting up to fix him with a knowing look as he dithered about looking anywhere but at your face. As many times as you had seen one another naked, Shane still got self-conscious sometimes about his physique. As a former athlete, he was even more uncomfortable with the soft chest and rounded stomach that had resulted from the hours he’d logged in the corner by the fireplace at the Stardrop Saloon. You didn’t mind it in the slightest, point of fact you had found him incredibly attractive ever since your first meeting when he waspishly snapped at you to leave him alone. Telling him that you liked the way he looked was all well and good, but he never quite seemed to believe you. 

Anyway, showing him was much more fun…

The line of his shoulders was tense as you rose onto your knees, scooting your way across the bed to him. You felt him jump slightly as you leaned against his back, your face angling into the curve of his neck as your arms wound around him. After a beat he relaxed into your embrace with a long sigh, distracted from whatever train of thought was trying to steer him away from you. 

“Let me help?” you mumbled against his neck, asking permission but also assuring him that it was what you wanted. You smiled when you felt and heard his breath hitch slightly, your lips ghosting across his skin as he swallowed and nodded his consent. Fingers spread to caress his chest, you slid your palms down the curve of his abdomen towards the bottom of his polo, which was still partially guarded by the arms folded over his middle. 

You paused when your fingertips met his forearms, chuckling under your breath and shifting closer, pressing more firmly against him and resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Shane? Honey?” you whispered, tucking your face into the side of his neck and kissing softly at the space behind his ear. A tiny moan issued from between his parted lips, but you had his attention again. “It’s okay.” Slowly, he allowed your fingers to delve past his arms to the hem of his shirt and beneath. 

Working slowly, keeping up a steady stream of praises and confirmations muttered into his ear and neck and the side of his head, you shucked off his shirt and cast it aside. Without the fabric separating you, your breasts flush against his bare back, your hands skating up and down his stomach and chest while your mouth worked along the curve of his shoulder, Shane couldn’t keep himself quiet; moans and gasps and whispered curses. 

Grinning wickedly against his heated skin, you took a bit of his neck carefully between your teeth while raking your nails through the dark hair that dusted his pecs, circling his nipples and experiencing a sense of satisfaction when the dual sensations drew a choked off cry from him, his back arching and his head falling back over your shoulder.

Your ploy worked, but your triumph was short lived. With his inhibitions now thoroughly forgotten, Shane spun in your arms and caught your lips in a searing kiss as he surged forward back onto the bed, driving you ahead of and then under him as one arm encircled your hips while the free hand kneaded at your chest. Another thrill went through you at his sudden ardor, your hands resuming their stroking and petting as he again broke off the kiss to nip a matching mark on your own neck that made you hiss. You shuddered afterward as you felt his tongue, hot and wet, gently lapping at what would surely be a bruise. 

“Hah, still too many clothes,” you breathed against the shell of his ear with a grin. You felt him hum into your skin as an answer, shifting to get his hands and knees under him to raise off of you. His eyes were practically glued to you as you shimmied out of your sleep shorts and underwear, smiling coyly at him as you dropped them carelessly over the side of the bed and lay fully naked before him. For a beat all he seemed able to do was simply gape at you and a nervous flutter started up in your stomach. 

In the next instant he settled himself beside you and you threw a leg up and over his hip, pulling flush against him and a little thrilled by the fact that you were now bare while he was still half dressed. Shane began moving, himself and you, scooting his way to the center of the bed and then rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so that you now straddled his waist. His hands both came up to grasp at your ass, fingers digging deliciously into the flesh before sliding up the curve to grip your hips, holding you tight against him as your mouths moved against one another. 

You hummed into him as one of his hands roved back over the curve of your ass, the other pressing into your back, holding you to him. The wandering hand didn’t stop at the crest of the rise, continuing on downhill and between your legs where you were already growing pleasantly wet. Two fingers brushed at your lips and you felt Shane smile into your kiss as he noticed it as well, pressing them in just a little further. You gasped into his mouth at the minor intrusion, feeling the rumbling from deep in his chest as he chuckled. 

In revenge for his teasing you rolled your hips, grinding against his pelvis and grinning at the groan that escaped him. His hands immediately left your body and fumbled with his button and fly, squirming to work them down his hips without unseating you. Your grin widened at his desperation, but you obligingly raised yourself up onto your knees so he could lift himself off the bed and work his pants down. 

His stiff cock bobbed as it slipped free of the constraints of his clothes, coming to rest flush against his soft stomach. You eyed it hungrily, glancing at his face through your lashes. His cheeks were reddened, the fringe of hair over his forehead already sticking to his skin with sweat. When he saw the look you were giving him his blush darkened and he swallowed hard. 

Without further stalling you took him in your hand, hearing him suck in a breath through his teeth as you gave him a squeeze before settling yourself down beside him and wrapping your lips around him. Shane’s eyes shut and his head dropped back against the pillow with a muttered curse as you languidly sucked him, lavving the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock, humming as you went. 

“Ah shit, baby, just like that!” he gasped, one hand burying itself in your hair. He shuddered when you took him in deeper, hollowing your cheeks and earning a drawn out groan as his fingers tightened against your scalp. You pulled your head back, letting him slip from between your lips and replacing your mouth with a fist, stroking his spit-slick member until his hips began to judder. Abruptly his hand flew to yours, stopping your ministrations. 

“‘M not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he rasped, his chest and shoulders pleasantly flushed. “It’s your turn. C’mere.” 

As you repositioned yourself, Shane kicked himself free of his pants, reaching up to discard the pillow under his head and guiding you to straddle his face. “If you need to stop, let me know,” you urged him, but Shane needed no concerns. Raising his head he stroked your slit with his tongue, from cunt to clit, making you gasp at the contact. 

From then on he dove in headlong, mouthing your mound with his lips while his tongue sank through your damp folds. He sighed through his nose and groaned into you, the vibrations making your insides clench deliciously as you breathed his name. Shane teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, tracing around and around it until you keened and gripped his hair. You were sopping by now, between his mouth and your own arousal, and ready for more. 

You batted his hands away from where they held you in place by your hips, moaning for him to stop, that it was becoming too much. He let his head fall to the mattress, his chin coated in your slick and his own saliva, his chest heaving almost in time with your own. 

“Wanna come with you,” you managed to say, reaching down to tenderly glide your fingers through his hair. He leaned into your touch, nodding once. Raising yourself on trembling knees you scooted back down his body until you straddled his waist. Shane tensed when you took his cock in your hand, stroking him lightly as you lined it up with your entrance and sank slowly down onto him. Your moans tangled together until you were seated against his pelvis, taking a beat to catch your breath before you started to move against him. 

The burn, the stretch of his cock filling you were delicious, scratching an itch that had been building since he first woke you up. “So good,” he hissed. “You feel so good, baby.” 

“Mmm, so you do,” you purred, rocking in his lap. His hands gripped your thighs, fingers clenching against the plump flesh. Your own hands smoothed up his stomach to his chest and back, stroking and petting as you rode him a little faster, chasing the finish you were both desperate for. 

Shane didn’t seem able to keep his hips from rising to meet you, with each upward thrust his cock struck at the perfect angle that made you moan. Your head lolled back on your shoulders as you picked up the pace, feeling his body tensing under you. “Are you close?” you asked, looking down at his flushed and sweating face. He nodded, releasing your leg with one hand and bringing it up to his mouth. Licking the pad of his thumb he reached between your legs and circled your clit. The added stimulation made you moan obscenely and increase your pace even more. As you rutted against him Shane grunted with each stroke, his thumb unrelenting in its teasing of your already sensitive clit. 

Pleasure had built to a fever pitch in your body as you lost your rhythm completely, thighs screaming from the exertion as you bounced up and down on his cock. “Fuck, Shane! Fuck, baby, I’m coming!” At last the tightly wound spring in your pelvis broke loose and you cried out as waves of euphoria swept through you, your pulse thumping and your muscles aching in the best way. 

As your pussy clenched and unclenched rapidly around him, Shane came right behind you with a hoarse cry of his own, his whole body going rigid for a moment or two as he rode out his release before he finally relaxed, sagging into the bed and gasping for air. When you trusted your rubbery legs to support you, you swept yourself up and off his hips, his softening and leaking cock slipping from you as you settled down at his side. 

He wound an arm around your neck, tugging you closer for a lazy, sloppy kiss that you happily returned. 

This was why you loved the rain. 

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

Just something that always crosses my mind when it rains in Stardew Valley. Thought I’d share!